Flummox Read online

  The monster in Arabella-Rose’s arms CLUCKS NERVOUSLY. Arabella-Rose hums a little tune to it, and it hums back. It sounds sort of shimmery and beautiful, the notes blending and harmonising with Arabella-Rose’s voice.

  Willow is watching them. I’ve seen that look on her face before, when she realised that she couldn’t get her parents back together. She looks a bit like her heart is breaking.

  ‘We’ve never been to this part of the house,’ I say quickly. ‘What is this room?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Arabella-Rose replies. ‘FLUMMOX brought me here. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?’

  ‘Flummox?’ Willow says.

  ‘Flummox,’ Arabella-Rose says proudly, pointing at the new monster. ‘I didn’t know her name, so I started calling her Flummox, because it just felt right, and she really seemed to like it. I think she’s beautiful. You are so lucky.’

  FLUMMOX HUMS HAPPILY.

  Hodgepodge steps out from behind my legs and farts cheerfully, Arabella-Rose’s eyes light up. ‘I knew that wasn’t your teddy bear!’ she says. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Hodgepodge,’ I tell her, and Hodgepodge waves.

  ‘Where did you get him?’ Arabella-Rose asks.

  ‘Well,’ I begin, at the same time as Willow says, ‘None of your business.’

  Willow scowls at me. ‘Don’t tell her anything, Artie.’ She walks towards Arabella-Rose. ‘And that’s MY monster you’re holding.’

  The monster squawks as Willow reaches out to snatch it.

  ‘Hey!’ says Arabella-Rose. ‘Be gentle with Flummox. She’s very shy.’

  ‘How DARE you give her a name,’ Willow says. ‘That’s supposed to be my job.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says Arabella-Rose hotly. ‘What’s her name, then?’

  Willow opens her mouth, then shuts it again. She can’t think of a name.

  I put on my Scientist voice and say, ‘Flummox does suit the new monster. “Flummox” means to confuse someone, like you’re not quite sure what’s going on, and...’ I gesture at Flummox, who is quite beautiful but also quite chickenish. ‘She looks a bit confusing. And a bit ... confused.’

  Willow scowls at me again and quickly turns away.

  Hodgepodge is exploring the room. There’s a big table in the middle, and shelves around each of the doorways. Most of the shelves are empty, but some of them are cluttered with dusty jars or crumbling old books. There are lots of pictures on the walls, of different kinds of terrifying-looking monsters.

  ‘I wonder if the person who owned THE BIGGE BOKE OF FETCHING MONSTERS kept their monsters in here,’ I say thoughtfully.

  I examine the doors more closely, and notice that none of them have locks or handles or anything. I push on one, but it won’t budge.

  I’m starting to get a bit worried. If none of the doors open, then how are we going to get out?

  ‘This never would have happened if you hadn’t run off,’ Willow says to Arabella-Rose.

  ‘I didn’t run off. Flummox came and got me. And she has been MUCH nicer company than you!’

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

  Arabella-Rose and Willow look at me.

  ‘We are stuck in a weird underground chamber and my careful examinations have not found a way out,’ I tell them. ‘That is quite enough to deal with. PLEASE STOP FIGHTING.’

  They look back at each other but don’t say anything.

  I walk over to the paintings on the wall. There’s something weird about one of them.

  All the other ones are portraits of monsters.

  But the painting next to the yellow door is of the very room we are standing in.

  That seems WEIRD.

  I narrow my eyes and look carefully at the painting.

  ‘There’s something about this picture...

  ‘The words on the ceiling!’ I say suddenly. ‘They’re different!’

  Willow comes over to look. ‘NUMBER CLOTS,’ she reads. ‘And our ceiling says CRUMBLE SNOT. Is it a mistake?’

  ‘I think it might be a clue?’ I say.

  Arabella-Rose comes over to look too. ‘My Uncle Cranky likes to do cryptic crosswords, and he taught me a little bit. I think that’s an anagram, which is when you use all the same letters to make different words.’

  I look up at the ceiling. The letters look like they can be taken off and moved around, but it’s too high for us to reach.

  ‘Hodgepodge,’ I say, ‘do you think you could climb up to the ceiling?’

  Hodgepodge looks up and farts anxiously. He doesn’t like heights. But before he can even try, Flummox whisks up the ladders and ropes, and balances on the monkey bars. She lets out a triumphant squawk, and a clapping sound.

  ‘GREAT WORK, FLUMMOX!’ Arabella-Rose says.

  Willow clears her throat. ‘Yeah!’ she says. ‘Well done... Flummox. Now, can you rearrange the letters?’

  Flummox pulls the letters off one by one with her beak, and looks down at us, waiting.

  ‘Okay, Flummox,’ I shout up at her. ‘Try NUMBER CLOTS.’ I spell it out for her.

  Nothing happens. ‘What about TUMBLE CORNS,’ Arabella-Rose says. ‘That’s all the same letters too.’

  ‘How about STOLEN CRUMB,’ suggests Willow, spelling it out.

  Nothing.

  We shout up a couple more combinations.

  ‘What exactly do you think is going to happen?’ Arabella-Rose asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘But the painting must be a clue.’ I close my eyes and concentrate on the letters. Then I suddenly realise. ‘Flummox, try MONSTER CLUB!’

  Flummox rearranges the letters again.

  I hold my breath.

  There’s a click, and the yellow door swings open.

  We cheer, and Flummox scampers down to perch on Arabella-Rose’s shoulder, looking very proud of herself.

  Willow looks a bit sad as Flummox preens on Arabella-Rose’s shoulder, but she shakes it off.

  ‘Monster Club!’ she says. ‘You were right, Artie. I bet THE BIGGE BOKE OF FETCHING MONSTERS person made this room.’

  ‘If it was a monster club,’ Arabella-Rose says, ‘it must have been more than one person. Maybe there were six people, one for each door. And each of them had a different monster?’

  She reaches up a hand to stroke Flummox’s soft fur.

  ‘Come on,’ says Willow. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  We head through the yellow door and find...

  Stairs. LOTS OF STAIRS.

  Willow, Arabella-Rose and Flummox disappear up the stairs. Hodgepodge and I take one last look around the funny room, then start heading up the stairs too.

  And eventually come to a little tunnel, which leads to a ladder.

  And we climb the ladder.

  And at the top of the ladder there is a trapdoor.

  We push it open and find ourselves in a garden.

  But it’s not our garden.

  Our garden is overgrown and jungly, with the big fig tree and long grass.

  This garden is neat and perfect, with flowerbeds and roses and little gnome statues everywhere.

  Arabella-Rose gasps. ‘This is my garden!’

  How did we end up in Arabella-Rose’s garden?

  Hodgepodge starts to enthusiastically munch on flowers, but Arabella-Rose gasps again.

  ‘Oh no!’ she says, pointing.

  A car is pulling up in the long driveway. It’s a very fancy car, all shiny and big with dark-tinted windows.

  ‘That’s Uncle Cranky’s car!’ she whispers. ‘It must be nearly five-thirty. I’ll get in trouble if he finds out I was here without an adult. We have to get back to your house!’

  I try to get a look at the famous Uncle Cranky, but all I can make out is a tall figure behind the steering wheel.

  The car stops, but the tall figure doesn’t get out. Instead, we hear the sounds of a very screechy opera coming from inside. I can see the tall figure waving his arms around, like a conductor.

  Hodgepodge does the st
inky sock fart that he makes when he’s anxious.

  I guess he doesn’t like opera.

  ‘Is there a back gate we can use?’ Willow asks.

  Arabella-Rose shakes her head. ‘It’s locked. The only way out is down the driveway.’

  And Uncle Cranky is in the driveway, listening to opera in his car.

  We’ll have to be really sneaky.

  ‘Come on Hodgepodge,’ I whisper, BUT HODGEPODGE WON’T BUDGE. He shakes his head and does more SOCK FARTS.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I say, holding on to his hand to pull him along. ‘We have to go!’

  Reluctantly, Hodgepodge follows us as we get down low and creep along the side fence, hiding behind bushes and statues. Hodgepodge lets out the occasional little squeak of fear. Flummox sticks close to him, letting out reassuring clucks.

  I don’t understand why Hodgepodge is so scared. Mum’s renovations are at least twice as loud as the opera.

  Just as we pass the car, the opera singer lets out a particularly high note, and Hodgepodge lets out a particularly stinky sock fart.

  A really loud one.

  The opera turns off, suddenly, and Uncle Cranky’s car door opens. I see an expensive-looking black boot step onto the driveway. Then another.

  Those boots look familiar.

  Hodgepodge’s eyes are wide and he is trembling with fear.

  Arabella-Rose whispers something to Flummox, who whisks under the car and scuttles off to the other side of the driveway.

  The boots take one step towards the bush where we’re hiding.

  THEN ANOTHER STEP.

  Then, there is a loud farting noise from the other side of the car from where we are hiding.

  ‘Hmm?’ says Uncle Cranky.

  There’s something very familiar about his voice.

  I hear the farting noise again. Hodgepodge is safe in my arms, so it must be Flummox using her mimicking skills.

  The big black boots turn and walk around the back of the car to the other side.

  Flummox scurries under the car, back to us.

  ‘Run!’ whispers Willow, and we all dash down the driveway.

  As soon as we make it back to our own spooky house, we race up to my bedroom.

  ‘Phew!’ says Arabella-Rose, panting. ‘That was close!’

  ‘Good thinking, with the distraction,’ Willow says to Arabella-Rose and Flummox.

  Flummox looks very proud of herself, and I’m a bit proud of Willow. It took all day, but she finally managed to say something nice to Arabella-Rose.

  ‘Does this kind of thing happen to you two a lot?’ Arabella-Rose asks.

  ‘Only since we moved here,’ Willow says. ‘A horrible animal collector tried to steal Hodgepodge from us and put him in a cage. It was a whole thing.’

  Arabella-Rose frowns. ‘An animal collector?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I tell her. ‘He was awful. He had this huge mansion but kept the animals in cages. The cages were pretty fancy,’ I admitted, ‘but it was still wrong! So we rescued Hodgepodge and set all the other animals free.’

  I say it like it was no big deal, like we go on huge animal rescue missions all the time and are generally very brave and exciting. But Arabella-Rose doesn’t look impressed. She frowns thoughtfully at me instead.

  There’s something niggling at the back of my mind, and I can’t figure out what it is. Something to do with Hodgepodge being so scared in Arabella-Rose’s driveway.

  Something to do with those fancy-looking black boots.

  There’s a loud knock at the door, and Mum calls out, ‘Arabella-Rose, you have a visitor!’

  Arabella-Rose’s face brightens and she skips off downstairs.

  We hear her say, ‘Uncle Cranky!’

  And we hear another voice say, ‘Hello, Arabella-Rose. Have you had a good day?’

  And I know that voice.

  I turn to Willow, who has a horrified look on her face.

  ‘Uncle Cranky,’ she whispers. ‘Do you think...?’

  We run downstairs just in time to see Arabella-Rose standing up on tiptoes to give her Uncle Cranky a hug.

  She looks so pleased to see him.

  Willow and I are not pleased to see him.

  We are not pleased at all.

  Because Uncle Cranky is Wesley Crankshaw, RARE ANIMAL COLLECTOR AND OF MONSTERS!

  Where is Hodgepodge? I try not to panic but I can’t let Wesley Crankshaw get his hands on my monster again.

  An anxious farting noise makes me sigh with relief. Hodgepodge peers around the corner to see Wesley Cranskhaw, then scurries away to my bedroom.

  ‘Thank you for having me,’ Arabella-Rose says sweetly to Mum. She looks over at us. ‘Thanks for making me feel so welcome,’ she says, with a glint in her eye.

  Wesley Crankshaw is staring at me and Willow. He has a glint in his eye too. ‘What a lovely house you have, Indira,’ he says, smiling at Mum. ‘It has real ...POTENTIAL.’

  My skin crawls. He knows where we live, now. We’ll have to be extra careful keeping Hodgepodge and Flummox safe.

  FLUMMOX!

  I hear Crankshaw saying goodbye to Mum and see him turn to leave, but all I can think about is Flummox. Where is she?

  Arabella-Rose waves goodbye, then turns and follows Wesley Crankshaw down the garden path.

  And sticking out of her backpack is a tuft of silky fur.

  ‘Arabella-Rose has stolen my monster!’

  Willow is angry.

  Willow is very angry.

  Willow is SO ANGRY that I’m worried she might explode.

  I open my mouth to say something soothing.

  But I can’t think of anything.

  Willow is right.

  Arabella-Rose did steal Flummox.

  And even though Arabella-Rose and Flummox seem to get along a lot better than Willow and Flummox do, it’s not okay to steal a monster.

  On the other hand, Willow stole Arabella-Rose’s fairy charm. And that was definitely not okay. And Willow still hasn’t made it right.

  I don’t know what to think.

  ‘We’ve got to get her back,’ Willow says, ‘before Wesley Crankshaw puts her in a cage.’

  We need to find a way to get into Arabella-Rose’s house without Wesley Crankshaw seeing us.

  Luckily we know a secret way.

  The back door is open, and we sneak in. Arabella-Rose’s house is quite posh.

  The carpet is fluffy and beige, and there are beige cushions and beige vases everywhere. Everything seems very clean. And very beige. Our house has cat hair all over the place, and spiderwebs and muddy footprints. But there’s also lots of colourful teapots and furniture and photos of me and Willow when we were little. And scraps of paper with David Cole’s handwritten recipes everywhere. And all Mum’s university degrees framed on the wall.

  This house doesn’t look very kid-friendly. I wonder how Arabella-Rose can play without knocking over a vase or staining a beige rug.

  I have to pick Hodgepodge up, to stop him from eating the flowers.

  There are voices coming from another room, and Willow and I crouch down.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Wesley Crankshaw is saying, ‘but your parents won’t be back tomorrow after all. They have more business meetings in the city.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Arabella-Rose in a small voice.

  We creep forward and peer around a door to see Arabella-Rose sitting at a piano. Wesley Crankshaw is watching her play. There’s no sign of Flummox.

  ‘Can I come and stay at your house?’ Arabella-Rose asks.

  Wesley Crankshaw hesitates. ‘Err, my house is a little messy right now.’

  Willow snorts quietly. We left a bit of a MESS at Wesley Crankshaw’s house when we rescued Hodgepodge.

  ‘But I’ll stay here with you,’ Crankshaw says. ‘I do have some things to attend to during the day, so perhaps you could go to a friend’s house?’

  Arabella-Rose looks down at her feet. ‘I don’t have...There isn’t really anyone.’

 
‘I knew it!’ Willow hisses. ‘I knew she was lying about all her friends.’

  But somehow Willow doesn’t look all that glad about being right.

  ‘What about those two children you played with today?’ Wesley Crankshaw asks. ‘They seemed very... nice.’

  The way he says it makes a shiver run down my spine.

  ‘I don’t think they liked me very much.’

  ‘NONSENSE,’ says Wesley Crankshaw firmly. ‘How could anyone not like a brilliant, talented girl like you?’

  Arabella-Rose swallows. ‘Are Mum and Dad going to miss my music concert tomorrow night?’ she asks.

  ‘They are going to try their very best to make it, but they might miss it. But you know I’ll be there. FRONT ROW! Cheering the loudest for my little star.’ Wesley Crankshaw squeezes Arabella-Rose’s hand.

  Arabella-Rose makes a sad little sniff.

  ‘And we can call them before the show, and straight after,’ Crankshaw continues and Arabella-Rose sniffs again, but she looks a bit cheered up.

  ‘Maybe I could get a sneak preview right now?’ Wesley Crankshaw suggests.

  Arabella-Rose smiles a small smile, then turns around on the piano stool. She takes a deep breath and starts to play the piano and sing.

  Wesley Crankshaw closes his eyes and hums along.

  It’s weird to see him being so nice.

  ‘Come on,’ Willow whispers. ‘Let’s look for Flummox.’

  We creep past the beige living room and up a big beige staircase.

  We see a room with a sign on it that reads

  We push the door open.

  Arabella-Rose’s bedroom is not beige.

  It is very sparkly. There are posters from musicals all over the walls, and trophies from dance competitions. I see her scrapbook lying on her bed, along with her backpack.

  And Flummox, perched like a queen on a shiny golden pillow.

  ‘FLUMMOX!’ Willow rushes towards her. ‘Are you okay?’