by Kaye Baillie
Archie Appleby
The Terrible case
of the Creeps
Archie Appleby The Terrible Case of the Creeps
Text © Kaye Baillie
Illustrations © Krista Brennan
Published by Wombat Books 2017
www.wombatbooks.com.au
PO Box 1519,
Capalaba QLD 4157
Australia
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Creator: Baillie, Kaye, author.
Title: Archie Appleby : the terrible case of the creeps /
Kaye Baillie; illustrated by Krista Brennan.
ISBN: 9781925563023 (ebook)
Target Audience: For primary school age.
Subjects: Children’s stories.
Other Creators/Contributors:
Brennan, Krista, illustrator.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
For my sister, Janny.
Miss you. x
Chapter One
‘You’re staying at Aunt Ruth’s and that’s that,’ said Mum.
‘Not Aunt Ruth’s,’ Archie groaned.
Mum closed her suitcase. ‘Go and pack your bag.’
‘Why can’t I stay at Josh’s house?’
‘I told you. He’s going away. Besides, I’ve asked Aunt Ruth. Her house is right on the way.’
‘I bet she doesn’t really want me to stay.’ Archie followed his mother to the lounge.
‘She did take a little convincing,’ Mum said, looking thoughtful. ‘But I told her you’d be good company with Uncle Jock away and that you’d help her in the garden.’
Archie thought about his last visit to his great aunt’s—so many boring lectures on herb growing; not to mention hours and hours of weeding. Then she’d force him to handpick every single snail from the garden. If that wasn’t bad enough, Aunt Ruth always served up brown sloppy stew while she blabbed on about the good old days.
But worst of all, she had a basement—a dark, scary basement. It gave Archie the creeps. Whatever was down there was a mystery. And Archie planned to keep it that way. ‘I bet Uncle Jock’s not on a holiday.’
‘Where else would he be?’ said Mum.
‘Locked in the basement, of course.’
‘Archie! Don’t make up silly stories. Every time you do that, something happens—something that causes a lot of trouble.’
Archie rolled his eyes. All he ever did was tell the truth. It wasn’t his fault if no one ever believed him. Last year he’d been convinced that his maths teacher was trying to hypnotise him and turn him into a slave. The school had called his parents after the teacher reported being locked out of the classroom. Archie received a good talking to and plenty of after school chores. It had all been totally unfair.
His mother continued. ‘Do you really want to come all the way to Cousin Cecil’s funeral? You won’t like it and I don’t think I could stand all the whinging. Besides, you hardly knew Cecil.’
Archie thought about it—two nights with just him and Aunt Ruth in her creepy old house. And what about her mangy, three-legged dog, Bob, with the bung eye? Aunt Ruth always let Bob eat at the table, even though he slobbered.
On the other hand, if Archie went to the funeral, he would have to suffer a four hour car trip with his parents, where his dad would play country western music all the way. The day after that would be his dad’s cousin’s funeral—Archie had never been to one of those and never wanted to. Then the next day would be another four hour trip home.
‘Alright. I’ll go to Aunt Ruth’s.’ With any luck, Uncle Jock might come back.
Chapter Two
Archie checked his bag: football, comics, torch, Gooey Gum. ‘Right. Packed.’
Archie re-read the note he’d written.
If I disappear it means Aunt Ruth has locked me in her basement. Send the police and maybe an ambulance. Her address is 13 Black Road, Shadowville.
Archie Appleby.
Archie put the note in an envelope marked, How to find Archie, and placed it on his pillow.
‘Ready?’ asked Dad. ‘What’s that?’
‘If you and Mum get stuck somewhere, people need to know where to find me.’
‘You’ll be back home before you know it,’ said Dad.
Hopefully. Archie tapped his nose three times for luck.
***
Later that morning, Archie and his parents drove into the country. When Archie saw the Welcome to Shadowville sign, he knew they were almost at Aunt Ruth’s turnoff.
If only they would get a flat tyre. He heard Dad put on the indicator as they turned into Black Road. They passed Mr Cronk’s place. He’d lived there for as long as Archie could remember, and Aunt Ruth always talked about him like they were best buddies. Above the trees, Archie saw Aunt Ruth’s house with its huge rooftop and chimneys. He sank down as Dad drove through the gate.
‘Here we are,’ said Mum in a cheery voice.
Archie didn’t feel too cheery. He was starting to think he’d made the wrong choice. ‘When will Uncle Jock be back?’ said Archie, peering out the window. ‘He’s actually fun.’
‘It’s a bit of a mystery, really,’ said Dad, hopping out of the car. ‘Aunt Ruth said he went on an overdue holiday a week ago. She didn’t say where.’
‘Gee, that’s a long time to spend in the basement,’ joked Archie. Though, could he be …?
‘Oh, shush, Archie. You’re not going to turn this into another one of your ridiculous imaginings,’ said Mum, yanking open Archie’s door. ‘Out you hop.’
Archie was frogmarched to the front door and Dad pushed the doorbell.
Glark-glark! Glark-glark! It sounded like a warning cry from an old crow.
Archie looked around at the garden. The fish pond was full of green slime. ‘How gross,’ he said.
Giant wind chimes hung on a rotting tree branch. They swung in the breeze, clanging deeply like a church bell. Then, Archie looked at the rows of gloomy windows.
‘I’ve … changed my mind. I think I’ll go to the funeral instead.’
‘You can’t back out now,’ said Mum.
‘Yes I can,’ said Archie. ‘Just say I’m going with you.’
‘Yoo hoo! I’m in the garden,’ came Aunt Ruth’s voice.
‘Come on,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sure it won’t be that bad.’
Archie dragged his feet as he followed Mum and Dad to where Aunt Ruth was pulling out some weedy-looking stuff. She shoved it in a bucket and wiped her hands on her apron. Her eyes met Archie’s from behind a long beaky nose.
Archie was sure now he’d made the wrong choice.
Chapter Three
‘Hello, Aunt Ruth,’ said Mum, giving her a hug.
‘Hello, Ruth,’ said Dad. He kind of shook her hand.
Archie stood behind his parents, wondering if Aunt Ruth had shrunk since he last saw her.
Aunt Ruth blinked quickly and twitched her mouth. She wore two cardigans with buttons in the wrong holes, a brown woollen skirt and moccasins. Her long white hair looked as though she’d been through a storm and worse were the black tufts sprouting from her legs.
‘What took you so long?’ said Aunt Ruth.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Dad. ‘There’s always a bit to do before we g
o somewhere.’
‘Balderdash,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘Punctuality is a virtue.’
Archie brushed his shoe over the gravelly path.
‘Well, well. I’ll have young Archie all to myself, will I?’ said Aunt Ruth with a grin.
‘Say hello,’ said Mum, giving Archie a poke.
‘Hi.’
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Aunt Ruth said, looking Archie up and down. ‘Make yourself useful and carry that bucket for me.’
Archie slowly lifted the bucket and followed Aunt Ruth inside. ‘The house is just as I remember,’ he said. ‘Creepy.’
Aunt Ruth narrowed her eyes.
Dad made a face at Archie as if to say, watch out!
‘Tea, everyone?’ said Aunt Ruth.
‘Yeah, they would love tea,’ said Archie quickly. He didn’t want his parents to leave him alone with Aunt Ruth too soon.
They went through to what Aunt Ruth called the grand dining room. The table was like something from the medieval days. Archie could see it seating a hundred people. There were a tea set and biscuits at one end, so Archie decided to sit way down the other end—the furthest he could get from Aunt Ruth and her horrible cooking.
Aunt Ruth poured Dad’s tea. ‘Sorry to hear about your cousin but Cecil was a rotten old fuddy-duddy. The last time I saw him he said I was crazy. He called me a witch! I don’t like that kind of talk and I never forget. Still, I suppose it wasn’t nice, you know, the way he died.’
‘Yeah, how did he die?’ said Archie. ‘Nobody’s told me.’
Mum and Dad looked at each other.
Aunt Ruth shuffled over next to Archie and leaned in close to his ear. ‘It seems he was poisoned—very strange. Biscuit?’
He slid a biscuit off the plate with his finger. ‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, dear. I’ve forgotten the sugar.’ Aunt Ruth put the plate down and shuffled off.
Archie sniffed the biscuit. ‘Was Cecil really poisoned? How come you never told me?’
‘Because it sounds horrible,’ said Mum.
‘He ate some kind of rare plant,’ said Dad, wincing. ‘Terrible way to go.’
Archie shuddered. ‘Aunt Ruth probably sent Cecil one of her plants—she grows all kinds of weird stuff.’
Aunt Ruth came out of the kitchen.
‘She didn’t even look sorry about Cecil,’ whispered Archie. ‘Are you sure you want to leave me here?’
‘Behave yourself,’ Mum whispered back.
Bob jumped up on a chair so Archie snuck him his biscuit. There were soon slobbery crumbs everywhere.
‘Did you just give Bob your biscuit?’ screeched Aunt Ruth.
‘He looked hungry,’ said Archie.
‘There’s chocolate in those. Chocolate is like poison to a dog. Didn’t you know that?’
‘You seem to know a lot about poison,’ said Archie suspiciously. ‘Maybe Cecil ate one of your chocolate biscuits.’
‘He wasn’t a dog, you silly boy!’ Aunt Ruth’s face twitched. ‘I see you’re going to need some of my special attention the next few days. I’ll soon sort you out.’
A little while later, Archie stood at the front of the house and watched his parents’ car grow smaller as it crept down the long driveway. It blinked, then disappeared.
See you later—I hope.
Chapter Four
Aunt Ruth bustled Archie back inside. Just like in one of those scary movies he didn’t like to watch, the big, old door creaked and groaned as Aunt Ruth closed it with a thud.
‘Come with us, Archie. We’ll take you to your room.’
Archie grabbed his bag. ‘It’s okay. I can find it myself.’
‘Nonsense. We can chat on the way.’
Bob went first, hobbling down the lengthy hall. All kinds of paintings and photos filled the walls. Aunt Ruth stopped at each one.
‘This is me with my mother when I was a little girl ...’
‘This is me with Bob when he had four legs ...’
‘This one was taken just as Bob got too close to … um … er … a crocodile ...’
‘A crocodile.’ Archie shivered, then moved on. ‘What about this one? Is it a fancy dress party?’
‘That’s our wedding photo,’ snapped Aunt Ruth.
Archie choked trying not to laugh. He thought Uncle Jock looked like a clown in his yellow suit and with his red bulbous nose. ‘So when is Uncle Jock coming back? He is coming back, isn’t he?’
Aunt Ruth raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sure in time he’ll show up. One way or another.’
‘Is he lost?’ asked Archie.
‘What a nosy young chap you are,’ she said. ‘Move along now.’
Archie did as he was told until they finally got to the end of the hall.
‘You remember this room, don’t you, Archie?’
‘Yeah. The one next to the basement stairs.’ Archie peered over the handrail and into the blackness below. It looked deeper and darker than he remembered, and he was sure he could hear something—or someone—groaning.
‘Stay away from the basement, won’t you?’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘I don’t want you going missing.’
Archie felt queasy. He didn’t like the idea of going missing. He didn’t like the idea of being at Aunt Ruth’s—full stop.
Chapter Five
Archie poked his head inside the bedroom. ‘Err, does it have the same bed? Last time it was really hard.’
‘I can see I’m going to have to toughen you up, young man. In you go,’ she said, prodding him with her bony finger.
The room had a wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books and ornaments. Newspaper and rubbish bulged from the old fireplace, and hanging above it was a huge painting of Aunt Ruth. Archie wondered how he could possibly sleep in there, especially with her beady eyes staring down on him.
‘When you’ve unpacked, you can help in the kitchen. The potatoes need peeling. Come on, Bob.’
Archie listened at the door until Aunt Ruth’s footsteps disappeared. Then he rummaged through his bag, took out the Gooey Gum and plugged up the keyhole. ‘There, that should do it.’ When he turned round, Aunt Ruth’s creepy stare made him jump.
‘Aaahh!’ Archie grabbed an old broom from the corner and hoisted up a spare bed sheet. He managed to drape it over Aunt Ruth’s portrait. What a relief! He unpacked, then crept back up the dark hall, checking behind him all the way to the kitchen.
‘Do you think we could leave the hall light on?’ said Archie.
‘No. I’m not made of money.’ Aunt Ruth plonked a large bowl of potatoes on the table. ‘Aren’t they beautiful? Food from the earth—straight from my veggie garden. You get peeling and I’ll get chopping. Then we’ll put in the meat, carrots and some of my special herbs. I like to make a double batch. You never know who might need feeding.’
Who else was Aunt Ruth expecting?
‘What kind of special herbs?’ asked Archie, thinking about Cecil.
‘You’ll see. Then while the stew is cooking, we’ll have a walk round the garden. I’m quite proud of some of my hybrid plants—I seem to have a talent for creating new species.’
Snarl! Bob raised his hackles at her last words.
‘Stop it, Bob. Don’t be like that.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Archie.
Aunt Ruth’s mouth twitched. ‘As I was saying, we’ll go for a walk. After that I’d like you to have a bath and be seated at the table for dinner at six o’clock sharp.’
‘Bath? What about a shower?’
‘You’ll have a bath,’ snapped Aunt Ruth.
‘I’ll bring my footy when we go outside. There’s plenty of room for a kick.’
‘No you won’t. You’ll pay attention and learn something about gardening and the use of ancient herbs. The potatoes aren’t going to peel themsel
ves, you know.’
Archie imagined his dad’s country western music. Somehow it didn’t seem so bad now.
***
As they walked round the yard, Aunt Ruth urged Archie to look at every plant—dead or alive. ‘Isn’t my veggie patch wonderful? Dig up a few more carrots, would you, Archie. And after that you can give those plants some water.’
Archie stuck the fork into the dirt and pulled up some gnarled carrots, then plonked them in a bucket. He grabbed the hose and watered the strange spiky-looking plants.
‘Good. We can use the carrots tomorrow,’ said Aunt Ruth.
Archie rolled his eyes. All this food wasn’t just for the two of them. Aunt Ruth was definitely feeding someone else.
‘Now, this is where I grow my herbs,’ said Aunt Ruth, as they moved to the next garden bed.
‘What kind are they?’
‘Sage, parsley and rosemary.’
‘What about these weird looking ones? They look like weeds.’
‘That’s horny wolf weed and that’s devil’s beard,’ she said.
Archie made a face. ‘You didn’t put those in the stew, did you?’
‘Not today. But I did use eye of newt.’
‘Eye of newt! You mean that stuff is real?’
‘Oh, it’s very real,’ Aunt Ruth said with a grin.
‘Blaahh,’ said Archie. He could just see her stirring that eye of newt in a big black pot.
Chapter Six
After listening to Aunt Ruth go on and on about her plants and how everyone should love gardening, Archie was relieved to be alone in his bedroom. He looked at his watch—5.30pm. Bath time. He turned on the squeaky, old taps. Archie hadn’t had a bath since he was seven. When the bath was deep enough, he hopped in with one of his comics.
Before long there was a loud knock at his door.
‘Who’s there?’ Archie called.
‘Aunt Ruth, of course! I told you six o’clock.’
‘I’ll just finish this page,’ he called again.
‘What’s this!’ yelled Aunt Ruth.
Archie hurried out of the bath with his towel on. He cringed when he saw Aunt Ruth pointing at the sheet above the fireplace. He needed to think quick. ‘I was doing some interior decorating.’