Edie Amelia and the Runcible River Fever (10 page)

Her ears were filled with the noise of the flame produced by the oxygen and propane, and she wondered if this was what ‘firing on all cylinders' meant. As she mentally ticked oxygen and propane off Doctor Stuart's list, she concluded that flying a balloon was hardly a serene experience, a sentiment with which the alpacas seemed in complete agreement.

‘Ye won't regret giving me coverage. I think my story isn't just good value,' Hogmanay was telling Trudy Truelove, ‘it's
triple
value!
First
, it's a story of one man's determination to go to undreamedof heights in his balloon;
second
, it's the story of how one man conquered the fear of
a Fever Dog and put an end to a dangerous disease.
Finally
, it's a heartwarming story of practical initiative and recycled goods. Behold! My new-look balloon!'

With a great
woomph!
the balloon was completely filled with hot air and puffed itself up to its full size. Edie looked above her at the dramatic sight and it became clear
what
recycled goods Hogmanay had been referring to. He had restored the once mangled balloon by stitching onto its torn fabric hundreds of the pleather jumpsuits which the Blank Marauder had claimed were in mint condition. With its brave patches of blue, orange, green, pink, magenta and nearly every other colour of the rainbow, the balloon now looked like a jumbo-sized patchwork quilt. But the girls had little time to admire the effect, because just then another van screeched to a halt near the launch site. On its door were the words
Runcible Veterinary Clinic and Animal Hospital.
The door opened and a very angry Doctor Arabella Stuart stepped out. The Mayor got out too. Then the two policemen who had accompanied the Mayor to the Town Meeting pulled to a stop in their police car, lights flashing. Edie observed their matching navy pleather jumpsuits through the gap in the wickerwork.

They all marched towards the balloon.

‘I
have some key research into curing the Fever,' announced Hogmanay to the assembled crowd. ‘Put simply, the answer is
elevation
.' Hogmanay was holding aloft a page of Michaelmas Sparks's distinctive purple notepaper, scrawled all over with Michaelmas's handwriting. Edie squinted
at it through the crack in the wicker. It included the diagram of Mister's doggy-lifter.

‘He's definitely taken my dad's notes!' she said. ‘But that's not the cure. Those are blueprints for one of Dad's inventions, Mister Pants's dumb-waiter doggy-lifter.'

Mister Pants snorted.

‘It seems,' Hogmanay continued, ‘according to this new research, that if anyone infected by or carrying the Fever is subjected to low air pressure, the symptoms disappear and the Fever with them. So at last, a cure! Now, one way of doing this is to elevate the patient, or, in the present case, the carrier of the disease, to a very great height, where the air is thinner and, as a result, the air pressure is very much lower.'

Hogmanay Chompster reached into the balloon basket, missing the stowaways by a hair's breadth (which is, roughly speaking, about one-tenth of a millimetre). He grabbed the wooden box and tipped its contents into his ample hands. A small white puppy tumbled out and began to yap.

‘RRFD,' whispered Edie. ‘Of course. Runcible River Fever Dog.'

‘That's the Fever Dog?' said Cheesy, peeping through the wicker crack. She stifled a giggle. ‘But it's just a little puppy.'

‘This is the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard!' said Arabella Stuart, who strode over to the balloon and eyeballed Hogmanay.

‘Now, Miss—' Hogmanay began, but Arabella shut him down.

‘It's
Doctor
Stuart, if you please, and I'm a vet, and I help Doctor Dogwatch to care for sick camels and their relatives in this refuge, which you've illegally entered after stealing one of my keys.'

‘What's more,' interjected Trudy Truelove, ‘you've stolen my dog Snuffles.'

‘I've nae
stolen
your dog,' Hogmanay protested. ‘I found him by the river bank!
His eyes were red and bug-like and his fur was—'

‘White and fluffy? This is
my
dog. I took him with me when I was doing some . . . investigative journalism by the river bank. He's been missing ever since.'

‘Nae, nae,' said Hogmanay, ‘he's a Fever carrier all right. I found him eating a flan in the bulrushes, just like Moses. There's no goin' back. I've got to save Runcible from him!'

‘Check his name tag then give him back to me at once!' said Trudy, bracelets jangling as she held out her arms for the anxious puppy.

‘Nae,' bellowed Hogmanay.

Doctor Stuart turned to the policemen. ‘Officers,' she said, ‘won't you do something? Arrest this man! He's stolen my key, and probably my blowtorch, propane, oxygen and surgical thread. He's also stolen a journalist's dog. He's about to take off in a patched-up wreck of a balloon that would never pass a safety inspection and, worst of all, he's trespassing on the land of these animals.'

The alpacas spat in agreement. One of the policemen wrote all this down in his notebook, conferred with the other officer, then approached Hogmanay with his arms outstretched in a calming gesture.

‘Sir, you'll need to come with us. I must ask you to surrender all stolen goods at once. You can start by returning that dog to Miss Truelove, or I shall arrest you for theft.'

When he heard this, Hogmanay jumped into the balloon basket with Snuffles under one arm, and in a split second had thrown out some ballast bags, unhooked the guy ropes and turned up the burner, squashing the stowaways in his basket. The balloon, with its three human and two animal passengers, slowly ascended into the wide blue sky, scattering alpacas in its wake.

‘At any rate,' said the second policeman, his voice fading as the balloon ascended, ‘we can forget about the trespass bit. He's gone.'

‘
E
r, hello, Daddy, were you expecting us?' said Cheesy nervously, poking her head out from under the tarpaulin.

‘Hello, Mr Chompster,' said Edie, emerging from its opposite end. ‘Would you mind moving your foot? You're standing on my dog.'

‘Snort,' said Mister.

‘Snuffle,' said Snuffles.

Hogmanay gaped at his three stowaways in shock and disbelief.

‘Charisma, Edie, wee doggy . . .' he began, then he sucked in a great breath. ‘Ye shouldnae hae come here,' he growled. ‘D'ye nae ken? I've a Fever to cure. I've a wee record to break! I'll bally well box your flamin' . . .' As he trailed off his face became a purplish-red, a bit like Cheesy's when she was mid-tantrum.

‘Dad?' said Cheesy. ‘Are you alright?'

Hogmanay suddenly seemed lost in thought as he stared above him at the pleather patchwork canopy. He began counting under his breath, then shook his head. ‘Oh no,' he said. ‘Disaster.'

‘What is it, Dad? What's wrong? Did you sew all these jumpsuits together? Tell us what you're pointing at.'

Before he could reply, Hogmanay was seized by a coughing fit which prevented him from answering. ‘We're short . . . one jumpsuit. My design called for . . . a thousand,' he managed to blurt out before
his spluttering began anew. He coughed and coughed and gasped for air and clutched at his orange overalls until finally, gripping one of the ropes for dear life, he collapsed in a heap on the floor of the basket.