by Emma Read
‘Oh.’ Mr Macey looked almost disappointed.
‘But it’s still nasty if you get bitten. And there are other deadly spiders all over the world, the funnel-web, the brown recluse, the violin, sac spiders, lots more. But none of them want to bite you, they just want to be left alone to eat insects.’
Zoe accidentally scrolled down on the laptop to a photo of a dinner-plate-sized huntsman spider, and her dad lost it. ‘That’ll do, thank you, Zoe. I think the lesson’s finished for today.’ He grabbed the table to steady himself. ‘Strictly’s on.’
Zoe shut the laptop, packed away her books and followed her dad into the front room.
On Sunday night, Audrey and Ralph turned up at Milton’s house with a bundle of food and more ladybird juice.
Milton let them in reluctantly. He still didn’t feel like talking. His mind buzzed with thoughts of fly swats and bug spray, and no obvious solution to how they were going to save themselves from the frightful Felicity.
As Ralph set out a picnic of bugs and grubs galore, Audrey sat him down on his La-Z-Web. ‘Now, before you say you don’t feel like talking, which I can see is exactly what you’re about to do, hear us out. Or at least, hear Ralph out. This is entirely his idea.’ Audrey’s expression made it clear she’d rather not have anything to do with it.
Whatever it was.
‘Ralph!’ Audrey waggled a claw at Ralph, who was already tucking in to the ant dip.
‘Sorry – I didn’t want it to get cold. Oh, it’s meant to be cold. Have a wing, Milton. I’ve been thinking.’
Milton looked startled and bemused all at the same time, and Audrey shrugged at him as if to say, ‘I know, Ralph thinking . . . whatever is the world coming to?’
‘It’s about the meeting,’ said Ralph.
Milton sagged. ‘Yeah, thanks for coming. It was a huge boost seeing you there – you made me believe in myself for a moment. I’m sorry you got cold for nothing.’
Ralph’s face had become uncharacteristically serious. ‘But it wasn’t for nothing, Milton. I’ve never seen anything like it – a spider taking action like that. I was proper proud of you. And you know what? It made me think. And, yeah, I can see you both looking shifty about it, but go ahead and check your Googlenet – even hairy house spiders have brains and although it might take mine a while to get going, and a few plates of the old house-mite pâté, I had a thought, and here it is.’ And then he stopped. ‘Can we eat first, though?’
Audrey gave him a look, which was no less stern than usual, despite her only having five good eyes.
‘All right, all right, fine. I’m not a great one for speeches, or remembering things, or thinking, for that matter. Audrey’s right, I’d better get this out. I went out in the cold last night because I believe in you. I think you can save us and the homeless spiders and I think you know how. You’re the only one who can do it because you are different. And you’ll regret it if you don’t try.’
Milton stared at him, a fly wing halfway to his mouth. ‘But I did try.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry it didn’t work, but you can’t give up now. Audrey and I have been talking and, well, you’re not going to like this but I’m going to say it anyway, because this is what I’ve been thinking about and, honestly, I’m really hungry now.’ Ralph paused. He loved Milton and he knew that what he was about to say could damage their friendship, but he had to risk it. ‘When your dad told you to stick to those dark corners, he wasn’t himself. He was frightened, he was being kidnapped, for goodness’ sake. All he could think of was saving you from ending up the same. I don’t think that’s how he’d want you to remember him. Any time we talk about your dad, it’s always about the man-spider pants, the delivery van, the easy peelers, but that’s not who he was. He was the first widow to climb to the top of the shed without a web! And who was the second?’
Milton shuffled his claws. ‘I was.’
‘There you go. Your dad was the smallest spider ever to make the lightshade to telly swing.’
‘On his third attempt!’ laughed Milton. ‘I remember the headaches after the first two tries.’ He smiled at the memory.
‘All your life, your dad taught you to be different, curious, clever and brave. Only you can do what needs to be done. Now, forget the flippin’ dark-corner nonsense, and be who your dad taught you to be!’
Milton looked across at Audrey, the voice of reason, but she was nodding, if a bit reluctantly. ‘If it were up to me, I’d see you tucked away in a nice dark hole in the loft, so it’s hard for me to admit, but this time Ralph’s right. Look at you, you’re miserable. You have been ever since the headline and you’ll never be our Milton again unless you do something about it. Sometimes you have to take a risk to get what you want and do what’s right.’
He stared in disbelief at Audrey, then at Ralph, who was somehow managing to look extremely wise, despite having a piece of fly leg stuck to his jaw. Thoughts began to pop into his cephalothorax – not thoughts of Felicity Thrubwell and her rubber gloves, but ideas. The empty space in his tummy began to fill with something other than food. Was it hope? Could he take on the humans? Do battle with the internet and BugKILL!? Ralph was right, he did know where to start, but it was extremely dangerous. As far as he knew, no spider had ever attempted it before, and that made his insides tickle. It was exciting, very exciting. Even more exciting than swinging all the way to the telly.
He grabbed both his friends by their nearest legs and yanked them close. ‘You and Audrey, you’re the best friends a little spider could have. This,’ he waved a leg at the food, ‘this is so thoughtful. And, Ralph, you’re right. I hate thinking about Dad like that. He was the coolest dad ever. I wish I’d been able to make him proud when he was here.’
‘He was proud, Milton. You’re brilliant.’ Ralph sighed in relief.
‘Thanks, Ralph. I do have an idea but it’s . . . pretty wild. And scary. But I’m going to do it for Dad. For all of us. Audrey, you were right all along. We should concentrate on Zoe – she’s the key. Without her, we can’t persuade Mr M, and if we can’t persuade him then we’re . . .’ Milton curled up his legs and played dead.
A familiar look of concern crossed Audrey’s face. ‘Now, when I said risk, I did mean within reason, of course. Please don’t get carried away.’
Milton smiled at Audrey. ‘I know you want to keep me safe, Audrey, but I’ll be careful. You have to trust me, and trust Zoe.’
‘The only problem is, have you seen Zoe lately? I don’t think she’s well. She’s been sniffling a lot and her eyes are red and puffy.’ Audrey bit into a tick toastie. ‘I know they sometimes get these bugs inside them which make them sneeze. Maybe it’s that, though why a bug would want to go inside a human, I can’t imagine. It sounds disgusting to me, but there’s no accounting for taste.’
Milton nodded. ‘The humans are taking the time to learn about us, perhaps we should look into human behaviour a bit more. I’ve tried observing them, and so far I can’t make head nor abdomen of it – they’re an odd species.’
‘Yes, we’ve lived with them for a long time. Perhaps we should take more time to get to know them.’ Audrey stretched her legs.
‘Shall we go and watch them while they sleep?’ suggested Ralph.
Audrey frowned. ‘No, Ralph. That’s weird.’
The humans were up early the following morning for something called ‘half-term’. Audrey was right, Zoe wasn’t her usual self, but her eyes were less watery and the sniffles seemed to have improved.
The spiders had to scurry and hide as Mr Macey brought in a cup of tea and they plonked on the sofa together.
‘What is this thing we’re in?’ whispered Audrey. ‘It feels very strange. Are you sure it’s not a real human head, Milton?’
‘It can’t be – it’s bright orange. And did you see those jagged teeth? Who puts a candle inside a head anyway?’
‘Well, I don’t know what it is, but it tastes good,’ said Ralph.
‘Ralph! You should k
now better than to eat mysterious new human stuff.’
Mr Macey put the radio on. ‘Feeling any better this morning?’ he asked.
Zoe shrugged.
‘Hopefully a week off school will give this whole thing time to blow over.’
Zoe shrugged again.
‘I’m sure when you go back after half-term the other kids will have moved on to something else.’
Zoe folded her arms and crossed her legs up on the sofa, pointing away from Dad.
‘I don’t mean to make light of bullying. It’s unforgivable. But people can be so—’
‘I’ll be fine. Can we not talk about it, please?’
‘Sure,’ said Dad.
They listened to the weather forecast in silence, then an advert for BugKILL! came on. Zoe grabbed the remote and switched off Felicity Thrubwell just as she was offering her utility belts as BOGOF.
Dad put his teacup down and tried to talk to Zoe again. ‘After breakfast I’ve got something planned for you – I hope it’s OK.’
Zoe put her legs down.
‘We don’t have to go. It’s at the zoo, something a bit different.’
She turned to face him. ‘Oh?’
‘I’ve arranged for you to meet the Curator of Invertebrates at World Zoo for a tour of Bug World. Her name is Professor Parker. Of course, she’s a huge fan of spiders and she was very interested in your school project. There are loads of different species of spider in her lab, including a black widow and a redback, the deadly widows you showed me yesterday.’ Dad’s expression was a strange mixture of hopeful, happy and horrified.
Zoe stared at her dad.
He wrung his hands. ‘But . . . if you don’t want to, we won’t say any more about it. We can stay here and carve more pumpkins.’
The answer came in a huge bear hug from Zoe, who leapt off the sofa and started chucking cushions around.
‘What are you doing?’ said her dad, as she pushed him off to look under a throw.
‘They’re doing Halloween giveaways at the zoo if you’ve got a Blue Peter badge. It has to be here somewhere.’
Mr Macey smiled.
‘Don’t just stand there, Dad. Help me.’ Zoe started heaving the sofa forward.
Mr M scratched his head. ‘Forget it, you lost it at school.’
‘I did not!’ Zoe slammed her hand on the sofa cushion. ‘Please, help me! You look in the dining room and I’ll check upstairs again. I have to find it.’
Mr Macey followed Zoe upstairs. ‘It’s at school. And even if it wasn’t it’d be in some dusty corner . . . and who knows what else might be lurking? I’m not putting my hand anywhere suspicious.’ It is somewhere dusty! Milton peeked out of the pumpkin and said, ‘I know where it is. I can help her. Cover me!’ Then he dashed into the room.
Audrey and Ralph stood, open-jawed, as Milton ran, combat-rolled under the door, and disappeared. They scuttled after him and tried to catch up, but Ralph kept dropping the pumpkin flesh he’d collected for the walk home.
Then they saw Milton struggling back with an enormous white-and-blue shield on his back.
‘I got it! The Blue Peter badge. It was down the back of the radiator. Help me put it in her bag.’
Ralph dropped the remainder of his pumpkin lunch. ‘Milton, you lunatic! That thing’s heavy. Let me take it.’
Milton climbed up and into Zoe’s rucksack, while Ralph heaved the badge up, hanging on to the zip and then a variety of brightly coloured key rings.
‘That’s it! Nearly there.’ Milton waved his legs to direct Ralph. ‘Left a bit. Perfect, now DROP. She’ll think it was there all along.’
The badge plopped safely into Zoe’s bag but the spiders had been so focused on the operation that they’d ignored Audrey, who was yelling at them from the floor to get out.
Zoe and her dad were at the bottom of the stairs.
Getting their coats on.
‘Ready?’ said Mr M.
‘I’ll grab my bag,’ replied Zoe with a sigh.
Ralph looked up and, just in time, leapt off a surprised-looking Beanie Boo, and hid under the skirting.
But Milton was still in the rucksack.
With a hideous noise, Milton’s world darkened as Zoe zipped up the rucksack and then he was flying. As Zoe slung her bag on her back, Milton felt his insides cartwheel. He grabbed around with his claws, frantically trying to hold on to something, but it was all moving – pens rolled, sticky sweet wrappers tried to grab him and, oh – the books!
Every time Zoe took a step, the encyclopedias, handbooks and hardback notebooks lurched towards him and Milton was convinced he was done for.
But then he saw the badge – a shield! He crawled underneath and tucked his legs in, shivering.
That was when the enormity of what was happening struck him: he was Outside. He squeezed his eyes closed and pictured giant easy-peelers pouring in through the top of the rucksack. He remembered the look of terror on his dad’s face and imagined it on his own. His breathing got faster and faster and his legs began to wobble uncontrollably, and the ant porridge he’d had for breakfast threatened to come back up. But then he heard a soothing noise. Zoe and her dad were singing along with the car radio and he began to calm down.
Eventually he felt the bag lift up and swing on to Zoe’s back again. Milton clutched his abdomen, thinking he really might be sick this time, but after a while, the rocking reminded him of web-swinging with his dad. There was a good deal more bouncing before the bag was set back down again, and light streamed in as Zoe opened the zip.
Panic flooded over Milton once more.
Zoe reached into the bag, but it was OK – she grabbed her pencil case and her books and Milton heard her say, ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Zoe.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zoe,’ said a voice.
Milton gathered his courage (and his curiosity) and peeked around the zip as a smiley woman in a World Zoo T-shirt shook Zoe’s hand and then her dad’s. ‘I’m so glad you got in touch, Mr Macey.’
‘Oh, please call me Owen.’
Mr M has another name? These humans are fascinating.
‘Thank you, then, Owen. And I’m Greta.’ She turned to Zoe. ‘I was thrilled to learn that you like spiders – obviously, I adore them! I hear you want to save them from these ridiculous accusations by so-called pest controllers in the press?’
Zoe nodded enthusiastically. Mr Macey went slightly red. Milton’s leg hairs tingled.
This must be the professor. She adores spiders? How is that possible?
‘It’s a great cause, Zoe. We have a constant battle on our hands with these irresponsible stories, it’s great to have another warrior in the fight.’
Milton gave a little claw pump.
Spider Warriors? This is amazing.
‘Would you like to meet some of my eight-legged friends?’
‘Oh, yes, please. But will you go easy on Dad? He’s still very nervous around spiders. I’ve been helping him overcome his phobia, but it’s early days.’
Mr Macey (Owen) pushed back his shoulders. ‘I’m not that bad, Zoe. I’m sure I’ll be . . . oh my goodness. What is that?’
As he was talking, Professor Parker had slid the cover off a glass case and was now holding a spider the size of a small kitten out to show them.
Mr Macey took a step back. And then another.
‘Don’t worry, she’s perfectly safe. Would you like to hold her, Zoe?’
Zoe gasped. ‘Yes, please.’ She held out her hand.
‘This is Smith. She’s a Mexican red-kneed tarantula. Her scientific name is Brachypelma smithi.’
‘She’s amazing.’
‘What does it feel like?’ Dad grimaced.
‘Soft,’ said Zoe, grinning widely, looking happier than she had in weeks.
Milton stared at the enormous stripy spider in her hand.
Lucky spider.
As Mr Macey took pictures of Zoe and Smith from a safe distance (and one or two of the professor), no one notic
ed a curious brown spider creeping out of the rucksack and on to the professor’s bench.
Professor Parker took Zoe and her dad on a tour of Bug World and Milton crept out into the open. It was like spider city, with glass cases and plastic boxes stacked like blocks of flats. Some cases contained twigs and leaves, others sand and rocks. Milton remembered that Mr Macey had said there were a redback and a black widow here, and he had an idea. Glancing back to make sure Zoe’s bag was in legging-it distance, he scurried through the spider-city streets and eventually found what he was looking for.
Side by side were two plastic boxes, labelled Latrodectus hasselti 2301 Female, and Latrodectus mactans 5467 Male.
Milton crawled on to the first box to where a small, black spider was stretching her legs.
‘Hello,’ said Milton, through the tiny holes in the transparent lid.
‘Oh! You made me jump. G’day,’ she said, looking up.
‘Er, yes, good day, my name’s Milton. I’m a false widow from Bramley Road. What’s your name?’
‘It’s on the lid, possum. What are you doing out of your box?’
‘Possum? That’s a beautiful name. I was wondering . . .’
The redback laughed. ‘My name’s not possum, possum. It’s Latrodectus hasselti 2301, I’m not a show spider like Smith, I don’t have a short name.’
‘Oh.’ Milton blushed a little. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m not a show spider either . . . I don’t think.’ He attempted something more formal. ‘I’m Steatoda bipunctata, um . . . 2. Nice to meet you.’
The redback scurried towards him and hung from the underside of her case lid. Her little legs poked through a hole and they shook claws.
‘No worries, mate. Where did you say you were from?’
‘Bramley Road. Number 40. Opposite the garages.’
There was a short period of silence from beneath Milton’s feet before the redback spoke slowly. ‘Are you . . . from the . . . Outside?’
