Stop! There's a Snake in Your Suitcase!

by Adam Frost

  To Leon

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Zoological Society of London

  Also by Adam Frost

  Chapter 1

  ‘Keep up, slowcoach!’ Tom Nightingale called over his shoulder to his best friend, Freddy Finch, as they skateboarded home from school on Thursday evening. ‘Hey, shall we go through Regent’s Park or along the canal?’

  ‘Through the park,’ Freddy shouted back. ‘It’s easier to do tricks in there.’

  Thirty seconds later, and they were whizzing past the boating lake, stopping every few minutes to try kick-flips and ollies and a special trick that Tom had invented called a ‘tiger’s leap’, which involved skateboarding towards a bench, leaping up on to the seat and running along it while your skateboard was rolling under the bench, and then jumping back on your board at the other end.

  Tom had got the skateboard for his ninth birthday and had been practising every day since.

  ‘Race you to the bandstand,’ Freddy cried.

  ‘Hang on, it gets crowded over there . . .’ Tom said.

  But he might as well not have bothered as Freddy was already speeding off. ‘You’re just saying that cos you know you’ll lose!’ he shouted back over his shoulder.

  Tom frowned. They’d see about that. He pushed off and gave chase. The two boys whizzed past the swings and weaved through Avenue Gardens. Freddy swerved right and raced past the open-air theatre and the outdoor cafe. As they rounded the corner by Clarence Bridge, Freddy swerved to avoid a pigeon and crashed into Tom’s skateboard. Both boys flew through the air and landed on a patch of grass. Tom was about to scramble to his feet, but Freddy was pointing at something under a nearby bush.

  ‘Hey, Tom,’ he called out, ‘look at this.’

  Tom stopped and turned round to see where Freddy was pointing.

  ‘It’s not a trick,’ said his friend. ‘Look, you’ve won, OK? Just come and see what I’ve found.’

  Tom picked up his skateboard and walked over to where Freddy was sitting.

  ‘Look – there . . .’ Freddy pointed at a green shape under the bush. Tom squinted and made out a long green snake. A grass snake. It had wriggled around on to its back. It kept squirming for a few seconds and then it stopped moving and lay there completely still with its mouth open and its tongue hanging out. A drop of blood trickled from its mouth.

  ‘I didn’t touch it, honest!’ said Freddy.

  ‘What do you think is wrong with it?’ Tom said, putting his hand into the bush.

  ‘Don’t touch it, you idiot. It might bite,’ said Freddy.

  ‘Grass snakes don’t bite,’ said Tom, gently stroking its stomach. ‘It probably thinks you’re going to bite him. I thought it would be cold and slimy, but it’s sort of dry and warm.’

  Freddy was raising one eyebrow. ‘You and your family have way too much time for animals.’ Then he raised both eyebrows. ‘Hey, talking of your family, your sister will know what’s wrong with it. She wants to be a vet like your mum, right?’

  ‘Suppose I could ring her,’ said Tom. He got a mobile phone out of his back pocket. ‘I’m only meant to use it in emergencies.’

  ‘This is an emergency,’ Freddy said. ‘He’s on his last legs. Not that he’s got any legs.’

  Tom called his big sister, Sophie. The phone rang five times before she picked it up.

  ‘OK, what have you done now?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Tom protested. ‘Listen – me and Freddy found this snake.’ He explained what he could see and then put his sister on speakerphone.

  ‘Hmm,’ Sophie said. There were a few seconds of silence and then she started speaking again. ‘I suspect it’s just playing dead. It’s one of the ways that grass snakes react to predators. He’ll emit a nasty-smelling liquid from his bottom in a minute.’

  ‘Blimey!’ Freddy said, holding his nose. ‘He has as well.’

  ‘It’s to make you think he’s rotting,’ Sophie said. ‘To put you off eating him.’

  ‘Like I was about to tuck in,’ Freddy muttered.

  ‘Anyway, whatever you do, DON’T move him anywhere,’ Sophie said. ‘He’ll be there for a reason. He’s either warming up or cooling down. If you move him, he really could be in trouble.’

  As soon as she said the word ‘trouble’, the snake flipped over on to its belly and slithered into the bush at lightning speed.

  ‘Could you – I mean – did you – see that?’ Freddy spluttered.

  ‘All right, thanks, Soph,’ Tom said. ‘See you back on the barge.’

  The boys got back on their skateboards and trundled along side by side.

  ‘Here’s what gets me,’ said Freddy.

  ‘What?’ Tom asked.

  ‘He’s got no legs, no arms and yet he’s as fast as a ferret running up someone’s trouser leg.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Tom nodded.

  ‘He’s got no ears and no nose,’ Freddy went on. ‘And yet he had ninja reflexes.’

  ‘I remember Dad saying that snakes sense things with their tongue,’ Tom said. ‘You know, how they flicker it in and out all the time. They pick up smells and movement and pass it back to their brains.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Freddy. ‘You mean like this?’ He stuck his tongue out and started moving his skateboard in a snake-like fashion, weaving left and right.

  Tom grinned and copied him and soon they were skating forward like a pair of snakes. They passed a mother wheeling her baby along in a pushchair.

  She frowned at them. ‘Rude boys,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t pay any attention to them, Popsy.’

  Tom and Freddy laughed out loud and then stuck their tongues back in again.

  Chapter 2

  Sophie had been on her way back from school with her best friend, Jemima, when Tom had called.

  ‘So what was that all about?’ Jemima asked as Sophie hung up. ‘Has Simon just dumped you?’

  Sophie groaned. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going out with Simon!’

  ‘Try telling Simon that,’ Jemima said. ‘So what was it then?’

  ‘It was Tom,’ Sophie replied. ‘He needed my help with a grass snake.’

  ‘A grass snake?’ said Jemima. ‘Hang on a minute. I know that look!’

  ‘What look?’ said Sophie.

  ‘The look you get when you hear about a lost or injured animal – sort of mushy,’ said Jemima.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sophie said.

  ‘Just what I said.’ Jemima laughed. ‘You’re thinking about snakes, aren’t you?’ Don’t tell me you’re thinking about getting one!’

  ‘Well, no,’ Sophie replied. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Sophie!’

  ‘They’re just interesting, that’s all.’

  The two girls turned along the road that led to Regent’s Park. Sophie was twelve years old, but because she was tall and clever and confident she could easily pass for fourteen. Jemima was the same age, and also got mistaken for older, but this was mainly because of the dyed red hair and the mascara.

  ‘My cousin has a snake called Albert; they are the grossest pets ever,’ said Jemima.

  ‘Come on, there are grosser pets,’ said Sophie. ‘What about spiders? Or slugs?’

  ‘It’s got to be snakes,’ said Jemima. ‘Every time I go to my cousin’s house, you open the fridge and there’s a mouse defrosting
in there. Albert’s dinner!’

  Sophie laughed.

  ‘And he’s always escaping,’ said Jemima. ‘One time, I was over there watching telly when I felt this arm creeping round my shoulder. You know, like I’m in the back row at the cinema. Only it wasn’t an arm, it was Albert! I turn round and there I am – eyeball to eyeball with him.’

  ‘What kind of snake is he?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ said Jemima. ‘A flippin’ big one! With fangs! So look, if you get one, there’s no way I’m coming over to your house again. Not that you’ve got a house, but you know what I mean.’

  They stopped at a gate that led down to the Regent’s Canal towpath. The houseboat that Sophie lived on with her family was moored on the canal below, whereas Jemima’s house was a little further on up the hill.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Sophie. ‘I won’t get a snake any time soon. For a start, I don’t think Clarence and Win would like it very much.’

  ‘Who are they? Your mice?’

  ‘My rats,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Jemima, scrunching up her eyes, ‘rats are misunderstood as well. Talking of rats, look – it’s Christian Hemmings. Stay with me.’

  ‘But you used to like him.’

  ‘That was when he was still washing his freaking hair.’

  ‘Sorry, Jem, got dogs to walk, fish to feed.’ Sophie smiled over her shoulder as she walked down the track that led to her boat. Jemima pulled a mock-angry face and then turned to face a sullen-looking teenage boy wearing eyeliner.

  As Sophie got closer to the canal, she felt London fading away behind her. Within a few seconds there were no more car horns or police sirens; there was no music blaring from shops. She was surrounded by trees and water and wildlife.

  She pulled out a crust of bread that she’d saved from her packed lunch and threw it towards a patch of reeds. A group of ducklings emerged, quacking happily and jabbing at the bread.

  ‘All right, try not to fight over it,’ she said. Sophie watched for a moment before walking on towards the marina, where the houseboats were moored.

  As she passed the first boat she heard a voice coming out of an open porthole.

  ‘Hello, Sophie. How’s your mum?’

  ‘Better now, thanks, Mrs Macready,’ Sophie said, bending down to look in. ‘It was just a bad cold.’

  ‘Good, good,’ said the voice. ‘Send her my love.’

  On the second boat there was a man on the bow, cooking sausages on a barbecue. He looked up and waved.

  ‘Hi, Jim,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Can you give this screwdriver back to your dad?’ he said, picking it up from the roof of the boat and handing it to her.

  ‘Sure thing,’ Sophie said.

  She passed the third barge and waved at a middle-aged woman who was repainting the name of her boat on its prow: LILY THE PINK.

  The woman turned round and said, ‘Hello, Sophie. If you and Tom want to earn a tenner at the weekend, I could use a hand re-sanding the deck.’

  ‘Call it twenty and you’ve got a deal,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Fifteen and as many muffins as you can eat!’ said the woman with a smile.

  ‘Done,’ said Sophie.

  After walking past another three barges, Sophie finally reached the family boat.

  All of the boats on the canal were completely different to each other – some were black and long, while others were short and blue. There were red ones and green ones – some brand new, others old-fashioned. Some of them were built for one person, others could hold ten. But even in the midst of all this variety, the Nightingale boat really stood out.

  For a start, half the roof had been turned into a vegetable garden, while the other half was covered with solar panels. Then there was the boat itself, which was decorated all over with animals. Tom and Sophie’s dad had painted rhinos, bears, tigers, zebras and lots of other creatures on the sides. The portholes had been worked into the design as well, so that if you were inside, looking out, you could be poking out of a kangaroo’s pouch, stuck inside a lion’s mouth or peering out of a tortoise’s shell.

  Inside there were animals everywhere too. The family had a terrier called Rex and two cats called Mindy and Max, while Tom had five stick insects and Sophie had her two rats, a ferret, a budgie and eleven goldfish.

  The boat’s name was the Jessica Rose. But everyone in the marina just called it The Ark.

  Sophie opened the front door and ducked inside. Rex had come running out of his basket as soon as he heard the key turn in the lock. Sophie swept him up and screwed up her face as he licked her chin.

  ‘Ready for walkies, Rexie?’ she asked. Rex leapt out of her arms and stood in front of the hook where his lead was hanging.

  ‘OK, let’s take Felicity as well,’ she said.

  She picked up a small collar from the windowsill and walked over to her ferret’s cage.

  Within a couple of minutes, Rex the terrier and Felicity the ferret were on their way to Regent’s Park, pulling Sophie along behind them.

  Chapter 3

  While Sophie was taking the animals for a walk, Tom was on his way down to the canal. He was still thinking about the grass snake that he and Freddy had seen. He wondered if there were any other snakes in this part of London and how easy it would be to spot them. He decided to ask Grandad about it.

  Grandad lived in a houseboat at the other end of the marina – which was very handy for everyone. Before he’d retired, he had been Chief Vet at London Zoo, just as his daughter, Tom’s mum, was now also Chief Vet there. In fact, the whole family worked at the zoo – Tom’s dad was a keeper there too.

  As Tom put his skateboard down on the towpath he saw his sister coming towards him, pulled by Rex and Felicity.

  ‘So, did the snake survive?’ she asked.

  Rex was jumping up on Tom’s trousers.

  ‘Yeah, I think he was fine,’ said Tom, stroking Rex. ‘In fact, I was on my way to ask Grandad about it now. And about snakes in general.’

  ‘Well, ask him about keeping one as a pet too, will you?’ Sophie said, ‘I’m thinking about getting one.’

  ‘A big scary one?’ Tom asked. ‘A huge long venomous one? I saw one on TV that dislocated its jaw and swallowed a whole crocodile.’

  ‘That would be a boa constrictor,’ said Sophie. ‘Probably not one like that.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tom, disappointed.

  A moment later, a houseboat glided past them, steering towards the bank.

  ‘Did I hear someone mention snakes?’ a voice called out.

  Tom and Sophie turned round. The voice was coming from the houseboat. A tall thin man stood on the deck with a grin on his face and a thick snake around his neck. The snake twisted its head round and fixed Tom and Sophie with its black beady eyes, flicking its tongue in and out.

  Rex growled and stood behind Sophie.

  ‘Whoa, is that a boa constrictor?’ Tom called out.

  ‘A Burmese python actually,’ the man said, grinning. ‘Fancy a stroke?’

  Sophie stared at the snake. Something about it puzzled her. She couldn’t help noticing a couple of sores on its skin and a swelling on the side of its head. Why was it in such a bad condition?

  She turned to look at the man. He had a scar on his cheek and about six teeth in his mouth. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos. They were smudged and wobbly and Sophie remembered Jemima telling her about tattoos that people got in prison.

  ‘Look who’s down here having a swim,’ the man said.

  He pulled another snake out of a cage that was trailing in the canal. This one was green with black spots and extremely long.

  ‘Blimey, what’s that?’ Tom asked.

  ‘It looks like an anaconda,’ said Sophie.

  The man dropped the snake back in the cage with a splash.

  ‘Clever girl,’ said the man. ‘Got all sorts in here. Cobras, rattlesnakes . . . you name it. Plus some other reptiles: iguanas, chamele
ons, turtles.’

  ‘But there can’t be enough room,’ said Sophie.

  ‘There ain’t,’ the man said. ‘That’s why I’m selling ’em. Now this boa would cost you around two thousand pounds on the open market, but you can have it for a monkey.’

  ‘But we don’t own a monkey,’ said Tom.

  The man chuckled. ‘A monkey means five hundred pounds, son. Go and get your mum or dad and we’ll seal the deal right here, right now.’

  ‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Sophie said decisively. ‘We don’t need any more animals.’

  The man looked up and down the canal. ‘You’re breaking my heart here, sweetheart. All right, a rattlesnake for a pony. That’s twenty-five nicker.’

  His sales patter was interrupted when an old man holding a walking stick appeared next to Tom and Sophie.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ he said, patting Rex on the head.

  ‘Oh, hi, Grandad,’ said Tom. ‘Can I swap a pony for a snake?’

  Tom and Sophie’s grandad looked up at the man on the barge. ‘Buying and selling, are you?’ Then he let out a low whistle. ‘My word!’ he said, pointing with his cane. ‘Look at the condition of that snake! And is that captive-bred? It looks like a wild snake to me!’

  ‘Keep your voice down, old man,’ the man snarled.

  ‘I will not keep my voice down,’ said Grandad. ‘If I’m not mistaken, those are smuggled animals, aren’t they? Sophie, do you have one of those modern portable telephones? I’m calling the police.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ said the old man, ‘unless you want a king cobra down your trousers!’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ barked Grandad. ‘What else do you have in that boat?’

  ‘He said turtles, Grandad,’ Sophie said, handing him her mobile. ‘Iguanas, chameleons . . . all sorts of stuff.’

  But the man had already turned his engine on and was steering the boat away from the bank.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ Grandad called after him, waving a fist in the air. He stared at the phone. ‘So how do you work it, Sophie? There aren’t any buttons, just a screen. It doesn’t make any sense.’