Great Animal Escapade

by Jane Kerr

Danny stared at the solid mass of feathers, sharp beak and powerful legs. He didn’t have the slightest idea.

  By mutual agreement, Danny and Hetty decided to ignore Mr Saddleworth’s instruction to send word back to Belle Vue. A quick search of the cart had uncovered a net and some rope. It was enough to make them feel confident.

  ‘I’m sure it can’t be that hard to catch an emu,’ Hetty declared. She’d rolled up her sleeves and tightened the messy crown of hair on top of her head. ‘Besides, by the time we get back to Belle Vue, she might have disappeared again. I think we should have a go first.’

  Danny nodded. Now that they were this close, Emerald didn’t look that big. Or that fierce. But she did look fast.

  ‘So, what’s our plan?’ Hetty asked.

  Danny had thought through various possibilities but the simplest method seemed best. ‘You chase her towards me. I’ll grab her. Then you throw the net over the top.’

  ‘And what happens if you miss?’

  ‘Wave her back. And I’ll try again.’

  Hetty didn’t look entirely convinced but she nodded anyway. ‘Very well,’ she said.

  At first it seemed as though the plan would work. Hetty circled behind Emerald, the net grasped in one hand. A little distance away, Danny stood, legs apart, braced like a captain on a ship. ‘Go!’ he shouted.

  Flapping her arms with the energy of a startled chicken, Hetty ran towards Emerald. Almost immediately, the emu lurched into a sprint. She ran far more gracefully than she danced. Her feathered body stayed steady while underneath her long legs pistoned rapidly. Up and down. Down and up.

  Danny stretched his arms wide. Then wider still. Emerald kept coming. She was getting closer. Now they were eye to eye. Suddenly, Emerald verged to the left as if some primeval instinct had warned her of danger.

  Desperately, Danny reached for her . . . and missed. Emerald shot past. Danny swivelled, lost his balance and fell face first into the muddy bank. The ugly squelch was sticky in his ears.

  He lifted his head. Mud dripped down his face and into his eyes. He wiped it away. Hetty was bent over at the waist, cheeks wet with tears. She couldn’t speak for laughter. Raising a hand, Danny flicked a fistful of dirt, and was quietly pleased when most of it landed on Hetty, clinging to her collar and chin. She stopped laughing.

  Danny staggered upright. ‘This isn’t going to work.’

  ‘Really?’ Hetty’s voice was tart. ‘I never would have guessed.’

  Another trickle of mud slid down Danny’s face, and Hetty started laughing again. He scowled at her. ‘Let’s try something else.’

  The sun had begun to drop in the sky as they stood together at the side of the reservoir. Further along the bank, Emerald watched them, her head bobbing back and forth nervously. And for a moment, Danny was struck with a wave of compassion. He knew they were trying to help her; to keep her safe. But she didn’t. All she understood was the fear of pursuit – and he knew exactly how that felt.

  Then Danny spotted the red ball. It was caught near the water’s edge, trapped between reeds and rocks. He bent to swoop it up. ‘I have an idea,’ he said.

  The plan was simple. Skewer the ball on the end of a long branch and use it as bait – much like the Belle Vue keepers had done to feed Cleopatra. Danny only hoped that Emerald remained as curious now as she had been earlier. Because if she did, they could lure her close enough to catch.

  It took a long time and a great deal of patience. But step by step, Emerald crept nearer. And nearer. Until finally, Danny pounced and this time, he didn’t miss. Hooking one arm around Emerald’s neck, he wrapped the other across her back, pinning her small wings against her sides. She wriggled and bucked but he clung on, the feathers soft and slippery beneath his fingers. Hetty edged towards them.

  ‘Now,’ he shouted.

  With one quick movement, Hetty threw the net – right across Emerald.

  ‘Get the rope! We need to tie her legs as well. She’s strong.’

  Emerald fought hard against the ropes; she didn’t like being gift-wrapped. And Danny couldn’t blame her. But once she realized there was no escape, her resistance seemed to drain away.

  As the cart trundled down Hyde Road, curious stares followed. This time Hetty held the reins while Danny sat alongside, with Emerald lodged between them, her head poking out from a gap in the net. Danny was certain she stayed still only because of his vice-like grip around her neck.

  Once they reached Belle Vue, news of their success must have spread because a small crowd gathered near the aviary. Emerald seemed glad to be home. She barely waited to be untied before leaping into her pen. Danny propped himself against the fence to watch – Hetty beside him – but Emerald didn’t look back. They’d been forgotten as quickly and easily as last Sunday’s supper.

  At least she was safe, Danny thought. The only Tasmanian emu in captivity – very possibly the only one left in the entire world – had been found thanks to Hetty’s eagle eyes and a great quantity of luck.

  ‘There you are! Thank heavens.’ Danny turned. Mr Saddleworth stood behind them, his expression battling between relief and exasperation. ‘I heard you found her.’

  ‘Yes, Papa. At the reservoir. She must have slipped out of the park overnight and run straight down Hyde Road. That’s why no one saw her.’ Hetty lifted her chin, and the lines across Mr Saddleworth’s forehead deepened.

  ‘You’re probably right, but what did I tell you about sending word back? You were supposed to let me know. Immediately! Not try to catch her on your own.’

  ‘But Papa, we couldn’t leave her there! Anything could have happened. Besides it was easy enough. Hardly any bother at all.’

  ‘Really?’ Raising an eyebrow, Mr Saddleworth looked at their mud-splattered clothes and dirty faces. Danny had to resist the urge to fidget.

  ‘Fine!’ Hetty said at last. ‘Maybe there were one or two small difficulties. But it was worth it, Papa. She’s back now. And safe. That has to be the most important thing.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. But next time . . .’ Mr Saddleworth rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well, hopefully there won’t be a next time. The blacksmith’s fixed the gate and replaced the lock. But from now on, we all need to take a great deal more care.’

  Danny wasn’t sure how that was possible. Like all Belle Vue’s staff, he locked each enclosure after entering and leaving. It had become as much of a habit as washing his face every morning. But perhaps there was another explanation. The padlock on the emu pen had probably been old – or damaged.

  ‘Now Hetty, let’s get you home so you can clean up.’ Mr Saddleworth slipped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. ‘And on the way, perhaps you can tell me the real story of how you came to be so grubby.’

  ‘Yes, Papa.’

  Hetty slid Danny a small smile then allowed her father to lead her away. It was only after they’d gone that Danny realized how he must look. The mud had dried into a crust on his skin, and his clothes were caked in dirt. A trough of water stood by Emerald’s gate; it seemed clean enough. Wetting his hands, Danny scrubbed at his face and neck. The muddy water trickled down his arms and dripped from his elbows.

  He leant back against the fence, hoping the sun would dry off the worst of the damp. Idly, he glanced down at the gate. The new padlock looked sharp and shiny on the hook but a few yards away, abandoned on the ground, was a lump of rusted metal. It must be the old lock from Emerald’s enclosure.

  Curious, Danny picked it up. Despite the rust, the case seemed solid enough. Carefully, he rolled it between his fingers then frowned. On the left side, close to where the lock normally snapped together, his thumb slipped into a shallow groove. He looked closer. The dent was circular – larger than a farthing, but smaller than a penny – almost as though it had been caused by one sharp hammer blow.

  Tightening his grip, Danny worked through the possibilities. If he was right, the lock hadn’t been faulty or crumbling with age. Nor had the emu enclosure been left unlocked by accide
nt. No. This neat, tidy dent could only mean one thing.

  The padlock had been deliberately broken. Someone had helped Emerald to escape.

  Chapter Five

  ‘I’m asking you again, Mr Jameson. Close Belle Vue down.’

  ‘And I’m tellin’ you again, Reverend. I will not!’

  Danny had barely stepped inside the Jamesons’ front door when he heard the loud voices. They leaked from the study and bounced down the hallway. Belle Vue House stood in the middle of the park, and Danny was used to visitors calling at all times of the day. But he’d never heard anyone this loud. Or this angry.

  ‘Sir, you’re being unreasonable!’

  ‘I’ve never been unreasonable in me life.’ Mr Jameson’s voice rose another notch. ‘I’m the very model of reason. Ask anyone!’

  Danny clamped his teeth together – hard – and let the broken padlock slip back into his trouser pocket. He crept closer to the study. To his great good fortune, the door stood slightly ajar. And through the gap, he could just see Mr Jameson sitting opposite another man. The sight made Danny’s fists curl.

  Reverend Eustace Threlfall was Belle Vue’s worst critic. Every day, he found something to complain about – the customers were too rowdy; the noise too loud; and the animals too fierce. He was the sort of man who fired out his opinions like buckshot. Unfortunately, his opinions were as narrow and restricting as his shirt collars.

  ‘Sir! You must appreciate that Sunday is the Lord’s Day. It’s a day for spiritual reflection. Not jollification and revelry. And on Sundays, Belle Vue should not open.’

  ‘Sunday is our busiest day of the week. And I’ve no intention of shuttin’ up shop just because you think people should be sittin’ in church, listenin’ to you pontificatin’.’

  ‘That’s exactly my point, Mr Jameson. My congregation can barely hear my sermon thanks to the unruly hordes heading to your pleasure park.’ Reverend Threlfall must have realized his voice had turned shrill because his next words were quieter. ‘The noise is simply unbearable. Omnibuses are up and down the road every few minutes. Every corner is littered with rubbish. And I strongly suspect families have been picnicking in my churchyard!’

  There was a short, tense silence and Danny watched Mr Jameson pull himself upright in his chair. ‘Those people are good, solid, workin’ folk whose only wish is to forget their worries for one day of the week and enjoy themselves. And I’m makin’ sure they do just that. Besides, Belle Vue employs most of the men in this area. Without us, there’d be no work.’

  It was a powerful argument. Even in the short time he’d been here, Danny could see that Belle Vue was at the heart of everything. As well as the menagerie, there were three new refreshment rooms, one brewery, a bakery, two dance halls and a bandstand. In the winter, there was ice skating and bonfire parties. And in the summer, cricket matches and archery contests. Every bucket and barrel was made by the park’s own cooper, and every pot and pan came from its braziers. Even the nearby streets were lit by gas supplied by Belle Vue.

  ‘Daniel Jameson, what do you think you’re doing?’

  Danny jerked back from the door. Mrs Jameson was standing in the hallway, her hands braced on bony hips; hair pulled back so tightly that one more twist might just snap it off.

  ‘Listening, ma’am.’ Danny was too startled to think of a lie. But fortunately, he knew that Ethel May Jameson was more forgiving than she looked. She had to be, she’d been married to Mr Jameson for fifteen years.

  ‘Humph. Well, I suppose I was daft enough to ask.’ Her eyes flickered across his muddy clothes. ‘And what happened to you? You look like—’

  A sudden thud from the study surprised them both. It was followed by a scraping noise as if furniture was being dragged along the floor, and then the argument began again. This time Danny didn’t have to strain to listen.

  ‘I find your attitude extremely difficult, sir. It’s quite obvious that you’re not a God-fearing man.’

  ‘I’m as God-fearin’as you, Reverend, but I don’t believe I have to go to church every week to prove it. Any road, my wife says enough prayers for me. So I won’t be needin’ your help to get me into heaven.’

  In the hallway, Mrs Jameson muttered something under her breath. Danny didn’t think it was complimentary.

  ‘Sir! Have you no decency? No respect?’ Once again, the vicar’s voice was shrill enough to cause headaches.

  ‘I’ve plenty of respect for those who earn it. As for you, you pompous windbag—’

  Danny didn’t hear any more because Mrs Jameson had already flung open the door. Like a fighter stepping into the ring, she straightened her shoulders and marched inside. Danny followed.

  The two men stood at either side of the fireplace, their chairs pushed back to the far corners of the room. Mr Jameson’s face was an ugly, angry red. The vicar looked like he’d swallowed something unpleasant and the taste had not quite disappeared.

  ‘For goodness, sake, gentlemen! The whole of Belle Vue can hear you. What in heaven’s name is going on?’ Mrs Jameson tapped a foot. ‘Well?’

  Reverend Threlfall recovered first. He bowed briefly. ‘My apologies, Mrs Jameson. I was trying to persuade your husband to close Belle Vue on Sundays, but I’m afraid our discussion became a little overheated.’

  ‘So I heard.’ Mrs Jameson strode across the room and hooked a hand around her husband’s arm. Danny couldn’t tell if she was supporting him – or holding him back. Maybe it was both. ‘What I don’t understand is why now? Why all this fuss? Belle Vue has been here for years, and we’ve always been good neighbours. I can’t see that anything’s changed.’

  Reverend Threlfall smoothed a hand down his jacket. Everything about him looked tightly held together as though he’d been pushed and prodded and poked into his clothes. ‘I’m afraid this has been a problem for some time, Mrs Jameson. But the final straw came today. I’m told an emu escaped from your zoological gardens and is running loose around Manchester!’

  Danny looked at Mr Jameson and waited for another explosion. But the menagerist seemed calmer now that his wife stood beside him. He even managed a tight smile. ‘Fuss and nonsense over nothin’. My head keeper says the emu’s already back in her pen. Found at the Gorton Reservoir, with no damage done to anyone. I can’t see there’s anythin’ to complain about.’

  ‘Of course, you would think that.’ Reverend Threlfall’s lips curled back from his teeth. ‘But this time, the escaped animal was an overgrown bird. Next time, the creature could be far more dangerous. People in my parish are nervous. Some are terrified. Closing on a Sunday is the very least you can do.’

  Danny was sure he saw Mr Jameson twitch. Or maybe it was because Mrs Jameson had tightened her grip on his arm. ‘I’m sorry you feel like that, Reverend,’ he said finally. ‘But you needn’t concern yourself about any escaped animals. It won’t happen again. I can promise you.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not—’

  ‘Reverend, perhaps we can continue this another time.’ To Danny’s relief, it was Mrs Jameson who interrupted. She gestured towards the clock above the fireplace. ‘Don’t you have an evening service at eight?’

  Scowling, the vicar glanced up. ‘Yes. It’s later than I’d realized. But don’t imagine this subject is closed, Mrs Jameson. We simply cannot continue as we are.’ He made a beckoning motion towards the corner of the room. ‘Come along, Constance.’

  And for the first time, Danny noticed a woman perched awkwardly on the chair near Mr Jameson’s desk. She was looking down – staring at her boots as though there was nothing more appealing than the line of stitching across the toes.

  ‘Constance!’ the vicar said again.

  The woman jerked upright. Her face was plain – soft and round as a moon, with eyes that had almost no colour at all. And while Reverend Threlfall appeared to have been sewn into his suit, her clothes flapped loosely around her long body.

  ‘Oh, Miss Threlfall, I do beg your pardon.’ Mrs Jameson seemed almost as s
urprised as Danny. ‘With all the commotion, I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, ma’am.’ Clumsily, Miss Threlfall slid to her feet. Her smile was shy and sweet. ‘My brother said I had to be quiet. And I was, wasn’t I, Eustace?’

  ‘Yes, Constance. So, you were. Well done. But now do hurry up! We’ve no time for idle chit-chat.’

  Hastily, Reverend Threlfall waved his sister towards the door. She scurried out obediently but before following, the reverend turned to Mr Jameson. ‘Be warned, sir. You haven’t heard the last of this. I shall be speaking to the Manchester Corporation at the first opportunity – and they have the power to close you down!’

  The door slammed shut behind him. Immediately, Mr Jameson pulled a cigar from his jacket. ‘Who does that man think he is? How dare he come in here and tell me how to run my business!’

  ‘Our business, Jamie.’

  ‘Of course, that’s what I said, me dove. Our business.’ He lit the cigar and blew out a stream of smoke.

  Mrs Jameson sighed. ‘Well, perhaps we should reduce our hours. Just on Sundays. It might help to keep the peace.’

  ‘No, Ethel May. I said no, and I meant it. And there’s not a thing Threlfall can do to make me. Any road, the Manchester Corporation won’t listen to a windbag like him. They know we’re good for business. And for this city.’

  Striding to the hearth, Mr Jameson flicked cigar ash into the fireplace. Danny glanced at the door. He wondered if he’d been forgotten, and whether he could sneak away. But just as the thought entered his head, Mr Jameson turned towards him.

  ‘As for you, lad. I told you to keep out of trouble. But away you go, ridin’ off in the horse and cart when you know fine well you’re not allowed. What if somethin’ had gone wrong? Haven’t I made it clear? I can’t afford for anythin’ to happen to you! You’re the star of the show. People are payin’ to see you and Maharajah.’

  Danny felt anger bubble up in his throat but it was Mrs Jameson who came to his rescue.

  ‘Jamie, calm down! You’re being ridiculous. You should be thanking Danny for finding Emerald, not scolding him.’