Snakes' Elbows

by Deirdre Madden

  ‘Where are you?’ she thought. ‘Are you down in the garden?’

  ‘No, we’re here in the room, right beside you. We’re invisible. I know it’s hard to believe but it’s true.’ And with that, the cat felt a huge rough paw pat her gently on the head.

  ‘How can this be?’

  ‘Jasper gave us sweets to eat and we disappeared. He’s in the house right this minute and he’s invisible too. He’s going to steal all the paintings – everything, not just the Haverford-Snuffley Angel. He’s got a big white van parked outside to take them away.’

  ‘This is terrible news! What shall we do? Oh what shall we do?’ thought Dandelion.

  ‘Jasper brought us along because he’s afraid of you,’ thought Bruiser. ‘And he thinks you’ll be afraid of us.’

  ‘That’s right,’ added Cannibal. ‘He said, “You deal with the cat and leave the people to me.” But don’t worry, we’re on your side, Dandelion. We’ll do all we can to help you.’

  ‘You should try to warn your owner,’ thought Bruiser.

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ thought the cat, remembering the last time she had tried to let Barney know Jasper was in the house and up to no good. She looked to where he was still contentedly playing his piano.

  ‘Do what you can,’ thought Bruiser. ‘We’d best go and see where Jasper is. We’ll catch up with you later.’ Again Dandelion felt a rough, comforting paw touch her on the head. The door of the room, which was ajar, opened wider as the two invisible dogs slipped out on to the landing.

  Dandelion hopped up on to the piano and sat down at the end of the keyboard, staring hard at Barney. She was wearing her red leather harness, which was tight and uncomfortable.

  ‘What is it, my dear? What do you want?’ he said and he stopped playing, leaned over to tickle her chin. ‘Why, how could I have forgotten? Your pills!’

  Oh no! He crossed to the bedside table, picked up a brown glass jar and took from it two enormous yellow pills. ‘Come along, Dandelion. Be a good cat and take your medicine.’

  ‘You’ll have to catch me first,’ thought Dandelion, and with one bound she was at the top of the curtains. She hung there by her claws, mewing, while Barney tried to coax her down.

  Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, Wilf was already preparing lunch. He had rolled out the pastry for an apple pie and was peeling and chopping the fruit when the kitchen door swung open. ‘Must be a draught,’ Wilf thought as he went over and pushed it closed again. Just at that moment he caught again the smell of eau de cologne he’d noticed when he was bringing in the milk. Had the ghost come back? he wondered.

  As if in reply, the rolling pin rose off the table and floated in mid-air. ‘Eek! Help!’ he cried as it moved towards him and then Thwack! Wilf’s own rolling pin hit him hard on the head! He saw red lights and swirling stars, reeled backwards and almost fell over. The rolling pin was still hovering over his head. He saw it draw back to thump him again and with that Wilf started to run. Round and round the table he went with the rolling pin following him. Never in his life had he been so frightened. To be chased by a man with a rolling pin would be awful he thought, but somehow to be chased by the rolling pin itself was even worse.

  Suddenly he noticed the door into the pantry and he threw himself on it. The door fell open and he tumbled straight into the small dark room, head first into a lemon jelly that had been left there to set. The rolling pin – it could be no one or nothing else – slammed the door shut and Wilf heard the key being turned in the lock. It was almost a relief to be sitting there on the floor in the darkness, with a fancy jelly mould on his head and lemon jelly slithering down the back of his neck. At least here he was safe.

  Up in the bedroom, Barney had managed to catch Dandelion and to force one of the yellow pills into her. It was achieved with much wiggling and mewing and scratching on Dandelion’s part, and much coaxing and scolding and scrambling on Barney’s. He was quite exhausted with the effort.

  ‘I shall have to fetch Wilf to help me give you the second one, or it’ll take all morning.’

  Barney left the room with Dandelion at his heels to go to the kitchen. He was amazed to see that all the paintings had been removed from the wall and were stacked up neatly at the end of the passageway. Why on earth had Wilf done this? He hadn’t asked him to, and Wilf hadn’t mentioned anything about it. Puzzled, Barney continued along the corridor and went down the stairs. What a sight met his eyes on the second floor!

  A picture in a heavy gold frame of a storm at sea was getting down from the wall all by itself. Several other paintings were already stacked up nearby. Barney watched open-mouthed and goggle-eyed as the seascape slid itself up the wall and then tilted out at the bottom. Slowly and gently it moved off and hovered in mid-air for a moment before lowering itself to the ground. It rested there as if it were tired and Barney noticed a curious and pleasant smell, a cross between pinecones and lemons.

  ‘It’s like a very good eau de cologne,’ he said to himself. Suddenly the painting rose up again and floated along the corridor until it came to the stack of pictures, to which it carefully added itself.

  ‘I’m dreaming,’ Barney thought. ‘I’m in my bed fast asleep and dreaming, with Dandelion curled up at the back of my knees. Any minute now the alarm clock will go off and Wilf will come into the room with tea and toast and muffins and marmalade and another ordinary day will begin.’ But he knew in his heart that he wasn’t dreaming and that this extraordinary day was completely real.

  With that, out of nowhere, a pair of shoes appeared. It was an expensive-looking pair of men’s shoes, in shiny black leather, and they were walking down the corridor from the stack of paintings to where Barney and Dandelion stood. The turn-ups on the bottom of a pair of trousers now appeared above the shoes. Barney gave a little squawk of fright, and the shoes came to a halt. Trousers were visible now, up as far as the knee.

  ‘Snakes’ elbows!’ said a voice. There was a pause, followed by a rustling of sweet papers and then a chomping, guzzling noise. Immediately the trousers began to fade away from the knees down. Now there was only a pair of shoes and they started to walk again, once more heading straight for Barney.

  Throughout all of this, Dandelion watched helplessly. She knew exactly what was happening, but there was nothing she could do to tell Barney or to stop it. ‘Where are you?’ she thought anxiously. ‘Where are you, dogs?’

  Just at that moment, she heard a panting sound and an answering thought popped into her mind.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ gasped Cannibal. ‘We were down in the kitchen trying to help Wilf but he’s trapped in the pantry and we couldn’t manage to unlock the door.’

  ‘This isn’t going well,’ added Bruiser. ‘Jasper’s working much faster than we expected and I don’t know how we’re going to stop him.’

  By now the shoes had disappeared again. Barney could hear the panting noise too and he felt something brush against his legs. A ghost! Wilf had asked him that very morning if there was a ghost in the house. He must have come across it too, but he hadn’t said anything so as not to frighten Barney. But it was no use because Barney WAS frightened. Never before in all of his long life had he been so scared. ‘Help!’ he cried as another painting started to rise off the wall. ‘HELP!!!’ He scooped Dandelion up in his arms and raced away down the corridor to the stairs, back up to the top floor faster than she’d ever have believed possible.

  ‘Oh this is useless,’ the cat thought to herself in dismay as they crashed into the bedroom. Barney slammed the door closed and turned the key in the lock. ‘I won’t be able to do anything now to help Cannibal and Bruiser.’ Jumping from his arms she scratched at the door and mewed and wailed.

  ‘Don’t cry, my little Dandelion, we’re safe now,’ Barney said. ‘The ghost can’t get at us here. But what about poor Wilf? And what about the paintings? Oh what a dreadful, dreadful morning this is turning out to be!’

  The policeman and policewoman looked at each other. They looked at t
he black cat with a white bib and socks and a white splodge over its nose that was sitting on the counter of the police station. They looked at the two men on the other side of the counter. One was small and fat, with shiny dark eyes like black buttons and wild hair standing on end. The other was an elderly man with wispy grey hair, and his eyes were red because he had been crying.

  ‘Let’s go through all of this again, shall we,’ said the policewoman, turning to the big leather-bound book in which she had just finished writing down the whole story. ‘All your paintings have been stolen.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Barney tearfully.

  ‘By a ghost.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And this ghost was completely invisible,’ said the policeman.

  ‘Except for when it was a pair of shoes,’ replied Barney.

  ‘And a rolling pin,’ added Wilf.

  ‘And the, um, rolling pin threw a raspberry jelly at you,’ said the policeman, pointing at Wilf with his pencil.

  ‘It was a lemon jelly and it wasn’t thrown at me. I fell into it when the rolling pin chased me into the pantry and locked the door.’

  The policeman and woman looked at each other again. ‘The rolling pin chased you into the pantry and locked the door,’ the woman repeated.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Course it did,’ said the policeman. ‘Happens every day of the week.’

  ‘Twice on Sundays,’ said the policewoman. She bit her lip, clearly trying hard not to laugh, and looked down at the book again. ‘And the rolling pin also chased you into the bedroom and locked you in there?’ she said to Barney.

  ‘No, that was the shoes. Only they were invisible again by then and they didn’t really chase me, it was more that I ran away because I was frightened. I locked myself in the bedroom with the cat.’

  ‘And you stayed there for almost the whole day,’ said the policewoman, ‘and when you came out you found that all your paintings had gone, every last one of them.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Barney, and he started to cry again.

  ‘So you went downstairs and you found him,’ she said, pointing at Wilf, ‘locked in the pantry.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With a jelly on his head.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A lemon jelly.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He having been chased there by a rolling pin.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Dandelion was wondering if the police were always as slow-witted as this when suddenly the policeman turned to her. ‘And what about you, eh, Miss P. Cat?’ and he jabbed her hard in the bib with a stubby finger. ‘Maybe I should take a statement from you. What have you got to say for yourself?’

  Dandelion drew herself up proudly and stared at him hard with her cold green eyes. She would have given eight of her nine lives there on the spot for the gift of speech. She imagined herself telling the police in a low calm voice exactly what had happened. ‘It wasn’t a ghost. It was Jasper Jellit. If you go over to his house you’ll find all the paintings hidden there. He stole them. His dogs will back up my story.’

  ‘We’re waiting, Puss,’ said the policeman, and he jabbed at her again, chuckling at his own wit in pretending to expect a cat to be of any help.

  ‘Eau de cologne,’ said the policewoman turning to Barney and Wilf. ‘You both smelt eau de cologne.’

  ‘We did, yes.’

  ‘Smelt nice then, these shoes?’ said the policeman and he tittered.

  ‘What about the rolling pin?’ giggled the policewoman. ‘Suppose you’ll be telling us next all rolling pins spray themselves behind the ears with eau de cologne every morning.’

  ‘Course they do,’ guffawed the policeman. ‘Haven’t you noticed that every time you go to the chemist’s you can’t get anywhere near the perfume counter because of all the … all the …’

  But he was laughing so much now that he couldn’t get the words out and the policewoman had to finish his sentence for him. ‘Rolling pins!’ she shrieked. ‘Because of all the rolling pins!’

  ‘Parfum pour Homme. Pour Femme. Pour Rolling Pin!’

  ‘Ooh this is hilarious,’ said the policewoman, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said the policeman to Barney, still helpless with laughter. ‘When I find this invisible ghost, I’ll put my hand on his shoulder and arrest him for you.’

  ‘If you can find his shoulder,’ gasped the policewoman. ‘And I’ll put it in handcuffs.’

  ‘Ghosts don’t have hands,’ roared the policeman. ‘Neither do … rolling pins,’ screamed the policewoman, and they were off again, laughing until they wept.

  ‘Oh deary me,’ cried the policeman eventually, still gasping and giggling. ‘Never in all my born days, never in all my many long years in the force have I heard such a complete and utter load of codswallop. I’d charge you pair with wasting police time,’ he added, trying to look stern, ‘were it not for the fact that I don’t remember when I last had such a good laugh.’

  ‘Now hoppit,’ said the policewoman, ‘and take the pussycat with you. Don’t let me see you back in here again.’

  ‘Course if the ghost comes in, we won’t see it either,’ said the policeman, ‘because it’s invisible.’

  ‘Nor the shoes!’

  ‘Nor the rolling pin!’

  And as Barney, Wilf and Dandelion trudged home sadly, they could hear the laughter of the policeman and woman still floating up the street behind them.

  Dandelion had sometimes thought that Barney’s house was a bit lonely, because it was so big and no one ever came to visit. But after all the paintings had been stolen there were no two ways about it: it was a tremendously sad and gloomy place. Barney was completely heartbroken. The house was silent at all hours now because he was too upset even to play his piano. The long corridors where the paintings had hung were desolate and empty. Wilf was nervous all the time, terrified that the ghost would come back and chase him again. He was always looking over his shoulder now and the slightest sudden noise or unexpected movement made him jump in fright. Dandelion wandered alone wistfully from room to room. She still had to take the yellow pills and wear the hated red harness; was hungry all the time because she was given so little to eat. Everything was miserable now, she thought.

  Jasper, on the other hand, had never been happier. The day after the robbery he called the butler to his room. ‘I’m going to throw a party,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to celebrate.’

  ‘Indeed, Sir? And what might that be?’ asked the butler politely.

  ‘Not telling!’ said Jasper. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ and he stuck out his tongue.

  The butler gave a thin smile. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ he thought. ‘Any day now, I’m going to climb over that wall in the middle of the night and run away.’

  ‘It’s going to have an Italian theme this time,’ Jasper went on. ‘Venice!’ he cried.

  *

  As usual, no expense was spared. A vast network of canals was dug throughout Jasper’s estate. They were flooded with water and a fleet of gondolas was brought in especially from Italy so that the guests could amuse themselves sailing up and down in the shiny black boats. The Prince of Venice was called a Doge and so of course Jasper had to be him. He ordered a suit of gold to wear, with which he was delighted, not realising it made him look like a total prat. A magnificent painted wooden barge to be rowed by fifty oarsmen was also bought so that he could make a spectacular entrance. The Doge had lived in a palace in Venice made of pink and white stone arranged in pretty patterns. Not to be outdone, Jasper made the whole of the front of his house look exactly the same by covering it with squares of pink and white marshmallow. The long-suffering dogs were kitted out in velvet robes, dark red for Cannibal and bottle green for Bruiser. Teams of Italian chefs sweated and toiled, turning out vast tangled heaps of spaghetti, made fragrant with fresh basil, and pizzas as big as cartwheels. The pastry cooks created extraordinary puddings made of sweetened cream cheese and candied frui
t, the like of which had never before been seen in Woodford.

  Late that night, Dandelion saw the firework display that brought the party to a close. After Barney had gone to sleep, she stood on the windowsill of the darkened bedroom with her front paws pressed against the pane and watched the spectacular explosions of coloured light unfold and fade against the night sky.

  *

  The following morning there was a special colour supplement in the Woodford Trumpet, full of photographs of the party. Barney leafed through it listlessly as he ate his bacon and eggs. Nothing interested him these days.

  ‘Cheer up,’ Wilf said. ‘At least you’ve still got your angel,’ and he nodded towards the bedside table. Because Barney had kept the new painting in his room it hadn’t been stolen when Jasper took all the other pictures.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Barney said, and he stared at the Haverford-Snuffley Angel, with its bright eyes and vivid wings. ‘But even so, Wilf, even so …’

  After drinking every single drop of the small saucer of milk that was all she now received, but before anyone had time to even think about the yellow pills, Dandelion slipped out of the house. ‘I’ll go and visit Cannibal and Bruiser,’ she decided. ‘Perhaps there’ll be some food left over from the party.’

  As soon as they saw her, the dogs knew what was in her mind. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you but there’s not a sausage left,’ Cannibal thought. ‘The greedy guests scoffed the lot.’

  ‘They even ate all the pink and white marshmallows off the front of the house,’ added Bruiser.

  ‘Never mind,’ thought Dandelion, even as her tummy rumbled. ‘It’s nice just to be here with you.’

  The cat and the dogs settled down under a tree together, to watch the army of workmen who were busy setting the garden to rights again. Already the shiny black gondolas were stacked up on a lorry to be taken away and the water had been drained from the canals. Soon the men would fill the empty trenches with soil and cover them with grass. Then the garden would look immaculate again, until the next time Jasper decided to throw one of his crazy parties.