Just then, she felt him bump into the basket and heard him fumbling with his doorknob. Another second or two and the coast would be clear.
‘Hang on, young man!’ came a cry from further along the landing. ‘Stop those space shuttle engines of yours and come back down to Earth with me for a sec, would you?’
Great. Now Madgie’s mother was there too and she’d called Colm ‘young man’ – this could take a while. With a sinking feeling, Mad Cap opened her mouth, emptied her lungs and filled them up again. Oh, man! This was really vile! She could almost taste the smell.
She groped for the bottle of water in her bag and tried to drown the disgusting stink, splashing Colm’s dirty socks and underwear in the process.
‘What’s the story with your sister?’ Mrs Cappock continued. ‘Why are you still being so mean to her?’
Mad Cap hastily put her bottle away and pricked up her ears. This could be good!
‘Aw, Mum!’ wailed Colm.
‘Things are going to be hard enough, so in the meantime she can really do without your nonsense!’
What will be hard enough? thought Madgie. For who? And why does EVERYONE ELSE know about this?
‘But Mum! She nicked my diary!’ Colm exploded, machine-gunning each word as if he was fighting a bunch of space invaders. ‘And I don’t see why we shouldn’t tell her about the other thing. She’s a tough cookie, she can take it.’
‘Right,’ Mrs Cappock said. ‘First of all, you don’t know she stole it. With all those guards in the family, you of all people should know you can’t accuse someone without proof. And I can’t see your evidence. Oh, chickpea,’ she added more gently, ‘I’m sorry. I know how it feels.’
For a moment, Madgie wondered about that. Mum would never keep a secret diary, would she? She’d have nothing to write about. ‘Monday: planted two rows of peas and killed twenty-seven slugs.’ Fascinating stuff!
Actually, she thought, Colm’s diary wasn’t exactly top secret either. Not like her own secret mission log. Now if someone stole that … She felt a chill run down her scalp all the way to her toes. She’d have to ask Norbert for extra security tips.
‘As for the other thing,’ Mum was saying, ‘it’ll be time to tell her soon. But not till I’m good and ready, you hear? Can I trust you on that one?’
Colm must have made some sort of nod, because next thing Mad Cap heard her mum going down the stairs.
Suddenly she was sick of nobody telling her anything. And so, without wasting another second, she burst out of the laundry basket and nearly gave Colm a heart attack.
‘AAAAAAARGGH!’ he shouted, taking a step back and hovering dangerously near the edge of the top step.
Mad Cap was on him in two ticks, neatly pinning him on the carpet and stopping him from breaking his neck. Those wrestling lessons had paid off after all.
‘What’s going on?’ she hissed. ‘What’s wrong with Mum? Why did Manic Mudrick call her a poor thing and why does Mrs Soup hug her like there’s no tomorrow and why is she always tired and is she going to die and is it my fault and …’
Madgie didn’t know how worried she was until she heard herself roll out all her questions. She probably had a few more (about why mozzarella was suddenly junk food and was it really the lemon sherbet that shrank Mum’s work apron), but at that stage she was crying and crying and crying, and Colm did the weirdest thing he’d ever done in his life: he got back on his knees and pulled down her hoodie and put his arm around her neck, but gently, and ruffled her hair and kissed her on the cheek.
Mad Cap was so shocked she stopped crying instantly.
‘Madgie Madonna Cappock,’ Colm said, ‘you are the biggest eejit on Barnaby Street, do you know that?’
She was going to protest that she wasn’t an eejit and that nobody was allowed to use her middle name, ever, but he went on: ‘Nobody’s going to die, you silly moo! It’s just that Mum’s expecting a new arrival, that’s all.’
‘Grandma’s coming to live with us?’ shrieked Madgie, horrified.
‘Oh man, you’re thick! Not that kind of arrival! Mum’s going to have a baby! Why do you think Dad finally cleared out the box-room? I told them the baby could have your bedroom and we could send you to the shed, but they said … Hey! Where are you going?’ he shouted as his sister hared down the stairs and then, in a lower voice, ‘Don’t tell them I told you, OK?’
But Madgie wasn’t listening. Her mind was like a washing machine, spinning at full tilt, shaking and rumbling, and a little bit foamy on top.
A new baby? What for? What would it look like? What if it’s another Colm? Imagine being sandwiched between two silly, smelly boys? But if it was a girl … Maybe Grandma would pick on her instead of Madgie. That’d be good. On the other hand, maybe Mum and Dad would like her better than they liked Madgie, being all new and cute.
All these questions and more, many more, tumbled around her head as she skidded to a halt at the kitchen table. Her mother was making an abominably healthy-looking salad. Her top looked all wrong, but now Madgie knew why, and her cheeks were all red and her eyes were full of tears, but now Madgie could see they were tears of joy.
Mum opened her arms and Madgie ran into them.
‘It’s going to be fine, sweetpea.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Madgie demanded.
‘We were going to tell you everything after my next hospital appointment. They said that then they can see if all is well and they’ll know if it’s a boy or a girl. Maybe you’d like to come with me? To the hospital, I mean.’
Would she like that? Madgie wondered. Did she want to know anything about this ‘new arrival’? She waited for her spinning brain to slow down, but it just wouldn’t.
Mum put Madgie’s hand on her belly and instantly she could feel a kick. Madgie moved her hand away. Her mother didn’t seem to have noticed anything. Madgie touched the bulging blouse again. There it was! A little foot had just kicked her in its own Morse code.
‘So, what do you think?’ Mrs Cappock asked again. ‘Will you come?’
One last time, Madgie pressed her hand against her mum’s bump. Kick! That felt like a ‘Yes’, she thought. In fact, it felt like a ‘You’d better or else …’
So Mad Cap had no choice, really.
‘When are we going?’ she said.
‘Monday morning at eight. I can drop you to school on the way back.’
Monday at eight? Well, she’d just have to get Sapphire’s food a little later, at break or lunchtime. Surely Mrs Mudrick wouldn’t mind …
And then, finally, Madgie remembered that the old madwoman wanted her dead. Because who could have been sending that awful message that she and Norbert had got on the pipes earlier that morning? Someone who enjoyed knitting bloody daggers and death threats into her blankies, that was who.
Madgie had a date with Norbert at the den. It was time she got going. Her life very likely depended on it.
She kissed her mother, grabbed her survival kit and ran out of the house, her brain rattling like crazy, but to a new tune this time:
Kill the brats, kill the brats, kill the brats …
The den under the Grand Canal Bridge was damp and miserable and Madgie had to wait ages for Norbert. To pass the time, she tried to imagine what the ‘new arrival’ would look like and came to the conclusion that it would probably be pink and wrinkled and bald. Not a pretty sight.
Then she wondered whether she should tell Norbert about it, but decided against it. She wasn’t at all sure what he would say. He might laugh at her. Or worse, he might say, ‘Well, of course, I had already guessed from such-and such a clue.’
She nearly felt cross already. Better think of something else, something funny … like Colm’s face when Mum would ask him why his underwear was all wet. Sniggering, Mad Cap took out the bottle of water she had half spilled in the laundry basket.
The water felt as if it was about to freeze. Where on earth was Norbert?!
She was beginning to think tha
t facing evil Mrs Mudrick mightn’t be as painful as catching pneumonia when her friend finally arrived.
‘I have a plan!’ he said with a beam, taking something out of his rucksack.
It was the rabbit costume’s head.
‘No way!’ shouted Madgie. ‘I’m Mad Cap, not Fluffy Bunny.’
‘Oh come on! It’s just for a while. We’ll put you outside the sports hall until the audition is over and then I’ll take you home. I’ll say I always wanted a man-sized dummy rabbit and there’ll be no problem, honest! And Mudrick will never spot you.’
But he could tell it wasn’t going to work. Mad Cap stuck her tongue out at him and that was the end of that. Anyway, the signal had said ‘kill the brats’ – more than one brat. Why did Norbert seem to think that only Mad Cap was in danger from the evil witchy woman?
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘the ladies’ table quiz training session is on right now, and Mrs M is a member, so for the moment you’re safe.’
She relaxed, but Norbert was chundering on.
‘We must put Mudrick out of the picture,’ he announced.
‘What picture?’ asked Mad Cap, un-impressed.
‘There’s something fishy about her. She’s a knitting maniac and I’d bet my pocket-money she had something to do with Mr Fitzmarcel’s disappearance.’
‘And she shampoos her hair with Ribena!’ added Madgie, warming to the theme. ‘And her cat. Oh, man!’
She did an impersonation of Scary Sapphire and that had them in stitches for a whole ten minutes. Then Norbert took out a pen and set to work.
‘What we need, really, is to prove she abducted the butcher,’ he declared.
‘What if she didn’t, though?’ objected Mad Cap.
‘Hmph. Never mind that.’
They did a bit more thinking. Lunchtime came and went. Fortunately, Norbert had brought a few goodies: bacon-flavoured Hula Hoops and salt-and-vinegar peanuts. They munched on in silence.
Eventually, Madgie said, ‘It’s funny, I got two missions in one week and they were both to go and get something from the butcher’s shop.’
‘What’s funny about that?’ asked Norbert.
‘Well, Mum and Mrs Mudrick didn’t really need Rent-a-Hero to do their shopping, did they? But Mr Fitzmarcel, he needs us – you know, to rescue him. Except he’s not around to hire us. That’s kind of funny. And so I thought …’
‘It’s not funny,’ Norbert interrupted her. ‘The technical term is paradoxical.’
Madgie stared at him as if he had donkey ears sticking out of his head.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Norbert said defensively. ‘That word got me a heap of points in the Junior Scrabble tournament, I might as well use it!’
Mad Cap just shook her head. Junior Scrabble tournament? Then again, she was thinking about joining the big origami marathon next Christmas, so she couldn’t really judge.
‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I was thinking we could hire ourselves to rescue Mr Fitzmarcel. Would that be funny? Or paradoc-thingy?’
At this, Norbert’s eyes almost popped out of his head. He sat up so suddenly he nearly banged his head against the roof of the bridge. To avoid the hard brick he took a step forward – and put a foot in the cold canal water. He was so excited, he didn’t even notice.
‘Of course!’ he said.
‘Of course what?’ asked Madgie, smirking at the sight of the sodden pompom sock. (Did he never change his socks? she wondered. Or did he just have a whole stash of matching ones?)
‘That’s what we have to do,’ said Norbert. ‘We have to find Mr Fitzmarcel, prove Manic Mudrick is as guilty as the cat who stole the cream and then you’ll be safe!’
‘I will? We both will! “Brats” includes you too.’
Norbert ignored that.
‘Mad Cap,’ he concluded, ‘you’re a genius. And that’s a technical term.’
7
DEAD BODIES AND STUFF
Mad Cap was chuffed. Being called a genius by a genius – you couldn’t beat that. But at the same time, she wasn’t quite sure she deserved it. She had just been thinking aloud, really. She hadn’t been trying to come up with a brilliant idea and a brilliant plan, like Norbert did. Maybe he was just being nice.
But nice or not, the boy was in full Cluedo mode now.
‘We have a suspect, but no weapon yet,’ he said. ‘As for the crime scene, I can think of two places. Mrs Mudrick’s house …’
Madgie winced. She wasn’t going back there. But he could be right. The place stank. There could easily be a dead body in that dump.
‘Or the butcher’s shop,’ Norbert finished. ‘There’s bound to be tons of clues in there.’
‘Yeah!’ Mad Cap replied. ‘Maybe we’ll find dead bodies in the cold-room!’
‘Course we will.’
Madgie stared at her friend. She’d been joking about the dead bodies.
‘We will?’
‘Sure! Dead cows and pigs and stuff, you big eejit! What do you think a cold-room is for? Come on, let’s do some thinking. Or else … chop-chop!’
Madgie rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure Norbert was only joking and nobody was going to get their head chopped off. But just in case, she wrinkled her brow and scratched her chin and really did do some thinking.
Some time later, after plans A, B, C and C+ had been drafted, rejected, fine-tuned and finally voted on; after Norbert had drilled every last detail of it into Madgie’s head; after he had checked and repacked the survival kit several times, the Rent-a-Hero team entered the butcher’s shop. Madgie was in the lead, crouching low under the counter, and Norbert brought up the rear, ready to deliver the first line of his script.
‘’llo,’ croaked the plumber, who was standing in for the butcher. She was juggling with three pairs of pliers and a bare T-bone. ‘You want?’
Norbert cleared his throat. If he wanted to capture the woman’s attention while Mad Cap did her bit of snooping around, he had to get this right. He had to ask her for something tricky – and he thought he knew just what.
‘A slice of ham, please,’ he said in the loud, clear voice he used to recite poems in school.
The butcher-plumber’s face fell, and with it the pliers and the T-bone.
‘Egad!’ she muttered as she turned to the counter.
She picked up several pieces of meat, one by one, and poked at them in turn, and put her ear to each one, as if she thought it was going to tell her its name. While she went through the sausages, Norbert gave Mad Cap a nudge. It was time to go.
Madgie didn’t hesitate. She darted through the door at the back of the shop and within a second she was out of sight.
‘Got ya!’ cried Mrs Fitzmarcel and for a horrible moment, Norbert thought she had spotted Mad Cap.
But no. She was brandishing a chicken breast and waving it at the boy.
‘There’s your ham. That all?’
Norbert was about to answer when it all went awfully, terribly, disastrously WRONG. As she turned to the till, Mrs Fitzmarcel noticed the open door. She went very pale, dropped the meat and in two steps was at the door. She banged it shut with Madgie still inside. And unless Norbert was very much mistaken, it was the butcher’s cold-room that Mad Cap had got herself trapped in.
The woman picked up the chicken from the floor, dumped it in a bag with trembling fingers and asked, ‘Anything else I can do for you?’
Norbert couldn’t take his eyes off the door. It was very closed.
‘No,’ he answered in a daze, taking the bag from Mrs Fitzmarcel. ‘No, thanks. That’s quite enough.’
The room was darker than Colm’s sock drawer and about as smelly. Madgie could see absolutely nothing – nothing except a faint white mist just in front of her.
‘A ghost!’ she gasped. And the mist got stronger.
She stumbled backwards, almost banging against the door. But her survival kit on her back had cushioned the shock.
Meanwhile, the mist was still there. Coming and going like clock
work. Mad Cap’s teeth were chattering so hard she thought they were doing Morse code.
‘It’s flipping cold in here!’ she moaned.
Then she got it. The cold-room! She was trapped in the rotten cold-room! And that misty ghost was only the icy breath coming out of her own mouth.
She hadn’t really believed it was a ghost anyway. Ghosts normally don’t smell of bacon Hula Hoops.
Shuddering with the cold, she got her rucksack off her back, but instead of her survival kit, she found she had somehow got hold of Norbert’s bag.
‘Janie!’ she muttered. ‘How did that happen?’
So much for all that careful repacking. She rummaged in the backpack and pulled out the yellow rabbit suit. It wasn’t exactly comfy when she put it on over her clothes, but at least it was warm.
Some superhero, she thought. And I have this smashing cape and mask and stuff at home! Missions never go according to plan, even when you have a genius on the team. Or two, for that matter. It’s just like they say on the pack of sugar at Grandma’s: ‘Life is full of surprises.’
And of course, talking of surprises, there was the baby business to think about, too. Madgie counted on her rabbit fingers. There would be ten years between her and the ‘new arrival’, which meant that when it turned ten, Madgie would be … older than Colm was now! She hoped she wouldn’t be half as annoying. What would it be like being the older sister for a change? Would she be bossy? Would she be proud? Would she show the little one the den? Would she have to change a nappy? Eeek!
Madgie could hear her brain going into high-spin mode again. She pressed her rabbit paws against her forehead.
Her head cleared.
‘Now,’ she announced to the dark shapes she could just about make out. ‘I’ve got a mission. Let’s go!’
She pricked up her rabbit ears and gave a good listen. Nothing. She was on her own.
Or was she? She thought she could hear some sort of knocking now, coming from somewhere beyond the cold-room. As she made for the sound, she had to slalom between huge shadowy masses that hung before her in the cold air.
Chop-Chop, Mad Cap! Page 4
