Felix and the Red Rats (2 page)

The first mistake was thinking it would be easy to get Bella’s diary back.

‘Simple,’ Felix said. ‘The gang will be at rugby practice. If we get to their clubhouse straight after school we’ll have a good hour before they’re free.’

The clubhouse was a disused scout hall near the top of the hill not far from Mt Hector School.

‘I don’t know,’ said Bella doubtfully. ‘I mean, we don’t even know that they would have hidden the diary there.’

‘Of course they would,’ said Felix. ‘Where else would they have hidden it?’

‘Oh,’ said Bella, ‘off the top of my head, approximately a thousand other places.’

Felix glanced over his shoulder. They were not all that far behind him.

Furiously then he increased speed, running in great striding leaps even though the narrow downhill road was so steep he should have been much more cautious. Bella had got away well before him, but he was gaining on her quickly.

Even more quickly, though, the Heberson gang were gaining on
him
. How foolish he had been to think he and Bella could have broken into their HQ to get Bella’s diary back and get away with it. This was the second mistake. In the event, they almost
had
got away with it. At least Bella had her diary. He could see it now clutched in her right hand as she careered down the hill.

He had just been closing the door behind them when he heard Bella gasp, ‘Oh, no. Here they are. They’re coming!’

He looked around. There they were: Dusty Heberson, the leader; his horrible little sister, Myrtle; Moonface Morgan and Willy Laws. The gang saw them almost at once and broke into a run.

‘We’re out of here!’ he shouted to Bella.

It was hopeless. Although they’d had a head start, they could not outrun the Hebersons. Each moment the gang was getting closer, yelling more loudly …

Just ahead was a longer stretch between corners. Felix ran even more recklessly and managed to catch up with Bella.

‘Time for Plan B!’ he cried. ‘We can’t outpace them!’

‘What’s Plan B?’ she puffed, glancing at him briefly and almost losing control and lurching over.

‘Your call,’ Felix panted. ‘But make it quick and make it good!’

‘My hero!’ muttered Bella.

No Plan B: mistake number three.

Just ahead there was another bend and then a succession of sharp zigzags between trees. But it was hopeless. The banks on either side — uphill and downhill — were too steep. The others were so close behind now they could hear their galloping footsteps and muffled shouting.

All at once, surprising even Felix, Bella veered to the downhill side and leapt on to a narrow path that had been cut into the side of the hill and angled down into pine trees. It was the shortcut that linked the road they were on with another road lower down the hill.

Half-stumbling, half-sliding on the slippery pine needles littering the track, Felix chased after Bella, his chest thumping just this side of a stitch, and trying desperately not to gasp for air so noisily. Felix hoped this manoeuvre would have fooled the gang and they would split up to chase up different possibilities. Whatever, for the moment Bella and Felix were relatively safe.

Felix grabbed at the trunk of a narrow tree to help swing around the next sharp bend, to find Bella had stopped and was lying back against a grassy bank beside the track. She immediately put a finger against her lips.

‘Shh!’

Felix grinned and nodded. He had no intention of shouting. He collapsed beside her to catch his breath.

‘What do you reckon?’ he whispered.

Bella strained to listen.

There was nothing to hear, apart from the wind in the trees and the distant yodel of a magpie.

‘They obviously don’t know we’re down here,’ she whispered. ‘They must have raced right past the path.’

‘So we’re safe …’

‘For the moment,’ said Bella. ‘But they’ll work out soon enough we’re not on the road.’

Felix glanced around.

‘This track links up to Mt Hector Road,’ he said. ‘We can get home that way and the others will never know where we are.’

‘You sure?’ asked Bella.

Felix nodded.

‘Well, as long as there’s only one track, we can hardly get lost.’

‘Right,’ said Felix. ‘Let’s do it.’

This was the fourth mistake.

They hurried down the track, with Bella in front.

All at once they came upon a small structure just
off the path and surrounded by pine trees. It had a rusted iron roof with pine needles gathered in bundles in its spouting, and it had grey plastered concrete walls. Felix remembered it from the other times he had used this track as a shortcut. He’d never really investigated it, but imagined it had something to do with the water works. It was some sort of utility building with a
solid-looking
door, but no windows.

Bella stopped and glanced at Felix.

‘How about Plan C?’

‘Plan C?’

‘We hide in there until it’s safer?’

Felix was dubious. When would it be
safer
? The Hebersons would be after them for days, now, possibly weeks. Even if they managed to avoid them until they reached home, there would still be school and the Hebersons tomorrow — and the next day, and the next.

‘It’s probably locked,’ he said.

Bella strode towards the door and inspected it.

‘There’s a padlock,’ she said, ‘but it hasn’t been pressed home, the thingy’s free.’

‘Hasp.’

‘What?’

‘The thingy’s called a hasp.’

Bella wasn’t really interested in what it was called. She twisted the hasp back and eased it off the latch. Dropping the padlock on to the ground, she twisted at the door handle. The door pulled open and Bella,
glancing over her shoulder, said, ‘You coming?’

Felix looked back up the track. It was still quiet. He didn’t move. ‘I think we’re wasting time,’ he said.

‘Don’t be such a fraidy cat,’ said Bella, peering into the gloom of the building.

‘I’m not!’

‘Well come on, then,’ insisted Bella, stepping inside the building.

Felix shrugged. Bella was quite determined to enter the building. After one last glance over his shoulder, he turned and hurried after her.

This was, of course, the fifth mistake.

‘Quick,’ said Bella. ‘Shut the door!’

‘Why?’ asked Felix.

‘Because Dusty Heberson or Moonface or some other idiot could come running down the track and see the door open. If they do, we’ll be sitting ducks!’

‘We’ll be sitting ducks, anyway,’ grumbled Felix.

‘Do it!’ insisted Bella.

‘Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on!’

Felix pulled the door behind him and immediately the room was plunged into darkness, a darkness all the more disturbing because before pulling the door to, he had not had time to get any sense of what was inside the room. There was no window, that was obvious, but whatever else was in the room he could only guess at. He could not be sure but there was a smell that
seemed to be of old oil and sackcloth. Perhaps there was machinery of some sort. He blinked against the darkness and reached into space.

‘Where are you?’ he whispered. He had no idea why he whispered. It just seemed appropriate somehow.

‘Here,’ Bella replied.

Suddenly, Felix felt a hand touch his face. He reached up and grabbed it.

‘This is not a good idea,’ he said, still whispering. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘Nobody knows we’re here,’ said Bella equally softly. ‘Not scared of the dark, are you?’

Felix was a little, but didn’t dare admit it. But it wasn’t the dark — it was just that he couldn’t get the idea of the stupid ostrich out of his head, the ostrich who buried his head in the sand to escape his enemies. Wasn’t that what they had just done? Buried themselves in darkness in the hope that they wouldn’t be seen?

Perhaps Bella was having similar thoughts.

‘We should get away from the door,’ she said, ‘in case somebody opens it …’

Felix suddenly remembered the padlock that Bella had dropped on the ground.

‘We should really get out of here,’ he said. ‘Somebody could see that padlock and lock us in.’

‘What?’

‘They wouldn’t even need the padlock,’ Felix added grimly. ‘They could just push the bolt home …’

‘What?’ repeated Bella.

‘You heard me.’

‘Did you just cough?’

‘I was talking. I can’t cough and talk at the same time!’

‘Something coughed.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘
Listen!
’

Felix listened. And then, to his great alarm, he did hear a noise, a coughing noise. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the room.

‘See!’ hissed Bella.

‘What is it?’ asked Felix.

‘Shh!’

There it was again: a scrabbling, throat-clearing kind of cough.

‘Must be a possum,’ whispered Felix. ‘They make coughing kinds of noises, don’t they?’

‘Who’s there?’ asked Bella. Although she tried to sound brave, her voice was a little wobbly.

‘Who’s there?’ a voice repeated.

It was a thin, reedy little voice, and seemed to come from somewhere not far in front of them.

Suddenly, Felix felt Bella back into him and he felt her hand grip his arm.

‘Felix?’ she whispered, an edge of hysteria in her voice.

He couldn’t reply. He swallowed. Whatever had made the coughing noise was not a possum.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ gasped Bella, pushing again at Felix as she backed away from the voice. Together they blundered backwards towards the door of the shed. Felix felt the wall against his back and stretched behind, feeling for the door handle. To his surprise it seemed not to be there. Even more strangely, the wall — which should have felt rough like concrete — felt smooth and cold to the touch as if it had been refashioned in marble or glass.

‘Bella!’

‘What?’

‘The door’s gone!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s no door anymore. It’s not here!’

‘Don’t be stupid!’

‘Who’s there?’ the reedy little voice repeated.

‘David. Where are you?’

It was my mother’s voice.

‘I’m in here … in your bedroom!’

I heard her footsteps coming down the hall and then she was standing in the doorway.

‘Your father’s here with Uncle Felix. You might want to come and say hello …’

I shut the book and, carrying it with me, followed her back to the kitchen. Dad and Uncle Felix were already there, Uncle Felix looking around smiling as if he were really pleased to see the kitchen table and the fridge.

‘And this is David,’ said Mum. ‘He would have been much smaller last time you were here.’

I suppose most people, given that sort of an opening, would have said something like ‘
My how he’s grown
’ or ‘
I see he’s taking after this/that side of the family
…’ Instead, Uncle Felix stretched out his hand and said, ‘Utterly delighted to see you again, David.’

And somehow I knew he actually meant it. I liked that.

As he stepped back to take me in, Uncle Felix must have noticed that I was still clutching my copy of
Into Axillaris
, but apart from what may have been a slight twinkle in his eye he gave no other indication or reference to the fact. I liked that, too.

‘Coffee, Felix?’ asked my father. ‘I’ll get it going while Nancy shows you to your room.’

‘Thanks,’ said Uncle Felix, and, with another smile in my direction, followed my mother out of the kitchen.

‘Where’s Gray and Martha?’ asked my father. ‘They’d like to see our visitor.’

I doubted it. ‘Dunno. I’ve been reading,’ I said, flourishing the book. ‘They must have gone out somewhere.’

They had apparently gone down to the tennis courts. When they arrived back half an hour later, they were hot and sweaty and Gray was in a particularly foul mood, not because he’d lost — he’d actually beaten Martha — but because he’d not actually annihilated her.

They each said
Hi
to Uncle Felix, now on his second cup of coffee, but in a perfunctory way just this side of being rude, and left the living room as soon as they were able. I saw Mum and Dad exchange glances, and Dad’s lips were pursed in annoyance. Gray and Martha were able to turn unwelcome into a fine art.

‘They lead such busy lives,’ said Mum to Uncle Felix.

It wasn’t much of an apology, but she needed to say something. Uncle Felix didn’t seem to mind. ‘I never liked tennis very much,’ he said. ‘Cricket was my game. Tennis is a cruel game, I always thought, a little like chess. Winner takes all sort of thing.’

‘Chess doesn’t make you very fit, though,’ said Dad. He liked tennis.

‘Oh, yes it does,’ said Mum. ‘Mentally fit, anyway.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Dad.

‘Yes,’ said Uncle Felix, ‘fit. But, fit for what?’

Dad looked at him. ‘Physically fit, of course. Fit for life, for the struggle.’

‘That’s what I mean, I suppose,’ said Uncle Felix mildly. ‘The struggle. To inflict defeat better.’

I could sense Dad enjoying this. ‘That’s one side of the coin,’ he said. ‘The other is, to be better able to
avoid
defeat.’

‘True,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘But all of this presupposes a fight, don’t you see? A battle. One side versus the other.’

‘The battle of life,’ said Dad grandly. ‘That’s what it’s all about.

‘Mmm,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘What do you think, David? Is it all about the battle, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But it seems to be in Axillaris, doesn’t it? The battle between the regent and the princess …’

Dad laughed. ‘I think that’s check, Felix, isn’t it?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Uncle Felix smiling. ‘Perhaps …’

‘Well, I think it’s time for me to do battle with some potatoes,’ said Mum. ‘Anyone want to help?’

Nobody had a chance to offer, because at that point the door was flung open and Gray stood there angrily. He glared at me briefly before demanding, ‘What the hell have you done to my rats?’

‘What?’

Dad said, ‘Gray, what do—’

Mum said, ‘Gray, I really—’

Gray ignored them. ‘I’m waiting!’ he said.

There was such menace in his voice, I stood up.

‘I haven’t touched your rats,’ I protested. ‘Last time I saw them you were carrying them into my bedroom!’

‘What’s happened, Gray?’ asked Dad.

‘I don’t know what he’s done,’ said Gray, ‘or how he’s done it — but look!’ He turned abruptly and left the doorway.

‘Have you touched his rats, David?’ Mum asked.

I shook my head vehemently. ‘I haven’t been near the bloody things,’ I said. ‘I haven’t even been in my room. I was in your room reading all the time—’

Before I had time to say anything else, Gray had returned with the birdcage housing Simon and Garfunkel. He held it up as if it were a large lantern. As usual, the two rats were huddled together in the bottom of the cage. However, the last time I’d seen them they were a grubby white colour. Now, somehow, they’d been utterly transformed. They were red, a bright red, the bright red colour of ripe tomatoes.

‘See!’ shouted Gray.

‘Goodness,’ gasped Mum.

‘What the hell did you do? Dye them? Or was it something you’ve fed them, you little runt!’

I stared at the rats. I stared at Gray’s angry, demanding face. Then I looked helplessly at Mum, Dad and Great Uncle Felix.

‘It wasn’t me!’ I insisted. ‘How could I do anything like that? I haven’t been near the things—’

‘Calm down, Gray,’ ordered my father. ‘You’ve no reason to accuse David. There’s probably some very simple explanation. But you needn’t go off half-cock and point the finger before—’

Attracted by the commotion Martha now came up the corridor and peered over Gray’s shoulder at the birdcage. She gasped when she saw Simon and Garfunkel. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Cool. How did you do that? Red rats. They look so cool!’

Gray turned on her angrily. ‘Was it you, then?’ he demanded.

‘Their fur matches their eyes now,’ said Martha.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Gray. You know I don’t even like touching the horrible things, let alone—’

Mum was peering into the cage. ‘They do seem to be perfectly normal apart from the colour,’ she said. ‘When did you last check them?’

‘Before I left for tennis.’

‘They were okay then?’

Gray nodded.

‘Not even getting a little pink?’

‘They were perfectly normal!’ Gray snapped.

‘Easy, Gray,’ said Dad. ‘Your mother’s only trying to help.’

‘It’s so strange,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Have they eaten anything?’ asked Dad. ‘Cochineal, perhaps?’

‘What’s cochineal?’ I asked.

‘Red food-colouring,’ said Dad. ‘Perhaps somebody’s given them a saveloy or a cheerio?’

‘We don’t have any,’ said Mum.

‘
I
haven’t given them anything to eat,’ said Gray, with another meaningful look in my direction.

‘They look quite well. It’s just the amazing colour,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps they should be checked by the vet?’

‘A vet?’ asked Dad. ‘Do you know how much that’d cost? As you said, they seem okay apart from the—’

‘The cost doesn’t matter,’ said Mum. ‘It’s more important to know what’s causing them to turn red.’

Gray was about to say something, but Mum interrupted him. ‘I think we can be perfectly certain that whatever or whoever caused it, it wasn’t David. No, John,’ she added, turning to Dad, ‘I think we ought to know the cause, because it could be something contagious, and—’

Dad stared at her. ‘Good lord,’ he said. ‘You think we might all start turning red?’

‘I’d rather be safe than sorry,’ said Mum.

Throughout all of this Great Uncle Felix had remained silent. I looked at him now and was a little surprised to see how alarmed he looked at the plight of Simon and Garfunkel. He was gazing at the two red rats with a kind of awestruck fascination.

Given this, I was even more surprised by his words when he replied to my mother.

‘Don’t worry yourself, Nancy,’ he said. ‘There’ll be no need for any vet. Whatever the cause of this strange phenomenon, I can assure you it’s not contagious.’

Mum looked somewhat relieved. ‘Really? You know about rats?’

Great Uncle Felix tugged uncomfortably at his moustache. ‘I wouldn’t say I’m a rat expert,’ he admitted. ‘However, I’m quite sure that the condition poses no threat to—’

‘I don’t care whether it’s contagious or not,’ said Gray, still angry, and in a tone suggesting he thought Uncle Felix a silly old fool. ‘White rats are supposed to be white, you know, but something or someone has turned mine red!’

‘Oh, Gray. Climb off your mountain,’ said Martha. ‘Can’t you see how distinctive they look? I think it’s a great improvement. Quite a fashion statement, really. Everybody’ll be wanting a red rat before you know it.’

‘Why don’t you shut up,’ snarled Gray, and with a last baleful look at the company, he turned and stomped off. For all his concern about the red rats, I noted that he’d left them behind. Perhaps he’d given up on them already. Martha gave a cheerful shrug and grinned at us before following him.

‘It’s all very strange …’ said Dad.

Mum still looked troubled. She didn’t like mysteries. ‘It is,’ she agreed. ‘Really strange, and that’s why I think we should take them to the vet.’ She looked at Uncle Felix. ‘I’m not as confident as you, Felix. Something’s made the rats turn red, so it must be a symptom of some sort.’

‘Don’t worry, Nancy,’ said Dad. ‘Let’s check it out on Google first. Much cheaper.’

Uncle Felix agreed. ‘Yes, Dr Google is undoubtedly the first port of call, although I doubt there’ll be much help there, just as I doubt that the redness is a symptom of anything.’

‘You do?’ asked Mum, surprised. ‘What else could it possibly be?’

‘I rather think,’ said Uncle Felix, ‘that it’s a signal, rather than a symptom.’

Mum stared at him, waiting, but Uncle Felix did not elaborate. Instead he took a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee.

Later, dinner over, I returned to the living room to find Mum and Dad alone and watching TV.

‘Where’s Uncle Felix?’ I asked.

‘He went into the garden, I think,’ said Mum. ‘He did say he’d like a stroll and some fresh air.’