Felix and the Red Rats (4 page)

‘Well?’

‘Isn’t that Bella’s diary?’

Moonface swore under his breath. ‘Looks like the diary,’ he admitted. ‘But …’ He turned back to Myrtle. ‘If it is the diary …?’

‘Where are Bella and Felix?’

They stared at each other.

‘You locked the door?’

‘You know I did.’

‘Then they must have been in and left again before you got here.’

‘Leaving the diary behind them?’

‘Leaving the diary behind them.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Myrtle. ‘Not after they’d broken into the clubhouse to get it!’

Moonface looked at her. ‘It doesn’t, does it?’

‘Which only means —’

‘They’re still in there hiding!’

Without further ado, Myrtle and Moonface rushed into the shed, Myrtle to the right and Moonface to the left of the big black pumping machinery. However, they had only had time to ascertain that neither Bella nor Felix was crouching behind the machinery before the shed was abruptly plunged into darkness.

‘What!’ yelped Myrtle.

‘Someone must have shut the door on us!’ cried Moonface. ‘Quick! Get out of here!’

For most of the next day, Uncle Felix was involved at the book festival. He didn’t even come back for lunch. I couldn’t get our conversation in the garden out of my head.

And whatever Uncle Felix meant wasn’t to be found in the book. At least, it wasn’t to be found in as much of the book as I’d read so far.

I like to get up reasonably early. That morning I didn’t have much choice, as the spare mattress was thin, hard and cold. That’s why I guess it was the
spare
mattress. I
had to be careful not to make any noise because Gray was still fast asleep in the warmth and comfort of my soft bed. I didn’t dare wake him. Gray is not what you’d call a morning person. He’s quite noxious at that time of the day, to be honest. Of course he’s not really what you’d call an evening person either, but he’s particularly noxious in the morning.

The drapes had been closed and I didn’t dare turn the light on, but even in the dim light I could see that it didn’t look as though the rats had faded. If anything, the red looked deeper than ever. They had stirred with my getting up and were scurrying about in the cage. Despite the colour change they didn’t seem to be sickening for anything.

Later that morning, I went out into the garden with the book. At one stage Mum came along and sat beside me.

‘Enjoying it?’

‘It’s great.’

‘I loved those books, too,’ said Mum. ‘He’s a clever man,’ she added.

‘They’re pretty clever stories.’

‘He’s clever in other ways, too,’ she said, remembering. ‘He can do conjuring tricks, you know.’

I glanced at her. I didn’t know.

‘When we were kids,’ Mum said, ‘he was great fun. He could do card tricks and make things disappear and then turn up again in the oddest places.’

‘Could he make things change colour?’ I asked carefully.

Mum looked at me a little sharply. ‘I don’t think he’s that clever,’ she said before adding, ‘and I’d rather you didn’t tell Gray that Uncle Felix was once something of a conjurer.’

I sat quietly for a few seconds, wondering whether or not to tell Mum about Uncle Felix’s odd comment about the rats’ colour having everything to do with Axillaris. But before I could decide to do so, she said, ‘Did you know that the Axillaris books are actually set around here?’

‘What? Here? On the hill? Axillaris?’

She laughed. ‘No, Axillaris is set firmly in Uncle Felix’s rather strange brain, I guess. But the hill in the book that the kids live on, and chase each other over, is this hill. It’s where Uncle Felix lived when he was a boy. You knew my grandparents once had a house not too far away from here, further up and not far from the school?’

I nodded. I’d forgotten about it, though, and didn’t even know which house it was.

‘Your grandmother and Uncle Felix often talked about it. Of course there were not nearly so many houses then. There were fields and pine forests, and some of the roads weren’t sealed. Later on, Uncle Felix put all of it into the books.’

‘Pine forests?’

‘Oh, yes, and other parts where there was bush.’

‘So, the pine forest that Bella and Felix ran through really existed?’

‘Of course,’ said Mum, ‘parts of it are still there. You’ve seen it — up by the bus stop.’

‘What about Uncle Felix’s old house?’

‘Oh yes, although it’s very different to what it used to be. I’m not even sure who’s living there now. It’s been through several changes of ownership since my grandparents’ day.’

I thought about what Mum had said about the pine forest.

‘Then if the pine forest really existed, did that strange utility shed, or whatever it was, exist too?’

Mum smiled at me. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But only the shed part, I’m quite sure of that. The other part, what did he call it … ?’

‘The Way Station?’

‘Yes, the Way Station part would be completely imaginary.’

I thought about what she’d said earlier:
Uncle Felix’s
rather strange brain
. Mum had said that was where the story was set. But Uncle Felix’s
strange brain
hadn’t turned the rats red. Not unless Uncle Felix had a stranger brain than a strange brain could imagine. I grinned. All this strangeness was getting to me.

While I’d been thinking, Mum had said something.

‘What?’

‘I said, why don’t you ask him? He might even be able to show you where some of the places were.’

That sounded a fun idea. ‘I will,’ I said. ‘That’d be cool.’
When I went back inside, Gray and Martha were up and fixing themselves breakfast. Martha gave me a grin, and Gray a scowl.

‘How are your sweet little rodents, this morning?’ Martha asked. ‘Still embarrassed?’

Gray had a mouth full of toast and peanut butter, but he probably wouldn’t have replied anyway.

‘They’re still the same, I think,’ I said, ‘but it wasn’t easy to see in the dark.’

‘Sweet,’ said Martha cheerfully. ‘I think it’s an improvement. White is so boring.’

‘You’re getting boring, fart-face,’ growled Gray through his toast. ‘And I know one thing: PP won’t find it boring. He’ll probably kill me.’

PP was Peter Prescott, Gray’s biology teacher.

‘They might fade before you have to take them back to school,’ said Martha, ‘to a pretty pink. That’d be even sweeter. You could get them some pink ribbons to match!’

‘Why don’t you shut up,’ said Gray. ‘It’s not funny, you know.’

‘You still blaming David?’

‘Nah,’ said Gray. ‘Fruit-loop wouldn’t have the brains to do something like that. No, I’ve got a fair idea who did it.’

‘Oh?’

Martha looked at him with some interest. So did I. It was good to know that I was out of the firing line, but I was keen to know who Gray was aiming at now.

‘Well,’ insisted Martha.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ asked Gray.

‘No,’ said Martha. ‘It isn’t obvious. Who did it?’

‘Uncle Bloody Felix, that’s who!’ said Gray bitterly.

‘Uncle Felix?’ Martha was surprised. ‘Why do you think it was him?’

‘It’s not rocket science,’ said Gray. ‘Ask yourself,
when
did it happen?’

‘Last night,’ said Martha.

‘And who arrived last night?’

‘So?’

‘So who’s a famous weirdo who writes weirdo books about weirdo things including crazy places and red rats and stuff?’

Martha laughed. ‘How do you know what Uncle Felix writes about? You’ve never read a book in your life that’s not about some rugby player on a motorbike!’

I wanted to add that Uncle Felix had
never
written about red rats, or that Martha had never read any of his books either as far as I knew, but that wouldn’t have been very smart. All I ever saw Martha reading was her Facebook page.

‘And,’ added Gray, as if this utterly clinched the argument, ‘a weirdo who wears a bow tie all the bloody time.’

‘A bow tie?’ said Martha.

‘Yeah, a floppy, bloody bow tie!’ said Gray triumphantly.

‘So,’ said Martha, ‘Mr Brilliant Detective has identified the guilty party with the real giveaway floppy, bloody bow
tie. Now, tell me, Brill, have you also discovered
how
Uncle Felix managed to do it? With the bow tie? And while you’re at it, have you found out
why
he did it? Because of the bow tie?’

‘I’m working on that,’ said Gray grimly, ignoring her sarcasm. ‘And when I find out you’ll be the first to know.’

Uncle Felix rang at lunchtime to say he’d be home for dinner. Mum reported that his talk had gone well, that he’d met lots of old friends, but that he would have done enough socialising for the day and would prefer a quiet evening with us.

‘And, David,’ she added, ‘he said there was one old friend he’d come across that he’d rather like you to meet.’

I looked up.

‘Me? Did he say who it was?’

Mum smiled. ‘He didn’t. Actually, he was a little mysterious, I thought.’

I grinned at her. ‘Nothing unusual there,’ I said, and Mum laughed.

‘You’re getting to know him, then,’ she said.

I wasn’t so sure about that. Was knowing that Uncle Felix was a little mysterious
knowing
him? Or was it knowing that he was difficult to know? This was another of those little head-spinning moments. I did know one thing,
though: Gray thought he had sussed Uncle Felix out, and Gray was angry.

I didn’t think for one microsecond that Uncle Felix had turned Simon and Garfunkel red even if he was, according to Mum, some kind of conjurer. At the same time, there was something about the rats’ colour change that Uncle Felix knew or suspected. And he was being quite mysterious about that.

Whoever the friend was, Uncle Felix didn’t bring him — or her — home to dinner. He arrived just as Martha and I were setting the table.

‘How are we all?’ he greeted us.

‘All good, except Gray,’ said Martha.

‘Gray?’ asked Uncle Felix.

Gray wasn’t with us. He’d left much earlier, saying he’d be late back and not to bother about him. He’d find some takeaway pizza somewhere.

‘He’s still pretty miffed about the rats,’ said Martha.

‘Oh, yes, the rats,’ said Uncle Felix. He looked troubled.

I was a little worried that Martha might tell Uncle Felix that Gray was blaming him for the colour transformation, but, luckily, she left it there. I was relieved, although I knew that there could be some unpleasant undercurrents around if and when Gray had to be together with Uncle
Felix over the next few days, especially if the rats stayed red. So far they looked like they would. I’d checked them a few times off and on during the day and there were no signs of their changing, not even to the pink Martha would have preferred. No, they were still a rich tomato red.

Once we were seated around the table, Mum said, ‘Uncle Felix, I was reminding David that you and Mum used to live round here when you were kids.’

Uncle Felix smiled at the memory. ‘It was such a great place to spend your childhood,’ he said. ‘We did have wonderful times. There were paddocks on the slopes then, filled with slippery grass to slide down on wooden sledges, or we’d slide down between the trees on the pine needles in the pine forests. My, how we sped! Hugely dangerous, of course, and probably wouldn’t be permitted these days by the fun police.’