Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 9 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
“That was like taking a lollipop from a kiddy, Jedediah. It’s as well that nosey bird in the alcove was flushed out, otherwise he might have seen too much. His cover was good, I’ll give him that. It was damned handy a fight broke out when it did. That’s one of the good things about this dump, there’s always a punch-up when you need one.”
“If that lunk-head hadn’t made a grab for the stuffed eagle and whacked Slack over the head we’d ’ave been none the wiser. Gertie sent that chough packing and no mistake. I didn’t realise she could move so fast.”
Grimshaw chuckled at the memory. “The way she wielded that broom was a sight to behold. I’d watch my step if I were Jem. That missus of his has a temper on her these days. Now, Jed, I want you to stay here and make sure Jimlet and his cronies get completely plastered. Drop-dead drunk, if you get my drift. We don’t want them blabbing about my little transaction, that’d never do.”
Malahyde tried to mask his increasing sense of unease. “That won’t be difficult. They’re well on the way already, at least two sheets to the wind.”
Grimshaw ignored the joke. His eyes were cold and empty of emotion. “Mind now, dead drunk.” The Captain winked but his eyes didn’t soften. “I’m heading back to the ship with a charming present for Cahoots’ dear mother. Something that’ll put the roses back in her cheeks.” He patted his greatcoat pocket. “What a stroke of fortune. Talk about things dropping right into your lap. Leo’s no longer of any real importance but we’ll take him with us when we sail. I don’t want him falling into the wrong hands and he may still prove useful later on. When we hit the open sea the rat will be disembarking. Now then, where’s that wretch Pigsblanket?”
Malahyde snatched a look at the bar. “He’ll never hear me over this racket. I’ll fetch him myself.”
Grimshaw tapped his foot impatiently. “Don’t be long about it, man, and that applies to the other business too. We must be ready to leave Corvine at the earliest opportunity.”
Malahyde gave a terse nod and shouldered his way towards the counter, wishing there was something he could do to alleviate his sense of foreboding.
Cassandra lay on a sterilised trolley in the palace infirmary, drifting in and out of consciousness. Her wounds had been angry red slits to start with but fast became hideous, gaping mouths. Perkin Rawclaw, Keeper of the Royal Wine Cellars, stood behind the nurse who was holding a damp towel against the hare’s forehead in an attempt to comfort her.
Rawclaw reacted to a low, anguished growl. A shadow spread across the limewashed wall that put him in mind of a large, crouching cat and he turned nervously to see what was there.
The Fairy Queen stood behind him, dressed in fawn taffeta trimmed with dark brown lace. Her face was etched with concern. Perkin recovered himself enough to execute a well-practised bow.
“Your Majesty, thank you for coming. I know everything’s gone haywire, but this poor creature needs your help.”
She lightly touched the elf’s arm and stepped round him to study the limp hare. “The situation is critical, but I must make time for this.” The nurse moved aside and the Queen removed the towel and placed her hands on Cassandra’s head. “Poor dear, as if you haven’t suffered enough and scrabling wounds are so very difficult to treat.”
There were anxious mutterings from the hospital staff.
“I’m afraid those little demons are back with us and we’re moving into the shadows once more but, be assured, I’m ready for whatever I have to face.” Her voice was like ice cracking on a lonely pond and her eyes burned with determination.
The silence was so deep, it was almost audible.
“I’m taking you into my confidence but the situation with the hare must be kept out of the public domain. There’s enough panic and civil disorder already after last night’s catastrophe. The fewer who know about this the better. I want your word on this matter.” The staff nodded solemnly. There were mutterings of “I swear” and “On my life”.
“I need to stay with Cassandra but first I must get word to Wee Alfie Elf. The Royal Steed has only just returned from his hazardous journey but he must go straight back to ‘Corbie Cottage’. Will you accompany him, Perkin, and see that Alfie gets this message?” She handed over a folded letter that bore the royal seal.
“I’ll get right onto it.”
“Tell Kismet I’m sorry but needs must. I’ve made all the other arrangements and this will complete the circle.”
Perkin paused by the door. “There is one more thing, Your Majesty. It’s something the hare said. She was rambling, not making any sense at all, but there was a moment when she opened her eyes and stared right at me. I asked her if there was anything I could do to help but all she did was repeat the word ‘ship’ over and over again and then the word ‘cat’.”
Sandy had been transformed by her meeting with MacGregor and all traces of homesickness had gone. Her eyes were shining and her confidence was fully restored.
“I’d like you to have this locket. It’s been in our family for generations.”
“It’s lovely, Pogo, but are you sure you want to part with it?”
“Of course she is,” said Pongo adamantly. “We can’t have Jamie being the only glamour-puss round here. He’s ever so toffee-nosed since SSS gave him that swanky collar. If I wasn’t such a laid-back beast, his posing might get on my nerves.”
“You have to admit Jamie’s collar is spectacular and takes some beating in the sparkly stakes.”
“Maybe so, PP, but your locket is a bonnie piece. Those are rubies in the owl’s eyes, are they not?”
The Siamese strolled in from the garden. “You’re not a teensy bit put out that His Hissyness gave me a jewelled collar and not you?”
“Course not. What does a dog like me need with a jewel-encrusted collar? Totally impractical and altogether too flashy.”
“Indeed so,” replied the cat, his nose firmly in the air. “You’re far too rough and ready for that sort of adornment.”
“Quite,” Pongo said bluffly, “but take a look at Sandy’s locket from PP. Pretty, isn’t it? Discreet but striking in its simplicity.”
Alfie was working his way through a heap of documents that chronicled the Harpie’s first attempt to take control of Sylvania. He was completely engrossed and nearly hit the ceiling when Pongo fired off a round of ear-splitting barks and pelted out into the hall. For the benefit of those who don’t speak dog he provided an on-the-spot translation. “Bless my soul, it’s the Royal Steed. What’s he doing back here so soon?”
Alfie rose from his chair. “Something’s amiss. Kismet should be curled up in his bed after last night’s shenanigans.”
Pongo was bouncing up and down by the front door, barking at the top of his lungs. “What are you waiting for? Let me out and I’ll ask him what’s going on.”
The inevitable “you’ll do no such thing” came back at him from Pogo.
“I’ll go out to meet him,” Alfie said with quiet authority. “If you stop horsing around, I might let you come with me.”
The dog landed neatly on all four feet, silent as the grave.
Kismet stood by the gate waiting for Rawclaw to swing down the emergency rope ladder. Alfie stepped forward to greet the elf who was related to him on his mother’s side of the family. They embraced and Perkin handed over the letter. “Queen Celestina asked me to deliver this personally.”
“It must be very important. A messenger rook is what I would normally expect.” He broke the seal and his eyebrows shot up as he read the contents. “This is most unexpected; you’d better come in.”
Pongo scratched Alfie’s leg, demanding attention. “Not now, boy. I need to talk to Pogo.” He turned on his heel and walked briskly up the path. The dog trailed along behind, his usually pert tail uncurled and droopy.
Pogo was waiting on the doorstep with Sandy and Jamie.
Peg flew out to join them and Lorimer called after him. “Wait for me. I’m useless by myself.”
The lobster flung himself out of his bucket and crossed the wooden floorboards at a rate of knots. He rounded the corner into the hall in time to meet everyone coming back into the cottage. Lorimer dodged out of the way, flattening himself against the skirting board, something not to be scoffed at when you’re a seriously large crustacean with multiple appendages.
Pongo stopped beside the frazzled lobster and gave him a quick sniff. The creature was showing his vulnerability and the dog felt for him. Lorimer watched him uncertainly from behind his goggles. “I’ll give you a lift back to your luxury accommodation, if you like, and I promise I won’t drop you.”
Pongo carried the flailing beast back into the kitchen. He lowered him into the bucket of spa water.
“Things are a bit thrang round here,” he said. “Put your feet up for a while, mi amigo carapacho. That’s Spanish for ‘my carapaced friend’, you know.”
Alfie’s train of thought was derailed and his amusement was plain to see. “Your Spanish is coming on a treat, boy.”
“Gracias, WAE.” The dog started to snigger. “I’ll have to try it out on ‘Bandolero’.”
“Don’t waste your breath. Fergus wouldn’t know genuine Spanish if it jumped out of a book and wrapped him in a floured tortilla. The Mexican hatdance is as far as it goes. On a more serious note…” The elf cleared his throat and checked to make sure he had everyone’s attention. Several pairs of very different eyes were trained on him. “Queen Celestina wants everyone from Irvine to move into the palace for reasons of security. Kismet told Her Majesty about the incident with the scrogwit which may well have influenced her decision.”
Pongo’s face fell. In Scottish parlance ‘his face was tripping him’. “Does this mean it’ll be just us three at ‘Corbie Cottage’?”
“It does, I’m afraid.” Alfie moved towards his wife. “Unless you would consider staying at the palace. I have a lot to do myself and won’t be able to spend much time here. It might be for the best if you and Pongo were to go with the Irvine contingent.”
The dog sloped over to Pogo and sat down at her feet, placing his head on her knees. He’d gone beyond clever wordplay and quick retorts. His hazel eyes were compelling in their intensity. “I’ve never been inside the palace. Please say we can go, PP. I’ll have no one to play with otherwise. Besides, I don’t want to be parted from my new chums.”
Pogo tickled him under his curly chin. “How can I refuse when my husband and my dog have put their case so eloquently? We’d better start packing right away.”
“That takes a huge weight off my shoulders. Kismet has instructions to take the others straight to the palace. I’ll let him know you’re going as well.”
The relief showed in Sandy’s face. “I’m so pleased you’re coming with us.” Pongo looked up at her expectantly and she dropped to her knees and put her arms round his neck. “And you, too, boy.”
Jamie sighed. “Here was me thinking we were about to give that fleabag the slip.”
“Oh, ha ha!” Pongo strutted off towards his basket. He shoved his blanket around with his nose and, when he was satisfied, flopped down in front of his bed. “That’s my packing done. I expect the palace will provide everything we need. It’s silly, I know, but I don’t sleep well unless I’m in my own basket. Will you be taking your bed with you, Jamie?’
The Siamese sought Pogo’s advice. “Why not? There’s plenty of room in the howdah but let’s get cracking. We mustn’t keep Kizz waiting.”
“You won’t leave us behind, will you, Sandy?”
“Of course not, you daft gowk,” Florin sniped dismissively. “A fat lot of use we’d be hanging in a cupboard here.”
Vince bristled. “Why do you always have to be so confrontational?”
Sandy ran out into the hall and took the stairs two at a time. “You’re both coming as long as you stop bickering.” Florin’s voice drifted back into the kitchen. “Jings! That took the wind out ma sails.”
Alfie put his arm round his wife’s shoulders. “I hope they don’t prove too much of a handful.”
“Their hearts are in the right place.” Pogo grinned self-consciously. “Listen to me, hearts indeed!”
They hugged each other.
“I’ll contact Ralph and let him know what’s going on. That cowrie shell’s our only way of communicating for now. I’ll join you when I can. The missing anklet has to be the main concern but that doesn’t mean anyone’s forgotten about Leo. Make sure Sandy knows he’s still a priority.”
Pogo stepped back from her husband and her eyes were dark with concern. “The loss of the anklet is terrifying. I have such a bad feeling about all of this.”
“I know you do, my love, and it chills me to the bone.”
“Let’s hope I’m wrong this time. I best go up and fling a few things into a case.”
Alfie listened to his wife trudging up the stairs and felt a stab of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
Lorimer was dangling over the side of his bucket. “I’ll do my best to look after her.”
The elf squatted in front of the lobster. “Thank you, Lorimer. You’re a good beast. I’ll see you into the howdah, bucket and all. There’s no sense leaving Mildred here on her own. Estella wouldn’t want that. You might as well take the model ship too.”
“Thanks, WAE. The rest of my stuff’s in the kitbag by the front door. Pongo carried it out there for me. He’s all right when you get to know him, isn’t he?”
“You couldn’t wish for a better friend unless there happened to be a one-legged seagull in the area.” Alfie checked round to make sure no one had forgotten anything. When he was satisfied he picked up the lobster complete with container. “Shall we go, Lorimer?”
The crustacean nodded vigorously. “I’ll try not to make waves.”
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