5 The Day of Do-Gooding

The Day of Do-Gooding The fabric of the gold-buttoned shirt was as smooth and silky as a perfectly prepared chocolate mousse, and it felt just as exquisite on Ebenezer's skin as it had done all those centuries ago. He'd last worn it on the most recent New Year's Eve, when the beast, in a rare generous mood, had vomited out a personal firework show for the two of them. Ebenezer giggled as he thought about the bottle rockets and

Roman candles fizzing around the beast's attic. "See. I told you the de-beasting would make you feel awesome," said Bethany. Ebenezer's giggle was brought to an abrupt end. An awkward cough took its place. "I wasn't smiling about that," he said, returning his attention to the steering wheel. "What was it, then?" asked Bethany. "Just some joke about a hippopotamus," said Ebenezer. "It doesn't matter." He took the turn into the orphanage, and as usual Bethany got all weird and fidgety. She always did this because she felt rotten returning to where she had spent the unhappiest years of her life. And yet, she also felt a thrill of nervous excitement whenever they visited, because this was the place where

she saw Geoffrey—a previous victim of her pranks, who had now become something of a friend. "I shouldn't be carrying these worms," said Bethany. She removed them from her pockets as Ebenezer parked. "If Geoffrey sees me with them, he'll think I'm trying to shove them up his nostrils. You give them to the orphanage." "I shall do no such thing. The worms are your problem." "I'm not gonna be seen dead with them. Either take them in your hands, or take them up your nostrils. Your choice," said Bethany.

Ebenezer reluctantly opted for the hand option, whilst Bethany collected the box of money and the other things they had received at the yard sale. Once outside, their eyes were assaulted by the full majesty of the orphanage's ugliness. It looked like the kind of building that had completely given up on trying to impress people—an architectural equivalent of someone who freely picks their nose in public. Usually, the place was noisy with children, but on this occasion, it was suspiciously quiet. "Where's Geoff—" began Bethany, before correcting herself. "I mean, where's everyone?" As if in answer to her question, the new director of the orphanage shuffled out of the

building to greet them. His name was Timothy Skittle, and he didn't seem fond of unexpected visitors. "Oh no," said Timothy to Ebenezer. "Please don't tell me you're here to drop off another child. I can barely keep control of the ones I've got." "We're here to bring money and presents to help the orphanage," said Bethany. Timothy ignored her contribution to the conversation. "Don't leave her with me. I'm terrible with children," he pleaded. "There's nothing to worry about. Bethany's staying with me. I picked her up from here about a month ago," said Ebenezer. "You're not the Bethany, are you?" asked Timothy, who now seemed even more

worried. "Yeah, that's me," said Bethany, thoroughly pleased with herself. "I bet you've heard some pretty awesome things." "I've heard some pretty awful things. About how you put wasabi in tubes of toothpaste, and hid fake spiders in the cornflakes. The other children are terrified of you," said Timothy.