“You’re not coming in those clothes, you’ll freeze to death,” Dad says.
“Um, could you be any more of a cliché?” Isabella says.
“We’re responsible for you at the moment,” Mum says. “That outfit seems more appropriate for a nightclub, not a campsite.”
“My parents let me go out like this all the time,” Isabella replies. “Who do you think paid for these clothes?”
“Even so, I’m not sure…” Mum dithers.
“Well, if you really want me to go and get changed again…” Isabella says. “It might take a while to choose a new outfit, though.”
“Oh, let’s go,” Dad says. “If she freezes, that’s her lookout.”
“I might go and put on something else,” I say, jumping to my feet.
“No!” says Dad. “There will be no more outfit changes. None!”
Amber hauls herself to her feet. “I think I’m going to give it a miss and go to bed. I’m missing Mark too much to have a good time, anyway.”
“Uh oh, Devon’s heading this way,” Dad says. “What did you lot do now?” He eyeballs us all suspiciously.
I rack my brains. Nothing comes to mind. It can’t be me, not this time.
“Evening,” Dad says.
“Evening,” Devon says, his voice sounding tense.
“You seem to be spending a lot of time visiting us,” Dad says, with a fake-sounding laugh.
“Don’t I just,” says Devon. He shakes the rain off his ponytail. “I’ve come over for two things. Firstly, Mr Puttock, um, this is a little awkward, but there’s something I need to speak to you about. I’m afraid we had a complaint about you peering in the window of the Gilberts’ caravan.”
“Chris! What were you thinking?” Mum says.
“I wasn’t doing anything bad,” Dad protests. “They had their TV on and I only wanted to watch five minutes. It was the athletics!”
“They thought you were a peeping Tom,” Devon says. “Mrs Gilbert was very upset.”
“It was unfortunate she took her dressing gown off,” Dad concedes. “And even more unfortunate she didn’t have anything on underneath.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from Mum while the rest of us try not to laugh.
We fail.
“I assure you this is no joke,” Devon says. “Next time, bring your own TV if you want to watch one so badly.”
“I would have brought one this time if I could,” Dad says, shooting a look at Mum.
“Now, the other reason I’m here is because I’ve been getting calls from Mark—” Devon continues.
“Mark?” Amber interrupts. “Is something wrong? What’s happened?”
“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Devon says. “But he’s called six times in the last half hour, wondering where you are.”
“Didn’t you speak to him before supper?” Mum says.
“I did,” Amber wails. “But we’re missing each other soooooo much. How did he sound, Devon? Like he’d been eating okay? Like he was missing me?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Devon says. “But if you could call him back so he stops distracting me from my stocktake, it would be wonderful. He also wanted to know what you thought about the names Mufasa and Simba for the babies.”
“Aw, he’s been watching The Lion King again,” Amber says. “I’ll give him a call, and then I’m going to go to bed to read my baby books. After I’ve read Conni G’s pregnancy update in my magazine. You all go to entertainment without me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As Amber dons her waterproofs and waddles off behind Devon, the rest of us look at each other.
“To the entertainment?” Isabella says hopefully.
“To the music,” Dad says, leading the way.
We duck our way into the marquee and our ears are immediately assaulted by a terrible noise.
“What is that?” Millie asks.
“It’s very loud, whatever it is,” Mum says.
Inside the marquee, it’s dimly-lit and there’s an overwhelming scent of incense. There are about four people sitting watching a middle-aged couple. The woman’s singing something in a foreign language, and the man is playing something like an oboe or a clarinet. It doesn’t sound like either. It sounds kind of… alarming.
The song comes to an end and there’s some half-hearted applause from the people watching, none of whom are the boys Isabella and Millie were hoping for.
“Thank you, ladies and gents,” the man says. “It’s a joy to hear your appreciation of my wife’s glorious voice and my shenai. Now for our next song, a number we composed ourselves…”
As the woman’s voice starts warbling again, harsh and shrill, we all gaze apprehensively at each other.
“Shall we sit down?” Harry says. “I like them. I think they sound awesome.”
“Um, okay,” I say. Next to me, Isabella and Millie are frantically whispering.
“They might come later,” Isabella hisses.
We sit through four more songs, each one worse than the last and increasingly ear-assaulting.
Mum stands up. “I’m going back to check on Amber,” she says.
“I’ll come with you,” Dad says, jumping to his feet.
Clearly it’s not just me that wants to get outta here.
“Harry, it’s bedtime,” Mum says.
“Awwwww,” Harry whines. “Can’t I stay a bit longer?”
“Well… I suppose you can stay for a bit, as long as Suzy keeps an eye on you,” Mum says.
Up on the stage, the performers, who we’ve learned go by the name of Laka and Shan, are giving us evils as the man gives a long, detailed and exceptionally dull history of the shenai.
“Make sure you girls are back by eleven,” Mum says. “I won’t go to sleep until I know you’re back safely, so don’t think about breaking curfew unless you want me to appear in my pyjamas to retrieve you.”
She would too. She has no sense of shame.
“They’re not coming, are they?” Isabella whispers.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Millie replies.
“Want to go back?” Isabella says, disappointment written all over her face.
“Might as well,” Millie replies, and I silently sigh with relief.
“Night then, have fun,” Mum says.
“It’s all right, we’ll come back with you,” Millie says, standing up.
“Awwww,” Harry whines. “Does that mean I can’t stay?”
“’Fraid so, kiddo,” Dad says.
I follow everyone out of the marquee, watching as Millie and Isabella continue to whisper non-stop to each other. Seeing them gives me a hollow feeling I can’t quite place.
For some reason I can’t get to sleep. I’m counting my eighty-eighth sheep when I hear a load of people walking past the tent, chattering and laughing as they go.
“Keep it down, lads, people are sleeping,” a man’s voice says.
I sit up to peep out of the curtains, and although it’s dark, I can just about make out from the light of their torches the group of boys returning to their tents. And it’s then that I hear something else.
A strange rustling noise, coming from the food area. Because Mum bought so much stuff along with us, half the food has had to be stored out in the awning.
The rustling’s coming from bag of vegetables on the floor. And then I hear a squeak.
Oh God. It’s Hagrid. He’s escaped.
“Harry,” I hiss. “Harry, wake up.”
But Harry doesn’t stir.
I’m not going to get back to sleep knowing that stupid rat’s on the loose in here. And besides, Harry will be devastated if anything happens to him.
Honestly, the things I do for a sister who torments me and a rat I don’t even like.
Sighing heavily, I haul myself out of my sleeping bag and walk over to where the cereal boxes, crisp packets and spare tins have been stored.
“Hagrid,” I say softly. “Hagrid… come here…”
Anot
her squeak and more rustling. This time coming from my rucksack. Uh oh. He’d better not have found my secret chocolate stash, otherwise I’m actually going to kill him.
I start moving things aside, trying to see in the semi-darkness, and then scream as my foot brushes something soft before the most awful pain shoots up my foot.
I’ve been bitten!
I grab at my big toe, hopping up and down, trying not to cry with the pain, as I see the shape of a rat disappearing off into the night.
“Whass going on?” Harry says blearily.
The caravan door flies open and Dad jumps out, waving a rolled-up pregnancy magazine threateningly.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Hagrid bit me,” I say. “Ow, ow, ow, it really hurts…”
“Hagrid wouldn’t bite you!” Harry says.
“Want to see the teeth marks?” I shout.
Dad lets the magazine drop. “Am I ever going to get any sleep in this damn place? How did he get at your foot, anyway?”
“Thanks for the sympathy,” I say. “I was trying to catch him. He’s escaped.”
“He’s escaped?” Harry says, leaping out of bed. “Where is he? Where did he go? Hagrid? Hagrid!”
“What’s the matter, girls?” Mum says, emerging behind Dad in her pyjamas, hair tousled.
“Hagrid’s gone,” Harry says.
“Er, hello, can we focus on my toe, here? I’m still in a lot of pain, people,” I say.
“He’s here,” Harry says, peering into Hagrid’s cage. “It can’t have been Hagrid that bit you.”
“It was definitely a rat, I saw it,” I say.
And then I realise.
If it wasn’t Hagrid that bit me, it must have been a wild rat.
My mother realises at exactly the same time as me and immediately lets out a scream of horror.
“You were bitten by a rat? Oh God. Oh God, Chris, can’t you catch diseases from wild rats?”
“Diseases? What kind of diseases?” I ask. “Am I going to die?”
“Weil’s disease. You can get that from them, can’t you?” Mum says.
“What’s that?” I ask, feeling increasingly alarmed.
“She’s not going to get Weil’s disease,” Dad says.
“How do you know?” Mum asks. “She should go to a doctor. She needs to get that toe looked at…”
“What is Weil’s disease?” I ask again.
“I think you can die from it,” Clare says, as she joins us in the awning. “I was a first-aider for a while.”
“You what?” I shriek.
“Do we need to suck the poison out or something?” Amber suggests, finally having dragged herself out of bed.
“It was a rat, not a snake,” Dad says through gritted teeth.
“What if Suzy gets seriously ill?” Mum asks.
“She’s not going to get ill,” Dad says. “It’s only a little bite…”
“Are you a doctor? Do you have medical training?”
“No,” Dad sighs.
“Then how do you know? If anything bad happens to her it’ll all be your fault, and then you’ll be sorry…”
“Suzy, come over here,” Dad says. “Let’s look at it in the light. Look, it’s a tiny nibble. It’s not even bleeding much.”
“Let’s clean it off and put some antiseptic cream on,” Clare says. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in the car.”
Murphy starts frantically barking as she goes to the car.
Clare cleans up my foot and slathers it in cream. Ouch. Stingy.
“So what do you want to do?” Clare asks. “I think it looks all right, but it’s not up to me.”
“I think we should all go back to bed,” Dad says. “We can look at Suzy’s toe in the morning and decide what to do then.”
Er, hello, I could be totally dead by then! Easy for him to say we can decide in the morning, when it’s not his foot that could have this Weil’s disease they’re all banging on about. Plus it really hurts. It’s properly throbbing. Does that mean I’ve got it?
It feels like I’ve literally only just dropped off when I wake to see Mum’s face looming over me, as she unzips my sleeping bag and grabs my foot. Outside it’s light, and I can hear the sounds of the small kids running around screaming. Which is obviously the cue for Murphy to start howling at the top of his doggy voice.
“Whaaa are you doing? Gerroff,” I say.
“Let me look at that bite,” she says.
That wakes me up in a flash. Oh yes. The bite. They’re lucky I didn’t cark it in the night, if you ask me.
My toe still throbs like crazy. It’s kind of pink and red, but doesn’t look too bad this morning. The rat didn’t bite that hard, you can hardly see the teeth marks now, but I don’t find that hugely reassuring.
Dad appears in the doorway of the caravan, still in his pyjamas. He yawns widely as he ruffles his hair. “I’m so tired,” he says. “Amber woke me up about eight times again last night with her constant peeing.”
“She’s pregnant, what do you expect the poor girl to do?” Mum says. “Now, we need to discuss Suzy’s foot.”
“I don’t want to die,” I whimper pathetically.
“You’re not going to die,” Dad says.
“I think she needs to get checked at the hospital,” Mum says.
“Well, I can’t take her. I’m supposed to be driving back today, to get my equipment for the talent show.”
Thanks for nothing, Dad. Heard of compassion?
“That can wait,” Mum says. She holds my foot up for Dad to examine. “Look, it’s swollen. All round there. And it’s red by the bite marks.”
“What bite marks?” Dad says, squinting. “I can’t see anything. And it doesn’t look swollen to me. Are you sure she hasn’t just got a funny-shaped toe?”
A funny-shaped toe? How flipping rude!
“I’d be happier if we got it looked at,” Mum says.
“Oh, all right,” Dad says, realising that giving in is the only way he’s going to get some peace. “Let me have my breakfast and a cup of coffee first, then we’ll go back to the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Mum says. “We’ll get you seen to, don’t worry, Suzy. And with luck, we’ll have caught it in time and they won’t have to amputate.”
Amputate? Say what now?
Am I seriously about to lose a toe because of a stupid rodent?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My toe doesn’t need amputating.
But it does take a really long time to sort out.
It’s hours before we get back to the campsite. Dad got lost on the way to the hospital, refusing to take Clare’s satnav as he’d driven there before and of course he could remember the way, what did we take him for, an idiot?
Turns out, he is indeed an idiot. He totally couldn’t remember the way.
Then when we signed in at A & E, the receptionist looked like she was trying not to laugh as she squinted at my toe. I’d limped for dramatic effect and everything, but it made no difference – she just told us to take a seat, and warned we could be a while.
A while was right. Over three hours, in fact.
We eventually got seen by a doctor Dad called ‘a young upstart’, who said she thought it would be fine as my tetanus was up to date. It was only when Mum started freaking and shrieking about Weil’s disease that she sighed heavily and wrote out a prescription for antibiotics to be taken as a precautionary measure.
This was after she’d explained that Weil’s disease comes from rat wee, so unless the rat bit me then peed on my foot before scarpering, it was extremely unlikely that I had it.
In all honesty, I think she just wanted Mum to shut up and go away.
The only good thing about the whole experience was that I discovered I had mobile reception again. Hurrah, and indeed, huzzah.
Lagging behind the parentals as we return to the car, I excitedly dial Danny’s number. The phone rings and rings.
Come on, Danny, pick up, pick up…
>
Just when I think it’s about to go to voicemail, Danny answers. I can hear a weird noise in the background, like drilling or something, then a ‘shhhhhhh’ noise, and everything goes quiet.
“Danny?”
“Hey, you,” Danny says. His voice, so familiar and reassuring, immediately makes me feel better. “How’s it going? I didn’t think you could get a signal.”
I’m about to explain when I hear a huge crash on the end of the line. “What was that?” I ask.
“Erm, nothing. Walking around outside and there are some roadworks,” Danny says. “Having a good time?”
“I’m calling you from the hospital car park,” I say. “I got bitten by a rat.”
“You what? Hagrid?”
“No. It’s a long story. I can’t flipping wait to come home. It’s not stopped raining, we’re bored stiff and to top it all off, we’ve been forced into entering some ridiculous talent show.”
Danny starts to laugh. “A talent show? What are you going to do? Recreate some of your more spectacular accidents?”
“Oh, ha ha. No, Millie and I are doing a routine to The Drifting,” I say.
Danny laughs harder. “What, one of those routines you used to do when we were little? Seriously? That’s hilarious. I might get my dad to drive me across so I can watch.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn him, although I’d give anything to see Danny right now. “Millie talked me into it.” I hear another crash and some muffled swearing.
“What’s going on?” I ask. It doesn’t sound like Danny’s outside.
“Um, that’s still the roadworks,” Danny says.
Really? One of the voices sound awfully female to me… but I must be imagining things.
“Look, I really need to talk to you. Millie’s acting really strangely, and these boys have turned up on the campsite. Isabella’s really into them, and I—”
“I’m sorry, Suze, but I’ve got to go,” Danny says, sounding distracted. I’m not sure he’s heard a word of what I’ve said. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
“But—”
“Bye!” And then Danny’s gone, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief.
Pfff. Boys. I seriously need some cheering up.
“Can we go and have a wander around town?” I ask. “Mum and I could go shopping while you sit and have a coffee and read the paper?” I say to Dad.
Suzy P and the Trouble with Three Page 12