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Driving Lessons Chapter 71 Telephone Line
Arthur came round from his faint with France waving a garlic baguette under his nose.
He sat up spluttering. "Bugger off!" He yelled.
France stepped back. "I am hurt, mon cher." He was holding 'Charlemagne' - whose name gave England a migraine.
"My dear son…" France said stroking the child's head. The child looked back at him with big blue eyes and burped loudly.
England pushed him out of the way. "My car! My precious!" He wailed.
"It is not that bad," France said and soothed Charlemagne who began to wail, probably in sympathy with England who sank to his knees.
The car, his precious Bentley, had been been sprayed with paint. The words 'Stingy mean bugger' were sprayed along the sides (England did not think he was mean), along the rear was sprayed 'Call this number for sexy gay massage' with England's mobile number inserted and the crème de la résistance was the Scottish flag spray painted on the roof.
The interior leather seats had been indelibly stained with Irn Bru. Whilst a dead Scottish king and a headless king sat on the back seat.
"I hope you're going to reimburse me the damage?" England said.
"Are you kidding?" Wales said. "You destroyed a cottage and tipped over my caravan. What do you think?"
England thought it over. In his opinion both of these were derelict anyway and the caravan had only been tipped over. The cottage was really his own (although rented from Wales) and surely couldn't his brother claim on his insurance?
But he had bigger fish to fry when he realised there was a family reunion happening inside his house when Yorkshire (the cheeky so and so) invited Wales and Scotland in and began rummaging inside the cupboards for whisky.
"So Dad has a new son!" Yorkshire exclaimed.
"Charlemagne is my son!" France told them proudly. But then handed the child to Denmark to change his nappy.
"Ja, until he needs changing," Den muttered, taking the child up to the bathroom.
"That boy is nae his wee laddie," Scotland said authoritatively. "He actually smiled at me. Now get that whisky out and poured, Yorkshire."
"He never cared about me… or Peter!" Yorkshire said.
"My beautiful car," England said mournfully and took the bottle of whisky off Scotland and drank straight from it.
"So whose kid is it?" Yorkshire said.
"A question I keep asking," England said and sat with his head on his arms.
"Why do you have a pizza delivery van outside?" Wales asked. "Have you been stealing vehicles again?" He said to England.
England looked up briefly and then shrugged.
"Vargas pizzas…" Someone said ominously.
"Arthur, there are two dead kings in your car," King Henry said. He really was turning into a snitch, England thought.
"I know…"
King Henry went outside and could be seen chatting to King Charles through the car window. "King Charles says he left his head at the wedding reception!" King Henry called back.
"Disgraceful," King George IV said from next door. He was pretending to cut the hedge that separated his house from England's but was listening to the gossip.
England cast his eye over his list again whilst around him his brothers and his eldest son argued over how awful that England hadn't trimmed his own hedge, how awful that England couldn't remember when to put the bins out and how awful that there were no custard creams remaining in the house.
"So whose baby is it?"
"It? It? Poor bairn," Scotland hiccuped. "Fancy calling him such a thing. He can come and live with me in the Highlands and I'll bring him up in ma wee cottage with ma wee Bertie." (Bertie was his psychopathic Scottish terrier.)
Nobody understood him.
Yorkshire said, "I think it's disgusting, Dad that you've had another child when you can't even look after Peter. You'll do anything to avoid having that kid for a weekend."
"It's not biologically possible," England said miserably.
"I knew it!" Scotland yelled. "I knew he couldn't do it without implements or tablets or tomfoolery!"
Everyone said, "Ewwww!"
England said miserably. "Well, not of being this child's father at least. The last time I had sex with a woman was thirty years ago at a music festival. I had spiked my hair up and I was wearing my lucky Sex Pistols t-shirt and some very tight pants. I think the girl thought I was a member of a failed boy band, otherwise she wouldn't have slept with me. So it can't be mine," he said confidently. This was the only time, he reflected bitterly, that he had ever been happy about his very long dry spell.
"Ah mon dieu! Zis is no way to live!" France looked ready to faint at the thought of going so long without sex. "I mean zat t-shirt… I have seen it and it should not be paired with tight pantalons!"
"It could be Denmark's. He's an over-sexed nutcase," Yorkshire said, clearly with a lot of bias. He had still not recovered properly from being invaded back in the 10th Century.
"I zink he is mine," France announced, pouring a glass of his rosé. Prussia, Scotland (clutching a I love Manchester United chipped mug with whisky in it), Wales and England turned to look at him. "Ah, do not try to tell me that you were not thinking of it! Ze facts are zis - I am gorgeous. Ze baby is very cute. Ze baby has blonde hair and blue eyes - so do I."
"So does Germany, America, that one dude in the Arctic, Finland, Denmark, Norway, and probably a lot of other dudes I can't think of, dude," Prussia pointed out. He was carrying 'his' (actually Sealand's) laptop. "And maybe the baby doesn't even take after its dad."
"I was not done with mon reasoning!" France protested. "I have lots of ze sex" (England shuddered) "More than you and much more than mon Angleterre, apparently," France looked at England pityingly. "So, ze child is mine. It must be true!"
"You're a damned idiot, France." But as he said it, England had to admit that this made sense. France's reasoning was stupid, obviously, but this was the sort of thing he expected of France - random, nameless children being dumped on the doorstep and attributed to him, that was. "We need to figure it out for sure and rule out male nations one by one. Then female nations. It's at least half-nation, for sure-" no one in attendance would doubt that, the baby had that 'aura' "-but I'm not ruling out this being a prank."
"I do not zink zis is necessary. Ze baby is mine! I will not let you deprive me of parenting rights for mon son!" France said dramatically whilst Denmark was upstairs changing the baby's nappy and yelling something disgusting about 'luminous poo'.
"Oh, do shut up," England snapped. He looked at his list, grabbed the laptop from Prussia and opened 'Skype' - after a little help from Wales who actually took England's finger and jabbed it on the icon.
"Bloody technology," England muttered. "Can someone go out and get some biscuits?" He asked.
Nobody moved.
"And can somebody," (here he looked at Wales) "Go and take my car through a car wash?"
"I'll do it!" America yelled, putting his hand up.
"Apart from him," England said.
"Me!" Prussia said.
"Or him."
"Me?" Scotland said and fell off his chair.
"Never mind."
The first person England Skyped was, unfortunately, Germany.
He looked angry. As well he might. He had been Skyping with his boss and now England's face suddenly appeared on his laptop.
"What?" Germany asked brusquely.
"I say! That's not nice," England replied.
"Guten tag Bruder!" Prussia announced, coming into shot over England's shoulder and waving at him.
"He's not coming back to live with me, is he?" Germany asked. His voice had a hint of panic.
"Allemagne! You are looking very fruity!" France interjected.
"Go away! I'm trying to talk to my boss!"
"Angela!" Prussia shouted.
"She can't hear you," Germany sighed.
"Germany, I have a recently acquired a baby and…"
"A baby? What do you mean?" Germany looked confused.
"A baby was found on my doorstep."
"Yours? Who'd leave you of all people in charge of a baby? It's ridiculous. You wreck everything you come into contact with."
"Look, it wasn't my fault that antique desk fell on your car."
"You threw it onto my car!"
"It was Louis XIV!" France said.
"I thought he was dead?" Prussia said. He was gurning at his brother.
"I'm getting in touch with all the Nations and…"
"You'll never get back on the NATO Supreme Council. I'll see to that," Germany warned.
"Listen…wait what? Never mind. This baby…"
"If some fool has left a baby in your hands they must be crazy."
"Hey! I'll no have anyone insulting ma baby brother!" Scotland suddenly said.
Germany froze, "Is that Scotland?"
"Yes it is…"
"Si! I love him!" Came an Italian voice from Germany's end.
"Italy?"
"Si! Scotland is my favourite Scotsman ever!" Italy shouted and suddenly appeared next to Germany in what looked like his pyjamas.
Scotland drank from his mug and nodded, "Aye, Italy is very wise," he said.
"So, is this baby yours?" England asked.
"Mine?" Italy asked.
"No, not yours… well maybe…"
"What baby?" Italy asked.
"Yes, what baby? I don't see any baby?" Germany asked suspiciously. As if England had made the whole thing up.
"Denmark is changing it at the moment."
"What for?" Italy asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Changing it into something else?" Italy's eyes were wide.
"Its wendel," Germany said.
"Nappy," England said.
Italy thought about it, "Ah pannolino?"
"Is that a pasta?" England asked.
"Are you mad?" Germany asked.
England picked up the laptop and went up the stairs to find Denmark, who was sat with the baby in America/France/Sealand's room and singing a Viking sea song about going off to invade some poor country. England put the webcam in front of the child, who solemnly put his greasy fingers on it.
Germany lurched back hurriedly as if the child was reaching for his nice shiny suit. "Oh I see!"
"Aww bambino!" Italy cried, delightedly.
"Yes, so is this yours is what I'm asking?"
"Certainly not!" Germany looked appalled at being asked.
"I thought not. He smiles a lot."
"He's great. I'm going to train him to be a viking!" Den said.
"Poor child," Germany said and was about to switch off the webcam and cut England off when Denmark said:
"Come and look at England's Bentley and what dude Hamish and Bryn did to it!" He said and carried the laptop over to the window and aimed the webcam outside.
Germany actually smiled, "Oh joy! Hallelujah!" He said. He actually looked happy.
"That is terrible!" Italy said and then suddenly he added, "But that's my van there!"
"What van?" Den said.
England hurriedly took the laptop back from him, "There is no van. Don't be silly. I'm glad we got that sorted out. Bye then." And quickly cut the connection. He swiped Den around the head. "Moron!"
"I don't get it!"
"Vargas Pizza delivery?"
"And?"
England shook his head and tromped back downstairs. He expected Romano and half of a Mafia hit mob to come for him soon.
"Hello? Spain?"
"Hallo England! I decided to forgive you for ruining my last few dates with Belgium," Spain said, his happy face appearing on the laptop screen.
England didn't know what he meant. "Oh well. Splendid," he said, not wanting to argue and forgetting he'd driven through Spain and Belgium's picnic when he'd last seen him. "I just wanted to ask you if it was possible that you could be the father of this child?" He asked and held Charlemagne up to the webcam.
Spain looked confused, tried to smile and was then suddenly hit on the head with a spoon full of paella. Belgium came onto the camera. "Baby? You lying cheating… you told me there was no-one else apart from Romano!" She shouted and then hit Spain again.
England quickly switched off the connection.
"Another life ruined," Wales said.
"Well I have to be going. I have a duck fanciers' show to get to," Yorkshire announced.
"Can I go?" Prussia asked.
Yorkshire looked him up and down. "Do you know anything about ducks?"
"Nein."
"Well then."
"Take your Uncle Hamish and Uncle Bryn with you," England said, indicating Scotland and Wales.
"I don't think so. Besides, they can go and sort out your Bentley, eh Dad?" Yorkshire said.
England glared at him but said nothing.
"Oh too late!" Yorkshire said, going out of the door and coming back in. "Dad, Do you know your car is going down the road with King Charles driving?"
"King Charles doesn't have a bloody head!" England yelled, left the laptop and ran out of the house. Yorkshire and Brian followed, muttering about being possibly late for the Regional Finals.
"Right, who's next on Arthur's list?" Wales said in a bored voice and decided to take charge.
"Switzerland?" France peered at the said list. "Zis is silly…"
Wales pressed the Skype button and waited. "Hello? Switzerland?"
"Who's that?" Switzerland's face appeared. He looked harassed.
"Wales."
"England's brother?"
"Yes, I'm calling you to ask you if by any chance…"
"No, I'm not lending him any money."
"No, I was wondering if this was your child?" Wales pointed the webcam at Charlemagne, now held in France's arms.
"No. It looks like France. It has his superior smirk and even looks like it wants to run naked across my back lawn. Now go away." Switzerland then cut them off.
Wales crossed the name off the list.
"See! I told you. Isn't it true, l'Amerique?" France called through to the lounge, but America was killing 'bad dudes' on something called COD and so France only got a 'grunt' in answer.
"I don't understand what all the fuss is about," Wales said and proceeded to the next name.
"Hello? Is that Poland?" He asked.
It was Lithuania. "Hello? Do you need Polska?" He asked politely.
"Actually…" Wales considered this and looked at the list. "Oh you're on this list as well…"
"List? What list?" Lithuania looked worried. "I'm at Poland's house, not at home so you won't find me there. Who are you? Are you working for Mr Russia?"
"No, I'm Wales," Wales answered.
"That's Wales as in the country and not the marine mammals," France butted in. "Isn't it, Charlemagne?"
Charlemagne gabbled back: "Gabblebab Wales."
England burst back into the kitchen completely ruining the moment of Charlemagne's first word. "They've bloody well taken it! That headless idiot and King Malcolm and King Henry! I think they've got the crown as well!"
"I'm talking to Lithuania. I've ruled out Switzerland," Wales told him and waved the list at England.
England sank down in a seat and gulped down Scotland's whisky. "Oh well done." He said. He was getting very very drunk.
"I don't have any money to lend you," Lithuania said.
"Are you this baby's father?" Wales asked. Be direct, no messing, no fussing, no dancing around, he decided and then there can be no miscommunication. Unlike the messes his brother seemed to get into.
Lithuania looked at the baby carefully. "Is that… could it be… Russia's?" He asked in a hushed tone.
"We thought not. He hasn't shown any psychopathic tendencies - yet." England butted in, his voice slurring.
"He is mine! Mine I tell you!" France cried and flounced out.
"Has he turned into a demon?" Lithuania asked.
Wales looked to England for help in this.
"No…" It was England's turn to look worried.
"Oh good… Let me see…" Lithuania then began to search through a small black book. "How old is he?"
"About 8 to 10 months we think…" England said.
"Can't you narrow it down?" Lithuania said, clearly searching through a diary.
"Well…" England hadn't thought of this.
"Toris is a right dog," Prussia whispered in England's ear. "Honestly."
England couldn't believe the complete loose morals of his fellow Nations none of whom seemed capable of keeping their pants on. He didn't have time for this though. He was thinking about reporting the three kings who'd stolen his car to the police but how to word it? 'Excuse me but I know who did It. One is a dead drunk Scottish king, one has the imperial state crown on his head and the other has no head.'
Then Poland appeared on the screen. "Liet honey who are you talking to? Oh…" he looked disappointed. "How disappointing. England. O.M.G. You look terrible. But I suppose sharing your house with Prussia will do that to a Nation. Can you pass on a message to your Queenie that she's a darling and I had a blast at the wedding but I left an eyelash curler at the castle and could she have a look? Thanks honey." He was about to disconnect and England was seething over the idea that Poland of all people:
A) Called the Queen Queenie and;
B) Stayed at the Castle when he was banned from it.
But Prussia intervened.
"Hey Pol, are you still gay?" Prussia asked.
Poland's normally smiling and spacey visage clouded and England caught a glimpse of the 'hard bastard' Prussia had once told him was underneath.
"What?" Came the surprisingly gruff voice. "Of course I'm still gay. Are you still stupid?" And Polska disconnected.
Prussia shrugged, "I was going to ask if he was the dad."
"I am ze father!" France cried and stepped over Scotland's prone body, took hold of Denmark's rubber gloves and began quite aggressively washing up.
"Right next nutcase…" Wales said and Skyped Russia's number.
"I'll deal with this," England said. "He knows me."
"I think you're pissed," Wales said, holding the baby and waving a plastic daffodil in its face.
"Perhaps…perhaps not," England said. He was feeling quite reckless. Having this many Nations living under your roof together with an unknown baby Nation and having your precious car being stolen by three dead kings did that to a person.
He was surprised to be confronted on the webcam with a huge pair of feet. "Hello Russia?" He asked.
"Privet!" Russia said. He was obviously on his way somewhere as they surmised by just the sight of his huge feet walking.
"Where are you?" England asked.
"Beijing Airport," Russia replied cheerily.
All the others could see now were various people hurriedly stepping out of the big Arctic Nation's way as he strode through the airport.
"Are you going home?" England asked and crossed his fingers.
"I'm coming back to London!" Russia said. "I've just left Mr Panda."
"I see…"
"Did you want me, England?" Russia asked and suddenly turned his phone to face him so England and the others jumped back as they got a close-up of Russia's big violet eyes.
"Erm I wanted to ask you a question, actually."
"Go on," Russia said.
England took a deep breath and said, "Is this child yours?" And held 'Charlemagne' up to the webcam.
"Ah! He is very cute! Has he shown any Russian-ness?" Russia asked and then when he saw England's confusion he added, "Does he like vodka?"
"You can't give a child vodka!" France said turning round and showering England with soap bubbles.
Russia considered this. "Siberia did very well on it!"
They all shuddered involuntarily.
"Wine though…" France continued. "A good Chablis…"
"You can't give wine to a child," England told him.
"You are no fun!" France announced and continued scrubbing dishes aggressively.
"Is that the child America was trying to bathe the other day?" Russia asked.
"It wasn't a bath, I was trying to get it to stop crying!" America interrupted from shooting Nazi zombie soldiers or something.
"It is not my child," Russia told them confidently.
"Non, it is mine! Charlemagne!" France said and snatched the child back from Wales.
"Charlemagne?!" Russia looked startled and was obviously stood in a queue waiting to board a plane, he shoved past the line of passengers who all stepped back from him. "After the silly Emperor?"
"Of course!" France replied. "Wait! He wasn't silly!"
"I didn't like him," Russia said.
"You weren't around!" France retorted.
"If I say I didn't like him, then I didn't like him," Russia growled and stomped off into the plane. "Bye then. See you soon," he added cheerily and waved at the camera and was last seen taking a bottle of vodka from the duty free trolley and flumping across an aisle of seats (ignoring the fact that some people may want to sit there) and promptly fell asleep.
England switched off the connection as huge snores filled the house.
"What's that? Is it a tractor?" America yelled excitedly from the other room.
"Alas no," England replied. "But there's one person who's not on this list who I think can answer this puzzle," he said mysteriously. He said it in his Sherlock Holmes voice. He took another swig of whisky and almost fell off his chair.
"Mr Panda!" England yelled, way too loud. God he was drunk. He may as well be. He would never see his car again and before too long he would be locked up for stealing the Crown Jewels.
"Fathead," Panda replied. He looked annoyed, if a Giant Panda can look annoyed. He seemed to be surrounded by small pandas.
England wondered why he always had problems with bears. "Where are you?" England asked, peering at the screen.
"Bugger off," Panda said.
"He's in a panda nursery," China said, suddenly appearing. "He has been very naughty and his punishment is teaching these young bears."
Panda wrinkled his nose, "Idiots," he said. Whether this was aimed at England or at his fellow pandas is unsure.
"I wondered if I could ask him about this child…" England said and called to France, "Hey Francis! Bring Charlemagne back in here!"
"Charlemagne?!" China sniggered.
"Yes, it's a crap name isn't it? He'll be bullied at school." England said. "We're trying to work out who the father is."
"Moron! How can it be mine? He looks nothing like me." Panda said. (As if being a different species was a moot point.) "Are you high?" He added.
"He has a point," China said and rubbed Panda on the head. Panda shrugged him off angrily.
China then asked. "How is Mr Ping? Is he still there on holiday?"
"He's with Idris my Welsh dragon," Wales replied.
"Ah that's nice. He needed a holiday," China said.
"Excushe me but can we get back to thish child and how he came to be here?" England slurred.
"Well I'm sorry but I'm not going to give you the birds and bees talk," China said.
"I will!" Panda said.
"No you won't," China said quickly.
"When a mummy bear and a daddy bear love each other very much…" Panda began to say.
China yelled, "No!"
"He wash left here on my doorshtep," England slurred.
"Poor kid," Panda said.
China agreed.
"And I want to know by who." England added.
"By whom," Panda corrected him.
This was the final straw. Having his grammar corrected by a bloody bear. England was about to rant at the screen when Prussia slammed the lid down on his hands. "Forget the bear!" He said dramatically, "Your car is back!"
England staggered to his feet and hurried outside. Indeed, Prussia was right. His car was back. It was clean! There was no awful messages encouraging people to ring him for sexy gay massages or telling fellow motorists that he was a 'stingy mean bugger'. He almost cried. He didn't see the Scottish flag still adorning the roof.
The fact that three dead kings (one of them headless and one of them drunk) had driven better than France did not elude him.
"Now all we need to do is get the crown back to the Tower and everything will be alright!" England said and passed out.