Jamie and Pan tried hard to hide their smirks. “No problem, Fifi, bye,” mumbled Jamie.
Fifi had a slight skip in her step as she set off for Toby’s room. Jamie collapsed in giggles. “Pan, you are shocking!”
Pandora laughed. “I know, but why shouldn’t your filthy brother also suffer when Fleaflea is around?”
18
Toby pulls a muscle
Upstairs in his bedroom, Toby was in an excellent mood. He’d just asked Rebecca in grade 8 out on a date, and she’d agreed. They were going to meet at the school fair on Saturday morning. Who knows where one date will lead? Toby thought, examining his skinny chest. In his mind he saw himself driving a red Ferrari through the Swiss Alps, while Rebecca sat in the passenger seat, admiring his abs.
He fetched a chair and stood on it to open the top cupboard in his bedroom. At the back of the cupboard was the old Bullworker exercise machine he’d found in the cellar. It guaranteed to build huge muscles in just thirty days, or your money back. It promised to make him irresistible to women. All he had to do was squeeze both ends of the contraption repeatedly.
He grabbed the handles and squeezed and released and squeezed till sweat ran down his face.
Fifi stood outside Toby’s door. She decided to sneak in and surprise him. She opened the door quietly.
“Well, HEL-LO, Tiger,” she heard Toby say.
She peeped round the corner. He was standing in front of the mirror with his shirt off, doing exercises with a weird machine that looked like something from a torture chamber. Hawking sat on top of Toby’s bottle of Old Spice deodorant. He was admiring himself in the mirror too.
“You’re awesome,” murmured Toby, squeezing the Bullworker as far as he could.
“You’re God’s Gift to the Universe,” squawked Hawking.
“Hi, Toby,” Fifi said shyly, blushing to the roots of her mousey pigtails. “I think you’re thuper awethome too.”
“What do you want?” he bellowed, grabbing his shirt and holding it in front of his puny, spotty chest. “Who said you could barge into my room without knocking?”
Normally this would have sent Fifi into floods of tears, but now she was bolstered up with the news that Toby thought she was super awesome.
“Oh, Toby,” she giggled, “I wath jutht popping in to thay hi.”
“You’ve said it, so get lost!” he bellowed. “Get out.”
Fifi was rather taken aback as she shut the door. “Your muthles are looking awethome,” she called through the door.
“For the last time, GO AWAY!” shouted Toby.
Felicity decided not to push it. “We’ll pop by later,” she told Snoopy. “Maybe when he’th got hith clotheth on he won’t be tho grumpy.”
She wandered off to go and see what Jamie and Pan were doing. Maybe she could help them.
19
Toby’s revenge on Fifi
Toby had had enough of his drippy cousin. It was bad enough that he had to eat her vegetarian food, but when she walked in on him doing his Bullworker exercises it was time for her to go. He stormed out of his room and clomped downstairs to find Arabella and complain about Fifi.
On the way down Toby bumped into Tick and Chanza who were on their way up with armfuls of little plastic containers. Toby knocked into Tick and the pill bottles fell out of his hands. Bieber leapt off his shoulder, and chased them as they rolled down the steps.
“Watch where you are going, runt!” bellowed Toby, grabbing Tick’s wrist in a Chinese bangle. He had surprisingly strong hands from lifting the giant chess pieces at the school’s life-sized chess board.
“Owch,” squeaked Tick. “You watch where you’re going, you skunk butt.”
Toby let go of Tick’s wrist and picked up one of the pill bottles that Bieber was chewing. “What’s this then? ‘Ichy powder. Makes you ich more that 50 flees’. Hmmmm …” Toby looked at it thoughtfully. “I’ll have one of these, thanks.”
Chanza started to complain but Tick shook his head. It wasn’t worth it for another Chinese bangle.
Toby snuck into Jamie’s room and pulled back the duvet on Fifi’s bed. She had her special bamboo fibre non-allergenic blankie tucked under the duvet. Toby sprinkled the itching powder all over her blankie and pulled back the duvet again. He chuckled.
Then he went back to his PC to boast to the guys in his chat room that he’d actually had a date with a REAL LIVE GIRL this weekend. They weren’t going to believe it.
That afternoon Unathi went down to the shed to start work on Aboo’s cart. He opened the shed door. It was a mess. It looked like the boys had been doing experiments again. He hoped they weren’t doing anything dangerous.
Fifi’s special blender was in there and Arabella’s sieve, covered in some kind of plant fibre. Then he saw one of Arabella’s pill containers on the floor. He picked it up and read the label: Ichy powder. He was sure the boys were up to no good and put the container in his pocket to show Arabella.
Unathi scratched at the back of the cupboard. There were tins of old paint, some ancient fertilizer for rose bushes, an old printer, and there, at the very back, he found the wheels and axle of an old golf cart. He found some wood to make a platform and got to work.
It was late by the time he finished giving the cart one last coat of varnish. It just needed to dry overnight.
Unathi picked up Fifi’s blender and turned out the light. Then he hurried up the path to the kitchen. No one was inside when he knocked on the door, so he left it on the kitchen counter and went off to bed.
20
Sabotage
That same evening Jamie was packing dog food onto shelves in the surgery. Ilona was drinking her eighth cup of green tea for the day. She was trying to lose weight before her grand TV debut on Saturday morning. “Of course, when Justus wins, the cameras will be focused on me,” she told Jamie as she sewed up the jersey.
“Mmmm,” said Jamie.
“No doubt the talent scouts will see us when the programme is aired. I’ll be inundated with requests to use Justus in adverts. Do you know how much they pay? Every time the advert appears on TV you get paid hundreds of rands. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s asked to star in movies … dear Justus.”
Ilona patted the silver framed photo on her desk. “I’m going to bring him in tomorrow morning so Unathi can bath him for me. He’s got to be looking his best for the cameras.” She made a backstitch at the end of the sleeve and bit off the last thread.
Jamie felt depressed. She’d tried and tried to get Fungi to sit on command, but he couldn’t do the simplest thing. He just stared at her with his tongue lolling out his mouth, and she could see by the look in his eye that he was laughing at her. He was never going to be on TV. He was never going to earn hundreds of rands.
“This is not bad, if I say so myself,” Ilona said, holding up Dr Knight’s jersey and admiring it. It was huge and fluffy and gaudy, and it smelled of dog. She took a roll of gift wrap out of her drawer, cut off a length of it, and placed the neatly folded jersey precisely in the centre.
She was just about to start wrapping it when the eighth cup of green tea hit her bladder and she needed to go and wee. “Jamie,” she snapped, “I’m going to the little girl’s room. Answer the phone if it rings. And try not to mess things up.”
Jamie nodded. As soon as Ilona was out, she tiptoed up to the front desk. She unfolded the jersey and was about to empty half the itching powder inside it when Arabella came in to check the appointment book.
“What’s that you’ve got, dear?” she asked.
Jamie stopped, looking guilty. Arabella held out her hand. “Come on. Hand it over. Let me see.” She held it up to the light. “What is this? ‘Ichy powder. Makes you ich more than 50 flees’. Good Lord, Jamie,” she said. “Surely you can spell better than that?”
Jamie was stung. “Of course I can,” she said. But at that moment the door opened and the next client arrived, dragging a reluctant Labrador by the collar.
“Let me giv
e you a hand,” Arabella said, putting the bottle of itching powder into the pocket of her doctor’s jacket. “And you, Miss,” she said, frowning at Jamie, “I’ll deal with you later.”
Jamie sighed. Darn, another great plan came to nothing.
21
Allerg ieth and itcheth
That night Fifi fell asleep on the sofa. At 23:00 the professor carried her upstairs and tucked her into her bed.
It wasn’t long before Fifi started moaning and grumbling.
“Shut up,” grumbled Jamie, pulling the pillow over her head. “I’m trying to sleep.”
Fifi was quiet for a few minutes.
“Stop scratching,” Jamie snapped. “Please, just go to sleep.”
“I can’t thtop thcrathing,” Fifi shrieked. Her voice got higher and higher. “I’m being eaten alive. It’th gangrene!”
Arabella came running in. “What’s going on?” she demanded, snapping on the light. She was very short-sighted, and hadn’t put on her glasses. But she could still see Fifi hopping and scratching.
“There’th thomething in my bed.”
Arabella pulled back the duvet and, putting her nose almost in the bed, examined the sheets. She saw the sprinkles of powder on the blanket. Her mouth was a tight line as she stood up again.
“Fifi, stop screaming. You’ve just had a reaction to something. Go and shower,” she said calmly. “I’ll find you some medicine to stop the itching.”
When Fifi was out of earshot Arabella looked coldly at Jamie. “Not funny,” she said. “You’ve put that itching powder in Fifi’s bed.”
Jamie looked shocked. “No, Mom,” she pleaded, “I didn’t do anything, I promise …”
Arabella wouldn’t be swayed. “I caught you red-handed. I’m going to have to vacuum down that whole bed. You know how allergic she is. I’m not doing that tonight. She’s going to have to sleep with you. If you give her any more grief, that dog of yours goes to the SPCA. I won’t discuss this any more.” Arabella pursed her lips and marched off to go and deal with Fifi.
Jamie was incensed. This was so unfair.
22
Making smoothies
Fifi was bathed and painted with calamine lotion, but she was still crying like a leaky roof. Arabella took her downstairs to calm her down. “How about a smoothie to help you go to sleep?” she asked.
“Yeth pleathe, Auntie Arabella. Banana and thoya pleathe.”
Bieber had heard the commotion. He slid down the banister and bounded into the kitchen. He sat babbling on top of the kitchen cupboards.
“Where is your blender?” Arabella muttered, banging open the cupboards one by one. “I can’t see a thing. Be a darling and run up and fetch my glasses for me, Fifi. They’re next to my bed.”
Fifi trailed off upstairs, still snivelling. A few minutes later she was back in the kitchen. “I can’t find them,” she said. “I even looked on Uncle David’th thide. He’th making a terrible thnoring thound. I think he might be thuffering from thinuthitith.”
“What’s it doing here?” muttered Arabella as she found Fifi’s blender on the draining board. She opened the lid and squinted inside. “Looks clean,” she murmured, plugging it into the wall. She poured in a cup of rice milk, a tablespoon of powdered seaweed and a scoop of soya whey. The seaweed turned it the colour of green snot. Arabella tried not to gag.
“Pass me a banana, darling,” she said.
Fifi went over to the fruit bowl. She burst into tears. “All my organic bananath are gone,” she sobbed. “Thomebody hath thtolen them.”
“Nonsense,” said Arabella, squinting at the fruit bowl. “They must be there. The bowl was still full at dinner time.”
“They’re gone,” sobbed Fifi. “Now I’m going to itth and thcrath for ever.”
“Here you are, sweetie,” said Arabella, taking a handful of strawberries out of the fridge. “I’ll put these in. They’re just as good for you as bananas.”
“They’re not organic,” screeched Fifi. “They’re nathty oneth from the thupermarket.”
“I promise you they’re safe,” lied Arabella. “I bought them at the organic farmer’s market.”
She turned the blender on. It whirred into life, making a noise like a jet taking off. When she turned it off she was astonished to see Fifi wailing again. “What’s the matter NOW?”
Fifi held up a banana skin. “Bieber thtole my organic bananath. And he threw me with the thkin.”
“Threw the skin AT me,” muttered Arabella automatically.
“You thee – he even threw you with a thkin,” wailed Fifi. “And he’th got all the retht of the bananath up there with him, and I want one for my thmoothie.” She scratched and wailed some more. Snoopy yapped and yapped till she picked him up and clutched him close. They stared at Arabella.
Arabella squinted up at the monkey who was now on top of the fridge. “What’s on his face?” she asked.
Fifi gave a gasp. “What a naughty, naughty monkey,” she said. “He’th wearing your glatheth. And he’th eating another one of my organic bananath.”
Arabella groaned. “Blasted monkey.” She went over to the fridge and took out a handful of grapes. “Here, Bieber,” she called. He looked at her over the top of her glasses.
“Bieber, Bieber,” Arabella said. She held them out to him. The monkey dropped the bunch of bananas onto the floor and leaped onto the sink. Arabella grabbed her glasses as he jumped onto her shoulder.
“Here you are, Auntie,” said Fifi, passing her a banana. “Put it in my thmoothie.”
“It’s going to make a lot. You won’t be able to drink it all.”
“That’th okay,” said Fifi. “You can put the retht in my juithe bottle. I’m going to give it to Ilona for a thpethial treat.”
It was the best plan Arabella had heard all night. Just what Ilona needed – some disgusting sludge to make her shut up about Dr Knight. “Now drink up,” she said. “It’s time to go back to bed.”
A few minutes later Fifi got into Jamie’s bed and tugged the duvet onto her side. “Thith ith fun, ithn’t it? Like a real thlumber party.”
Jamie snorted and tried to roll as close to the wall as possible.
“Your mom made me a banana and thoya thmoothie. It wath thcrumthious. The thaid it wath to thay thorry for your thenaniganth.”
“I told you already, Fifi, it wasn’t me,” huffed Jamie.
Fifi lay next to her and scratched her feet with her hair brush. Snoopy cuddled up on Jamie’s pillow, breathing dog breath into her face.
Jamie sighed. This was just wrong. And at this rate she was never going to get to sleep.
23
Smoothies all over
The moment she came home from school the next day, Fifi rushed into the kitchen. Bieber was sitting on top of the fridge, chittering angrily.
“What’th wrong with you?” Fifi said. “Go away and thit in Tick’th room. Monkey’th are vermin. Uncle David thays tho, and he knowth everything, coth he’th a profethor. My mommy ith going to be a profethor too.”
Bieber opened his mouth wide, showing all his teeth. He glared at her.
“Don’t give me that ugly look,” said Fifi. “You’re not getting my thmoothie. It’th for Ilona.”
She took out her juice bottle, poured the sludge into a plastic cup, and took it through to the surgery. Bieber jumped behind her, sucking the empty juice bottle and gibbering.
“Hi Lona, I brought you thomething yummy,” Fifi gushed.
Ilona looked doubtfully at the cup of sludge. It had gone brown overnight. It looked like something you’d find down a drain.
“What is it?” she asked ungraciously.
“It ith a delithiouth banana and thoya thmoothie. Auntie Arabella made it for me latht night.”
“Hmm,” sniffed Ilona. She knew enough about Arabella’s cooking and Fifi’s dietary requirements to know that this smoothie probably tasted worse than it looked. “Put it on the counter, I’ll drink it later,” she snapped. “I’m
busy trying to weigh Justus to deworm him.”
Fifi hadn’t noticed the big hairy dog sitting behind the counter. “Oooh, thweeeeeet,” squeaked Fifi. “Ith thith Juthtuth? I’ve never theen him for real. Come, boy, come.”
Justus had only ever dealt with the calm, dull monotones of Ilona. He had never heard the excited squeaking of a seven-year-old girl before. And when he saw Bieber come in, sucking a juice bottle, he was furious. But he was too well trained to respond. He stood dead still, quivering.
Bieber ran along the desk, leaped right over Justus, and snatched up the smoothie. He ran up the curtains and perched on top of the rail.
“Stop it, you filthy animal!” Ilona bellowed. “You’re going to spill smoothie all over my desk.”
Enraged by the sight of the monkey stealing his mistress’s drink, Justus let out a bark like a fog horn. He leapt up the curtains, ripping them off the rail.
Ilona seized him by the collar. “Down, Sit. Behave yourself this instant. Die for the King! Roll over! Sit! Stay! Where’s my blooming whistle? Don’t just stand there looking gormless, fetch me my whistle, girl.”
Justus was sure Ilona was screeching because she was being attacked by the monkey. He broke free, knocked over the accessories stand, and tried to leap onto the curtain rail.
Terrified, Bieber dropped the cup. Smoothie spattered everywhere. Justus forgot about the monkey. He began to lap at the puddle as fast as he could.
Ilona was furious. Without the Magic Whistle the dog wouldn’t do a thing she said. Eventually she managed to yank Justus so hard that he gagged.
“Unathi!” she bellowed. “Come in here with a mop!”
“You forgot to thay pleathe,” said Fifi nervously.
Ilona’s eyes bored down on her like lasers.
Fifi swallowed nervously. “Um, bye,” she gulped and dashed out the door.
Jamie and the Magic Whistle Page 4