Mum ground her teeth. “Listen to me,” she said. “We are selling this house whether you like it or not. So you are not to bring mice, spiders, flies, beetles or any other creatures indoors. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” nodded Bertie. He tripped upstairs to his room and closed the door. Plan Number One had worked like a dream. It was a pity about spiders though because they were next on his list.
CHAPTER 3
The week passed. Visitors came and went. Mostly they went quickly as Bertie was lying in wait for them. He left taps running, muddy marks on walls and bars of soap where people could tread on them. Mum despaired. Dad threatened to stop his pocket money.
On Friday, Mum filled the dishwasher and mopped the floor. No one had told her selling a house was so exhausting.
DING DONG! The Warners had arrived. Bertie was busy watching TV.
“Bertie, turn that off!” ordered Mum.
“But I’m watching Alien Arthur!”
“You can watch it later. And don’t forget what I said – no more tricks!”
Mum rushed off to answer the door. Bertie heard voices in the hall and a small boy trooped into the lounge, followed by his mother.
“This is Mrs Warner and little George,” said Mum.
George sucked his thumb and stared at Bertie.
“Why don’t we start in the back room,” said Mum.
Bertie waited till they’d gone and sprang into action. Time for Brilliant Plan Number Eight.
Dashing to the kitchen, he filled Whiffer’s bowl with doggy chunks and took it upstairs. Whiffer was dozing in his favourite spot on the landing. When he smelled the food he followed Bertie eagerly. Bertie opened the door of the airing cupboard.
“Good boy! In you go!” he whispered, placing the bowl inside. Whiffer jumped in and Bertie closed the door. Now for Phase Two. He took out Suzy’s mobile and rang his home number. The phone downstairs began to ring. BLOOP! BLOOP! That should keep Mum busy for a while.
A moment later Mrs Warner popped her head round Bertie’s door.
“Okay to look round?”
“Fine,” said Bertie. “Did she warn you?”
“Sorry?” asked Mrs Warner.
“Oh, nothing!” Bertie went back to his book.
“Warn me about what?” Mrs Warner persisted.
“The house. You do know it’s…” Bertie lowered his voice, “…haunted?”
“HAUNTED?” Mrs Warner turned pale. George sucked his thumb. Bertie hit the REDIAL button on Suzy’s phone.
“It’s okay,” said Bertie. “Usually he visits at night.”
“Who?”
“The ghost!”
“Good heavens!” gasped Mrs Warner.
“It’s my dog,” Bertie explained. “He died last year, but now he’s haunting us.”
“You poor child!” Mrs Warner picked up George. “You’ve actually seen this ghost?”
“Oh yes!” said Bertie. “But mostly you hear him. You know, scratching and howling and so on. I expect you’ll get used to it.”
Mrs Warner looked worried. She didn’t want to get used to it.
“Shhh!” Bertie held up a hand. “You hear that?”
They listened.
SCRATCH! SCRATCH! SCRATCH! Whiffer had finished his food and was pawing at the cupboard door.
“It’s him – the ghost!” whispered Bertie. Mrs Warner held George tighter.
THUMP! THUMP!
“Oww oww owww!” whined Whiffer.
“That’s it,” gasped Mrs Warner. “We’re leaving!”
They rushed downstairs and bumped into Mum in the hallway.
“You’re not going?” she said.
“We couldn’t live here!” said Mrs Warner. “Not with that awful dog!”
“Oh. You mean Whiffer?” said Mum.
Mrs Warner looked at her. “You’ve seen him too?”
“Well of course!” laughed Mum. “I see him all the time. He lives here.”
Mrs Warner stared at her in disbelief. “You’re mad,” she said, “mad!” and fled out the door.
Mum caught sight of Bertie watching over the banister. She narrowed her eyes.
“What was all that about?”
“Search me!” said Bertie. “I’ll just … um … go and check on Whiffer.”
CHAPTER 4
Sunday morning. Bertie was fixing himself a snack. Dad was taking Suzy to her dance lesson. Mum hoovered the hall, dusted the mirror and tripped over Bertie’s shoes. She stuffed some roses into a vase on the kitchen table.
“Flowers?” said Bertie.
“They make the house smell nice. We’ve got people coming.”
“Not again!” moaned Bertie.
DING DONG! Dave and Debbie Sweetly had arrived.
Mum took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure she could stand much more of this. She hurried to the door.
“And Bertie,” she said, “I’m warning you … BEHAVE!”
Bertie thought quickly. So far Operation Booby Trap had succeeded in driving the enemy out. But he was running out of ideas. How was he going to get rid of these people? He stared at the roses in the vase. Of course! People wanted houses that smelled nice. They didn’t want houses that smelled disgusting! What he needed was something that really stank. Something so pongy you would smell it through the whole house. Bertie looked out of the window. Whiffer was nosing in the flower beds. He squatted down behind a bush. That could only mean one thing… An idea began to take shape in Bertie’s head. No, he couldn’t. He daren’t. On the other hand, this was war. He fetched the pooper scooper and hurried outside.
CREAK, CREAK!
Bertie sneaked up the stairs balancing a lump of dog poo on the pooper scooper. Now where to hide it? Somewhere for maximum stink effect. The bathroom? His mum and dad’s bedroom? Of course – Suzy’s room!
Downstairs he could hear the Sweetlys talking in the lounge. He’d have to move fast. Bertie opened Suzy’s door and slipped inside. His eye fell on her jewellery box on top of the bookshelf. No one would ever dream of looking in there!
A minute later the Sweetlys came upstairs.
“I love it, don’t you, darling?” gushed Debbie. “It’s got tons of space and … ohh!” She wrinkled her nose. “Can you smell something?”
Dave sniffed. “Oh… Eugh! Yes I can.”
“It smells like … well … um…” Debbie turned to Mum. “Is your toilet blocked?”
“I don’t think so,” said Mum. She sniffed. There was a nasty smell.
“Why don’t I show you the main bedroom?” she said, quickly.
But Dave was heading for Suzy’s room. “I think it’s coming from here!” he said, opening the door.
The smell was overpowering. They reeled back, holding their noses.
“UGH! It stinks!” gasped Debbie.
“It’s horrible!” moaned Dave. “Where’s it coming from?”
“I’ve no idea!” said Mum. “It’s my daughter’s room. Normally it smells of nail varnish!”
Mum looked under the bed. Dave looked on the shelves. Debbie opened Suzy’s jewellery box.
Inside was a ghastly brown blob.
“Oh! Ohhhhhh!” screamed Debbie.
“Come on, darling, we’re going,” said Dave, grimly.
THUD! The front door slammed.
Bertie waited in his room for Mum to shout his name. Silence. He crept slowly downstairs. Mum was in the kitchen, talking on the phone.
“Yes … I see… Well thanks for letting us know.”
“Who was that?” asked Bertie.
“The estate agent,” said Mum, wearily. “The house we wanted to buy has been sold.”
Bertie’s face lit up. “Does that mean we’re not moving?”
Mum sighed heavily. “Okay. I give in. I don’t think I can take any more of this.”
Bertie danced round the kitchen. He’d won! They were staying! Wait till he told his friends!
The front door banged. Suzy was back. She thumped upstair
s.
Uh oh, thought Bertie. I hope she doesn’t go in…
“ARGHHHHHHHHH!”
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2010
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2010
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978-1-84715-407-1
The right of Alan MacDonald and David Rober ts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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