The Eddie Dickens Trilogy

by Philip Ardagh

  A tiny man – he was smaller than Eddie – he had a shaven head, big bushy eyebrows and wide open eyes that made him look more than a little crazy. Add to this the fact that he was jumping up at Eddie, barking like an eager puppy held in place not by a leash but by his ball and chain, and Eddie was left in little doubt that the man was crazy.

  ‘This is Barkin’,’ said Bonecrusher. Barking gave a happy yelp and snapped at Eddie’s ankles.

  ‘I’m Eddie Dickens,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Forgive me for bein’ so rude,’ said the tall, thin convict, with a sneer. ‘I failed to introduce myself. My name is Swags …’

  ‘Short for Swagman,’ explained Bonecrusher, his sour breath close to Eddie’s face again, ‘on account of him being one of the few convicts sent to Australia to make it back here alive.’

  This caused much laughter between the convicts – well, more ‘happy yapping’ in Barking’s case – as so often seems to happen between baddies in stories, when they have a new captive.

  Eddie decided that he’d better show them that he wasn’t too afraid, or impressed. ‘I know a man who can escape from tanks full of flesh-eating fish, and from locked trunks set on fire and –’

  ‘You know the Great Zucchini?’ demanded Bonecrusher, picking up Eddie by the arm with one hand, as though he weighed no more than a chicken, and plonking him down on a rock in the middle of the muddy cave floor.

  ‘Y-Yes,’ said Eddie, uncertainly.

  ‘How?’ demanded Bonecrusher, pressing his nose right up against Eddie’s. ‘And no lies.’

  The unspoken threat left Eddie feeling chilled to the bone. He told the convicts everything.

  ‘So you don’t know where the hearse is now?’ asked Swags, once Eddie had finished. Eddie shook his head.

  ‘But he could find it for us,’ said Bonecrusher, with obvious excitement. He was breathing faster, his huge chest heaving in and out. Barking jumped up onto the boulder and growled.

  ‘I’m sure I could,’ said Eddie with genuine eagerness, because he’d rather have been anywhere else in the entire world – including frightening foreign places – than right there right then. Reading about this might be fun for us, but it wasn’t much fun for him living it!

  ‘But what guarantee do we have that you’ll come back once you’ve found it?’ asked Swags.

  ‘Good point,’ nodded Bonecrusher.

  Barking just whimpered.

  ‘Er … I could give you my word,’ Eddie suggested, not convinced that they’d be too impressed with this suggestion.

  ‘I can see that you’re a gentleman and that,’ said Bonecrusher, ‘but gentlemen don’t usually feel obliged to keep their word when dealin’ with the likes of us.’

  ‘Escaped convicts and suchlike,’ Swags nodded in agreement. ‘So we’ll need more than that to make sure you return.’

  ‘But why’s the hearse so important in the first place?’ Eddie asked. ‘If you want to escape from the moors, surely any horse and carriage will do. A horse and cart, even?’

  Eddie found himself being lifted up by the neck, something which’d only been done to him once before (by a not-so-charming woman called Mrs Cruel-Streak) and that hadn’t been half so frightening as it was now, having it done by an escaped convict in a cave, up on the misty moors when no one knew where he was.

  ‘Don’t ask questions, boy,’ said Bonecrusher. It was just Eddie’s luck that he wasn’t one of those monsters-on-the-outside, heart-of-gold-on-the-inside villains you sometimes come across. Mr Bonecrusher appeared to be nasty through and through.

  ‘Hang on, Bones!’ said Swags, suddenly. ‘It ain’t the hearse we need. The second coffin ain’t in it no more. The boy said they buried it …’

  ‘And Zucchini’s people were then arrested … You mean, it’s still in the ground?’ gasped Bonecrusher. ‘I’d have thought they’d have dug it up and ’idden it back in the ’earse by now.’

  ‘But the hearse bolted and Zucchini’s people were arrested … I’ll bet it’s still six feet under.’ (Six feet was how deep in the ground genuine coffins were supposed to be buried, though some lazy gravediggers were quite happy to stop at four foot six.)

  ‘Where did you say the coffin is buried?’ demanded Bonecrusher.

  ‘Mr Zucchini said it was buried right next to the churchyard at St Botolph’s,’ said Eddie, once Bonecrusher had let go of his neck and put him back down. ‘I don’t know exactly. I haven’t been there myself.’

  ‘Well, we need you to find it and dig it up,’ said Bonecrusher.

  ‘And not run away and fetch the peelers …’ Swags let his voice trail off mid-sentence. ‘Hostage,’ he said, at last. ‘Hostage. We hold the boy hostage.’

  Bonecrusher scratched his bald head like people do in comic books when they’re thinking (but very rarely do in real life). ‘How can we hold Eddie hostage at the same time as sending him off to dig up the coffin? Surely we need another person – a friend of his – to hold hostage while he goes off and does the digging? Someone else whose bones I can break if Eddie tries to doublecross us.’

  ‘No, listen, Bonecrusher. I have a plan. We send the boy’s parents a note saying that we’ve got their boy and, unless they dig up Zucchini’s coffin and bring us the sandbags, we’ll do him some serious harm.’ Swag’s face broke into a gappy-toothed smile above his nasty pointed chin.

  ‘That’s good, that’s very good,’ agreed Bonecrusher, ‘but there are one or two details we needs to work out, right?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like how we send this message and what we send with it, to show we really have the boy.’

  Eddie was hardly listening. He was worrying about the part of the plan where his parents received the note and were supposed to do exactly as instructed!!! Exactly as instructed? No one at Awful End could carry out the most straightforward instructions. These were his parents they were talking about … and what if Mad Uncle Jack or Even Madder Aunt Maud got hold of the note first, or if it somehow ended up in Dawkins’s tissue-paper collection before anyone had a chance to read it? He couldn’t have the convicts sending a note that his life depended on to Awful End. It was as good as signing his death warrant!

  ‘Er, I don’t think this is such a good idea,’ he protested. ‘You see –’

  But Bonecrusher, Swags and Barking were in no mood to listen. They were too busy pulling off his jacket, shirt and trousers … leaving him in no more than his long johns.

  ‘We’ll send your folks your clothes,’ said Bonecrusher.

  ‘That way they’ll not only know that we really do have you, but they’ll also bring us the sandbags double quick so you don’t catch your death of cold,’ grinned Swags. They laughed some more.

  Episode 8

  In the Grip of the Enemy

  In which Eddie is … in the grip of the enemy

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Eddie. ‘You want to keep me hostage whilst’ – people used words such as ‘whilst’ in those days – ‘whilst my parents go and dig up the coffin with the sandbags in it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Bonecrusher, with a toothy grin.

  ‘Even though Awful End may still be teeming with peelers looking for evidence against the Great Zucchini and Daniella, after the theft of the hot-air balloon and the so-called kidnapping of Mr Wolfe Tablet?’ Eddie added, breathlessly.

  ‘Quiet, you,’ said Bonecrusher, his expression becoming the even nastier side of nasty. ‘You’re not going to trick your way out of this.’

  Swags stared straight at Eddie through his hooded eyes. ‘The boy might have a point,’ he said.

  ‘And even if the peelers aren’t there and the message reaches my parents, surely you’re letting even more people know your plan …’

  ‘Go on,’ said Swags, not taking his eyes off Eddie for a minute as he began to circle him, his chain chinking behind him.

  ‘I mean … I don’t know why those two sandbags which you made for the Great Zucchini are so important to you,
but I now know that they are. Surely the fewer people who know that the better?’ Eddie had their attention now. He had to do everything to make sure they let him go, and not give the occupants of Awful End a chance to muck it up, or who knew what might happen?

  ‘Then what do you suggest?’ said Swags, coming to a halt. He put a bony hand on each of Eddie’s shoulders and, pressing his nose against the boy’s, stared deep into his eyes. ‘And no tricks,’ he added, his voice barely louder than a deep breath.

  Eddie shuddered. ‘No tricks,’ he agreed, and he meant it. He wasn’t in the convict-capturing business. He’d get them their sandbags and hope beyond hope that they’d let him go. ‘If one of you was going to take my clothes to Awful End, along with a note, and risk capture anyway, why doesn’t one of you come along with me while I dig up the sandbags to make sure I don’t escape, instead?’

  Swags and Bonecrusher switched into thinking mode, trying to see the fault in Eddie’s plan. Barking seemed more interested in sniffing a patch of thistles by the cave opening.

  ‘Hang on! Hang on!’ said Bonecrusher. ‘The ’ole idea of someone else digging the ’ole instead of us is that there’s somethin’ slightly suspicious-lookin’ about a man with arrows on ’is suit doin’ anything, ain’t there? If we wasn’t worried about that, we’d go ’n’ do the diggin’ ourselves!’

  ‘But here’s the clever part,’ said Eddie, hoping there weren’t any other loopholes in his hastily devised neck-saving idea. ‘Instead of sending my clothes to Awful End, why not dress Mr Barking up in them? They’ll fit him. That way, he can show me the way to the village – I’m lost, remember – and then we can go to the field by St Botolph’s churchyard and dig up the coffin together …’

  ‘And what if anyone stops ’n’ asks what ya doin’?’ said Bonecrusher.

  ‘The boy simply says that he’s part of the Great Zucchini’s Dreadful Acts troupe, clearing up after a trick that was cancelled following the arrival of Mr Wolfe Tablet in his balloon,’ said Swags, who appeared to be having his ear licked by Barking, who was beginning to behave even more like an excited puppy.

  The three convicts looked at each other. Bonecrusher nodded. Swags nodded and Barking gave an excited yap.

  ‘Passed unanimous,’ said Bonecrusher. ‘We go with your plan, boy … but not until morning.’

  Eddie felt so relieved that he wouldn’t now have to rely on his parents or, God forbid, Mad Uncle Jack and Even Madder Aunt Maud, but he was still in a very sticky situation. And he wanted to get it over with.

  ‘Couldn’t we go tonight?’ he suggested. ‘Aren’t most crimes more easily carried out under the cover of darkness?’ He’d read that somewhere.

  ‘Too dangerous, sonny,’ said Swags. ‘When the mist’s this bad, it’s impossible to find your way round ’ere at night. You could both end up in the bog.’ He wasn’t using ‘bog’ as a slang word for the toilet/loo/lavatory/bathroom, so there were no schoolboy giggles. He meant bog as in boggy marshland … earth that could suck you up so fast you couldn’t get out, and so deep your remains might never be found.

  That was good enough reason to stay put until daybreak, but Swags had another one all the same. ‘The search parties are out in force at night,’ he explained, ‘’cos that’s when some of the other escapees are stupid enough to be on the move. If they catch so much as a glint of a lantern, they’ll let the dogs loose.’

  ‘Daybreak it is then,’ grinned the huge mountain of a man that was Bonecrusher. ‘That gives us a chance to get better acquainted.’

  To make sure that Eddie didn’t try to escape in the night, each convict wrapped the ball-end of his chain around him, so he went to sleep – or tried to – in the middle of a big metal knot. Barking lay curled up against his feet, like a young puppy, whilst Bonecrusher and Swags slept with their backs to him (one on the left and one on the right), all on the sandy cave floor. Swags was no fool. He used Eddie’s bundle of clothes as a pillow.

  It’s doubtful that Eddie would have slept even if the chains hadn’t been so heavy, the cave floor hadn’t been so hard, Bonecrusher and Swags hadn’t been such loud snorers … and Barking hadn’t whimpered on and off throughout the night, and twitched his legs like a dog dreaming that he was chasing rabbits. No, the main reason for his wakefulness was fear.

  Dawn couldn’t come quick enough for Eddie, but the escaped convicts insisted he had breakfast before he and Barking set off to retrieve the sandbags. It consisted of a few mouthfuls of leaves and grass.

  ‘You need to keep your energy up for the day ahead,’ said Swags. ‘That’s what we’ve been livin’ off. P’r’aps you could bring us back some food too, yeah?’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Eddie, spitting out the mushy green ball of chewed leaves, when he thought no one was looking.

  Now all that remained was for Barking to dress up in Eddie’s clothes and they’d be ready to go. Bonecrusher had already removed the uprooted gorse bush he’d wedged in the entrance to the cave, to keep it hidden from the casual observer on the misty moors in the dead of night.

  Actually, it was more a matter of them dressing Barking. He struggled a little and was terribly ticklish, which made it a bit like trying to change a nappy on an uncooperative baby (if you’ve ever tried that). Then there was the small problem of the ball and chain. They couldn’t pull the trouser leg over the ball, so they pulled it up the chain and over his leg, leaving plenty of room for the remainder of the chain, and the big, big ball to hang out of the top, for Barking to hold, if he didn’t want it dragging along the ground behind him.

  (To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure how they did this, so – because that’s the caring kind of narrator I am – I tied a piece of chain-link fencing to my ankle and tried to pull a second pair of trousers over the pair I was already wearing, without feeding the other end of the chain through, where the big metal ball would have been. Just then, the front doorbell rang and, because I was expecting an exciting parcel, I was in a hurry to answer it. Suffice it to say, I ended up in a terrible tangle, but can now see how they did manage to get Eddie’s clothes onto Barking, ball and chain and all.)

  It was time to go. ‘Now listen up, lad,’ said Swags. ‘Barking here has an excellent sense of direction – a nose for it, ya might say – and he can outrun ya, ball and chain or no ball and chain … and he has a nasty bite too. So be sure to stick to the plan … and no funny business.’

  ‘No funny business,’ Eddie assured him, and they were off.

  Swags was right. Little Barking could move at high speed. As he clutched the ball on the end of his chain, it did little to slow him down. Occasionally, he’d look back to check that Eddie was following and, if the boy did appear to be lingering, he’d yap at him. It wasn’t that long before they were off the edge of the moors down into hedge-lined country lanes and, about an hour after that, Eddie suddenly realised where they were.

  ‘I know the way to St Botolph’s from here,’ he said excitedly. Now it was his turn to lead the way, with Barking (wearing Eddie’s clothes, remember) hot on his heels.

  They cut their way through the churchyard, the morning dew dampening the bottom of Eddie’s long johns, as they dodged their way between the tombstones littering the ground like broken teeth. Then they reached a low stone wall.

  ‘There!’ said Eddie, pointing to a mound of freshly dug earth over in the next field. He clambered over the wall and hurried to the spot. ‘This must be it. It’s about the size of a grave, and the amount of soil in the mound is about the amount of space the coffin must be taking up below.’

  ‘Dig!’ barked Barking, which was the first real word Eddie had heard him speak. If the truth be told, Eddie hadn’t been convinced that Barking could speak.

  But that wasn’t what was making Eddie nervous all of a sudden. It was the fact that he’d just realised that there was a flaw in his plan. He didn’t have a shovel or a spade or so much as a teaspoon to dig with.

  ‘What with?’ asked Eddie.

&
nbsp; Without waiting to give an answer, Barking threw himself to his knees and began to dig with his front paws – sorry, that should, of course, be with his hands – like a dog desperate to dig up a treasured bone, small scoops of earth flying out behind him. Eddie started digging in a similar fashion down at the other end. This would take for ever.

  This is hopeless, thought Eddie. He’d been digging for what seemed like ages and it was now the full light of morning, yet they hardly seemed to have made a dent in the ground.

  ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’ asked a familiar voice. Eddie looked up. At the moment he saw the Great Zucchini and the lovely Daniella in front of him, each with a shovel in their hands, he also felt something sharp in his back. Barking must have had a knife! One wrong word from Eddie, and Barking might do something very nasty indeed.

  Episode 9

  Escapes All Around

  In which people seem to escape, or to have escaped, here there and everywhere

  ‘Hello,’ said Eddie, trying not to sound scared for his life.

  ‘Whatcha doin’ ’ere?’ asked Daniella.

  ‘I was about to ask you the same question,’ said Eddie, looking up at the camel-faced beauty from his crouching position. ‘The last time I saw you both, you were locked up at the police station.’

  ‘’E’s the world’s greatest escapologist, ain’t he?’ said Daniella, proudly. ‘No local prison cell can ’old ’im!’

  The Great Zucchini accepted the praise with a slight bow, then his eyes fell on Barking, grinning at Eddie’s side. ‘Are you going to introduce me to your colleague?’ he asked.

  Eddie felt the tip of the object being pushed further into his back, out of sight of the newcomers.