by Kaye Baillie
‘I see,’ said Aunt Ruth with a scowl. ‘I could do without your decorating ideas. Thankfully you’re only here two nights. Perhaps we should make it one.’
Archie gulped. ‘Guess I’d better get ready then.’
In the dining room, Archie peered into a steaming pot full of gluggy stew. But even worse was the pot of boiled eggs right next to it. He hated eggs! Eggs were the smelliest, most revolting things ever.
Bob snuffled loudly in the corner, then yelped and ran round barking.
‘What’s he doing?’ said Archie.
‘Just a rat,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘Don’t worry. Bob will deal with it.’
Sure enough, Bob chased the rat out through the door to the garden. What next? Bats, giant spiders and a snake or two? This was the strangest place ever. Archie was beginning to wonder if he’d even make it through the night.
Bob came back and sat up at the table.
‘Perhaps we can eat now,’ said Aunt Ruth. She plonked a ladle full of stew on Archie’s plate. Then she spooned an egg from the pot.
Archie shook his head and waved his hands. ‘Nooo!’
It was too late. He stared at the shiny, rubbery white egg on top of his stew. Pinching his nose, Archie tossed the egg back into the pot. ‘If you eat eggs, I’ll have to sit down the end of the table. The smell makes me sick.’
Archie quickly realised that Aunt Ruth had turned a strange shade of purple.
‘How odd,’ she said. ‘But now there’s more for me.’ She stuck her fork into an egg, shoving the whole thing in her mouth.
Archie lost his appetite. He ate as little as he could, then finally pushed away his plate. ‘I don’t feel so well. I think it was that eye of newt. Can I watch telly now, please?’
‘I don’t think so. After you’ve cleared the table, we’ll do a nice jigsaw together.’
Jigsaw!
Aunt Ruth tilted her head. ‘Don’t look so worried, Archie. Jigsaws are fun.’
A little later, Archie reluctantly followed Aunt Ruth into the lounge room. She tipped the jigsaw pieces onto the table.
‘What’s it called?’ asked Archie. ‘Wolf Man?’ He looked at the pictures on the lid and saw an old shack, bats and a full moon. But the worst part was the Wolf Man howling at the moon. ‘Are you sure you want to do this puzzle?’
‘Jock never liked this jigsaw either. But I like it. Nothing like a bit of scary stuff now and then,’ she laughed. ‘Especially on a stormy night like tonight.’
Scary. Aunt Ruth was managing that all by herself.
They began doing the jigsaw, piece by piece. The creepy image of the Wolf Man came together. Its evil yellow eyes burned right into Archie’s. He saw the creature move towards him, opened mouth slavering, teeth bared …
Suddenly Archie saw a bright flash of lightning outside, followed by a booming crash of thunder. He half expected the Wolf Man to burst through the door along with a dozen bats. Rain pelted down while the wind and trees scratched at the windows.
Glark-glark! Glark-glark! went the doorbell.
Archie wanted to dive under the table.
‘Now who could that be?’ said Aunt Ruth. She shuffled towards the door.
‘Don’t open it,’ yelled Archie. ‘It’s the Wolf Man!’
Chapter Seven
Aunt Ruth slowly opened the door. A burst of rain flicked inside.
Archie gulped when he saw a shadowy shape at the doorway.
‘What are you doing here on a night like this?’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘Come in, come in.’
The shape, with its huge hat and dripping coat, came inside. ‘Sorry, Ruth. I seem to have made a big puddle on your floor. Thought I’d check that you had no leaks or what not. And with Jock gone, thought you might need an extra hand.’ A man took off his hat and whacked it on his waterproof pants.
Aunt Ruth glanced quickly at Archie, then back to the man. ‘We already talked today about what needs doing,’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘And we haven’t got any leaks or trouble.’
Archie cleared his throat, then sniffed.
Aunt Ruth closed the door. ‘How rude of me. This is my great-nephew, Archie.’
‘Hello, young fella. I’m Harold Cronk from up the road. Remember me? Heard you were visiting.’
‘What did you mean, “with Uncle Jock gone?” Do you know where he is?’
‘No, I don’t, young fella. Seems he’s disappeared.’
Archie thought Mr Cronk looked a bit shifty. He didn’t trust him. Not one bit.
‘Have you eaten, Harold? There’s plenty of stew left over. Archie eats like a bird,’ said Aunt Ruth.
‘No need. I’m right. Your Aunt Ruth’s one heck of a cook, isn’t she?’ Mr Cronk said to Archie.
Aunt Ruth looked pleased and playfully slapped Mr Cronk on the shoulder. ‘Nice of you to say, Harold. Jock never says a kind word about my cooking.’
Mr Cronk chuckled. ‘You can cook for me any time, Ruth. I bet you don’t miss Jock’s complaining.’
Aunt Ruth turned to Archie. ‘If it’s not Jock complaining, it’s Archie. Don’t know what I’m going to do with him. He even covered my portrait in the guest bedroom with a sheet!’
‘We’ll soon have him sorted out, hey, Ruth?’ Mr Cronk chuckled. ‘Anyhow, I’ll head home now. Seems you two are alright. We’ll talk tomorrow about … finishing things off.’
Finishing things off! And what did Mr Cronk mean by sorting him out?
After Mr Cronk left and Aunt Ruth had mopped the wet floor, she announced it was bedtime.
Archie hesitated. He thought about the long, dark passage. He thought about being in that big, old room by himself. He thought about Aunt Ruth and Mr Cronk and their evil plans. ‘Can I stay up a bit longer?’
‘No.’
‘I’m thirsty. Can I have a glass of water?’
‘Scoot!’ Aunt Ruth snapped.
‘Alright. Night.’ Archie zipped down the passage into his room and slammed the door. He didn’t like the room’s musty smell. Why hadn’t he noticed the big cracks on the walls before? And why did the windows have a foggy glaze? Even the single dusty light globe, swaying on its long cord, flickered as though it was about to go out. Archie put his torch under his pillow, then wedged a chair under the doorknob. He got ready for bed, then jumped in with a comic, pulling the heavy, old blankets up to his nose.
After a while, Archie drifted off to sleep.
Tap, tap, tap. What was that noise? Archie groggily hopped out of bed and put his ear to the floor. He heard it again. Tap, tap, tap, followed by horrible sounds. Hisssss. Hisssss. Hisssss. He was wide awake now.
Archie shifted the chair from his door and peeped outside. The lights were still on in the dining room. When he heard the basement stairs creaking he ducked back inside. His heart pounded when he saw Aunt Ruth coming up from the basement, carrying an empty plate and the herb bucket.
‘I knew it,’ he whispered. ‘She’s feeding Uncle Jock.’
Archie gently closed his door, put the chair back and jumped into bed. He knew he was right about Uncle Jock. Tomorrow he would rescue him. Tomorrow, he would go down into the deep, dark basement.
Chapter Eight
The next morning there was a loud knock on Archie’s door. ‘Who is it?’ he mumbled.
‘Aunt Ruth, of course. Rise and shine. It’s time for porridge.’
Archie dragged himself out of bed. He’d hardly slept a wink with the rain, thunder and lightning. Then there was the tapping and the horrible hissing sounds from the basement.
‘How’s the porridge?’ asked Aunt Ruth. ‘Here, have some more. It’s good for you,’ she said, standing ready with a ladle full.
‘No, thanks,’ said Archie, putting his hand over his bowl.
‘Righto, well here’s the plan for today. We’ll do the dishes, then head straight o
ut to the garden. There’s pruning and de-snailing to be done.’
Archie pushed his bowl aside. ‘I heard weird tapping sounds coming from underneath my room last night. What would that be?’
Aunt Ruth spun round. ‘Tapping. Hmmm. Well, I don’t know.’
‘The basement’s right under my room, isn’t it?’ said Archie.
‘Yes. Must be rats, I suppose. Bob does his best to keep the numbers down.’
‘I heard hissing sounds too. Are there snakes down there as well?’
Aunt Ruth snorted. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, Archie. Might be a burst pipe.’
Archie stood up. ‘That sounds serious. Let’s go take a look.’
‘To the garden!’ ordered Aunt Ruth.
Archie pushed the wheelbarrow to an overgrown section of the garden.
‘We’re going to tidy this up,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘Over there, Harold has started preparing my new greenhouse. And Jock can’t stop me this time! He’s never appreciated my gardening skills. I’m going to display my incredible creation and invite horticultural experts to see what I’ve done. I’ll be famous!’
Famous, alright, when the police get hold of you.
‘Morning, you two,’ called Mr Cronk. ‘I’ve brought back the shears I borrowed from Jock way back. Reckon we’ll be needing them for this job,’ he chuckled.
Mr Cronk and Aunt Ruth walked off to a secluded part of the garden and began whispering. Archie decided now was the perfect time to check out the basement.
He scurried inside, down the hall and stood at the top of the basement stairs. He tried the light but it didn’t work, so he ran to his room and fetched his torch. Down, down, down the stairs he went, until he came to the door at the bottom. He turned the rusted doorknob slowly …
‘ARCHIE! Is that you down there?’
Archie’s heart jumped. He looked up to see Aunt Ruth at the top of the stairs with Bob beside her, barking like mad. ‘What are you doing? I left you pruning.’
‘I ... I ... got bored and thought I’d go for a walk. Then I dropped my, umm, torch down these stairs. Luckily it still works … see.’ He shone the torch in Aunt Ruth’s face.
‘Put that away. I don’t want to see you anywhere near the basement again. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, Aunt Ruth.’
Chapter Nine
Archie was exhausted from pruning, chopping and raking. He’d also filled one bucket with snails. Now he knew why Aunt Ruth wanted him to stay: to be her slave. Wait until he told his parents about this. They’d never let him stay at Aunt Ruth’s again.
‘You’ve earned lunch,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘Put those tools away, then wash up. I’ve made sandwiches.’
As Archie put the wheelbarrow and tools back in the shed, he saw Aunt Ruth with Mr Cronk by the greenhouse. He wasn’t going to waste another chance to find Uncle Jock.
He ran inside, fetched his torch and zipped down the basement steps. He tried the door but it was stuck!
Hisssss. Hisssss. Hisssss. BANG! BANG! Those sounds were coming from inside the basement alright.
He hammered on the door. ‘Uncle Jock! I’ve come to save you.’
‘Yoo hoo, Archie. Lunch is ready,’ called Aunt Ruth.
‘Blast it,’ muttered Archie. He leapt up the steps two at a time. When he reached the top, Aunt Ruth was waiting.
‘Again! What were you doing down there this time?’ she shouted.
‘Er, nothing. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a flood, you know, from the pipe.’
‘There are big rats down there, Archie. They munch and crunch on boys like you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away.’ Aunt Ruth stood so close to Archie, he could see her nose hairs.
Archie knew he’d better follow Aunt Ruth to the dining room. Mr Cronk was waiting there with Bob.
‘Ruth was good enough to ask me to stay for lunch,’ said Mr Cronk.
‘That’s handy,’ said Archie. ‘You’ll be able to check the burst pipe.’
‘What burst pipe? I thought we were going to talk about the finishing touches on the greenhouse—you know, for Roxy.’
Aunt Ruth kicked Mr Cronk under the table. ‘There was no burst pipe, Archie. Just the wind.’
‘Really? And who’s this Roxy?’ said Archie.
‘Eat up, Archie,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘I’m sure you’ll like my garden salad sandwiches.’
This could be my last meal, thought Archie. If I uncover what’s really going on, things are going to get bad.
Only Bob’s stomach gurgled and plopped to break the silence.
Chapter Ten
Archie didn’t get a chance for the rest of the day to rescue Uncle Jock. Aunt Ruth had him weeding, harvesting and planting seeds to grow another weird herb—lungwort.
‘Yes, Archie, lungwort. It helps to heal cuts,’ she said, handing him the seeds.
Archie thought she was probably going to poison him. Just like Cousin Cecil. Just like she was probably doing to Uncle Jock! There was no way he was going to eat any lungwort.
Aunt Ruth was never far away. She even walked Archie to his bedroom when it was time for his bath. Then, when he came out, Aunt Ruth and Bob just happened to be standing there. ‘Oh, good. All nice and clean for dinner,’ said Aunt Ruth.
Archie forced a smile.
Dinner was stew again, except luckily there were no eggs. Dessert was some kind of lemon gloop. Archie knew better this time and didn’t say a word about the food.
‘Your parents called. They’ll be here in the morning. Then you’ll be off home,’ said Aunt Ruth.
Archie could see she looked pleased, and he felt relieved to think about leaving. But what about finding Uncle Jock? ‘I was really hoping to see Uncle Jock. When’s he coming back?’
‘That all depends on whether he comes back, doesn’t it? And who knows when that will be.’ Aunt Ruth’s mouth tightened and twitched from side to side.
Archie wasn’t going to let Aunt Ruth get away with this. He would sort things out, tonight.
That night, when Archie was safely in bed, he made a plan. He would wait until Aunt Ruth was fast asleep, then free Uncle Jock once and for all. He shuddered at the thought of going to the basement in the middle of the night. But it had to be done.
Archie struggled to stay awake, and before long, he drifted off to sleep.
Tap, tap, tap. Archie opened his eyes and looked at his watch. It was five o’clock in the morning. He threw on his clothes, grabbed his torch, then snuck into the hall. Everything was quiet. He took a deep breath and started down the stairs. Round and round Archie crept until he reached the bottom. He turned the doorknob and pushed. The door opened. Creak! He shone his torch inside. Something scuttled along the floor. Rats! There were old boxes, suitcases, shelves and even car parts.
Tap, tap, tap.
‘Uncle Jock. Are you in here? Uncle Jock. It’s me, Archie. I’ve come to save you.’
Archie waved his torch this way and that way. There was no sign of Uncle Jock, only spiders’ webs and junk galore. Then he spied something—a track through the dust on the floor. He followed it to a door on the other side of the room.
Archie took hold of the doorknob. It felt hot. He tapped his nose three times, then slowly... turned ... the doorknob.
Chapter Eleven
Blazing hot light shot out. Archie flung his arm up to cover his eyes. He heard a loud droning sound. HUMM! HUMM! HUMM! Something lashed out, wildly swishing. Archie stumbled backwards as he tried to get away from the long, prickly green arms. This thing had gigantic mouths, opening and closing, hissing and snapping.
Hisssss! hisSsss! hisssss!
‘Aaaahh!!’ Archie ran for his life—straight into Aunt Ruth!
‘I warned you not to come in here, Archie. Now look what you’ve done. You’ve upset my Roxanne.’
<
br /> ‘What is it?’ yelled Archie. ‘Did it eat Uncle Jock?’
Aunt Ruth gave Archie a stony look.
Bob raced in and burst out barking.
Hisssss! hissSss! hissSss! BANG! BANG!
‘Roxy is upset. And she’s very, very hungry.’
‘Did that thing eat Bob’s leg? Is that what happened? And it probably ate Uncle Jock and now you want it to eat me!’
‘Come here, Archie,’ said Aunt Ruth reaching for him.
‘Help! Help!’
Chapter Twelve
‘Somebody help!!’ screamed Archie.
‘Would you calm down,’ said Aunt Ruth. ‘You’ve done nothing but complain since you got here and I’ve had enough! It’s time I set you straight. I knew if you saw my Roxanne, you’d freak out and now I’m going to make sure you don’t tell anyone about her!’
‘Help!’ screamed Archie.
‘There there, Roxy, there there.’ Aunt Ruth crooned to the giant thrashing plant like it was a baby. She put some leftover stew and some large moths inside the door, then closed it. The hissing and banging stopped.
Archie leaned against the wall, sweat dripping from his brow. ‘What is that thing?’
‘A Venus Flytrap Gigantus,’ said Aunt Ruth, looking proud of herself.
‘A what?’ said Archie, slowly inching away.
‘My hybrid wonder plant—my incredible creation. She came to me by accident. I was experimenting, crossing and grafting different plants, trying to make one that would eat flies and pests. Roxanne was the result. She kept growing and growing and growing. I used to have her on the kitchen sill until she outgrew the pot. Then I put her in a bigger pot in the lounge—she outgrew that too. Jock said she’d have to go. And I said that he’d have to go! I put her down here just until her new greenhouse is built and then, and only then, will she be revealed to the world! Not by a nosy boy like you. She’s going to make scientific and horticultural history! And with Jock gone, I can get on with it.’