by Gitte Spee
Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the mountains. Something lost behind the mountains. Lost and waiting for you. Go!
Rudyard Kipling, “The Explorer”
Contents
Chapter One: A sweet little police station
Chapter Two: A small police school
Chapter Three: Where is Mama?
Chapter Four: Through the dark, over the mountain
Chapter Five: A snuggly blanket
Chapter Six: No tracks, no clues—but a thought
Chapter Seven: Interrogation protocol: the fox
Chapter Eight: Where is the cave at Cave Island?
Chapter Nine: Much hugging and licking
Chapter Ten: To escape from the fox
Chapter Eleven: Hop, hop, hop and hop
Chapter Twelve: The very last chapter—coconut puffs
A sweet little police station
In the forest was a small police station. Any animal with a problem could go there for help. It was painted red with white windowsills and had smoke coiling up from the chimney to the sky. There was a garden too, and a lawn and currant bushes.
The police station was busy on this chilly autumn morning. From inside you could hear kla-dunk, kla-dunk. It was peaceful work, though.
Outside, small figures were creeping around. They ran towards the currant bush at the corner of the house and hid themselves.
Inside the police station were two police officers: Detective Gordon and Detective Buffy. Buffy was a young mouse. At that moment she was sitting at the big desk wearing her fine police hat. She was leafing through important police papers and reading aloud from Gordon’s notes (Detective Gordon, the famous criminal detective, the terror of all villains): “Hmm, Mister Badger has found a blue scarf…”
Buffy scratched behind one large ear, thinking. Then she brightened, and began to leaf through other important papers. Yes, there it was.
“Lost!” she read. “Granny Squirrel has lost her scarf and would like it back immediately (because it is getting colder). If someone finds it…”
Buffy whistled to herself. Soon she would ask the squirrel to describe the scarf. If she answered “it’s blue” then the case was solved.
Buffy wrote Crime probably solved on the paper and took out the lovely stamp. She placed it on the paper, moved it a little to the right, a little to the left, and then she stamped so hard that the desktop sang. This was how you did police work! She stamped one more time, kla-dunk, so it could be heard even if you were standing outside—or if you were hidden in the police station’s currant bushes…
“Crime and crime,” she muttered to herself. She rubbed out the words and wrote The problem is probably solved instead. Then she stamped a third time.
Next came the case of an angry grandfather badger who had said “Snot child!” to a little mouse. That meant the police had to go in and do some educating. All the animals in the forest should be kind to one another.
If they were angry because they had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, they should avoid other animals or at least stay quiet. The badger needed to be told (as did the little mouse, who in fact was always snotty). Kla-dunk.
The last thing Buffy had to do that day was to order new cakes for the three cake tins. A very important job. There were new kinds available: coconut tops, banana cakes with crispy sugar topping, and nougat rolls with mint chips. Buffy thought she should probably wait till Gordon was awake. It was important that everyone was kept happy. Although the banana cakes sounded very good…
How happy and pleased Buffy was! Inside she felt absolutely pink and pale blue. She took off her cap and polished it. She loved being a police officer and doing important things. She loved the police station. A sweet little police station, as she said to Gordon. She loved the writing desk and the spinning chair and the stamp and the sweet little prison. Yes, because the prison was no longer a prison. It had two beds in it and the detectives slept in them.
Suddenly she heard snoring, a really powerful detective snore that shook the prison bars.
Two figures hidden in the currant bush now crept up to the window and looked in. They could see a big, puffed-up toad under the covers: Detective Gordon lying in bed.
Gordon was dozing, as he called it. He could hear everything that was happening in the police station, every paper that rustled, every small hum or giggle, and every stamp that was stamped. He enjoyed listening to this encouraging work. But then he dozed off and dreamed a little, waking at the smallest squeak from Buffy’s spinning chair. When he woke, he lay and thought. About himself, for example.
And how he, for example, was quite old. Nineteen years old. He was more tired than before and he enjoyed his bed very much. A nice pair of flannel pajamas, lovely cold sheets, a warm bedcover and a really soft pillow. Could anything be better? Gordon gave a small sigh.
He usually got up in the evening to drink tea with Buffy. And have an evening cake, of course. Then he’d sit at the desk during the night, maybe dozing off now and then, but if anyone came in wanting help he would wake up immediately.
He looked after the police station all night. Now and again he would nibble on a secret night cake. And in the morning he served morning cakes to Buffy and himself before creeping back to bed.
If something terrible happened then of course both detectives put on their police hats and went out into the forest to solve the case. But that wasn’t often. Mostly police work involved a naughty child throwing litter on the meadow or a lost mole or hedgehog happening to fall asleep in the middle of the path. Nice small crimes, or at least not-nasty, as Gordon would say.
Nothing ever happened that was really bad. And the detectives were very pleased about that. Kind animals in the police district, good cakes, cold sheets. Things could hardly be better.
Gordon dozed off. He had a little mini-dream about when he was a young toad. There he was in his shorts, with a big sun hat, building a tall sandcastle. His mother stood beside him clapping her hands.
“How clever, little Gordon. I’m so proud of you!”
What a wonderful dream. Gordon woke to the sound of Buffy’s cheerful whistling. And the sound of some creature walking outside the station, rustling leaves.
“Buffy,” Gordon called. “You can’t imagine the dream I just had about my mother. She was so kind and happy…”
Buffy’s whistling stopped. She rustled a piece of paper.
“Buffy,” called Gordon. “Where does your mother live, exactly? Where is she?”
Now the paper rustling stopped too. It became absolutely quiet.
“You understand, Buffy, that mothers are very important. When you think about your mother you get all warm inside, even when you’re very old…”
“Squeak,” said Buffy.
And was that the small sound of sniffing?
Gordon didn’t have time to think more about it, because suddenly the door burst open and two figures rushed into the police station.
A small police school
“Here we are at last!” cried the two small figures, giggling.
It was a baby toad with a blue cap and a little baby mouse who hopped ceaselessly up and down. Gordon recognized them at once from the forest kindergarten.
“We’re going to be police, we too!” squeaked the baby mouse.
“We crept here very quietly,” said the baby toad.
Hmm, thought Gordon, I could hear you all the time. But he said nothing.
He slowly got out of bed and asked the two young ones to turn around while he got dressed and put on his police hat.
“Good morning, small police!” he said happily when he was ready, and he gave them a salute.
The baby toad answered with a salute, but he used the wrong hand. Th
e little mouse went on hopping up and down in excitement.
“Good morning, big police!” squeaked the baby mouse.
Gordon had an idea. He remembered how poorly he’d done recently at interrogating children. He hadn’t really understood them, that time the two little ones had disappeared. Now he had a chance to talk to some children and get to know them better. What if he could start a school, a small police school…
“Very good, small police!” said Gordon, stretching. “The first lessons of the small police school will begin in ten minutes. And we’ll carry on till tomorrow. But first of all, small police must run home and ask their mothers if they are allowed to sleep overnight…”
The two of them disappeared in a flash.
“…and then they must come back here,” Gordon continued to himself. “It will be good, Buffy, if I train some new police for the future. Small police, I mean.”
Buffy said nothing. She sat quite still, looking down at the papers on the desk. She felt very dark inside.
Gordon filled his mouth with special cakes: apple muffins with caramel toffee. And he started to walk back and forth across the floor.
“Gruff gruff creeping, gruff gruff guard watching,” he muttered and a few toffee crumbs flew from his mouth. “Hmm, salutes! That’s it!”
He had been planning lessons. And exactly then his two police students returned, each carrying a backpack.
Their parents had given them permission.
“Mama has put pajamas and a toothbrush in my pack,” said the young toad, whose name was Sune.
“I have to wash before I go to bed, my mother says,” said the small baby mouse called Gertrude. “My mother’s so nice! She gave me cheese sandwiches too.”
Buffy seemed to sniff again and her head fell a little towards her chest.
Hmm, thought Gordon.
“My name is Detective Gordon.” He showed which hand to use for salute.
“My name is Sune,” said the baby toad, doing a very good salute.
“Police Student Sune,” Gordon corrected.
“Police Student Gertrude,” said the small mouse, saluting even as she jumped up and down.
“Do not hop when you are doing a salute!” said Gordon, and Gertrude stopped hopping.
After that they made a tour of the forest. They followed paths and saluted everyone they met. All the mice and frogs were very surprised to find the police force marching around their paths.
On their way back they chorused: “Good morning, ma’am, how can we help you?” to every surprised crow or mouse they met.
Lesson number one was finished; both students had managed it excellently.
The next lecture was about creeping.
“You absolutely must not giggle and you should not walk on rustly leaves,” said Gordon.
The little ones crept three, four times around the house. Then they were given the task of spying on an old rabbit limping along the path. Where was he going?
A quarter of an hour later the police students returned to the police station.
“He went home,” Gertrude and Sune reported. “He walked really slowly.”
Then there was a lesson in how to watch a hole.
“I have certainly watched a few holes in my time,” said Gordon, shivering at the thought. “You have to sit completely still, and stare at the hole with ever lasting patience.”
Gertrude and Sune watched a woodpecker’s hole in a tree. After an hour’s intent staring they had fulfilled their task. They were patient police students, you’d have to agree.
The last lesson of the day was about daring to investigate deep crannies. The students were each given a searchlight, and told to find a cranny and creep down into it. Off they went.
Gordon felt rather tired and lay down on his bed to rest his legs a little. Sadly, he fell asleep and dreamed about a cake his mother had baked. Not sadly that he dreamed about the cake, but sadly that he fell asleep while the young ones were out looking in crannies.
He didn’t wake until the dirty youngsters came back to report that they had investigated twenty crannies, which were all completely empty, although very earthy.
Yawn. “Bravo,” said Gordon. “Then we must make you small hats. With gold stars.”
Buffy was still sitting at the desk, her head hanging and her eyes blank. She didn’t seem to notice the others. The young ones spun her around in her chair, while she sat completely stiff and still.
Gordon took out a piece of thick blue paper, scissors and glue. The young ones set about making police hats for themselves. On the front they stuck a star cut out of gold paper.
“Write WE ARE ALL POLICE! on the gold stars,” said Gordon.
The little ones each grabbed a pen and scribbled on the stars.
Of course, thought Gordon, they can’t write yet.
Then the young police continued to cut out blue hats and gold stars. It was so much fun that they didn’t stop until they had made twenty-five. There were a whole lot of extra police hats. Gertrude put them in her backpack.
“How clever you are!” said Gordon.
Then he came to thinking about Buffy, who had rolled her chair back into the corner. How was she? She didn’t usually sit still so long, thinking.
“How are things, Buffy?”
“My mother’s gone!” Buffy said quietly.
Suddenly her eyes filled and tears fell straight down her cheeks.
Where is Mama?
The winter before, a small girl mouse, zero years old, had come to the forest. She and Detective Gordon had met while he was guarding a squirrel hole.
Afterwards she had moved into the police station, and been given the job of police assistant and a name—Buffy. (Gordon called her that because bufo means toad in Latin.) She was very talented and clever and learned everything a police officer needs to know. Later she was made Acting Chief Detective.
But what had she done before she turned up in the snowy forest? Where had she come from?
“My mother!” Buffy cried. “I lost my mother.”
Then Sune and Gertrude also began to cry. Losing a mother was the worst thing they could imagine.
“Oh, poor Buffy,” said Gordon sorrowfully. “Do tell us…”
“I can’t tell you,” she sniffed. “I’ve forgotten everything. Maybe I got a shock.”
Hmm, was it silly of him not to have asked Buffy about this before? he wondered. Police had four questions to ask when they found someone unknown:
What’s your name?
Where do you live?
What is your work?
How old are you?
Perhaps Gordon needed to add a fifth question: Where is your mother?
Except you never really knew with mice, Gordon thought. Maybe mice could leave their families and think no more about them. You couldn’t assume that everyone was like a completely ordinary toad. We animals are all so different, he thought.
Sune and Gertrude were crying harder and harder at the thought of losing their mothers. Gordon had to do something.
“Now we will solve this problem! We are two detectives and two small police. How hard can it be?”
Everyone stopped crying at once.
“First, Buffy must sit down with a pen and paper in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and a candle. Then, Buffy, you can write about how things were in your childhood.”
“But I can’t remember!”
All three started crying again.
“Shh!” said Gordon. “Why don’t you start by writing small poems about your mother, so the memories come back. That’s what a real police officer does.”
Buffy sat in the armchair, Gordon lit a candle, and she began to write.
A little mother.
A fir tree, a hole, a root.
A soft and grassy nest.
All our songs!
Many brothers, many sisters…
“Now we’ll let her sit for a minute,” Gordon whispered to the small police. “During this time we will t
hink about some cases. Completely normal cases. Because serious things almost never happen here. Normal police work is the norm!”
They talked about the case of the naughty child who had thrown litter onto the lovely meadow. What should be done about that?
“Catch the child,” said Sune, “and put it in prison.”
“No.” Gordon shook his head so that all his chins wobbled.
“You go to the big police and tell them to catch the naughty child,” suggested Gertrude.
Gordon continued to shake his head.
“You pick up the litter!” he said at last.
“But the police should punish the naughty child!” said both small police, upset. “At least scold him!”
“Yes, how can you tell someone off nicely so he does things properly the next time? A police officer must think!”
The small police thought.
“You run after him and catch him,” said Gertrude.
Gordon began to shake his head carefully.
“And then you give him the rubbish,” she continued, “and say, ‘Excuse me, but you might have dropped this.’ ”
“Bravo,” said Gordon. “You tell him—or her—off in a nice way so they learn.”
In the meantime Buffy sat biting the end of her pencil.
Eight little brothers and sisters
Plus eight big brothers and sisters.
Lovely.
Mama’s warm milk.
Snuggly blankets…
The next police case was about a hedgehog who had gone to sleep in the middle of the path. What should you do if you found that hedgehog?
“Go to the police!”
Gordon shook his head.
“Wake her,” said Sune. “And help her find a better place to sleep.”
“Bravo,” said Gordon. “You don’t need to go to the police for every little thing. You can simply be helpful. Everyone in the woods has to help each other. We are all citizens of our forest. We are like members of a club…”
“We are all police!” said Sune.
