by Arkay Jones
Jay did not see all that clearly but he now felt quite proud of himself despite Tim’s earlier outburst.
“The final challenge is the most difficult,” said the professor, taking up his explanation again. That is to get the plant to turn on its own light when it goes dark. Now, in your own brain, Jay, like every human being, you have a part, which we know as the circadian clock, which tells you when you should do certain things, like go to sleep. And flowers, whilst they do not have brains as such, also have control mechanisms that, for example, close up their petals when it gets dark. So my final task was to link up that bit of the plant’s ‘brain’ as it were, to the bit that makes them light up. And now I’ve done it. We’re almost there!”
With that, the Prof folded his arms and beamed contentedly at his small audience. Jay, his concentration now broken, moved his gaze from the professor to look around the room. Ella was, it appeared, almost asleep. Well, it was a warm afternoon and she had heard it all before. Tim, still put out by being told off by the Prof for laughing at Jay, had left the sofa and was peering under the desk trying to find Charlie, the chameleon, who, having adopted a greeny-purple colour like the plants, had gone walk-about.
Jay just sat looking at Professor Ricardo. Assembling all the information he had just received into some sensible order in his brain had left Jay motionless. He was just about to ask a question, when his thoughts were interrupted before they could be gathered together properly.
“A quick look in the laboratory,” said the Prof, rising to his feet, “then we’ll do some bug-hunting.”
With that he fumbled in his pocket to produce once again his huge bunch of keys.
“Leave that chameleon of yours in here, Tim,” he said. “No dogs in the study and no chameleons in the lab. eating up all my specimens. You know the rules.”
Then, inserting his selected key in the lock of the door leading to the laboratory, he heaved the door open, calling back over his shoulder as he entered, “Follow me, team, and all will be revealed!”
CHAPTER 9
Are you having brandy with that?” Dora Grumpet’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “What’s handy, do you say?” replied her husband, finishing both his supper and the ‘Racing Chronicle’ at the same time and both with an equal lack of enthusiasm. His supper because he was fed up of stuffed marrow and the ‘Racing Chronicle’ because it had informed him that ‘Smokey Joe’ had fallen at the final fence at Drewsbury Races.
“ Mrs. Grumpet’s formidable frame stood in the doorway to the Grumpet dining room.
“Well not you for a start, Ernie Grumpet. Handy is what you are not. What I said,” she continued, sarcastically, “if you can tear yourself away from them horses for one moment and give me your attention; what I said was ‘Are you having brandy?’ I am making up your thermos flask for tonight. Do you want a spot of brandy in your coffee?”
She cast a withering eye at her husband and then, pointedly at the ‘Racing Chronicle,’ which he had unsuccessfully tried to remove from the table-cloth.
“It’s a simple enough question,” she added with another withering look, “even for you.”
“And I’ll give you a simple answer, Yes!” Then, feeling that the tone of his response smacked too much of insubordination and, perhaps, ingratitude for what was, after all, a kind thought, he added, with a thin smile, “Thanks, ducks. If I’m going to be standing up to my thighs in cold water for two hours, I think I’ll need it. I’ll think of you when I’m ‘aving it!”
Although Ernie had the three feet of cold water in mind when he made this last remark, his wife, fortunately, took it at face value as an apologetic endearment from the Ernie Grumpet school of charm and returned to the kitchen in a much better frame of mind. In fact, so much better that she administered an extra generous tot of brandy before firmly screwing up the top of the flask. For, as Ernie well knew, although Mrs. Grumpet could be formidable on occasions, she was rather like one of her own apple-pies – a bit hard and crusty on the outside but with a sweet and comforting heart.
With harmony restored to the Grumpet household, Ernie made his way to the garden shed. Whistling through his teeth, he set about preparing his fishing tackle for a night’s fishing in the River Frim, which ran through Frimton Valley. On a lovely summer’s evening like this he was sure he would get a good trout or two.
At the same moment as Ernie opened the door to his garden shed, Professor Ricardo was unlocking his laboratory door. He switched on the lights – bright electric ones this time – to show his team of young assistants around. As they entered and the neon lights flickered on, Jay could see two work benches covered with all sorts of apparatus. Glass flasks, retort stands, Petrie dishes and a mass of pipes and tubes through which liquids of various colours bubbled and flowed. All these liquids eventually made their way by different circuitous routes into a large glass container.
The professor explained that he took cell samples from the many different types of luminous fungi, fish, plants and insects he had collected from around the world and blended them according to a secret formula he had devised. He then dissolved them in a special liquid which passed through a refining process before being distilled and collected in large glass flagons. Some mixtures were of the very type Jay had been using for his watering tasks in the garden. Others had different uses but the main ingredients for them all were now, after a lifetime of collecting, stored in the laboratory.
“So you see, Jay,” said the Prof, “my life’s work is now contained within these four walls. When I reveal my findings to the world, I will make it available entirely free. Big companies, commercial enterprises could use this information, if they got hold of it, to make a fortune. But I shall pass on all my discoveries as a gift. My only hope is that it will save some of the world’s other energy resources and benefit everyone for generations to come.”
The professor looked seriously at his three assistants. “That is why you must keep everything you know about this laboratory and our work in the garden, absolutely secret. I don’t even allow Mrs. Stiggles to dust in here or in my study, even though she would dearly like to I’m sure!”
He smiled at the three of them again. “It’s just the four of us in this room who know about this work and we can all keep a secret can’t we?”
“There’s Dr. Querulous too, of course,” Ella piped up innocently. Then she looked down quickly, feeling she had spoken out of turn.
“Querulous!” The professor’s smile faded. “Of course, there’s Querulous!”
The professor seemed to be thinking hard. “But he left six months ago,” he said, reflectively, “long before I perfected the formula.”
Noticing Ella’s discomfort, the Prof smiled at her. “Yes, you’re quite right, Ella, there’s Cosmo Querulous. A bright chap but always impatient; always cutting corners. I wonder what he’s up to now.”
The Prof stood quietly for a moment. He was thinking hard about Doctor Cosmo Querulous, the research assistant he had met at Göttingen University. They had worked together so well at first. But Cosmo was always in a hurry to get results and always complaining. Not enough kit in the laboratory. Not enough pay. It may be, the Prof reflected, that it was he, the professor, who should have been more understanding. Querulous was young and ambitious. He had yet to make his mark in the scientific community whereas the professor had already distinguished himself and had ceased to care about further honours. Perhaps if the professor had been more patient himself, they would still be working together. After all Cosmo had made a big contribution to the research with his modern ideas. But there had been a final major argument – about what, the Prof could not now precisely remember – and Querulous had walked out. Said he’d had enough and just walked out. In the end it was, perhaps, almost a relief that he had gone. Perhaps – another perhaps – it was all for the best. But …
The professor was suddenly aware that the children were staring at him. He snapped out of his reverie.
“This is no good. Thi
nking about the past won’t get me anywhere. It will be getting dark by the time we’ve had supper and if we don’t get started soon you’ll be even later to bed. Come on; time for supper followed by some serious bug-hunting!”
With that, the Prof checked that the door from the study was locked, then found another key from his selection and opened a small door at the other side of the laboratory. This one led directly into the stable yard.
“Hurry off,” he said, “and collect your warm fleeces. I’ll get the butterfly-nets and meet you back in the kitchen.” Then he wandered off in the direction of the barn.
As the children sped past him on their way to the back door, Jay thought he heard him mutter under his breath, “Querulous, of course, there’s always Querulous.”
CHAPTER 10
The bug hunting expedition proved to be great fun. Each of the bug hunters was armed with a butterfly-net, a collecting jar and a torch for when it got dark. Carrying all their equipment as best as they could, the children made their way with the Prof to the meadow. When they first assembled, the sun had just set and dusk was falling. There were some wispy pink clouds high overhead and a pale half-moon was just visible in the evening sky. They kept close together as a team but worked in pairs; Jay with Tim, who knew which insects to look for, and Ella with the Prof.
At first Jay and Tim just poked about in the grass and vegetation generally, seeing what they could unearth. Then, as it got darker, Jay noticed a transformation. Here and there he could see tiny pin-points of pale green light. Tim pointed to them excitedly. “That’s what we’re after,” he shouted out. “Glow-worms!”
As it got darker still, more and more little lights appeared. “The female glow-worms switch on their body lamps to attract the males, who don’t glow themselves,” explained Tim. “But the males have extra big eyes to spot the light signals. So we can catch both the females and the males with our nets if we follow the lights. In fact, if we switch on our torches, the males will probably fly towards them as well.”
So it proved. For almost half an hour, as the little pale green lights flickered on and off in the grass and the surrounding hedgerows, the team collected a large number of specimens in their glass jars. By the time the Prof called out, “O.K., I think we’ve got enough,” it was becoming more difficult to pick their way through the meadow, even with the help of their torches and the half moon which had risen higher in the night sky. Although Tim, in particular, wanted to stay out a bit longer, it was agreed, on the basis of a promise of hot-chocolate on their return, that it was time to get back to the house. With the jars in one hand, nets under their arms and torches in the other hand, they slowly made their way back through the orchard and the vegetable garden to the stable yard.
The Prof was very pleased with the results of the evening’s hunt. He gathered together all the equipment and Tim took it for storage in the barn. Then they all carefully transferred the contents of their collecting jars into a large jar with air-holes, which the Prof sealed, after having first freed from captivity some moths and other stray insects he did not wish to keep. “I’ll put these safely in the laboratory,” he said, “whilst you wash your hands and make some hot-chocolate for us all in the kitchen. It’s a bit late to disturb Mrs. Stiggles to do it now. Anyway, I think we know where the best biscuits are kept, don’t we?” After the successful hunt, it certainly appeared that the Prof was back to his usual cheerful self.
After supper, the children made their way up to bed. Ella was followed by Chip, who, whilst the bug hunt had been underway, had enjoyed one of the best evenings that a dog of the small terrier type could enjoy. An expedition to the meadow at dusk, just as the rabbits were thinking it was a good time for an evening stroll, had, he felt, been perfect timing. The fact that, despite careering about helter-skelter all evening, he had caught nothing but tantalising scents, had not dismayed him at all. By the time Ella was asleep, so was he. Flopped in the corner of her bedroom, he was dreaming of his evening escapade and this time nothing, not even the most formidable buck rabbit, escaped the fearless, canine hero.
Jay and Tim settled down in their shared room. Tim still felt rather bad about laughing at Jay in the study, especially since he really did want to be good friends. So he sat up in bed reading out to Jay all sorts of facts from his pile of books, which he thought might fascinate Jay as much as they obviously fascinated him. He wanted to show Jay that there was a lot they could study together and that they did, indeed, share the same interests. As it happened, Jay, who, as his aunt would have said, “was not a sensitive soul,” had not given the incident in the study another thought. On the other hand, he was not, Tim would have been sorry to learn, particularly interested in the present topic of the contrasting habits of creepy-crawlies of the many-legged variety. By the time Tim was explaining the remarkable differences between the ferocious, flesh-eating centipede and the gentle, vegetarian millipede, Jay was already fast asleep. But Tim’s words were not wasted. Charlie, staring down from his favourite spot on top of the wardrobe, appeared to be giving the topic his closest attention.
With the children settled in their rooms, the professor checked that the specimens collected that evening were also well settled in their new surroundings. Bedded down in leaves and moss, which lined his specimen tanks in the laboratory, the glow-worms appeared content, signalling with their customary glow, as he switched off the laboratory lights and locked the door. He sat down at his desk in the study and was just about to make some notes of the evening’s expedition, when he heard a knock at the study door. He looked at his watch. Almost ten o’clock. Surely not Mrs. Stiggles at this hour?
On opening the door, the professor discovered that it was Mr. Stiggles, rather than his wife, who was his late visitor.
“Very sorry to disturb you,” apologised Bill Stiggles, “but something’s come up as I thought you should know about.”
Bill explained that he had been having a drink in the ‘Queen’s Arms’ when his pal, Ernie Grumpett, had come in and joined him for a pint of ale. “I know you’re doing some sort of scientific experiments here, Professor, with plants and insects and the like,” continued Bill Stiggles, “so I thought what Ernie told me in the pub would be of interest to you. Ernie is here now, in the hall. Can I bring him in?”
The professor readily agreed and Ernie, summoned from the hall, duly joined them. He pulled off his cap as he entered the study, having divested himself of his boots in the hallway. He carried a parcel of something wrapped in newspaper under his arm and deposited this by his chair as he sat down.
“Go on, Ernie,” encouraged Bill Stiggles, “tell the professor what you told me. Perhaps he can explain it.”
“Well it’s like this,” said Ernie. “I went fishing this evening in the River Frim. Up near Blusterton’s Factory, it was. I find I get a lot of fish there. Anyhows, I catched this whopper, a real big un. And as I hauls it out, I sees as how it’s sort of shining. Well I’ve caught a few rainbow trout in my time, Professor, but what do think of this?”
With that he opened his newspaper parcel with a flourish to reveal the ‘whopper.’ The professor stared hard at it. It certainly was a good size. But, more remarkably, it was glowing brightly. Not exactly glowing with all the colours of the rainbow but certainly glowing strongly with a variety of luminous greens, blues and reds.
The Prof sat for a while staring at the fish. The fish seemed to be staring, accusingly, back at him. Ernie and Bill in turn were staring intently at the professor who gave them a wan smile. “Well, yes, it’s very interesting,” he said. “Very interesting.” Then, in the most reassuring voice he could muster, “Of course, bacteria can make fish shine. Especially dead fish.”
“Well it weren’t dead when I pulled it out!” Ernie interrupted, rather offended.
“No, of course not,” continued the professor, “but you can get this sort of effect in herrings sometimes, that kind of silvery fish. Not usually in river fish I grant you.” He looked up from the fish to Er
nie. “I’d like to examine it properly in my laboratory if I may? But I wouldn’t want you to be out of pocket. Perhaps I could buy it from you – at a fair price, naturally. What’s the going rate for a fresh trout?”
Ernie thought of a fair price and then doubled it. He was well satisfied with his evening’s work when the professor agreed to his figure and even more satisfied when the professor added a little more, “for your trouble.”
“It would be helpful if you could show me tomorrow exactly where you were when you caught it,” the professor added. With the thought of the distinct possibility of another tip “for your trouble,” Ernie readily agreed.
Arrangements were made for Ernie and the professor to meet up at Ernie’s cottage the next morning. Mr. Stiggles saw Ernie out of the study and they chatted away cheerfully as they made their way out of the house en route back to the ‘Queen’s Arms’ to spend Ernie’s newly acquired wealth.
As he heard the front door bang behind the departing friends, Professor Ricardo picked up the fish and wrapped it up again in the ‘Racing Chronicle.’ Then he carried it carefully to his laboratory. As he took out his bunch of keys, unlocked the door and entered, he muttered to himself, “Oh deary me, what have I done? What have I done?”
CHAPTER 11
After their late night bug-hunting expedition, the children were late down to breakfast. Professor Ricardo was already up and waiting for them in the kitchen. He looked as if he had not been to bed at all. That was because he had not been to bed at all.
“We are going for a walk along the river this morning,” he announced. “We’re due at Ernie Grumpett’s cottage at ten-thirty and it’s ten past nine now. So Ella, as soon as you’ve had your breakfast, feed Toby and ask Mr. Stigggles if he’ll turn Toby out into the meadow for the day. Then we’ll all need to leave here at ten o’clock sharp. Put on your Wellington boots and, Tim, bring a fishing net and half a dozen small specimen jars. I’ll see you all in the yard in half an hour.” With that he was off.
