Edie Amelia and the Runcible River Fever (4 page)

The Marauder had arrived at the back gate, pushing a wheelbarrow with a large box in it. He looked upset and said something while pointing a bony finger at Hogmanay's face. Hogmanay in turn looked shocked, shook his head and appeared to launch into an explanation. After what seemed like a lot of explaining indeed, he produced an envelope and thrust it into the Blank Marauder's hand. The Marauder kept shaking his head and pushing the envelope away until finally he seemed to surrender, accepting the envelope and helping Hogmanay to load the box onto
a trailer attached to a small orange car parked outside, which had the words
Flights of Fancy
painted across it in yellow. Hogmanay climbed into his car, waved and pulled away from the kerb. The Blank Marauder watched him go before returning to his shed.

‘What on earth was that about? Do they know each other?' asked Edie.

‘And what was in that box?' Cheesy wanted to know.

It looked like the box containing the nine hundred and ninety-nine pleather jumpsuits, but Edie couldn't imagine why Hogmanay would want those, or why they would be the subject of an argument. Edie returned to her binoculars and then nearly dropped them in shock. Someone in a white coat was lurking behind a hedge, keeping a close watch on the goings-on next door. Whoever it was had binoculars of their own and they seemed, for a brief moment, to be aimed straight at Edie's bedroom window. She shrieked and crouched on the floor as the oven timer went off downstairs.

‘Flan's ready, girls,' called Cinnamon from the kitchen. ‘Edie Amelia, is that you screaming? Really dear, it's silly to be histrionic.'

E
die's binoculars were at the ready, hanging about her neck, and her detective kit was safely inside her satchel, which was slung across her left shoulder. She thought it best that Mister Pants stay home in case they had a run-in with the Fever Dog sooner than they expected. The girls kept a close
eye on passers-by for symptoms of the Fever as they hurried along, but saw only ever-increasing numbers of townsfolk wearing multi-coloured pleather jumpsuits.

‘We're home,' called Cheesy as she reached her front gate, clutching the flan. She sounded relieved not to have been set upon by the Fever Dog along the way.

Cheesy lived in a red-brick house on a hillside not twenty minutes from The Pride of the Green. Edie thought Cheesy's house was a marvel, with its polished tables, comfortable chairs and colour television. Then there were all the clocks. There were clocks in every room and in the hallways as well: porcelain clocks with floral designs, wooden alpine clocks, jangly alarm clocks with pointy arms, a tall grandfather clock with a long brass pendulum and even a cuckoo clock, complete with a perky bird that popped out every hour on the hour to remind the Chompsters that time flies.

‘Are you deaf, Sparks? Didn't you hear me ask you to close the lychgate behind us?'

‘Sorry,' muttered Edie, who didn't understand the point of a gate with a roof over the top of it, but was afraid to cause offence by saying so.

The girls climbed Cheesy's front steps and knocked on the door. Cheesy's mother, Beltane Chompster, let them in. ‘Oh hello, lovelies, what do we have here? Something smells nice.' She wore a green knitted turban, and although she smiled at them, Edie thought her eyes looked red. Whether it was from sadness or Fever, Edie couldn't be sure. She made a mental note to watch out for a dry cough, wet sneezing and memory loss.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Chompster,' said Edie.

The girls noticed some cardboard boxes in the lounge room as they followed Beltane into the kitchen.

‘Mummy! What's going on?' demanded Cheesy.

‘I'm doing a little packing, Charisma. The Runcible River Fever is a big, big . . . botheration. Our Loch Ness monster is a
pussycat compared to this Fever Dog. So I'm very sorry but we're leaving.'

Cheesy looked as though she'd swallowed a barnacle as she deposited the flan on a bench beside a clock in the shape of a silver cat with a meowing chime. ‘Let's go to my room,' she whispered to Edie.

Although the girls politely excused themselves as they left the kitchen, Mrs Chompster continued talking, seemingly unaware that they had gone.

‘Have you noticed your mum coughing lately?' said Edie, pulling out her notebook.

‘Not sure.' Cheesy walked ahead, down the red-carpeted hall. ‘I got us some orangeade,' she added glumly. ‘We may as well toast my imminent departure.'

Cheesy opened the door to her room and tripped over Volume 12 of
The Whiz-kids' Encyclopaedia
, spilling orangeade all over the carpet.

‘Blast!' said Cheesy.

‘Language,' said Edie.

There was a knock on the door and Beltane's head appeared around it.

‘I think you girls have forgotten someone,' she said. As she stepped aside, Mister Pants scuttled into the bedroom and stood on the wet patch of carpet. Mrs Chompster returned to her packing.

‘How did
you
get here?' said Edie, giving Mister a hug.

‘I don't necessarily want him in here!' said Cheesy. ‘Can't he wait by the door?' Cheesy, as it happened, was not fond of animals. She objected strongly to insects and bushland creatures, and had only recently become friends with Mister Pants after he had behaved heroically in Chinatown on the evening of her father's balloon crash. This didn't, however, mean that she was happy to have his doggy smell, doggy hairs or doggy slobber in her bedroom, which her mother had tastefully decorated with floral fabrics, china figurines and more clocks. A large antique pram with enormous wheels and a navy canopy stood in the corner of the room. Edie knew this had been Cheesy's when she was a baby, and Cheesy had since filled it with her limited-edition nineteenth-century doll collection.

‘Sit, boy,' said Edie when she'd taken Mister into the hall. Tired from his long walk, Mister Pants sank gratefully onto his belly in the doorway.

Cheesy handed Edie a glass of what was left of the orangeade.

‘Edie, Mum's packing. If we don't do something about it soon, I'll be on the next ship back to Scotland!'

Mister Pants grunted, then pricked up his ears. The garage door at the side of the house had begun to creak open.

‘Dad's home!' said Cheesy.

‘Quick,' said Edie, ‘is there some way we can see down to the garage? I'd love to know what he's up to and what he's done with that box!'

‘Not to mention what's in it,' said Cheesy. ‘Get your torch. If you stand on the window ledge and look through that vent you can see down into the garage.'

Edie fished her trusty yellow torch out of her detective kit and climbed onto the narrow window ledge, steadying herself by hanging on to the top of Cheesy's head. She aimed the light down the vent and saw Hogmanay closing the garage door. With a lot of puffing, panting and sniffing he dragged what looked like the heavy box to a corner of the garage and then went to great pains to cover it with a tarpaulin.

Cheesy began to wobble.

‘Hold on, I think he's coming up now,' whispered Edie. ‘He's heading for the side door. Try to stay still for a few more seconds.'

‘You try standing still with a detective
yanking on your left plait,' Cheesy muttered. ‘What on earth can he be up to now?' she said, craning her neck in an effort to see.

‘Let's go and find out,' said Edie.

H
ogmanay's large auburn beard shone under one of the many ceiling lamps as he stood with arms crossed and legs apart in the centre of the Chompsters' kitchen. He reminded Edie of a conquering Viking. Edie, Cheesy and Beltane stood staring at him from the doorway.

‘Girls,' he exclaimed.

Edie thought his eyes looked red; it was as though they burned with energy. ‘Well, don't just stand there with your tails between your legs. Come in.'

‘What is it, Dad?' said Cheesy.

‘Well now, between you and me and that farty little dog you've hidden away somewhere in the house—I can still sniff him out, you know—I've decided it's time to cut my losses. No more world-record ballooning nonsense. I agree with Mummy. We return to Glasgow.'