Shrinking Violet
Page 5
He stood posing in front of the wardrobe door as if he were having his picture taken in a photo booth.
I was only halfway across the bed, but I stopped and stared. Riley turned his head from side to side, trying out three or four different kinds of grin – each one more ratty than the last.
“Looking good!” he told his reflection.
This was too much! I thought my little stomach was going to burst from holding my laughter inside.
Riley posed again.
“Say cheese, Ratty-Riley,” I giggled to myself. And then…
“Oh I knew this feeling.
I grabbed hold of the duvet and tried to hide under it. But it was hopeless. My head spun. My stomach lurched and … … I’d grown back to my .
“Help!” Riley leapt into the air. “What are you doing here?” he squealed. He was so surprised, he tripped over Mrs Paterson’s slippers, toppled backwards and landed flat on his bum.
“Why are you in my grandma’s bed?” he gasped. “And why are you wearing pyjamas…?”
“Thief!” yelled Riley at the top of his lungs. “Thief! Come quick!”
Moments later it seemed as if all the residents of the Sunset Retirement Centre were crowded into Mrs Paterson’s bedroom. And they were ALL staring at me!
“Violet was sneaking about in here!” said Riley. He popped something into his mouth and chewed on it like a rat with a chunk of cheese. “I bet she’s the one who stole the jewels!”
“Me? But—”
“This is too much for my poor weak heart,” cried Mrs Paterson. “I should have known the girl was a thief! Just like her grandmother! A rotten apple never falls far from the tree!”
“And she’s got dreadful said Barry Bling, as if this had something to do with it. “She’s absolutely infested!”
Everyone took a step backwards.
“Now hold on,” said Mr Gupta kindly. “I’m sure Violet can explain.”
“Yes, I can!” I stared hard at Barry Bling. “I haven’t got nits! I haven’t stolen anything. And I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
But just at that moment, Mum appeared in the doorway. “Violet?” she said, pushing her way through the crowd. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at home!” Her face flushed as red as the tomato soup she’d made us eat last night. “How did you get here? And why are you wearing pyjamas?”
“I think you’d better try to explain yourself,” said Nurse Bridget. For the first time since I’d known her, she didn’t look kind and friendly. She was staring at me with her hands on her hips.
“I – er – I wanted to visit Gran,” I said. “I came into Mrs Paterson’s room because … because…”
Something told me this wasn’t the moment to tell everyone how I’d shrunk to the size of a door key, got stuck in a hamster cage and travelled here in a handbag! The old folks were already staring at me as if I were MAD, BAD and
Plus, they’d all moved away from me, scratching their heads, since Barry had mentioned the nits.
“I saw Riley acting suspiciously,” I said. “So I followed him in here to find out what he was up to.”
“Good thinking,” nodded Cora – one of the Collins twins, who are best friends with Gran. Mum can never tell them apart. But it’s easy. Cora’s the one who has freckles on her nose – like me. Dora is the one who doesn’t.
“I saw Riley take a key from under the plant,” I said.
“That’s the key Mrs Paterson uses to lock away her jewellery!” gasped Dora.
“Exactly!” I said. “And Riley unlocked Mrs Paterson’s drawer and took something out of it. He’s the jewellery thief! I’m sure of it.”
Now everyone was staring at Riley as if he was MAD, BAD and .
“What?” All the colour drained from Riley’s face. He was chewing harder than ever.
“You’re a stinky rotten liar, Violet Potts!” he mumbled.
“What’s that in your mouth, then?” I said. “I bet you’re trying to the evidence!”
But I was a moment too late. Riley gulped and opened his mouth to show it was empty.
“I never stole any jewellery!” he said. “I was just minding my own business in my own grandmother’s room! Violet’s the one who broke in here!” He stuck out his tongue. “She’s just trying to turn the blame on me.”
“That’s right!” said Mrs Paterson. “It’s obvious what’s happened! Violet must have crept in here to steal the rest of my jewellery! Her grandmother took my diamond ring and Violet came back to finish the job.”
“An accomplice!” tutted Barry Bling.
“Honestly!” said Mum. “I think that’s going a bit far!”
“Never trust children,” said Barry, running his fingers through his long golden curls. “Never trust them! That’s all I can say!”
“Your grandmother’s always admired my precious antique locket. It’s Victorian,” said Mrs Paterson, poking her finger at me. “Is that why you came in here? To steal my locket?”
“” I’d seen Riley take something shiny from the drawer. I had to prove he was the thief, otherwise everyone would go on believing that me and Gran had formed some sort of terrible robber gang.
“Is the locket gold, Mrs Paterson?” I asked. “About the size of a ten-pence piece?”
“Ha!” cried Riley. “How would Violet know that unless she was the thief?”
“Good point!” said Barry Bling.
“I know because I saw you pinch something gold and Riley!” I said. “I was hiding all the time.” (No need to mention I was actually so small I was on the bedside table, crouched behind the lamp.) “I saw everything you did.”
“She’s a liar!” mumbled Riley, but I noticed his hand shot down the side of his leg. He was fiddling with his tracksuit bottoms. Perhaps he hadn’t swallowed the evidence after all!
“Ask him to empty his pockets right now,” I said, turning to Nurse Bridget. “Then we’ll soon see who’s a liar!”
Riley tried to protest. But there was nothing for it.
“It’s the only honourable thing to do!” said Mr Gupta.
“Fine!” said Riley. But his hands were as he dug into his pockets.
I almost felt sorry for him. But at least now I could prove Gran was innocent.
“See!” said Riley. “Nothing there!” He emptied a dirty tissue, a broken biro and a plastic pirate toy on to the bed.
“Wait a minute!” I was too quick for him. I’d seen a tiny of gold. “Look under the tissue!” I cried. “He’s trying to hide something!”
Normally nothing in the would have persuaded me to go anywhere near Riley’s snotty hankie. But now I grabbed the broken biro and flicked the tissue out of the way to show everyone what was underneath.
“See!” I crowed. “Gold!”
The old folks pushed past me and crowded round the bed.
“Well, I suppose it is gold, dear,” said Cora. “But…”
“But what?” I cried. “How much more proof do you need?”
“A little more than that, I’m afraid!” said Nurse Bridget, making room so that I could see the bed.
“It is gold,” said Dora. “Except …”
“ … it’s only a chocolate wrapper!” I groaned. The shimmering jewel I’d seen was nothing more than a shiny ball of gold foil.
Riley was looking at his feet.
“Sorry, Nan,” he blushed. “I did unlock the drawer … and I took one of your chocolates.”
A chocolate! Great! And I’d accused Riley of being a top-class jewellery thief!
“As long as it wasn’t a toffee one you took!” said Mrs Paterson.
“Er…” Riley blushed more than ever. He really did look sorry.
“I didn’t used to be able to enjoy toffees,” Mrs Paterson told Mum. “But I’ve just discovered this new glue for my false teeth. It holds the teeth in place perfectly, even with the stickiest, chewiest toffee…”
Of course! A sticky toffee! That was what Riley had been chewing so hard.
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“ is brilliant!” grinned Barry Bling. “I mean … er … I’ve heard it’s really strong.” He shot us all a perfect white smile, as if to prove that his own teeth were real.
“You’re a naughty boy, Riley!” sighed Mrs Paterson.
“Naughty,” agreed Mr Gupta. “But not a criminal! I myself have a very sweet tooth.”
He ruffled Riley’s hair and handed him a mint humbug. (One of the mint humbugs he would normally give to me!)
“Riley’s certainly not a jewellery thief!” nodded Cora.
“Still doesn’t explain what Violet was doing here,” said Barry.
“I’ve told you. I followed Riley,” I said. “I was… Well, I was running along the corridor … and he seemed to be acting strangely.”
“I never saw you!” said Riley.
“That’s because you were too busy about,” I said.
I dug into my dressing-gown pockets.
“I didn’t steal anything. Look! Nothing but Oaty Flake cereal,” I said, opening my hand.
“There isn’t anything else in there,” agreed Cora.
“It does look like she’s telling the truth,” said Dora.
“Thank you!” I smiled at the twins.
“I still don’t understand why she’s wearing pyjamas,” said Barry, shaking his head.
“What you choose to wear isn’t a crime, though. Is it, dear?” whispered Cora, putting her arm around me.
“Certainly not,” giggled Dora. “Otherwise Barry would be arrested for that purple shirt!”
“My poor heart,” said Mrs Paterson, clutching the window sill. “This has all been too much for me.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come into your room,” I said. “I was just trying to help and—”
“Don’t let me catch you snooping about in here again,” she sniffed. “Especially when my grandson is minding his own business!”
She unlocked the drawer and held up her gold locket.
“See. Everything is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Perhaps we should have done that in the first place,” sighed Nurse Bridget.
“And perhaps Violet should have checked her facts!” snapped Mrs Paterson.
OK. I suppose I might have jumped to a couple of tiny wrong conclusions.
“Everyone knows your grandma is the real thief!” said Riley. “How else did that diamond ring end up in her room?”
“I can’t believe it, Violet!” Mum bustled me into Gran’s room and shut the door. “All you’ve managed to do is make everything worse!” Her face was still as red as tomato soup. But she was so furious, was practically coming out of her ears!
“I thought you were at home. How did you even manage to get here?” she whispered, trying not to wake Gran, who still seemed to be asleep under the covers. “And why are you wearing pyjamas?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, keeping my voice down too.
I glanced over at the lump in the bed. I didn’t really believe Gran was asleep. Normally, she’d be at her ballroom dancing class, helping in the garden, or playing bingo in the lounge. I’d never seen her stay in bed all day. Ever! She must be hiding away here, too ashamed to show her face. She was sure all her friends thought she was the thief.
I had to do something. It was time to try and make Mum believe the truth. If I could convince her, we might find a way to clear Gran’s name.
“I came here in your handbag,” I whispered.
“In my handbag?” Mum’s eyes were as wide as rice cakes.
“Yes. That’s why I’m still wearing my pyjamas,” I said. “I jumped in your bag before you left home. It happened again, Mum. I shrun—”
“Oh no! Don’t you start that!” Mum wasn’t even trying to whisper now. “I don’t want any more of that shrinking nonsense, Violet!”
Gran sat bolt upright in bed. Her hair was sticking up in all directions like a scarecrow.
“Shrinking?” she said. “Of course!”
I ran over to the bed and grabbed Gran’s hand. Mum would have to believe me if Gran told her the shrinking was true.
“I knew I could make it happen again,” I said. “I ate some Oaty Flakes and next thing I knew … I was tiny.”
I explained how I’d escaped from Hannibal’s cage and hitched a ride to the retirement centre.
“I even heard Mum swearing in the car,” I said. “She told one driver he was a—”
“Thank you, Violet! That’s quite enough.” Mum was as purple as an angry beetroot now. “What did Dad and I say about telling lies?”
I looked at Gran, begging her to help me. But she was lying back on her pillow again, lost in thought.
“Wait!” I could prove I was telling the truth! Hannibal was still in Mum’s handbag. “I want to show you something,” I said. “Have a look in your…”
But just at that moment, Mum’s mobile phone rang.
“That must be Tiffany wondering where you’ve got to.” Mum scrabbled about in her bag.
“Hello? Tiff? Hello? Mum screamed.
She’d grabbed hold of Hannibal and was holding him to her ear, shouting into his fluffy belly button as if he were her mobile phone.
She must have squeezed him too tight, though, because Hannibal wriggled round and bit her thumb.
Mum let him go. Hannibal jumped out of her hand and shot under Gran’s bed.
“I tried to warn you he was in there,” I said.
“I suppose you put him there to trick me?” sighed Mum. She tried to wrap a bit of tissue round her thumb. But Hannibal had chewed all the tissues to shreds.
“I’ve got quite enough to worry about, Violet, without you playing silly games, wearing pyjamas and pretending to shrink,” said Mum.
“I’m not preten—”
“You’d better catch Hannibal quick, or he’ll disappear under the floorboards,” said Mum in her NO-nonsense voice. “Look after Gran. I’m going to go and get a plaster from the first-aid room. Then I’ll try and call Tiffany … on my proper mobile phone!”
“But…”
“I need to get back to my important meeting with Nurse Bridget – which you interrupted with all that commotion.”
That was so unfair. I was only trying to help.
Before I could say another word, Mum swept out of the room.
Perhaps she was right. I had made everything worse. And now I’d lost our hamster too!
“Hannibal?” I called as I crouched down to look for him. But Gran jumped out of bed so fast she almost landed on my head.
“Shrinking!” she said, grabbing my hands and spinning me round the room as if we were at some ballroom dancing class. “It’s wonderful, Violet! Don’t you see? Your shrinking will put everything right!’
Gran had the same idea as me.
“As soon as you can shrink, you’ll be my inch-high spy!” she grinned. “Together we’ll prove I am innocent!”
Our plan was simple. Gran knew the retirement centre inside out. She could drop me off in the offices, the kitchen or the dayroom. Anywhere we wanted to go. I’d listen in on every whispered conversation … snoop into every tiny nook and cranny.
“If I eat these it won’t take long,” I said. “I’ll shrink to the perfect, pocket-sized detective!” I dug into my dressing gown and stuffed a handful of Oaty Flakes into my mouth. Then I sprinkled a couple of on the floor and peered under the bed.
“Hannibal!” I called, trying to tempt him out. But there was no sign of him.
“If only Mum had believed I shrunk, he probably wouldn’t even be under there,” I sighed.
“I’m afraid people never do believe you.” Gran shook her head. “Family can be the worst. My poor old mother refused to ever admit I was a shrinker … even after she found me on top of the Christmas tree one year. She just carried on as if everything was normal.”
“At least I’ve got you,” I smiled as I stuffed another couple of Oaty Flakes into my mouth. “You’ll always believe me!”
There were a mi
llion questions I wanted to ask Gran. Like, how long the shrinking would last? Or how often could it happen? Did it always happen in the daytime? Or sometimes at night? And I was desperate to hear about all the scrapes and adventures she’d had as a tiny girl. But there was no time for that now. I had to get on and shrink so that we could explore before Mum finished her meeting with Nurse Bridget and came to take me home.
I popped another dry, dusty flake into my mouth and chewed.
“What are you eating that horrible stuff for?” asked Gran. “It’s not your mum’s latest health snack, is it?”
“I told you. Oaty Flakes are the secret, mystery ingredient that make me shrink,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Really?” said Gran. “I never…”
“They worked the morning I went to the theme park. And they worked in Hannibal’s hamster cage too,” I said, popping three more flakes into my mouth.
“Here! Try one!”
I offered Gran a flake. She puffed out her cheeks like a hamster.
“Chomp! Chomp!” she grinned.
It was wonderful to see her almost back to her old happy self. If our shrinking plan worked, she’d soon be ready to face her friends – no longer embarrassed that they thought she was a thief.
“I know it’s silly,” she said, frowning again. “I just feel no one really believes the ring got into my room by mistake. If we can find the true thief, we’ll prove once and for all that I have nothing to hide.”
I watched as she chewed the flake I’d given her, her nose like a hamster.
“Gran?” I gasped. “You can’t still shrink, can you?” Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier? It would be We could snoop around together.
But Gran shook her head.
“I haven’t been able to do that for years, dear,” she said. “Not since I was a girl.”
It was hard to imagine Gran as a little girl … let alone a REALLY little girl the size of one of the pink wafer biscuits she loves so much.
“And it was never cereal that made me shrink anyway,” she said.
“What was it, then?” I asked, picking up a glass of water from her bedside table and taking a gulp to wash down another mouthful of flakes. “Tell me it wasn’t Brussels sprouts? That would be AWFUL.”
“No!” laughed Gran.
“Pink biscuits?”