Edie and the Box of Flits

by Kate Wilkinson

‘Somewhere down in the Underground tunnels, trying to find Flum and all the other missing flits and nut babies, but he will come back for us. He’s loyal. I’ll give him that.’

  Edie was thoughtful. What could she do? The flits were her responsibility now.

  ‘My dad finds missing things on the London Underground. It’s his job,’ she said. ‘I can help you to find Jot. Maybe he’ll turn up in one of the lost property sacks.’

  ‘Good. Let’s start tomorrow,’ Impy said.

  Edie felt tired. Tomorrow would only come if she slept. She brushed out her plaits and put on her pyjamas. Impy watched from the bedside table and then, as Edie crawled under her duvet, she disappeared.

  ‘Impy?’ said Edie.

  ‘Down here.’

  Edie looked over the edge of her bed. Impy was in the shadowy bit underneath, tugging at something from between the tufts of carpet. A few seconds later she reappeared, dragging a tangle of cord. Edie recognised it at once. It was a bracelet made from a purple thread of cord and strung with three letter beads: L-E-N.

  ‘What’s L-E-N mean?’ asked Impy.

  ‘It’s just a . . . friendship thing. The L-E-N stands for Linny, Edie and Naz. Linny and Naz were at primary school with me.’

  Impy held the bracelet out towards Edie. ‘Don’t you want to put it on?’

  For a moment Edie’s fingers instinctively circled her wrist. Then she pulled them away. ‘Nah,’ she said, and she took the bracelet and stuffed it in the drawer beside her bed.

  Impy looked at her questioningly, so Edie changed the subject.

  ‘I still can’t believe that anyone who gets to thirteen can’t see you any more.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because they don’t want to,’ said Impy. ‘Friends become more important.’

  ‘Well, mine won’t,’ said Edie. ‘I don’t have any friends now anyway.’

  ‘Things change,’ said Impy. ‘But first will you help us find Jot and Flum and the nut and get back home to the Hillside Camp?’

  ‘Yes. I will,’ said Edie firmly, although she didn’t have a clue how she was going to do it.

  Impy yawned.

  Edie laughed. ‘So you do get tired sometimes.’

  She offered her finger for Impy to perch on and lowered her into the egg box, so that she could step down and crawl into her egg-box bed.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexandra Park Road to Baker Street

  I

  t was a crisp autumn morning and Edie’s breath smoked in the air as she left the house with Dad. She kicked at the leaves blowing across the pavement on the way to the Underground. Her sports bag was strapped across her back and Impy was tucked into her plait. A family climbed onto the train at King’s Cross, and for a moment the youngest girl stared curiously at Edie’s plait. Edie pulled up her scarf to cover her ears and the girl eventually looked away.

  They walked up Baker Street beside the red-brick apartment blocks. In the distance Edie could see queues of tourists already forming outside 221b Baker Street where the detective Sherlock Holmes was supposed to have lived. A policeman was standing outside in a Victorian policeman’s outfit with a cape, posing for photographs. There was a line of red buses waiting at the lights so Dad took Edie’s arm and steered her through the traffic to a shoe shop on the other side.

  ‘What style would you like?’ the shop assistant asked as she measured Edie’s foot.

  Edie wasn’t used to choosing school shoes as Mum had always chosen them for her, picking out pairs that were sturdy and hard-wearing with plenty of room for growth. She scanned the racks and pointed at a pair with a narrow strap across the front. At least they wouldn’t flap about like two enormous boats.

  ‘Bit dull, aren’t they?’ said Dad.

  Edie looked at him, surprised. Dad was many things, but he was not fashionable.

  ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Pick something you like. I won’t tell Mum.’

  Edie’s eyes wandered along the racks. The shoes began to get more interesting, and some of them were in a sale. There was a shiny black patent loafer with a tassle and a pair of lace-ups with a pattern of tiny dots snaking over the toes. She tried on the loafers, as she knew that Linny had a pair. She walked up and down the shop determined that they should fit, but they felt stiff and uncomfortable and pinched round the toes. I’ll get them anyway, she thought. Linny would be impressed.

  She felt a small tug on her plait. ‘Look over there,’ Impy whispered in her ear.

  Right at the end of the line were a very different pair of shoes. They were a bit like trainers but made of leather – sporty with thick soles and long laces that criss-crossed all the way up the front.

  ‘They’ll fit,’ said Impy.

  Edie turned to the shop assistant. ‘I’d like to try those, please.’

  She walked around the shop, angling her feet this way and that in the mirror. They felt neat and light and they fitted perfectly; Impy was right. Edie felt like dancing.

  ‘We’ll take them,’ said Dad.

  Edie looked at the price tag. Even in the sale they still cost almost £30. ‘I’ll pay the difference,’ said Dad.

  Never again would she have to wear the awful flappy shoes with the Velcro fastenings.

  ‘Take the old ones along to Ada’s charity shop,’ Dad said.

  *

  Edie could see Ada through the window tipping piles of clothing out of plastic bin liners onto the table at the back of the shop. She picked up sacks of unclaimed clothing and trinkets every day from the Lost Property Office to sell for charity.

  Ada came rushing to the door and pulled Edie into the folds of her big flowery dress, smothering her in a waft of overblown roses.

  ‘How are you, girl?’ Ada said, squeezing harder.

  At last she released her, and Edie was able to pull her old shoes out of the bag. ‘Do you think anyone will want these, Ada?’ The toes curved slightly upwards like bananas.

  ‘Yes. They’ll go soon enough,’ said Ada. ‘Everything finds a home in the end. I’ll put them in the window.’

  A clothes basket in the corner made a strange gurgling sound.

  ‘Come and meet Baby Sol,’ said Ada. She was a childminder and usually bought a baby or a toddler to the shop with her.

  Edie peered into the basket. A baby was kicking its legs joyfully in the air.

  ‘Play with him, Edie, while I put these shoes on display,’ said Ada, and she headed towards the window.

  ‘Hello,’ Edie said, and gave the baby a little wave. She could feel Impy shifting in her plait to look into the clothes basket too.

  ‘Daba-da!’ the baby said, and beamed back at Edie.

  She gently tickled his tummy.

  ‘DABA-duh-da!’

  ‘It’s HUGE!’ said Impy. ‘Must have been a big nut.’

  ‘Human babies aren’t born in nuts!’ Edie whispered.

  Impy ignored her and hovered down near the baby’s face, pressing its nose with her hand as if it were a tiny car horn. ‘Bee-eep!’

  ‘DUB. Duh. Daba-DA.’

  The baby clapped its hands together with a shriek of laughter and snatched at the air, trying to catch Impy, who quickly returned to the safety of Edie’s plait.

  ‘That baby can see you all right,’ whispered Edie. Impy darted down again and gave another beep on the ‘horn’. But this time the baby pushed its lip out and started to cry.

  ‘All done,’ called Ada from the shop window as the cries rapidly grew in volume.

  Impy pressed her hands over her ears and buried her head in Edie’s plait. ‘Do they always make so much noise?’

  Ada hurried over and peered into the clothes basket. The baby was still bawling and its face had turned from pink to red. ‘Oh, poor little love,’ she said, and picked the baby up to rest on her shoulder. She gently patted its back until the heaving sobs and overheated cheeks subsided and she could gently push its thumb into its mouth.

  ‘What a relief!’ said Impy. ‘Baby flits aren’t half as noisy as that.’


  Edie paused to look into a glass cabinet by the door. In among the costume brooches and teaspoons, she spotted some doll’s-house furniture. There was a wooden cradle on a rocker complete with a pillow and a patchwork quilt. She decided it would be perfect for Speckle’s nut.

  ‘How much is that?’ Edie only had fifty pence left in her purse.

  ‘That’ll be fine,’ said Ada, wrapping it up in newspaper with her free hand. ‘I can see what you do with it when we come over next Monday.’

  ‘Monday?’ said Edie.

  ‘Yes, it’s all fixed. Juniper is coming to stay with me from tomorrow so I’m going to make us all a meal while your mum is away. You and Juniper can have a nice play together. Your dad thought it was a great idea.’

  ‘Right,’ said Edie. She tried her hardest to give Ada a bright smile.

  ‘Bub-Bub. DABA!’ shrieked the baby as Ada walked back across the shop.

  Edie looked away. It was a terrible idea. Ada’s granddaughter Juniper was really annoying.

  Chapter Eleven

  Baker Street

  Found: a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and a pair of basketball boots

  ‘L

  ook at these, Edie!’

  Dad held up a pair of size-twelve basketball boots. ‘Don’t you think these would make the perfect school shoes?’ He was pegging missing pairs of shoes onto a washing line that was strung alongside the helter-skelter post chute.

  Benedict picked another Harry Potter book out of a sack. ‘That’s the third one this week,’ he said. ‘Always claimed back, though.’

  Edie slipped her feet into the basketball boots. They were so big that she didn’t even have to take her own shoes off. She looked like a clown.

  ‘You try, Dad,’ she said, laughing.

  Dad pulled them on and loosely tied the laces. Padding about, he searched for a basketball in among a bag of missing balls, and after bouncing it a couple of times, he lobbed it down the corridor at Benedict.

  Edie felt a tug on her plait. ‘The supplies!’ Impy whispered, but Edie was distracted by the impromptu basketball game. Benedict held out a wastepaper basket with his unbandaged arm and the ball clattered into it. ‘Slam dunk!’ he shouted, and Dad drummed his oversized boots on the floor.

  There was another tug on Edie’s plait. ‘What about Nid and Speckle?’

  Edie turned to go just as Dad lobbed a football towards Benedict’s makeshift basketball hoop. Halfway down the corridor, the office door opened. The ball hit the visitor smack on the side of the head. It was Dad’s boss, Ursula Slate.

  Ursula wore neat wedge heels and her hair was pulled back into a bun. It was so tightly fixed with hairspray that even the full force of the ball didn’t dislodge it. She stared at Dad’s shoes. ‘Are those lost property?’ she said sharply.

  ‘Well, they are . . . but I was just checking they were in working order and –’

  ‘May I remind you that this is not a playground?’

  ‘Yes, Ursula. It was just a silly bit of fun,’ said Dad.

  ‘You’re supposed to be a manager, not a sports coach.’ Ursula stood with her mouth zipped up into a tight line as Dad tugged off a basketball boot and hopped about on one foot. She waited until the basketball boots were pegged back on the washing line, and then smoothed down her armour-plated hair as she unfolded a newspaper.

  ‘We are being accused of not doing our job!’ she said indignantly, pointing at an article. ‘It seems that there is a very large number of things going missing on the Underground and we are not finding them! I’ve had a lot of complaints. Be vigilant, team. Be-ee vigilant!’

  ‘Do you think there are train robbers down there? Gangsters maybe? Or pickpockets?’ asked Benedict. He couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of his voice.

  ‘No need to be overdramatic, Benedict,’ said Ursula. ‘The question is, are we fulfilling our duties?’

  She clapped her hands together as if she was shooing chickens back into the coop and turned to go. ‘Everyone, get back to work!’

  The door slammed shut behind her. Edie and Benedict doubled over with laughter, but Dad looked anxious.

  ‘Huh!’ he said, gathering up the ball. ‘Why does she always appear at the wrong moment?’

  Edie felt a sharp pinch on the lobe of her ear. ‘Let’s go!’

  Edie picked up her bag. Dad had begun to empty a new sack of lost property that had just slid down the helter-skelter, but Edie could see by the look on his face that his heart wasn’t in it. Ursula’s unexpected visit had clearly rattled him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Baker Street

  E

  die could see from the corridor that the door to the Storeroom at the End was already open and the fluorescent lights were on. Vera Creech was in there, crouched on the floor as she searched for something on the lowest shelf, and Edie could see the eyeglass dangling from her neck.

  Edie glanced quickly up to the top shelf and saw that the box was still there. ‘Can I help, Vera?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Vera stood up quickly, banging her head on the shelf as she did so. ‘Ah, Edie! Yes . . . I was just checking some details on a new arrival.’ She snatched at the rabbit-eared alarm clock. ‘Here we are. Just checking how many . . . er . . . ears . . . the rabbit clock has.’

  ‘Most rabbits have two ears, don’t they?’ said Edie. She couldn’t help feeling that Vera was not telling the truth.

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Two ears it is. And what are you up to?’

  ‘I’m just sorting through some of the unclaimed items. Dad says it’s time to hand them over to charity.’

  ‘Right,’ said Vera.

  ‘Right,’ said Edie.

  Vera was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

  ‘That box you mentioned, Edie?’ Vera said. She smiled as if she was trying to be friendly but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I was just wondering . . . if it was here?’

  Edie felt Impy shift in her hiding place deep in the twist of her plait and give it a sharp tug. If she had arrived any later, Vera might have reached the top shelf and found the box.

  ‘I-I . . . don’t . . .’ Edie began to say.

  Just then the rabbit alarm clock whirred and clicked in Vera’s hand and its alarm went off, making them all jump. Vera pressed at the buttons on the back, but the alarm continued to ring.

  ‘Ugh! What a horrible noise!’

  ‘I can stop it,’ said Edie, and she took it from Vera and flicked a small switch. In the silence that followed she said, ‘Did you see its ears move?’

  Vera looked confused and seemed to have lost her train of thought.

  ‘Do you want to see a medieval sword? It’s not real but it looks good. And there’s an electric guitar . . .’ Edie went on, trying to think of all the things she could say to distract Vera further.

  ‘Er . . . well, I don’t really have time. Things to do!’ Vera said, and she left, her shoes tapping rapidly as she went down the corridor.

  Edie closed the door behind her.

  ‘Why did she want to know about our box?’ said Impy, launching herself from Edie’s plait to hover in front of her.

  ‘Well, it is her job!’ said Edie, lifting the box down from the top shelf, but she too felt uneasy.

  Nid was waiting at the pane of glass, perched on the sill like a tightrope walker.

  ‘We’ve got supplies!’ Impy called out.

  Edie opened up the sports bag and unpacked the contents of the egg box. She lowered the bottle top filled with chocolate spread into the box and Nid immediately seized it, scooping a dollop of the sweet, sticky paste out with his hand. Edie refilled the jam jar with fresh water and then unloaded all the groceries, placing them in piles round the matchbox. Impy and Speckle carried everything through into their larder, filling thimbles and small glass jars with the Rice Krispies, sugar sprinkles and raisins.

  Edie watched as the flit family wheeled a digestive biscuit into the
main living room and coated it with a slick of the chocolate spread. Then they sat round the edge nibbling at it as if it were an edible tabletop. Chocolate spread was smeared up Nid’s face and into his hair. Edie wished that she could shrink in size so that she could join the party round the biscuit table and scoop luxurious handfuls of chocolate spread into her mouth. Instead she put her hand in her pocket and lifted out the cradle and the walnut. She gently put it down in front of Speckle. Speckle clapped his hands together and tucked the quilt round the ‘comforter’ nut.

  Edie was completely absorbed when the door rattled open. For a moment Edie thought it might be Ursula Slate, but it was Dad coming to check up on her.

  ‘Edie! Vera said I’d find you in here. You’re not looking at that box again, are you? There’s a lot to do.’

  Edie snapped the lid shut and heard the lock click into place. She knew that Impy was still inside, but there was nothing she could do. ‘Sorry, Dad. I’m coming.’

  ‘I’m going to make this storeroom out of bounds,’ said Dad. ‘Put that box away right now and bring those things with you.’

  He sounded much bossier than he normally did and Edie knew that arguing would only make things worse. She put the box back on the shelf and filled her arms with unclaimed items, but she could hear Impy hammering on the glass, her voice tinny and desperate, as she switched off the lights.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Baker Street to Alexandra Park Road and back to Finsbury Park

  Found: one shopping trolley

  E

  die’s head was spinning. Dad had given her a long list of ‘things to do’ and had disappeared down to the basement. She tried to distract herself by sorting through the forgotten pull-along shopping trolleys that were piled into an untidy pyramid. How could she see the flits if they were stuck here in the Lost Property Office? Especially now Dad had made the storeroom out of bounds. Worse still, she didn’t trust Vera, who might be snooping about again. She had to think of something fast.

  It was Benedict who came to her rescue. He was talking on the phone at the front desk, and beckoned Edie over mid-call.