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Authors: Deirdre Madden

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BOOK: Snakes' Elbows
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‘Been in the wars, eh Jasper?' said Mr Smith.

Jasper didn't reply but scowled across the desk. ‘Those are nasty-looking scratches on your face. Lucky whatever did it didn't put your eye out. For how long is your arm going to be in that sling?'

‘The doctor's taking the plaster off tomorrow,' Jasper said and Mr Smith smiled brightly.

‘You'll be back in business then, won't you? Ready for action. Ready for anything.'

On the desk was a glass dish filled with squares of fudge. Mr Smith picked one up, removed its cellophane wrapper and popped
it in his mouth. Jasper moved to take one as well but Mr Smith shook his head and pulled the dish away with a mysterious smile. And then right before Jasper's very eyes, something quite remarkable happened. Mr Smith started to disappear. First the top of his head went, then his eyes, his nose, his smiling mouth with its gold tooth. Now headless, his neck melted away and then his chest.

‘Good, isn't it?' said a voice from nowhere.

‘It's incredible,' Jasper said. ‘It's quite, quite incredible.'

Mr Smith now seemed to have completely vanished. Jasper imagined that the bottom half of him was still disappearing behind the desk when all of a sudden a voice shouted in his ear. ‘BOO!'

Jasper jumped in fright and heard a little chuckle. Now that he was invisible, Mr Smith had sneaked around the desk to tease Jasper. It was incredible and it was horrible and it was wonderful all at the same time. Jasper thought
of all the things he could do with the fudge, as a pair of black shoes appeared on the floor beside him. There were feet in the shoes and now legs in grey trousers. From the floor up Mr Smith once more became visible until there he was, standing before Jasper still smiling his mysterious smile.

‘How much?' Jasper said immediately.

‘Not cheap,' said Mr Smith.

‘How much?' Jasper asked again.

Mr Smith named his price and Jasper said, ‘Ow!' as though he had toothache. ‘Is that for a whole box of fudge?'

Mr Smith shook his head sadly. ‘That's for a single square. Told you it wasn't cheap.'

Jasper sat there thinking.

‘It's very new stuff,' Mr Smith said. ‘The boys in the backroom are still working on it. This is the weakest variety,' and he pointed to the fudge in the dish. ‘I only use it for demonstration purposes. But even the effect of the strongest doesn't last for very long.'

‘So if I wanted to be invisible for an hour or two I'd have to eat a lot of fudge to start with?'

‘Exactly. And there's the danger that it might wear off at the wrong moment, that you'd start to become visible again when you didn't want to be. Could be embarrassing.'

‘Couldn't you eat some more then? Top up the effect?'

‘I suppose so,' said Mr Smith.

‘Does it work with animals?'

‘It works wonderfully well with animals. We gave some to the factory cat and it disappeared for a whole day. The poor mice had a terrible time with an invisible cat running around the place. But the boys are still working on it,' Mr Smith said again. ‘The product isn't ready yet. I think you should wait.'

‘No,' said Jasper.

Because Jasper couldn't wait for anything. Often when he woke in the middle of the night, he rang for the maid to bring him his breakfast
because he couldn't wait until the morning. He had once even celebrated Christmas in the middle of summer, with a tree and a turkey and presents, simply because he couldn't bear to wait until December. ‘I want the fudge and I want it now.'

‘Suit yourself,' said Mr Smith. ‘You'll be needing at least four boxes,' and he did a little sum on a notepad that was sitting on the desk, then told Jasper the final mind-boggling price.

‘I'll take an extra box,' Jasper said just to remind Mr Smith how rich he was. Mr Smith was impressed.

‘It is a remarkable product,' he said as Jasper got his wallet out, ‘and you're a remarkable man. You see it's all very well to become invisible; it's knowing what to do then, that's the test. It's having the imagination. It's thinking big.'

‘I know exactly what I'm going to do.'

‘I bet you do,' said Mr Smith, buttering up Jasper. ‘I bet you do. What are you planning?'

The boxes of fudge were on the table now
and Jasper started to pack them into his briefcase. He smiled at Mr Smith and gave a slow wink. ‘That,' he said, ‘would be telling.'

The morning after Jasper's attempt to steal the Haverford-Snuffley Angel, Wilf fixed the broken window and put the books back on the shelves. There was nothing to be done about the vase except to throw the pieces in the bin. Dandelion was put in her basket and taken to see the vet, a stern woman who plucked the cat up by the scruff of its neck. They stared at each other, eyeball to eyeball, as Wilf explained what had happened the night before.

‘What do you feed it?'

‘She eats very well,' said Wilf. ‘On a typical
day she might have grilled pork sausages for her breakfast, then baked haddock for lunch with a dish of fresh cream as a mid-afternoon snack.'

‘What?' cried the vet. She let go of Dandelion's neck and the cat dropped like a stone back into the basket. ‘Baked haddock, your granny! No wonder this cat is nervous and difficult. It eats far too much rich food. From now on give it only a saucer of milk in the morning, one small simple meal for its lunch, and milk again at night. It also has to take two of these yellow pills three times a day. I know they're rather big and it'll hate having to swallow them but take no nonsense from it.'

Dandelion couldn't believe her ears and began to wail with misery.

‘You see?' said the vet. ‘Spoilt. Spoilt rotten. It'll do you good, Miss Puss, to know a little hardship.' (People tend to like either dogs or cats. The vet liked dogs.)

She hadn't finished either. From a drawer in her desk she took a small red leather harness.
‘It's got a nasty slouch too,' she said. ‘Make it wear this at all times.'

‘How will that help?' asked Wilf in surprise.

‘It just will,' said the vet. A short brutal struggle followed as she put the harness on Dandelion. Wilf thought it was quite normal for a cat to slouch. There was nothing he hated more than having to wear a shirt and tie so he could imagine how Dandelion felt, and was extremely sorry for her.

*

In the days that followed, life returned to normal in Barney's house and another week rolled by. Monday came and the sun rose hot and bright over Woodford. Just after dawn a large white van drove into the road beside Barney's house and came to a halt. This would have been a most unremarkable event and not worth mentioning were it not for one significant detail. The van was empty. It was driven down the road but there was no one at the steering wheel. Stranger still, once it was
parked the doors opened and closed but no one got out.

The milkman had already done his rounds. At about eight o'clock Wilf opened the front door to bring in the bottles from the step. As he bent down, his hands brushed against something warm and hairy close to the ground. He heard a panting sound and could smell expensive
eau de cologne
. But there was nothing and no one there. The front step was completely empty except for the usual two white bottles.
Goose-pimples
rose on Wilf's arms. He picked up the milk but as he turned to go back inside, someone or something bumped against him, pushed him rudely aside and swept into the hall. Wilf could feel all of this but still there was nothing to be seen. ‘Oo-er!' His hair stood straight up on end in fright. ‘What on earth was that?!'

‘This is a very old house,' he said to Barney as he served breakfast a short time later. ‘When you bought it, did they say anything to you about ghosts?'

Barney looked up in surprise from his cinnamon toast. ‘Of course not. Everybody knows there's no such thing as a ghost.'

‘There might be,' argued Wilf.

‘Well there isn't. Not in this house anyway. Why do you ask?'

Wilf thought about what had happened on the step. He must have imagined it. ‘I was just wondering,' he said.

After breakfast, Wilf went back to the kitchen and Barney settled down to play the piano. Dandelion sat beside him listening. From time to time her tummy rumbled so loudly it could be heard over the music. Poor Dandelion was tremendously hungry. It would be hours until lunchtime, she reflected, staring miserably at the clock, and even then all she would get was a couple of spoonfuls of horrible tinned cat food. With that, a thought came into her mind.

‘Dandelion! Dandelion! It's us – Cannibal and Bruiser.' It was loud and clear, but the dogs were nowhere to be seen.

‘Where are you?' she thought. ‘Are you down in the garden?'

‘No, we're here in the room, right beside you. We're invisible. I know it's hard to believe but it's true.' And with that, the cat felt a huge rough paw pat her gently on the head.

‘How can this be?'

‘Jasper gave us sweets to eat and we disappeared. He's in the house right this minute and he's invisible too. He's going to steal all the paintings – everything, not just the
Haverford-Snuffley
Angel. He's got a big white van parked outside to take them away.'

‘This is terrible news! What shall we do? Oh what shall we do?' thought Dandelion.

‘Jasper brought us along because he's afraid of you,' thought Bruiser. ‘And he thinks you'll be afraid of us.'

‘That's right,' added Cannibal. ‘He said, “You deal with the cat and leave the people to me.” But don't worry, we're on your side, Dandelion. We'll do all we can to help you.'

‘You should try to warn your owner,' thought Bruiser.

‘It won't be easy,' thought the cat, remembering the last time she had tried to let Barney know Jasper was in the house and up to no good. She looked to where he was still contentedly playing his piano.

‘Do what you can,' thought Bruiser. ‘We'd best go and see where Jasper is. We'll catch up with you later.' Again Dandelion felt a rough, comforting paw touch her on the head. The door of the room, which was ajar, opened wider as the two invisible dogs slipped out on to the landing.

Dandelion hopped up on to the piano and sat down at the end of the keyboard, staring hard at Barney. She was wearing her red leather harness, which was tight and uncomfortable.

‘What is it, my dear? What do you want?' he said and he stopped playing, leaned over to tickle her chin. ‘Why, how could I have forgotten? Your pills!'

Oh no! He crossed to the bedside table, picked up a brown glass jar and took from it two enormous yellow pills. ‘Come along, Dandelion. Be a good cat and take your medicine.'

‘You'll have to catch me first,' thought Dandelion, and with one bound she was at the top of the curtains. She hung there by her claws, mewing, while Barney tried to coax her down.

Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, Wilf was already preparing lunch. He had rolled out the pastry for an apple pie and was peeling and chopping the fruit when the kitchen door swung open. ‘Must be a draught,' Wilf thought as he went over and pushed it closed again. Just at that moment he caught again the smell of
eau de cologne
he'd noticed when he was bringing in the milk. Had the ghost come back? he wondered.

As if in reply, the rolling pin rose off the table and floated in mid-air. ‘Eek! Help!' he cried as
it moved towards him and then
Thwack!
Wilf's own rolling pin hit him hard on the head! He saw red lights and swirling stars, reeled backwards and almost fell over. The rolling pin was still hovering over his head. He saw it draw back to thump him again and with that Wilf started to run. Round and round the table he went with the rolling pin following him. Never in his life had he been so frightened. To be chased by a man with a rolling pin would be awful he thought, but somehow to be chased by the rolling pin itself was even worse.

Suddenly he noticed the door into the pantry and he threw himself on it. The door fell open and he tumbled straight into the small dark room, head first into a lemon jelly that had been left there to set. The rolling pin – it could be no one or nothing else – slammed the door shut and Wilf heard the key being turned in the lock. It was almost a relief to be sitting there on the floor in the darkness, with a fancy jelly mould on his head and lemon jelly
slithering down the back of his neck. At least here he was safe.

Up in the bedroom, Barney had managed to catch Dandelion and to force one of the yellow pills into her. It was achieved with much wiggling and mewing and scratching on Dandelion's part, and much coaxing and scolding and scrambling on Barney's. He was quite exhausted with the effort.

‘I shall have to fetch Wilf to help me give you the second one, or it'll take all morning.'

Barney left the room with Dandelion at his heels to go to the kitchen. He was amazed to see that all the paintings had been removed from the wall and were stacked up neatly at the end of the passageway. Why on earth had Wilf done this? He hadn't asked him to, and Wilf hadn't mentioned anything about it. Puzzled, Barney continued along the corridor and went down the stairs. What a sight met his eyes on the second floor!

A picture in a heavy gold frame of a storm at
sea was getting down from the wall all by itself. Several other paintings were already stacked up nearby. Barney watched open-mouthed and goggle-eyed as the seascape slid itself up the wall and then tilted out at the bottom. Slowly and gently it moved off and hovered in mid-air for a moment before lowering itself to the ground. It rested there as if it were tired and Barney noticed a curious and pleasant smell, a cross between pinecones and lemons.

‘It's like a very good
eau de cologne,
' he said to himself. Suddenly the painting rose up again and floated along the corridor until it came to the stack of pictures, to which it carefully added itself.

‘I'm dreaming,' Barney thought. ‘I'm in my bed fast asleep and dreaming, with Dandelion curled up at the back of my knees. Any minute now the alarm clock will go off and Wilf will come into the room with tea and toast and muffins and marmalade and another ordinary day will begin.' But he knew in his heart that
he wasn't dreaming and that this extraordinary day was completely real.

With that, out of nowhere, a pair of shoes appeared. It was an expensive-looking pair of men's shoes, in shiny black leather, and they were walking down the corridor from the stack of paintings to where Barney and Dandelion stood. The turn-ups on the bottom of a pair of trousers now appeared above the shoes. Barney gave a little squawk of fright, and the shoes came to a halt. Trousers were visible now, up as far as the knee.

‘Snakes' elbows!' said a voice. There was a pause, followed by a rustling of sweet papers and then a chomping, guzzling noise. Immediately the trousers began to fade away from the knees down. Now there was only a pair of shoes and they started to walk again, once more heading straight for Barney.

Throughout all of this, Dandelion watched helplessly. She knew exactly what was happening, but there was nothing she could do
to tell Barney or to stop it. ‘Where are you?' she thought anxiously. ‘Where are you, dogs?'

Just at that moment, she heard a panting sound and an answering thought popped into her mind.

‘Sorry we're late,' gasped Cannibal. ‘We were down in the kitchen trying to help Wilf but he's trapped in the pantry and we couldn't manage to unlock the door.'

‘This isn't going well,' added Bruiser. ‘Jasper's working much faster than we expected and I don't know how we're going to stop him.'

By now the shoes had disappeared again. Barney could hear the panting noise too and he felt something brush against his legs. A ghost! Wilf had asked him that very morning if there was a ghost in the house. He must have come across it too, but he hadn't said anything so as not to frighten Barney. But it was no use because Barney WAS frightened. Never before in all of his long life had he been so scared. ‘Help!' he cried as another painting started
to rise off the wall. ‘HELP!!!' He scooped Dandelion up in his arms and raced away down the corridor to the stairs, back up to the top floor faster than she'd ever have believed possible.

‘Oh this is useless,' the cat thought to herself in dismay as they crashed into the bedroom. Barney slammed the door closed and turned the key in the lock. ‘I won't be able to do anything now to help Cannibal and Bruiser.' Jumping from his arms she scratched at the door and mewed and wailed.

‘Don't cry, my little Dandelion, we're safe now,' Barney said. ‘The ghost can't get at us here. But what about poor Wilf? And what about the paintings? Oh what a dreadful, dreadful morning this is turning out to be!'

BOOK: Snakes' Elbows
7.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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