Eventually, after what seemed an age, they reached number 2 Blossom Crescent. Michael opened the gate. He and Callie raced up the path to the front door. ‘Well?’ said Michael. He heard the gate click shut and screwed his eyes together. He couldn’t bear to look. ‘Is he still there?’
Callie covered her eyes with her hands.
There was a pause. The children held their breath. They heard Mrs Tucker mutter, ‘I thought as much!’ They crossed their fingers.
‘All right, you two,’ Mrs Tucker said, ‘you can look now.’
The children opened their eyes. The cat was sitting on the pavement a few feet away peering at them through the gate.
‘Meow?’ he said.
Callie gave a shriek of delight and started jumping up and down.
Michael grinned.
Even Mrs Tucker chuckled. She eyed the cat for a moment. Then she opened the basket. A strong fishy smell wafted out. The cat’s good ear pricked up. He lifted his chin and sniffed the air. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw?’ Mrs Tucker said, reaching for her keys. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘But what will Dad say?’ Callie looked worried all of a sudden. ‘Do you think he’ll be cross if he comes home and finds Atticus?’
‘I don’t expect he’ll be very pleased,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘But Atticus won’t be staying for long. Only till we find out who he belongs to.’
‘And it’s not like we went out and bought a pet when Dad told us not to,’ Michael added.
Callie’s face brightened. ‘It’s more like Atticus found us because he needs someone to look after him for a little while!’ she cried.
‘Exactly,’ Mrs Tucker agreed. She opened the door. ‘Come on, then, Atticus, make yourself at home.’
‘Yes, come on, Atticus,’ Michael encouraged.
‘Please, Atticus,’ Callie begged.
The cat stood up slowly. It yawned and stretched. It looked up and down the street. It looked at the house and the garden. It looked at the cars parked in the road. It looked at Michael, Callie and Mrs Tucker. Finally, it looked at the basket. Then, as if it had come to a decision, it squeezed through the gate and strolled past them into the house, its tail held high in the air.
Up at Toffly Hall Mrs Cheddar was having problems with Lord and Lady Toffly over the marquee.
‘I don’t want it there,’ Lady Toffly snapped. ‘It’ll spoil the begonias. They need sunshine. Don’t you agree, Roderick?’
‘Yes I do, Antonia,’ Lord Toffly said gruffly. ‘Besides, it interferes with the view from the library.’
‘We can’t have that!’ Lady Toffly cried.
‘Ridiculous!’ Lord Toffly agreed. ‘Some people have no consideration.’
‘Take it down!’ Lady Toffly ordered.
‘At once!’ Lord Toffly shouted.
‘But, Lady Toffly …’ Mrs Cheddar protested. The marquee was huge. It had already been up and down three times since breakfast and the workmen were exhausted. ‘You agreed that’s where we should put it.’
‘I assure you I didn’t, Mrs Cheddar,’ Lady Toffly snapped. ‘I said the west lawn. This is the east lawn.’ ‘Some people can’t tell one end of a compass from the other!’
Lord Toffly glared at Mrs Cheddar.
Mrs Cheddar bit her lip and tried to think about nice things, like bunnies and squirrels and little tweetie birds, instead of punching a Toffly on the nose, which is what she wanted to do. ‘Lady Toffly,’ she said, ‘when we put it on the west lawn, you told us to move it to the north lawn. When we put it on the north lawn you told us to move it to the south lawn. When we put it on the south lawn you told us to move it here, to the east lawn.’
‘Well, I still don’t like it,’ Lady Toffly declared. She glared at the workmen who were lying on the grass, panting. ‘Tell them to stop sprawling about and move it again.’
‘Lazy lumps,’ Lord Toffly snorted, sitting back on his shooting stick.
Mrs Cheddar’s foot twitched. Just one little kick aimed at Lord Toffly’s big fat tweeded bum would send him sprawling into Lady Toffly’s precious begonias … But then they would fire her and she would never get a job on Get Rich Quick! Tweetie birds, she told herself firmly. Bunnies. Squirrels. ‘Where would you like us to move it to?’ she sighed.
Lady Toffly thought for a moment. ‘How about the south-west lawn,’ she suggested.
‘Good idea, Antonia,’ Lord Toffly agreed.
‘And if that doesn’t work we can try the north-east lawn, and if I don’t like that there’s the south-east lawn and then … um …’
‘Don’t forget the north-west lawn, Antonia!’ Lord Toffly reminded her.
‘Of course, Roderick. How brilliant of you.’
‘OK,’ Mrs Cheddar said wearily, adding kittens to her list of nice things to think about. She pointed to a spot away from the begonias. ‘Let’s try over there.’
‘Give me a shout when you’ve finished.’ Lady Toffly gave a little giggle. ‘I’m going to try on my tiara. It’s worth millions, you know.’
‘Billions, my love.’ Lord Toffly cracked his knuckles gleefully. ‘Trillions probably. Zillions even. I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Quite so, Roderick. I doubt whether Rupert Rich will have seen anything like it before!’
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
Thug and Slasher were sitting in a nearby tree, watching.
‘I feel a bit sorry for her,’ Thug said.
‘Which one?’ Slasher asked. He was a slightly short-sighted.
‘Not the ugly one with the big yellow teeth and knobbly knees,’ Thug said, pulling a face. ‘The one we saw the other morning at the window in Blossom Crescent. She seems nice.’
‘Nice?’ Slasher squawked, ruffling his feathers. ‘Nice? She’s a human. All humans are horrible. They’re magpie murderers. Jimmy says so.’
‘I know, but …’
‘Remember what happened to Beaky?’ Slasher said sharply.
‘Yeah, but …’
‘And Goon?’
‘Yeah …’
‘And Penguin?’
‘She didn’t kill them though,’ Thug pointed out.
‘She might have,’ Slasher said. ‘How do you know? And anyway it doesn’t matter. They’re all humans. And all humans are horrible.’ He gave Thug a quick peck. ‘Keep your mind on the job.’
‘All right, Slasher, don’t get your feathers in a twist!’ Thug retorted, hopping backwards.
‘I can’t wait to tell the boss how much the tiara’s worth,’ Slasher said. He chuckled softly. ‘Those toffee-nosed Tofflys will be really mad when we steal it.’
‘D’you think we can get a look at it before we go?’ Thug asked wistfully. ‘I haven’t seen anything glittery all day.’ He eyed the house. Toffly Hall was enormous. The two magpies had spent the day looking in almost every window for a glimpse of treasure, without much success. For rich people, Thug thought, the Tofflys didn’t seem to have many shiny things – just a lot of dusty old books and shabby furniture.
‘Yeah, why not?’ Slasher agreed. ‘It makes sense to check it out properly before we nick it at the fair.’ He grinned at Thug. ‘The bedrooms are round the front. Let’s take the short cut. Come on.’
They flew over the roof and landed on a window ledge.
‘Look, there she is.’ Slasher peered into the dark room.
‘It’s on her head!’ Thug cried. He gazed in delight.
Lady Toffly was dancing around the room in a tartan dressing gown, holding a small mirror; the tiara perched on her head. The magpies stared at it with longing.
‘It’s all sparkly,’ Thug sighed.
‘And spangly,’ Slasher giggled.
‘It’s lovely!’ They gave each other a hug.
‘SHOOO!’
Suddenly the window flew open.
‘Get away, you horrible things!’ Lady Toffly shrieked, flapping at them with a slipper. ‘Roderick! Quick! Get your shotgun!’
�
�Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
The birds fell off the ledge.
‘Shotgun!’ Slasher yelped.
‘I can’t afford to lose any more feathers,’ Thug cried. ‘I’ll crash!’
‘Where is he?’ Slasher looked about wildly.
‘I dunno!’ Thug flapped to and fro. ‘Let’s hide before he pots us!’
They fluttered down to the gravel and scuttered into the hedge.
‘RODERICK! Where are you?’ Lady Toffly leaned out of the window. ‘Hurry up!’
‘I’ll be there in a minute, Antonia.’ Lord Toffly’s voice came from the other side of the hedge.
‘What are you doing?’ Lady Toffly screeched.
‘I’m cleaning the Rolls-Royce,’ Lord Toffly replied. ‘There seem to be some feathers stuck in the bumper.’
Thug and Slasher looked at one another. Their beaks dropped open.
‘Did he say Rolls-Royce?’ Thug whispered.
Slasher nodded.
‘And feathers?’
Slasher nodded again.
‘You don’t think …?’
‘Shhhhh!’
Lord Toffly’s footsteps crunched across the gravel. The front door slammed shut.
Slasher peered out from under the hedge. ‘Quick! Follow me.’
The magpies emerged from their hiding place and hopped over to the Rolls-Royce.
‘Is that the car?’ Thug asked, staring at the powerful machine in awe. ‘The one that killed Beaky?’
Slasher pecked viciously at the paint. ‘That’s the one, all right. Look!’
A little heap of black and white feathers lay on the gravel beside the bumper.
‘Beaky!’ Thug whispered. He started to sob.
‘Don’t get all soppy, you big idiot,’ Slasher warned. His beak was set grimly. ‘And DON’T go around saying humans are nice. EVER AGAIN.’ He took one last look at the feathers, which started to blow away in the breeze. ‘Come on, Thug,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and tell Jimmy.’
Inspector Cheddar was in a good mood. The meeting with the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth had gone surprisingly well. The Chief Inspector had been very friendly. He had even commented about how shiny Inspector Cheddar’s badge was. Better still, he had given him a Very Important Job to do.
‘I want you to be in charge of security at the Toffly Hall antiques fair,’ the Chief Inspector said. ‘There will be lots of valuable things on display, including the Tofflys’ tiara. The eyes of the world will be on Littleton-on-Sea. We don’t want to take any risks. Do you understand, Cheddar?’
‘Yes, sir. You can rely on me, sir!’
‘You get this right, Cheddar, and you could be in for a promotion – Scotland Yard, even. You get it wrong and you’ll be back on traffic cones.’
Inspector Cheddar had no intention of getting it wrong. Organising the security at the Toffly Hall antiques fair was exactly the sort of job he’d been trained for. No sneaky, low-life crook was going to get past him and his officers. He would see to that.
Inspector Cheddar arrived home at six o’clock. He opened the front door quietly. He was a little earlier than usual and he wanted to surprise the children. He tiptoed into the hall, closed the door gently behind him and hung his jacket up on the coat stand. Then he stood for a moment, listening.
To his surprise, the house was silent.
Inspector Cheddar frowned. He’d been expecting to hear shrieks of laughter coming from upstairs and the sound of splashing water. The children normally had tea at five and then a bath, one after the other, at six. That’s strange, he thought. Where is everyone? Mrs Tucker was normally a stickler for routine.
He made his way through to the kitchen. Phew! It stank of fish. Sardines, if he wasn’t very much mistaken. What a pong! He’d never been very keen on sardines.
Holding his nose with one hand, Inspector Cheddar took off his cap with the other, threw it on the table and hurried to open the back door.
To his horror, it was unlocked.
Inspector Cheddar was furious. Wasn’t he always telling Mrs Tucker not to leave the doors and windows unlocked when she went out? Anybody could walk in off the street! Why, if this were the city they wouldn’t have a stick of furniture left!
Muttering to himself, he went to fill the kettle. A pile of dirty dishes was stacked in the sink. Inspector Cheddar stared at them. What was going on? Mrs Tucker never left dirty dishes in the sink. Anxiously, he checked the fridge. Apart from a pint of milk, some eggs and a few potatoes, it was empty. Inspector Cheddar’s eyebrows shot up. Something was definitely wrong. Mrs Tucker always left supper for him and Mrs Cheddar in case they were late home from work.
He gulped. An awful thought had occurred to him. Something must have happened to Michael or Callie.
Inspector Cheddar rushed to the table and snatched up his cap.
It was then he saw the note, lying beneath it. He held it up.
Inspector Cheddar let out a sigh of relief. He read the note again. A surprise! He loved surprises. What adorable children he had. Callie was so sweet; Michael was so thoughtful. And Mrs Tucker – she might leave back doors unlocked and talk a lot of nonsense about navigating cats and battles with sea monsters but her heart was in the right place. He began to regret losing his temper at breakfast. Perhaps a pet wouldn’t be so bad as long as it wasn’t anything too big.
He thought for a moment. He didn’t want anything furry. Mice gave him the creeps. So did rats. Rabbits scratched the furniture and there was something about guinea pigs and hamsters he didn’t trust. What then? Suddenly he had a brainwave. Goldfish! They were friendly and fun. And they only cost 50 pence! Inspector Cheddar rubbed his hands happily. He couldn’t wait to tell Michael and Callie when they got home. They’d be thrilled. He would take them to the pet shop at the weekend and let them choose their very own goldfish.
Pleased with his decision, Inspector Cheddar decided to get changed. He went back into the hall and put one foot on the stair. Then he froze.
THWUMP! A sound came from somewhere upstairs. Inspector Cheddar swallowed. His hands started to shake. A burglar! Inspector Cheddar’s good mood evaporated. He went purple, then white. It was just as he feared. The burglar must have sneaked in the back door and gone upstairs when everyone was out.
He thought fast. What he should really do was phone the station and ask for help. On the other hand, burglars didn’t often appear in Littleton-on-Sea (never, actually, since he had arrived) and this was his Big Chance to catch one red-handed. Inspector Cheddar took a deep breath. Blow the station! He would handle this himself. He still had the advantage. The burglar didn’t know he was there. He’d been as quiet as a mouse when he came in because he wanted to surprise the children. Well, it wasn’t the children who were in for a surprise. It was the sneaky snoop snaffling through his sock drawer searching for swag who was going to get it in the snout. Inspector Cheddar grabbed an umbrella from the coat stand and crept up the stairs.
At the top he paused. A strange noise was coming from the main bedroom – a sort of low rumbling, like a car engine. What on earth was it? Inspector Cheddar listened carefully. He pushed open the door slowly. The noise stopped.
‘I know you’re in there,’ Inspector Cheddar said loudly.
Silence.
‘Come out with your hands up.’
Silence.
‘Don’t make me come in and get you.’
Silence.
‘I’m an Officer of the Law.’
Silence.
Inspector Cheddar swallowed. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. ‘All right.’ He raised the umbrella. ‘You’ve asked for it.’
The Inspector rushed into the bedroom, tripped over Atticus, who was on his way out, and banged his head on the end of the bed.
‘You might have told me!’ Inspector Cheddar sat on the sofa holding a bag of frozen peas to his forehead.
Mrs Cheddar had just got back. ‘I didn’t know!’ she protested. ‘And anyway, the children said they�
��d left him in their bedroom with the door shut. They just popped out to get him some cat food. You weren’t supposed to find out about him until they got home.’
‘You gave the poor animal a nasty fright!’ Mrs Tucker scolded. ‘Sneaking about like that.’
‘I gave him a nasty fright!’ Inspector Cheddar repeated incredulously. ‘What about me?!’
Mrs Tucker scowled. ‘He probably thought you were a burglar. He’s terrified. The children can’t get him down from the top of the cupboard.’
‘The question is what are we going to do with him?’ Mrs Cheddar interrupted anxiously.
‘Well, he can’t stay here,’ Inspector Cheddar said firmly.
‘But, darling,’ Mrs Cheddar exclaimed, ‘you can’t just turn the poor animal out. He’s lost!’
’And he’s had a fright,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘He’ll get run over. Then what will the children say?’ She glared at Inspector Cheddar. ‘They don’t forget things, children. Like elephants, they are. They’ll probably never forgive you.’
Just then Callie came rushing into the living room clutching a bag of treats. It was half empty. ‘We got him down!’ she cried.
‘Here he is!’ Michael followed immediately behind Callie. He was carrying Atticus in his arms. Atticus was purring throatily.
‘Oh, aren’t you lovely!’ Mrs Cheddar sprang up and started petting him.
‘I’ll get his basket!’ Mrs Tucker rushed off to the kitchen. ‘He needs a lie-down after a shock like that.’
‘But he’s been lying down all afternoon!’ Inspector Cheddar protested. ‘On my bed!’
‘Our bed, darling,’ Mrs Cheddar corrected him gently.
‘He can stay, right, Dad?’ Michael asked. ‘At least until we find out who he belongs to?’
‘I really don’t …’ Inspector Cheddar began.
‘I think he should,’ Mrs Cheddar interrupted firmly. ‘At least for tonight.’
Atticus lifted his head wearily. He gazed at Inspector Cheddar with mournful green eyes.
Atticus Claw Breaks the Law Page 3
