The World of David Walliams: 7 Book Collection. David Walliams

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      She told Mr Stink how she wished her dad would stand up to her mother sometimes. How she didn’t find it easy to make friends, as she was so shy. How she only really liked making up stories, but it made her mother so angry. And how Rosamund ensured that every day at school was an absolute misery.

      It was a long, long list, but Mr Stink listened intently to everything she said as jolly Christmas songs played incongruously in the background. For someone who spent every day with only a little black dog for company, he was surprisingly full of wisdom. In fact, he seemed to relish the opportunity to listen and talk and help. People didn’t really stop to talk to Mr Stink—and he seemed pleased to be having a proper conversation for once.

      He told Chloe, “Tell your Mother how you feel, I am sure she loves you and would hate you to be unhappy.” And, “…try and find something fun you can do with your sister.” And, “…why not talk to your dad about how you feel?”

      Finally, Chloe told Mr Stink about how Mother had ripped her vampire story to shreds. She had to try very hard not to cry.

      “That’s terrible, child,” said Mr Stink. “You must have been devastated.”

      “I hate her,” said Chloe. “I hate my mother.”

      “You shouldn’t say that,” said Mr Stink.

      “But I do.”

      “You are very angry with her, of course, but she loves you, even if she finds it hard to show it.”

      “Maybe.” Chloe shrugged, unconvinced. But having talked everything through she felt a little calmer now. “Thank you so much for listening to me,” she said.

      “I just hate to see a young girl like you looking sad,” said Mr Stink. “I may be old, but I can remember what it was like to be young. I just hope I helped a little.”

      “You helped a lot.”

      Mr Stink smiled, before letting the last sludge of his volcanic gloop slip down his throat. “Delicious! Now, we’d better leave some money for our beverages.” He searched around in his pockets for some change. “Oh, bother, I can’t read the board without my spectacles. I’ll leave six pence. That should be enough. And a tuppence tip. They will be pleased with that. They can treat themselves to one of those new-fangled video cassettes. Right, I think you’d better be heading home now, young lady.”

      The rain had stopped when they left the coffee shop. They sauntered down the road as cars hummed past.

      “Let’s swap places,” said Mr Stink.

      “Why?”

      “Because a lady should always walk on the inside of the pavement and a gentleman on the outside.”

      “Really?” said Chloe. “Why?”

      “Well,” replied Mr Stink, “the outside is more dangerous because that’s where the cars are. But I believe it was originally because in the olden days people used to throw the contents of their chamber pots out of their windows and into the gutter. The person on the outside was more likely to get splattered!”

      “What’s a chamber pot?” said Chloe.

      “Well I don’t wish to be crude, but it’s a kind of portable toilet.”

      “Ugh! That’s gross. Did people do that when you were a boy?”

      Mr Stink chuckled. “No, that was a little before my time, child. In the sixteenth century, in fact! Now, Miss Chloe, etiquette demands we swap places.”

      His old-world gallantry was so charming it made Chloe smile, and they changed places. They strolled side by side, passing high-street shop after high-street shop, all trying to herald the approach of Christmas louder than the next. After a few moments Chloe saw Rosamund walking towards them with a small flotilla of shopping bags.