by H. Y. Hanna
“Noooo!” cried Sonia, her eyes bulging as she turned to stare at the shards of glass on the floor. “No! Not the mirror! Ohhh… what am I going to do? It’s seven years’ bad luck! Seven years’ bad luck!”
Poppy suddenly remembered what Mrs Peabody had said the other day and pounced on the opportunity. “You must break the curse immediately,” she said quickly. “There’s no time to lose! You need to pick up the pieces and… um… what are the options? We don’t have any moonlight and there isn’t any running water so… you’ve got to pound them up, right?”
“Yes, yes…” said Sonia breathlessly. “The broken pieces must all be pounded into tiny fragments so none of them can reflect anything ever again!”
Poppy retreated to the other side of the room and picked up the phone. She dialled 999 but she knew there was no urgency now. She glanced over her shoulder to where Sonia was still crouched in front of the fireplace, painstakingly gathering all the broken pieces of the mirror whilst she muttered to herself about curses and bad luck. Poppy shook her head and smiled. As far as she was concerned, breaking that mirror was the best luck she’d ever had.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“My poor Flopsy! Lost and hungry, with no orthopaedic bed or feather pillow to sleep on…” Muriel Farnsworth gasped. “And she won’t have taken her daily Caninetamins or had a doga session for three days!” She whirled and paced back down the garden path at Hollyhock Cottage. “I don’t understand. How could she have just disappeared like that?”
Poppy flushed guiltily and glanced across the flowerbeds to the area by the sundial, where the white poodle had last been seen. She wished that she had a better answer to give Flopsy’s owner.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know—”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Muriel demanded. “You were the one looking after her! You should have been keeping an eye on her!”
“Sorry?” Poppy looked at her in surprise. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, Kirby told me what happened. When he had to dash into the cottage to use the loo, he thought it would be safe to leave Flopsy with you for a moment… but you just tied her to the sundial and left her. How could you have done that?”
Poppy stared at the old woman incredulously. A surge of anger filled her. That man really was a snake! How dare he put the blame on her when he was the one who had been careless and irresponsible? She glanced towards the gate but couldn’t see Kirby, only Muriel’s chauffeur standing respectfully by her car. Well, of course the pet nanny would be too much of a coward to come with Muriel and expose himself. She wished suddenly that it was Kirby she had uncovered as the murderer yesterday, not Sonia. It would have been good to see the police put him behind bars!
“It wasn’t me—it was Kirby who lost her,” she told Muriel. “He was the one who tied Flopsy to the sundial and then went off to sunbathe on the bench. I wasn’t even here; I was out delivering some flowers—”
“He said you’d deny it,” said Muriel with a sniff. “He said you’d be scared to admit your part, whereas he has been honourable enough to take responsibility for the whole thing, even though it was not really his fault. He feels dreadful, just because he brought Flopsy to you. You would do well to learn from him, young lady—”
“That’s ridiculous! I never… I can’t believe he…” Poppy spluttered, so angry she could barely speak. “That’s… that’s just not true! I’m not trying to avoid responsibility! I feel awful too, but I swear to you, I wasn’t here when Flopsy disappeared—”
“Are you saying that Kirby is lying to me?” asked Muriel in a quavering voice, clasping her trembling hands together.
“I—” Poppy broke off, staring at the distraught old woman in front of her.
Muriel had recently lost a niece and now her beloved dog; her life had been turned upside down, and all those close to her, who she had depended upon, had been torn away from her. Did Poppy really want to destroy the old woman’s last vestige of security? Tell her that the man she had trusted and welcomed into her household in the past year was a two-faced liar? All for what? To win a petty game of “he said, she said”? Besides, to be honest, she did feel a bit responsible, because it was on her property that the dog had gone missing.
Poppy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then said in a calmer voice, “I’m really sorry, Muriel. In a way, both Kirby and I are to blame, but the important thing now is to find Flopsy and get her home safely.”
“But what if we never find her?” wailed Muriel. “What if she starves to death in the wilderness—”
“It’s hardly ‘wilderness’! This is the English countryside, not the African desert, and there are farms all around, not to mention homes and pubs and shops. I’m sure there will be food scraps everywhere.”
Muriel gave a little scream and put a hand to her chest. “Food scraps? Flopsy would never eat food scraps! She only eats organic. And she likes to be hand-fed. She doesn’t eat out of a bowl.”
Bloody hell. Poppy was beginning to think a stint in the “wilderness” would do the pampered poodle some good! Still, she kept her thoughts to herself and pinned a reassuring smile to her face, saying to Muriel:
“We’ve already put up posters everywhere, and Dr Noble—that’s Einstein’s owner—has been working around the clock to devise a way to find the dogs.”
“As he well should!” Muriel gave her a dark look. “It was his dog who stole away my Flopsy. Mangy, thieving, sneaky little beast!”
“Er…” Poppy cleared her throat. “Well, as I said, the important thing now is to find them as soon as possible. And in fact, I saw Dr Noble earlier today and he was very excited because he is almost finished with a special device that he’s sure will bring them back. So the best thing for you is to go back to Duxton House and wait there. That’s the most likely place for Flopsy to come back to, anyway, and—”
Poppy broke off as Bertie suddenly appeared around the corner of the cottage. He had obviously come via the gap in the stone wall between their properties, because he still had leaves and twigs clinging to his wild mop of grey hair, from the plants he had obviously crawled through. He was carrying a brown paper bag in one hand and something that looked like a megaphone in the other, except that it had a strange suction fan where the mouthpiece should have been. Bertie’s eyes lit up when he saw her, and he hurried over to join them.
“Bertie, have you come up with a way to find the dogs?” asked Poppy eagerly.
He gave a solemn nod. “If you can show me where the poodle was last seen… I think that would be the best place to deploy it.”
Poppy led him over to the sundial, then she and Muriel stood back and watched as he carefully pulled something out of the paper bag. It was a bacon sandwich.
“Your device is a… bacon sandwich?” said Poppy, confused.
“Ah yes, you see, my dear, Einstein can never resist a bacon sandwich! It is his absolute favourite! If he smells it, he is bound to come—and hopefully bring Flopsy with him too.”
“But… he could be miles away! How is he going to smell it if he’s on the other side of Oxfordshire?”
“Ah… that’s where my Mega Diffuser comes in,” said Bertie, brandishing the strange device in his other hand. “This is what I have been working on for the past two days. It has the ability to diffuse an odour in a wide radius—far beyond ordinary air currents.”
As he was speaking, Bertie began winding something on the side of his “Mega Diffuser”. A minute later, Poppy heard a noise like a tiny whirring engine, and then she saw the suction fan begin to turn. A wonderful aroma of hot, crispy bacon filled the air. Poppy almost began to feel her mouth water. Then, to her surprise and delight, she heard the faint sound of excited barking.
She turned incredulous eyes on Bertie. “I don’t believe it—it really works!”
A second, higher-pitched bark joined the first, and Muriel gasped.
“That’s Flopsy!” She began looking wildly around the garden. “Flopsy? Flopsy,
where are you? Come to Mummy! Come to Mummy!”
The barking seemed to be coming from the back garden, behind the cottage, and Poppy hurried towards the sound, followed by Bertie and Muriel. She followed it all the way to the neglected shed in the very back corner of the property—the one covered by the prickly monster rambling rose—and was astonished to see two little dogs emerging from under the thicket of thorny branches. One was Einstein and the other was a dog that Poppy almost didn’t recognise at first, with its matted curly coat of dirty brown… Then she saw the sparkle of a jewelled collar at the dog’s neck and realised with a shock that it was Flopsy.
She couldn’t believe it! Had the two dogs been at Hollyhock Cottage the whole time? The little buggers—they must have hidden in that hollow under the monster rambling rose when she and Kirby and Muriel’s staff had all been searching the property. Since no one had wanted to brave the thick canes, bristling with sharp thorns, they had remained undiscovered.
Now Einstein came eagerly forwards, but he was hampered by Flopsy, who kept jumping on him and biting his ears, pulling his jowls, grabbing his neck, chewing his feet, all whilst whining and growling shrilly. Einstein looked very weary as he tried to fend her off and a look of relief crossed his face when Muriel swooped down and picked Flopsy up.
“Flopsy!” shrieked Muriel, squashing the poodle against her face. “Oh, Flopsy, you’re alive!” She held the little dog up to get a better look at her. “Ohhh… my poor baby—look at the state of you!” She turned towards the front of the property and bellowed: “Harrison! HARRISON!”
A minute later, the chauffeur came hurrying into view from around the side of the cottage. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Call Diva Dogs Salon and book Flopsy a spa session immediately! Tell them it’s an emergency. She needs the Deluxe Pawdicure, the Blueberry Facial, the Detox Bath with Conditioning Rinse, some Whitening Spritz—oh, and don’t forget the Fresh Breath Treatment.”
“Yes, ma’am!” said Harrison, disappearing back round the front of the cottage.
“Oh!” Muriel remembered something and hurried after him, carrying the toy poodle with her. “Flopsy also needs an urgent appointment with her canine therapist! She’ll have to work through the trauma of her time in the wilderness—oh, I do hope this hasn’t set back her progress on separation anxiety—and she also needs…”
Her voice faded away as she headed towards the front of the property with Flopsy in her arms. The poodle looked back at Einstein over her owner’s shoulder and gave a couple of high-pitched yaps. Poppy glanced at the terrier, expecting him to rush after his beloved—but to her surprise, he looked uncertain. In fact, an expression more like relief than regret crossed his face.
"Come on, Einstein—let’s go home and have this bacon sandwich,” called Bertie over his shoulder as he set off for his house. He disappeared around the opposite side of the cottage and Poppy could hear his voice fading away too as he continued muttering to himself: “Hmm… yes… a successful trial, although one can’t be sure that the parameters of radius were truly tested…”
Einstein hesitated again, then looked up at Poppy. She chuckled. Somehow she had a feeling that the terrier was discovering romance wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be—especially with a neurotic, high-maintenance female!
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with a bachelor life,” Poppy told him.
Einstein wagged his tail. Then he gave a stretch and shook himself. “Ruff! Ruff-ruff!”
Poppy smiled as she watched him scamper happily after Bertie’s disappearing figure without a backwards glance towards Flopsy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Poppy stood back and proudly surveyed the beautiful little area in front of her, filled with scented plants and herbs, and glowing with the late afternoon sunshine. Wide gravel paths meandered between several rocks and boulders, which provided interesting features amongst the clumps of aromatic foliage and fragrant flowers. It was hard to believe that only two weeks ago, this had been a neglected rock garden.
And I made this, thought Poppy, her chest swelling with pride. I created this garden, I planted it all—and I haven’t made any cock-ups this time. Not a single plant has died! Well, at least not yet… she added silently, glancing at the two clary sages that she had planted, one of which looked slightly droopy. She hoped that it was just transplant shock and that with a bit of TLC, the plant would recover after a few days.
She’d read that clary sage should really be planted in spring, not autumn, but Muriel had been so impatient to have all the plants in as soon as possible that Poppy had sourced some advanced specimens growing in pots and had transplanted them into the garden. Since clary sage normally flowered in their second year anyway, she hoped that they would settle in and flower next spring and summer. And in the meantime, their large, aromatic leaves would still provide herbal benefits. According to her research, clary sage was supposed to be “good for highly-strung animals”—which should make it perfect for Flopsy, Poppy thought with a smile.
Speaking of which… She looked around for the guest of honour, the dog that all this effort was being made for, but she couldn’t see the white toy poodle anywhere. There were plenty of other people around though—in fact, Poppy was surprised to see how many there were. She’d thought that this was meant to be a small celebration to mark the official completion of the canine scent garden, but it looked like half the village had come to Duxton House. And several people had dogs on leashes too! They were wandering around, encouraging the dogs to sniff the plants. Poppy eyed them with surprise.
“I didn’t realise that Muriel was planning to open the scent garden to the public,” she said to Mrs Peabody as she joined the older woman at the trestle table set up on one side of the new garden, with tea and scones for the guests.
Mrs Peabody looked up from the cup of tea she was pouring and glanced at the other dogs. “Oh, not the public, dear—just the residents of SOAR who are still looking for adoption. Not all of them can be placed in foster homes, you see, and kennel life can be very hard on the shelter dogs, being cooped up in a cage or a run all the time. And many of them are quite anxious and nervous anyway, because of the experiences they’ve suffered—so anything that stimulates them in a positive way and gets them interacting with their environment is good.” She smiled. “Muriel has been very generous and offered SOAR the use of the canine scent garden any time we like, so we can bring the rescue dogs down here to give them some natural therapy.”
“Oh!” Poppy looked over to where the elderly lady was holding court on the other side of the scent garden and saw her with new eyes. Muriel Farnsworth might have been eccentric and overindulgent where her pet was concerned (and a terrible snob!), but her heart seemed to be in the right place.
“Poppy, you’ve done a fantastic job! This looks wonderful. If I ever spend enough time at home to actually be able to enjoy my garden, I might get you to come and give it a makeover too.”
Poppy turned and smiled with pleasure to see an attractive, dark-haired woman in an elegant trouser suit come up to her. “Suzanne! I didn’t realise you were coming today.”
“Well, I don’t think I’m on the official invitation list,” said Suzanne with a laugh, glancing at Mrs Peabody’s retreating back as the older woman went off to join Muriel. “But I came with Nick, and when you’re the guest of a bestselling author, people don’t tend to ask questions.”
Poppy followed her gaze over to where Nick had just politely joined Muriel and her group of cronies as well. All the older ladies were simpering up at him and she almost wanted to laugh at the expression on his face.
“I always thought writers were introverts,” Poppy commented, still watching him. “I’m surprised to see Nick joining in with so many events in the village.”
“Actually, Nick is pretty sociable when he’s between books,” said Suzanne, looking at her ex-boyfriend fondly. “It’s when he’s writing that he can get very tetchy. I’ve learned to just give him a wide berth whe
n he’s deep in a manuscript, until he resurfaces.” She turned back to Poppy and her expression grew serious. “I’m really glad to see you, actually, as I’ve been meaning to pop around to Hollyhock Cottage but just hadn’t had a chance yet. I wanted to let you know that thanks to your little friend Timothy, the police have finally identified all the boys in that gang and they have been remanded in custody.”
Poppy raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t they too young to be arrested?”
“No, the age of criminal responsibility in England is ten years old and some of those older boys are fifteen and sixteen, so they can certainly be arrested and charged with a crime, and possibly even do time in a juvenile detention centre. It depends partly on the nature of the crime—sometimes they are just let off with a caution—and on whether they are repeat offenders.”
“So Tim could go to jail?” asked Poppy, concerned.
Suzanne smiled. “Well, he is only eleven so he’s very young and—aside from the fact that he did help us track down the rest of the gang—he did not actually instigate any of the malicious pranks. One could argue that he was heavily influenced and controlled by the older boys. The judge has also taken his situation into consideration: his parents separated last year and he lives alone with his mother, who has been suffering badly from depression—so it’s been a tough time for Timothy and he has had very little support. I think they are going to let him off with a verbal warning.” She sighed. “Ironically, I actually think a community service sentence would have been good for him. There’s still another month or so until the school term starts and it would have been good for Timothy to have some responsibility, some work to occupy him and give structure to his day. It’s when kids spend all this time alone that they start getting into trouble.”
“Hey… I know it’s not a community garden, but maybe Tim could come and help me at Hollyhock Cottage?” suggested Poppy impulsively. “Then both Nell and I could keep an eye on him. In fact, I think just Oren alone could probably keep him busy for hours,” she added with a laugh.