Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry

by Lynne Jonell

  Two rats lay side by side on a square, their eyes pressed to one of the small, crumbling holes. From the room below came a muffled babble of conversation and the clink of cups and plates.

  “We need some more holes, Cheswick,” said the piebald rat.

  The black rat sighed. He had already made fifteen holes at least. Small enough to avoid detection, yet large enough for a sifting of dust to filter through, they had taken quite a bit of effort on his part. He was happy to do it, of course, but he wouldn’t mind a little appreciation. And his right index claw was all ink-stained from writing, too.

  He glanced at the plastic bag beside him, full of tiny, silvery scales. “Don’t you think we have enough holes?”

  Jane Barmy shook her furry head. “The Addisons keep moving around. We need another one by the punch bowl.”

  Cheswick was reluctant to move. Jane Barmy’s head was very close to his, and he wanted to enjoy the moment. “When is your father coming to deliver the letter?”

  “In about ten minutes. So you’d better get busy making those extra holes, Cheswick. I don’t want to have done all this work, only to fail because Emmaline’s parents weren’t standing in the right spot!”

  10

  SQUIPPY WAS SQUEALING over the card. “Look, everyone! Ana made me the sweetest thing!” She tapped the macaroni letters for emphasis, and the card shed a fine dusting of silver glitter.

  Ana looked embarrassed, as well she might, Emmy thought. The huge and heavy card looked as if it had been made by two boys and a rat.

  Emmy handed Professor Capybara a cup of punch and was rewarded by a nod of approval from her father and a smile from her mother. Well, good. Maybe this party was helping them think better of her, then.

  She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye as she filled another cup and tried to look past the grown-up bodies blocking her way. Was someone going up the stairs? Or was that Thomas’s arm, waving in wide arcs from side to side?

  “Excuse me,” she began, but her voice went unheard. Gwenda Squipp put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Emmy held on tight to her cup of punch to keep it from spilling.

  “And this girl,” Squippy went on, “arranged it all! The party, and the surprise, and everything! Such a loving, giving child! You must be terribly proud of your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Addison!”

  Emmy smiled in what she hoped was a loving, giving way and tried to bask in the glow of approval that surrounded her, but she was distracted. Thomas was leaping up and down on the stairs now—she could see the round, blond head briefly appearing above the heads of the crowd, the eyes wide and urgent, looking for … her?

  “Don’t worry, dear,” said Squippy, pulling in Ana on her other side. “You’re sweet children, and now that I’ve got you both together, I’m going to tell you a story about my childhood, when I did something very much the same!”

  Emmy, trapped, watched Thomas climb on the stair rail and scan the packed room, his face anxious. Where was Joe?

  “Yes, these childhood memories are lovely to recall in years to come …”

  Emmy looked desperately up at Squippy. She would probably be talking for another twenty minutes straight, and in the meantime Thomas was going to kill himself or break a leg at least. What had happened that was so important? She had to find out.

  Her father was no help—he had mumbled a few gracious words and melted away into the crowd at the beginning of Squippy’s tale. It was a neat trick, and one Emmy envied, but it was easier for grown-ups than for children. She tried to catch her mother’s eye, but her mother, too, was carrying on a quiet conversation with someone at her shoulder and already edging to one side.

  Emmy eyed her cup of punch. She didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way to politely escape. She waited for Squippy’s next squeeze of her shoulder (it didn’t take long) and turned her wrist as if she had been jostled.

  “Oh no!” Emmy tried to sound horrified.

  Squippy jumped as the punch splashed on the floor.

  “I’ll clean it right up!” said Emmy, backing away. “I’ll just go up and get some rags and things.”

  She threaded her way through the crowd, careful not to bump any elbows. When she saw Joe, she grabbed him by the sleeve and towed him to the foot of the stairs, where Thomas met them with relief. “Come on!” he whispered. “Sissy’s got a letter from Schenectady!”

  At the kitchen table, Sissy could hardly speak for crying, and Raston wasn’t much better. Before them was a white square of paper, unfolded.

  Emmy looked closer. There was writing on it, spiky and thin, as if written with a claw dipped in ink. At the bottom was a strange red impression, like a smeared lipstick kiss from two very small, very thin lips, and below that was a signature.

  RATMOM

  “She’s alive! She wants me to come visit her in Schenectady! Oh, Rasty!” sobbed Cecilia. “Just smell her perfume on the letter!”

  The two gray rats put their heads down close to the paper, sniffing deeply.

  “Watch it, you’re going to breathe in all that glitter,” Emmy warned. The glitter Ratty had dumped on Squippy’s card had gotten everywhere—the floor, the table, and even Sissy’s letter were covered with small, silvery scales.

  Joe peered at the letter. “Why does she only invite Sissy?”

  There was an awkward pause and then everyone spoke at once.

  “I’m sure she meant to invite you, Ratty.”

  “Maybe she was in a hurry, and forgot?”

  “Anybody can make a mistake—”

  Raston flipped a careless paw. “She probably didn’t even know I was here.”

  “My dear little squoochums,” Emmy read aloud. “My precious ratty darling …” She looked up. “That sounds like something Cheswick Vole might say.”

  “It is a little weird,” Joe agreed.

  “It’s a mother’s love,” said Raston, stiffly. “Look!” He pointed to the red smudge beneath the signature.

  “What’s that?” Joe looked at it with interest. “Blood?”

  “No, it’s her kiss! What are you, blind?”

  “Oh, it is!” Cecilia looked more closely. “What a pretty shade of lipstick!”

  Joe was frowning. “What I still don’t get is how your mother knew Sissy was here, in Grayson Lake. Schenectady’s pretty far away.”

  “The postal bats must have told her.” The Rat shrugged. “They really get around, you know—flying back and forth—and I’ve never met a bat that wasn’t nosy. If some of them heard the gossip that Sissy was in Rodent City, and if they went to Schenectady afterward, and if they happened to run into Ratmom, and if they told her …”

  “That’s an awful lot of ifs,” said Joe. “And if the bats heard about Sissy, why wouldn’t they have heard about you too, Ratty?”

  “Who cares?” cried Cecilia. “The point is, she found one of us, at least, and—oh, Rasty, we have to go to Schenectady! But how, that’s the question.”

  “There’s the train … but it might be dangerous to ride in the cars. Too many people, not enough hiding places.”

  “We could ride on the roof of the train—”

  “Or ride the rails!”

  “We could mail ourselves in a box with air holes …”

  “But that might feel too cramped.”

  “Well, you keep working on it,” said Emmy. “I’ve got to find some rags and a bucket.”

  Emmy wrung out her rag in the bucket of soapy water and mopped the sticky patch of floor by the punch bowl. The party noise had only gotten louder, but Squippy’s voice rang out clear and shrill.

  “… then Brian will take us straight to the train station after the party. He’s such a dear boy, and so responsible!”

  “I used to take that very train when I was a boy,” came the voice of Emmy’s father, “to visit my aunts. They were spry old girls, and strict, too. They would not let me get away with leaving things in a mess, no sir!”

  Emmy scrubbed a little harder. She didn’t
think it was fair of her father to talk like that, when she was cleaning up at this very minute. She glanced upward and suddenly blinked.

  Emmy rubbed at her eye. Ana squatted down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Got some glitter in it,” whispered Emmy. “I wish she’d stop waving that dumb card around!”

  “And those relatives of hers!” Squippy cried over their heads. “It’s so wonderful that they’re taking her in and giving her a home!”

  Ana winced, and Emmy suddenly decided she’d had enough. She stood with her bucket. “Ana wants to say good-bye to her friends,” she said, and just that easily she and Ana were walking through the crowded room.

  They found Joe and Thomas at the lab counter, sitting on stools with a plate of biscotti between them. A steady sound of munching came from the inside of the open pet carrier.

  Raston poked his head out. “Where’s the professor?” he asked, crumbs spraying from the side of his mouth.

  “We’ve got to show him the letter,” said Cecilia from behind him. “And find a way to Schenectady!”

  Ana turned her head. “Did I miss something? What letter?”

  Emmy and Joe explained, at length.

  Ana looked at them thoughtfully. “I’m going through Schenectady. I leave on the train in about an hour.”

  “But what if the letter isn’t really from their mother?” Joe rubbed his forehead. “I have my doubts, actually—”

  “Look! It’s Mr. B!” Thomas pointed to the window.

  The children were suddenly alert. Crossing the green and heading straight for the Antique Rat was a harmless-looking man in a shoemaker’s apron.

  Joe’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing, coming here?”

  Ana huddled on her stool, her face pale.

  Emmy threw an arm over the girl’s shoulders. Mr. B seemed gentle and kind, but he was Miss Barmy’s father, and he had helped her keep Ana and four other little girls prisoners for years. Ana probably still had nightmares about him.

  The bell tinkled as the street door opened. Joe got off his stool and stood in front of Ana. Near the door, the professor’s jovial face turned grave.

  The crowd quieted in a wave of silence that began at the door and spread out to fill the whole room. Mr. B smiled hesitantly, then shuffled over to Emmy’s parents, pulled an envelope from his pocket, and handed it to Jim Addison. The hum of conversation started up again.

  “Thomas!” Emmy hissed. “Go over there and get some punch! They’ll talk in front of you if you pretend you’re not listening!”

  “Use your innocent look,” Joe added.

  Thomas opened his blue eyes wide.

  “Yeah, that one!”

  The small, slightly round, blond-haired boy marched away, looking somehow even younger than his six years.

  Ana’s mouth turned up a little. “Wow, he’s good.”

  Joe nodded. “I know. It’s almost scary.”

  Emmy, watching intently from her high stool, saw her father open the envelope. As he read, his smile faded. He handed the letter to his wife. There was an animated discussion. Thomas drifted back after a while, holding a punch cup with both hands.

  “What? What?” Emmy was too impatient to be polite. “Listen, drink that later, will you?”

  Thomas licked the punch-colored stain on his upper lip. “Mr. B said a letter for your parents was sent to his house by mistake.”

  “And?” demanded Joe.

  “It was from Emmy’s great-aunts, or something, and they want her to come and visit.” Thomas turned to Emmy. “And your mom said they couldn’t just send you off without calling first to make sure, but the letter said not to call, the phone was out of order. Your dad thought it all sounded weird, and they don’t trust Mr. B, and so they don’t want you to go, Emmy, and I want my punch now—spying makes me thirsty.”

  Emmy stared at her parents from her perch on the stool. The crowd had shifted, and she could see only the tops of their heads, but as she gazed she suddenly saw a faint shimmer above them, as if the air were full of glitter.

  She frowned slightly. Squippy must really be waving her card around for the glitter to be flying up over their heads.

  Emmy turned to Thomas again. “They said I wouldn’t have to go? You’re sure?”

  Thomas nodded over the rim of his cup.

  “It does seem weird,” said Joe. “Why would a letter to your parents accidentally end up in Mr. B’s mailbox? He’s not a neighbor. And his last name isn’t even close to Addison.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Your dad asked the same thing, and Mr. B said maybe it was because he used to be the care—the careterk—”

  “The caretaker?” Emmy said.

  Thomas nodded. “He used to do yard work and stuff for that old guy who was there before you.”

  “Great-Great-Uncle William,” said Emmy.

  “Is that true?” asked Ana.

  Emmy explained. It had been surprising to her, too, when she had found out. But Mr. and Mrs. B were distantly related to old William Addison and had lived in a cottage on the estate for many years, taking care of the house and yard. Their daughter, Jane, had grown up with old William’s daughter Priscilla, but then Priscilla had died …

  “It gets complicated,” Emmy finished. “And it’s boring. I can’t keep it all straight.”

  “So you’re related to Jane Barmy?” Ana’s expression was horrified.

  “Barely,” said Emmy. “She’s, like, a second cousin once removed, or a first cousin twice removed, or something like that.”

  “But why,” Joe asked, “would Mr. B come over here to deliver the letter?”

  “Maybe he saw Emmy’s parents going in,” said Thomas. “Can I have another cookie?”

  “Shh,” murmured Ana. “Look who’s coming.”

  Moving steadily through the crowd like the prow of a ship, Jim Addison bore down on them, with Emmy’s mother and Gwenda Squipp in his wake.

  “Emmy!” her father boomed, smiling broadly. “We have good news!”

  “It’s a last-minute invitation, but we knew you’d want to go,” said her mother.

  “They’ll teach you responsibility,” said her father. “And you’ll love the river.”

  “We’ve got to run home and pack this minute,” Kathy Addison said, looking at her watch. “You’re leaving in less than an hour!”

  “And why!” cried Gwenda Squipp. “Because you’re traveling with Ana and me!”

  “It all worked out so perfectly,” marveled her mother, shaking her head. “Almost as if it had all been planned.”

  The three adults stood beaming at Emmy with the same happy, confident expression. Silver glitter, like tiny scales, dusted their shoulders and hair.

  Emmy stared at them blankly. There was something here she didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?” she asked with growing apprehension.

  Her father chuckled and passed her a letter. Joe and Ana, on either side, looked over her shoulder at the thin, spidery, old-lady writing. Thomas stopped chewing his cookie. Several crumbs fell out of his open mouth.

  Jim Addison put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “You’re going to visit your great-aunts Emmaline and Augusta in Schenectady. They’re expecting you, and they’ll be meeting the next train.”

  “Schenectady?” shrilled Ratty from the carrier. “We’re coming, too, Emmy!”

  11

  EMMY CLIMBED twenty-seven steps from the train station to the platform and emerged into the bright July afternoon. Cicadas droned in the stubble beyond the railroad tracks, and the concrete slab beneath her feet gave off baking waves of heat.

  Joe, behind her, set the blue pet carrier down in the scant shade of the awning. “There’s something funny about this whole Schenectady thing.”

  “You’re telling me.” Emmy glanced over her shoulder as Ana emerged from the stairwell, followed by the grown-ups and Brian, lugging suitcases. “The professor thinks I’ll be in less danger if I go, but I wish you were coming, too.”

/>   “No offense, Emmy, but I don’t want to visit your great-aunts. Old, and strict too? No thanks.” He bent down over the carrier’s air vents. “Remember to keep quiet, you guys,” he whispered.

  “But we’re so hot,” moaned Raston. “Right, Sissy?”

  “I’m a little warm,” said Sissy faintly.

  “You’ll be in air-conditioning soon. But don’t talk at all—not until Emmy tells you it’s okay.”

  “It’ll just sound like squeaking to everyone else,” Emmy said in surprise.

  “I know,” said Joe, “but the less noise they make, the better. I mean, you’re not supposed to be taking rats to your great-aunts’ house, are you?”

  Emmy shook her head. “My parents probably think the pet carrier is Ana’s.”

  “Right. And Squippy probably thinks it’s yours. But if the rats start squeaking and the grown-ups notice, you might have to leave them behind.”

  “I’m not going to say one word!” whispered Raston. “Not even if I’m roasting! Not even if I’m fried! Or—or grilled!”

  “Shut up, Rasty!” said Cecilia sharply, and there was silence.

  The others arrived on the platform. Gwenda Squipp grabbed Ana’s hand, looking nervously at the tracks. Joe planted himself squarely in front of the pet carrier, and Emmy wandered a few steps away.

  She didn’t really want to stand near her parents. She knew they still loved her, but then why were they sending her away? Did they really think she needed to learn responsibility that much?

  Suddenly Emmy felt a low, rumbling vibration, seemingly in the air and under her feet at the same time. She had been feeling it for a while, she realized, when there came a far-off hoooo … hoooo … hoo-hoooo.

  But the track stayed empty even as the rumbling grew louder. The train whistled again beyond the trees, the tones strange and discordant and suddenly louder, and Emmy’s heart beat faster as the platform trembled.

  Would the train never come? The noise was deafening, but the track was still bare and gleaming in the sun, and then the loudspeaker crackled and a voice announced something—a number, a name—and all at once something tall and silver appeared at the curve, with lights that shone even at midday, coming straight on with a slow roar.