‘Kirei means “beautiful” in Japanese,’ breathed Akira, extending her finger straight and level as a makeshift perch for her bird.
Sora landed on it delicately and peered at the watching group. ‘Kirei,’ he said again with great self-satisfaction.
‘Well done, Sora,’ said Miss Einstein with a smile. ‘What an absolutely marvellous feat — speaking after your very first lesson.’
‘But, Miss Einstein, it is correct, is it not, that budgerigars are able to mimic the human voice?’ queried Maximilian as he set Hannah onto a nearby table. ‘In light of that fact, I’m not sure it is a true achievement for Sora to say a word. Lots of birds can say a single word — some can say many words. It’s much harder for, say, a cat to talk. Sora’s word may be mimicry, not true speaking.’
Sora looked indignant, if indeed it was possible for a small budgerigar with feathers on top of his head like a tufty little beret to look indignant. ‘Kirei,’ he said again very clearly, staring straight at Maximilian.
‘It is true that some birds can learn to imitate human voices,’ Miss Einstein agreed as she walked over to Sora. ‘But the kind of speaking we teach here — the kind your pets will learn — is not mere mimicry, Maximilian.’ She reached out and stroked the little bird’s feathery neck with a finger. ‘I very much believe that Sora meant exactly what he said.’ Miss Einstein smiled at the bird and then at Akira, who beamed in return.
Maximilian reddened. He picked up Hannah, possibly just in time, as the ginger and white cat appeared coiled and ready to leap at Sora.
Shelby lifted her guinea pig up to her face and spoke loudly. ‘Porky, can you say beautiful? Beautiful? Bootiful-wootiful?’
But he just batted his eyelashes at her.
Miss Einstein turned to the rest of the group.
‘Don’t worry, everyone. Your pets will speak when they are ready and not a moment before.’
Rusty turned to Bongo. The lizard flicked his blue tongue in and out and then, as far as Rusty could tell, gazed vacantly at the wall.
Not a good sign.
But Bongo had joined in the singing, and that had to mean something. Didn’t it?
‘OK, let’s continue. If you could put your instruments away and follow me, we’ll finish the tour and get stuck into it.’
Miss Einstein led them back out into the purple hallway, talking over her shoulder as she walked. ‘I’m just a teacher, you know. I’m not like my great-grandfather, who studied physics and mathematics and was curious about the entire world. I just wanted to teach. I taught in regular schools for quite some time. And I did consider creating a school for children on this island. But then I adopted Nader Heydar. I didn’t know that was his true name at the time, obviously. I named him Fluffy.’
Rusty stifled a laugh. He pictured the imperious cat with the squished-in face. Nader Heydar was once called Fluffy?
‘I sensed there was something inside Fluffy, I mean, Nader. Something special. It made me wonder . . . what would the world be like if animals could talk? What if they had amazing things they wanted to tell us, but couldn’t? And, more than that, what if they wanted to learn? So, in that moment, I decided to try something no-one had ever tried before — to teach animals to talk. And you know what?’ Miss Einstein stopped and turned around. ‘It worked.’
CHAPTER 25
KYLE LOVES LLAMAS
Kyle let his binoculars fall. ‘They’re dancing, Wilhelmina. Dancing. Can you believe it?’ He pushed himself up from where he lay hung over the edge of the cliff and shook his head in disgust. ‘How is that going to teach them to speak? I don’t think Lord Roderick needs to worry about talking animals. The ones the woman trotted out on TV must have been fakes. I haven’t seen a single talking animal since I’ve been on the island. Have you?’
In response, the foliage in front of him shifted and stretched, leaves rustling. ‘Ergh,’ it groaned.
‘Don’t move, Wilhelmina, you silly git. You’re a hedge, remember? You need to stay still to give me cover while I watch them.’
Fortunately for Kyle, Miss Einstein’s Speaking 101 had taken place in the classroom at a corner of the building, so if he leaned over the edge of the cliff, he could just make out what was going on through the open windows. Also fortunately, he wasn’t afraid of heights. Not that Kyle was afraid of anything. Bravery was his middle name. Well, it wasn’t actually his middle name. But it should be.
Wilhelmina glared at him from beneath the leaves. Orange hair poked through the gaps like exotic flowers. He could just make out her freckled face among the greenery.
‘Well?’ he asked again, impatient. ‘Have you seen any talking animals, Wilhelmina?’
She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again. Reluctantly, the big woman gave a single nod.
‘What? You have?’
She nodded again.
‘Where? When was this? You haven’t been wandering off on your own again, have you?’ he demanded.
She shook her head no.
‘So, where then? Spill.’
After another long moment, Wilhelmina spoke. Her voice, as always, surprised Kyle. It was really quite . . . pleasant. Husky, but somehow melodic too. ‘A sheep,’ she confessed. ‘A sheep nibbled my leaves early this morning, then spat them out. The sheep said, “Eww, what’s wrong with this bush, it tastes disgusting.” Then it bleated and ran back to join the other sheep.’
Kyle spluttered. ‘A talking sheep. Don’t be ridiculous, Wilhelmina.’ He pulled out his mirror and adjusted his gardener’s hat. It wasn’t a hat that suited many people, but on him it was quite flattering. A talking sheep? As if there were such a thing. Wilhelmina must think him a gullible chump.
Although . . .
He slid the mirror back into his pants pocket, thinking. Wilhelmina had many faults, but lying had never been one of them. If anything, the giant woman was honest to a fault.
‘A talking sheep,’ he repeated, then sighed. ‘OK. I’ll radio the bosses again tonight. I hope Lord Roderick answers this time.’ He lifted the binoculars again. The children and their pets were gone. He sat up and regarded the hedge that was his partner. ‘What is it about pets, anyway, Wilhelmina? We never had pets in the orphanage. Didn’t need them. And we turned out fine. I mean, the orphanage was hard. Brutal at times. But once Lord and Lady Roderick chose us for their secret agent program, well, it wasn’t so bad then.’
Kyle drew his bushy but neatly maintained eyebrows together. ‘You know what, Willy? I just remembered something. Before the orphanage, before my parents died, I did have a pet. Lots of them, in fact. My parents owned a llama farm.’ Kyle frowned. ‘They used to take tourists for walks on the moors. How did I forget that?’
Kyle smiled a smile his partner hadn’t seen on his face before. A kind of innocent, faraway, remembering smile. ‘Loretta. That was my favourite llama’s name. Soft fur, the colour of clotted cream. Tufty ears. Loretta. How did I forget about Loretta? I wonder what happened to her.’
Kyle glanced at Wilhelmina and noticed her concerned look. His smile faded. He cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘They’re just dumb animals though, aren’t they? I mean, I probably only had a pet because my parents made me. Or something.’
Wilhelmina nodded, her brows knit together in confusion. Before she could speak, Kyle jumped up and squared his jaw into something more appropriately secret-agent-like. ‘OK, let’s get out of here before someone comes to investigate the wandering hedge on the edge of the cliff.’ He paused, then added in a thoughtful tone too softly for Wilhelmina to hear, ‘I wonder if there are any llamas at this school.’
CHAPTER 26
THE RODERICKS GET PACKING
Lord Roderick replaced the receiver. He’d beaten his wife to the radio this time. ‘It’s confirmed. The orange one definitely saw a talking pet on the island: a sheep.’
‘Excellent news,’ Lady Roderick replied, peering off into the distance as if seeing things her husband could not even imagine. She turned to him, spea
king through her awe-inspiring, stretched-lipped smile, and Lord Roderick fought the urge to kneel before her. ‘I knew as soon as I heard of the existence of this talking-pet school that it would be the key to everything. To everything, Neil! Talking animals, I mean, the possibilities are endless. Think of it! We can use these creatures as we do our orphans. As spies. Assassins. Oh, the things we could do with our very own school, no, our very own army of talking animals.’
Her words lingered in the air between them like a small cloud of particularly noxious gas. Lord Roderick returned his wife’s smile, though his was a little wobbly. He admired Lady Roderick’s ambition — indeed, he shared it — but he had to admit to some alarm when her thoughts turned to total world domination. The notion was, frankly, terrifying.
‘Quite right, dearest one,’ he managed in a squeaky voice, one no-one at SANCEF had ever heard him use. Thank heavens.
‘I shall go and pack,’ Lady Roderick said as she stood up, then frowned. ‘This isn’t a tropical island, is it? You know how humidity makes my hair frizzy. And you remember Madagascar.’ He did. Lady Roderick hadn’t liked the island country for its humidity . . . and for other reasons. She touched her dark locks, which were immaculate thanks to the one-hundred brushstrokes they had received that morning from Elaine, her live-in hair-brusher.
Most people thought of Lord and Lady Roderick as a neat pair. A set. Like matching salt and pepper shakers. But there were some key differences between them. Whereas Lord Roderick allowed grey to speckle his hair, Lady Roderick kept two hairdressers (in addition to Elaine) on call in her upstairs salon for twice-weekly colour treatments. As a result, she appeared a little younger than her husband, which pleased her. Having a plastic surgeon, a masseuse and a beautician on stand-by also helped in that regard.
‘No. We have the coordinates. A pleasant climate all round apparently.’
Lord and Lady Roderick had matching sharp eyes, rather thin lips and long noses. Lady Roderick was fond of her nose, believing it gave her an elegant air. In actual fact, because she peered down her beaky nose at those poorer than her (which was everybody), she mostly just looked like a snob.
‘Very well then,’ she said. ‘I’ll mobilise the team. You organise the transport. Helicopter to the port, then a boat, I think. We don’t want to alert them to our arrival.’ Lady Roderick was as clever as her husband — probably more so — and was generally accepted to be about ten percent more evil. ‘Time to go and meet these talking pets.’
CHAPTER 27
CUTE PUPPIES AND WINSTON CHURCHILL
‘What’s the secret, Miss Einstein? How did you teach Fluffy — I mean Nader Heydar — to talk?’ The question came from a straight-faced Braithwaite, though Rusty couldn’t help but notice a glimmer in his eyes.
Miss Einstein had led them all up the lift and outside to sit on the lawn under one of the sculptured trees: an eagle. The bird’s huge wings outstretched into leafy winged branches that provided lovely shade. A breeze rustled the leaves above. Miss Einstein raised an eyebrow at Braithwaite, who broke into an unrepentant grin. For a second, Rusty thought the white-haired boy might be in trouble, but then Miss Einstein spoke in a sunny voice. ‘It is pretty funny to imagine Nader as a “Fluffy”, isn’t it? I don’t know what I was thinking, calling him that.’
Before she could answer Braithwaite’s question, the sound of high-pitched barking broke out from inside the school. Bismarck leaped to his feet and tugged on his leash, dragging his owner along the grass on his stomach for several seconds until Braithwaite managed to grab Rusty with his free hand and gain control of the big dog. Rusty heard words sprinkled between the barks.
‘Faster!’
‘Go! Go!’
‘Oh dear,’ said Miss Einstein with a sigh, though her expression seemed more resigned than annoyed. ‘I think I know what this is.’
As she spoke, the door swung open. A pack of dogs skidded out and raced directly towards them.
Normally, this would have scared Rusty, at least a little, but as soon as he saw these particular dogs, he relaxed.
‘Aw,’ cooed Shelby from beside him. ‘They’re so cute!’
And they most certainly were. Camembert — the Corgi they’d seen on TV — was in the lead. The dogs following him were all puppies, and none of them stood higher than the excitable little leader of the pack. Rusty spotted a black pug with a tiny tongue sticking out of its mouth, a copper-coloured Dachshund with ears almost to the ground and a teddy-bear-like Spaniel of some sort. There were several others, of breeds he couldn’t name. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their youth and obvious excitement. They chased Camembert gleefully, short little legs pumping hard.
Camembert’s ears pricked up when he saw Miss Einstein and the children, and he tried to slow down but was carried along by the other puppies. ‘Can’t stop, Miss E!’ he called, then gave an apologetic woof. ‘Race! Race is on!’ And then they were gone. Their barking faded and soon it was quiet again. Bismarck watched intently until the last puppy disappeared, then flopped down beside Braithwaite.
‘What were those baby dogs doing?’ Akira asked in a delighted voice.
Miss Einstein shook her head and rolled her eyes. ‘Ah, well. The puppies don’t think I know about their games. But with all that racket, how could I not?’ She smiled and explained. ‘As you may know, dogs are pack animals. They do things in groups. At our school, it’s a tradition among the dogs to enjoy some pack-animal adventures. This is their first one. They call it the Great Rookie Race. The new recruits — puppies — start at the Golden Hall. The older dogs leave a bone hidden in the fields. When the puppies find it, they chase the winner back to the front of the school. One of the younger students leads the new recruits at the start of the race. Today, that’s Cam.’ She rolled her eyes again. ‘He’s been excited about it all week. He thinks I know nothing, but he’s been practising his starts and dodging and diving around the hallways.’
She turned back to Braithwaite, who had stretched out next to his already-slumbering dog. ‘You were curious about the secret? Wondering how I was able to teach animals to talk?’
Braithwaite sat up and nodded.
‘We all were, Miss Einstein. We all have theories,’ Maximilian piped up, his pen poised over the notepad he’d pulled from his vest pocket.
‘Are you a witch?’ Shelby whispered. ‘Is it a spell? Are there . . . human sacrifices?’
Miss Einstein laughed. Rusty leaned forwards, holding his breath. This was it. The secret!
Miss Einstein looked them in the eyes, one by one. Then she shrugged. ‘I will tell you the secret. But not yet.’
Rusty’s shoulders slumped.
‘Any other questions?’
‘I have one, Miss Einstein,’ Maximilian said. He riffled through his notepad. ‘If I could just find the place . . . Ah, here it is. How did you find Docens Animalis? How has the island remained a secret?’
‘Ah, well. That’s my great-grandfather’s doing,’ Miss Einstein said. ‘Before the Second World War, Albert Einstein met with Winston Churchill, who would later become the British Prime Minister. They met only one other time, at least according to historical records.’ Miss Einstein frowned. ‘But something of significance must have passed between them that first meeting. Perhaps they struck up a friendship, something they kept away from the public gaze. I don’t know, precisely. But it was important enough that, many years later, Sir Churchill gifted this island to my great-grandfather. Secretly.’
Miss Einstein stopped, apparently lost in history. After a few seconds, she shook her head and spoke briskly. ‘My great-grandfather requested Sir Churchill have the island removed from all maps. No-one but a select few knows exactly where it is, even today. Occasionally a fisherman will stumble across us. We tell them we are the Queen’s secret Corgi farm in Cornwell, then we send them off in the direction of the mainland. They always believe us.’
‘Your great-grandfather just gave the island to you?’ Shelby seemed
impressed.
‘Yes. Well, I never met him. He died before I was born,’ she added matter-of-factly. ‘He gifted it to my parents, who then gifted it to me. Other great-grandchildren received his sailing boat, his violin and his extensive pipe collection.’ She stopped and peered down the hill as the yapping grew louder again. ‘One minute. The dogs will soon be upon us.’
This time the Dachshund led the pack. Sticking out of either side of his mouth was a bone, almost the length of the aptly nicknamed ‘sausage dog’, and he lumbered along ungracefully with his head held high despite its weight. The other dogs remained a little behind him.
‘Derek!’ Cam called to Miss Einstein as the pack neared. ‘Derek is the winner! He found the Bone of Mystery, Miss E.’
The puppies yipped and woofed as they passed. The fluffy Spaniel nipped playfully at the bone, but Derek turned his head aside and kept running.
‘Bye, Miss E!’ Cam said.
‘Bye, Cam. And well done, Derek!’ Miss Einstein called after them, then added, quieter, ‘Don’t let them dig up my roses, Cam.’
At Rusty’s quizzical look, she explained. ‘The next part of the acquisition of the Bone of Mystery is for the losing rookies to help the winner bury the bone in the gardens. They’ll share it later, when they’ve all spoken their first full sentences. Now, are there any further questions?’
‘I have one,’ Rusty spoke, surprising himself.
‘Yes, Rusty?’
‘Oh. Well, I was wondering if there was a reason the school is only for animals. Why not have a school for animals and children? You know, children and their pets learning all subjects together in the one school. It could be called Miss Alice Einstein’s School for Everyone.’
Miss Einstein stared at him and Rusty began to fear he’d made a terrible error. Beside him, Maximilian tutted under his breath and Braithwaite muttered, ‘Oh no, the Australian’s gone and asked a stupid question.’
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