Edie Amelia and the Runcible River Fever

by Sophie Lee

  ‘Girls,’ he exclaimed.

  Edie thought his eyes looked red; it was as though they burned with energy. ‘Well, don’t just stand there with your tails between your legs. Come in.’

  ‘What is it, Dad?’ said Cheesy.

  ‘Well now, between you and me and that farty little dog you’ve hidden away somewhere in the house—I can still sniff him out, you know—I’ve decided it’s time to cut my losses. No more world-record ballooning nonsense. I agree with Mummy. We return to Glasgow.’

  Cheesy groaned.

  Edie caught sight of a tubular object Hogmanay was continually tossing up and down in his left hand. She could make out the words Woodworm Repellent on its side.

  ‘Well? What are you goggling at? You should be packing,’ boomed Hogmanay.

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ said Beltane, returning to her boxes with a cough. ‘Good news. To bonny Scotland, away from this dreadful Fever.’

  ‘But, Dad,’ Cheesy stammered, ‘I don’t want to leave.’

  ‘It’s not safe here, wee one. Your mummy’s right.’

  ‘I don’t want to go!’ said Cheesy.

  ‘Hush-a-bunny. It’s arranged. That’s all there is to it. We’ll leave . . . er . . . tomorrow.’ So saying, he did a little jig right there in the middle of the kitchen, dislodging the silver cat clock. Mister, who had scuttled into the kitchen thinking it might be teatime, caught his right eye on the sharp corner of the clock as it fell and yelped with pain, confirming his dislike for all things to do with cats.

  ‘Och, puir wee beastie! I didnae see ye there!’ said Hogmanay, giving Mister a pat. ‘See you in an hour,’ he called over his shoulder, then walked down the hall, whistling.

  Edie grabbed Cheesy by the sleeve and pulled her out of the kitchen.

  ‘Where’s he going now?’ Edie whispered.

  Cheesy watched as her father opened a hatch in the floor at the end of the hallway and disappeared into it, closing it behind him.

  ‘The basement. Again,’ Cheesy whispered. ‘Why?’

  ‘Let’s go and start packing your suitcase, Charisma,’ Edie said loudly, winking conspiratorially at her friend (which is just a fancy way of saying that she had another plan of her own).

  ‘Honestly, I could cry,’ said Cheesy as they hightailed it back to her room.

  ‘I don’t think your dad’s telling us everything.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Cheesy.

  ‘Why isn’t he packing boxes with your mum if he’s so keen on leaving town? Is there some way we can get a look in the basement?’

  Mister Pants whimpered and Edie bent down to see what was wrong. She became alarmed when she saw that his right eye was half-closed.

  ‘Oh no, Cheesy, Mister’s eye!’ She crouched down and gave him a cuddle, careful not to put pressure on his face. ‘I’ve got to get him to the vet. Again. Oh no! Dad’s going to kill me . . . He said if that dog gets one more injury he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Now he might even need doggy glasses or something and I bet they’re expensive.’

  ‘Now, now, Sparks, there’s no need to be histrionic,’ said Cheesy, taking a leaf out of Cinnamon’s book.

  Mister Pants’s legs wobbled and he lay on the floor.

  ‘We’ll have to put the Flan Plan on hold,’ Edie said, cradling Mister in her arms.

  He was heavier than she remembered, but she struggled up and out of Cheesy’s room and down the hall, stooping to retrieve her detective kit, her satchel and the meaty flan in the process. A radio blared a breaking news story from the kitchen.

  ‘Sparks, stop!’ said Cheesy when Edie had reached the front door and was fumbling with the knob. Cheesy was pushing her precious old doll’s pram down the hall. ‘Just put him in here, will you. You’ll never make it all the way like that, you idiot.’

  ‘But what about your limited-edition nineteenth-century doll collection? Don’t you need it for that?’

  ‘I’ve taken them out, see,’ Cheesy said, turning the pram around to show Edie that it was empty except for a piece of floral cloth. ‘And it’s not going to do me any good if we’re packing up and going home.’ She wheeled the pram up to the door. ‘Here, go ahead and put Mister in and you can push him up the hill. I’ve got a wee bonnet here we can disguise him in for now. According to that news bulletin, all dogs must be kept indoors until the Fever Dog is found. The Mayor has called a Town Meeting for this afternoon.’

  ‘Thanks, Cheesy.’

  ‘One last thing,’ said Cheesy, leading her to the lychgate and pulling something out from underneath its roof. ‘Take Auntie Bee’s butterfly net. Can’t forget the Flan Plan, you know.’ Cheesy’s glasses had by now fogged up completely. ‘So I suppose this is goodbye . . .’

  ‘No, it’s not!’ cried Edie. ‘Get back in there and start surveillance. Don’t let your father out of your sight. There’s something very strange going on around here . . .’

  A Proper Detective

  Edie pushed Cheesy’s old pram containing the bonneted Mister Pants all the way up the very steep hill to the vet’s surgery. She balanced the butterfly net on one shoulder while her satchel containing her detective kit dug into the other. The pram’s wheels were so worn that they were no longer shock-absorbent, so it was a hot and bumpy ride. Mister lay inside the pram, having consented to the blue bonnet mainly, Edie suspected, because he was in too much pain to protest. He gave no sign of wanting to gobble the flan, either, and this made Edie’s Worries rise higher. She pushed faster.

  ‘At last,’ said Edie, when they had reached the top of the hill and were standing in front of the Runcible Veterinary Clinic and Animal Hospital. ‘Come on, boy,’ said Edie, untying Mister’s bonnet. ‘You’ll be okay now, I promise.’ She put him on the ground and was relieved to see that he stayed upright.

  ‘Snuffle,’ said Mister Pants, then turned and waddled slowly over to Edie. When he reached her leg he held out his paw.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Edie.

  She looked up at the shiny metal plaque on the outside of the building, which displayed the words: Doctor Arabella Stuart, Vet in Residence. This must be the new vet, the one who had taken over from old Doctor Dogwatch, who was now caring for sick camels and their first and second cousins at the Runcible Refuge for Distressed Dromedaries. She pushed open the surgery door, helping Mister over the step and pulling the pram and dog net in after her.

  ‘If that’s a baby you’ve got in there you’ve come to the wrong place. Take it to Doctor Proudfoot over the road,’ said a woman’s voice from behind a screen.

  ‘Oh . . . no, it’s my dog that needs help. He was in the pram because—well, it’s a long story,’ said Edie.

  ‘Very well, very well. Just bring him around and I’ll take a look,’ said the voice.

  Mister didn’t seem keen on going, but after some gentle encouragement from Edie he allowed himself to be brought face to face with Doctor Arabella Stuart. She had long hair, wore a white coat and had on an elaborate metal headpiece from which a microscope was suspended in front of her right eye. Her other eye was pale, sort of green and watery, like a cat’s.

  ‘Name, date of birth, place of residence,’ said Doctor Stuart. Her voice seemed cold, not warm and welcoming like old Doctor Dogwatch’s.

  ‘Edie Amelia Sparks. Born exactly nine years and two weeks ago.’

  ‘Not you, the animal,’ said the vet.

  Mister, apparently not fond of being called ‘the animal’, stood on Edie’s left foot.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been a bit fraught,’ said Edie, trying out a new word she hoped would have some appeal to a person in the medical profession. When she supplied the vet with Mister’s name, age and address she got another curt answer.

  ‘Ah, Mister Pants. I know his file. Saw it the other day. Weighed a ton—just like him. What on earth have you been feeding him?’

  ‘Lemons,’ said Edie, feeling really flustered. This was perfectly true: Mister Pants’s last trip to Doctor Dogwatch had been because he had swall
owed a lemon then found himself in the tricky position of being unable to digest it.

  ‘Help me get him up on the table,’ said Doctor Stuart. Edie explained what had happened at the Chompsters’ while Doctor Stuart put blue drops in Mister’s injured eye and took a proper look.

  ‘Bad news,’ the vet said. ‘I’m afraid he’s got a scratch on his cornea.’ She shone a light in his eye and peered through her microscope. ‘Your dog doesn’t seem to be the luckiest of animals.’

  ‘But he is brave. And he can communicate with humans . . . well, me, anyway, so that makes up for it,’ Edie said loyally.

  Doctor Stuart raised the gadget from her eye so it sat on her head and pointed towards the ceiling. ‘You’ll need to put drops in his eye every four hours and we might just save it,’ she said. ‘Get down, please,’ she said to Mister Pants as she walked over to the sink and washed her hands.

  ‘He won’t move till you give him his treat,’ said Edie. ‘Doctor Dogwatch used to have a bag of them. He also used to give me a . . . how do I put it . . . a special rate for Mister Pants.’

  Dr Stuart turned and looked straight through her without blinking.

  ‘Look,’ blurted Edie, ‘I may as well admit it—I can’t afford to pay you. This is Mister’s eleventh trip to the vet this year so I don’t want my parents to find out there’s something else wrong with him.’

  ‘I’m sure they’d understand,’ said Doctor Stuart.

  ‘In case you haven’t noticed, the town’s in a Fever crisis and everyone’s a little short on understanding,’ Edie replied.

  Doctor Stuart looked down, studying Mister’s surgery card. ‘This address—The Pride of the Green—isn’t that the lopsided house with the purple front door? You’re the young detective, aren’t you?’ she said. The vet’s eyes twinkled. Edie thought how much nicer she looked when she wasn’t frowning or glaring. Doctor Stuart seemed to mull something over.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, putting down Mister’s file. ‘There is something small you could do for me, in which case I’d be happy to waive my fee.’

  ‘What is it?’ said Edie.

  ‘Let’s call it some careful observation of your next-door neighbour.’

  ‘What?’ said Edie. ‘The Blank Mar—er, I mean, Adam Halloween?’

  ‘He loves his junk with a passion, does Adam,’ said the vet, ever so softly.

  ‘I know,’ said Edie. ‘I helped him tidy his shed.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Doctor Stuart said. ‘You know, Adam and I agreed to meet here early this morning.’

  ‘Really?’ said Edie.

  ‘But before we could discuss some . . . matters of a personal nature, I had to attend to an urgent call regarding a sick camel at the refuge. As a favour, I asked Adam to watch over the surgery for me until I returned. When I arrived at the refuge, Doctor Dogwatch informed me he hadn’t called for backup at all. It seemed the whole thing had been a hoax.’

  Edie jotted down the details in her notebook.

  ‘When I got back to the surgery I found Adam gone and some valuable items missing as well. Twelve rolls of catgut thread, one enormous canister of highly flammable propane and two canisters of oxygen had just, poof, disappeared,’ she said, pointing at the empty spaces on the shelves of the surgery. ‘And along with them a blowtorch, a key and one of my microscopes. They’re expensive items, most of them dangerous, and when put together they can be lethal. Boom!’ She mimicked an explosion.

  ‘Adam Halloween wouldn’t steal from you!’ cried Edie. ‘He’d never blow anything up, either. It’s my dad who goes in for that sort of lark!’

  ‘But you can see why I’m suspicious. All I’m asking, in return for those eye drops and some follow-up consultations, is this: that you observe the goings-on next door. See if you can track down my missing items and then write a report for me. Think of it as your first paid detective job,’ she said. Her expression turned serious. ‘It’s really in the interests of everybody’s safety. I can’t bear to think of the police arresting Adam, but he’ll leave me no choice if he has, in fact, committed a crime. Against me, of all people! Think about it,’ said the vet, reaching into a plastic bag under the table and handing Mister not one but three treats.

  Edie finished writing down Doctor Stuart’s missing items and studied the list carefully. She walked over to the shelf and inspected the area from which the items had gone missing. A strand of something auburn caught her eye and she carefully removed it with her tweezers and deposited it in an evidence bag. It looked familiar somehow. Edie looked back at the list. She was beginning to see a pattern, a riddle wanting to be solved.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Edie said.

  The vet reached forward and shook her hand with her long elegant fingers.

  ‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘I’m neglecting the patient.’ She put four drops in Mister’s eye, covered it with a handsome black eye patch and lowered him to the floor.

  As Edie pushed the heavy pram home she had a brainwave. She needed to see her father as soon as possible.

  The Flan Plan versus Operation Blank Marauder

  Edie left the pram at the front door and scrambled up the spiral staircase to her room. She needed to think fast. She now had two cases to solve and it was going to take every ounce of rational thought to juggle them both.

  ‘Why on earth is Mister wearing an eye patch?’ Cinnamon called from the bottom of the spiral staircase.

  Edie tried thinking on her feet. ‘Um . . . I’m taking him to the Town Meeting dressed as a pirate and I wanted him to get used to his costume.’

  Just then, she caught sight of the Blank Marauder from her bedroom window. If she wasn’t mistaken he seemed to be pulling his shed to pieces looking for something. All Edie’s tidying was being undone. Eventually he gave up, put his head in his hands and retreated into his house.

  ‘Is that sensible?’ called her mother.

  ‘I thought it might promote more positive feelings towards dogs,’ Edie called back, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she whispered. Her jaw dropped open in disbelief. Hogmanay Chompster was running from the Sparkses’ back porch. She watched him as he vaulted the side fence with superhuman energy and sprinted off down the street.

  ‘It’s true this Fever Dog has turned people off our four-legged friends,’ Michaelmas chimed in from the kitchen.

  Edie began hurriedly assembling the items she would need for the next part of her mission. Binoculars, check. Magnifying glass, check. Tweezers, check. Notebook and pen, check. Her hands trembled and she coughed. She felt her forehead but it seemed cool to the touch so she pushed her Worries down as far as they would go and smoothed the front of her red pleather jumpsuit. Finally, she grabbed the flan (now cold and a little squashed) and her butterfly net and bolted down the spiral staircase and into the kitchen.

  Her mother looked up from a bowl of bean sprouts. ‘Won’t you be cold, darling?’

  ‘I’m wearing a floral vest and warm woolly knickers underneath.’ Edie raised her voice to compete with the radio broadcaster, who was delivering what sounded like regular updates on the Fever crisis. Edie noted that the Town Meeting was to be hosted by the Highland Fling Society at the Highland Fling Centre in twenty minutes’ time. Perhaps the Fever Dog had already been captured and the Mayor was going to present the reward? Remembering her brainwave, Edie looked for her father. Michaelmas Sparks seemed oblivious to the racket and was searching for something among his test tubes and a stack of obscure articles about textiles from the 1970s.

  ‘Er, Dad, could you give me a hand with all this stuff?’ said Edie.

  ‘What, what? Oh . . . yes, of course,’ said Michaelmas.

  ‘Dad, listen,’ said Edie quietly, when they had closed the front door behind them, ‘do you still have the outboard motor you used on the tsunami surfboard?’

  Michaelmas seemed lost in thought.

  ‘Dad? I need it for something very important,’ she continued. ‘Are you even listening? What’s wrong?’ />
  ‘I’ve lost something,’ he said.

  ‘Again?’ said Edie.

  ‘You don’t understand. I’m this close to unlocking a cure for Runcible River Fever.’

  He held up his thumb and index finger to demonstrate just how close.

  ‘But that’s great!’

  ‘Well . . . my theory is not as complex as you might suppose: all it took, really, was a bit of lateral thinking,’ he said. ‘Now, I had written all the details down . . .’

  ‘On scraps of purple paper? Dad! When will you learn to keep things organised?’

  ‘… but it seemed one moment Hogmanay Chompster was here to borrow a cup of organic sugar and the next, my theories had vanished. Well, the parts that concerned the “hypobaric treatment” anyway. Do you think Mister Pants could have eaten my lab notes again?’

  ‘No, definitely not.’ Edie dismissed the idea with a flick of her hand, thinking of Mister’s sore eye and lost appetite. ‘But that’s funny about Mr Chompster. I could have sworn I just saw him leave.’

  ‘Really?’ said Michaelmas.

  ‘Did you know that the Chompsters are returning to Glasgow?’

  ‘No. Nothing of the sort,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, well, I, er . . . promised I’d help Mrs Chompster give her unwanted clocks to charity. I said I’d ferry them back and forth to the Distressed Dromedaries Jumble Sale while she’s getting on with her packing, and it would be so much quicker, if you could, er, motorise the pram for me,’ said Edie, crossing her fingers behind her back for the second time that day.

  ‘What on earth would Hogmanay want with a cup of sugar if he’s leaving town?’

  ‘I’m not sure but I’m dying to find out. Now about that motor . . .’

  ‘What? Oh yes. Now that I can find,’ he said.

  While Michaelmas went off to retrieve the outboard motor, Edie darted to the side fence and peered into the Marauder’s shed. The Marauder seemed to be getting ready to go somewhere and was hurriedly stuffing things into his backpack. Hogmanay Chompster was nowhere to be seen. Edie ran back just as Michaelmas reappeared with the motor and his toolkit and began connecting the motor to the pram.