How to Bake a Sausage Dog by Kirsten Reinhardt

Author:Kirsten Reinhardt [Reinhardt, Kirsten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910411896
Publisher: Little Island
Published: 2014-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

In which Hubert makes himself important and an utterly uninvited guest appears

Somebody had been kicking up a storm in The Bronx. The pots of herbs that were normally on the window sill lay shattered on the floor. Somebody had lifted the carpet and thrown it back down carelessly on the floor. Even the big sofa was upside down, its four wooden legs sticking helplessly in the air. A corner of the multicoloured comfy blanket was sticking out from under it.

Fizzy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked around. Fennymore gulped. Somebody had been looking for something. But for what? He didn’t own anything valuable, apart, perhaps, from the silver cutlery he had used on Sundays when Aunt Elsie came to lunch, but that was lying untouched on the table. Although one of the two gold-rimmed china plates lay in pieces on the floor.

He looked at Beardy, who was standing in the doorway looking sort of lost. If only Dad were back to normal! thought Fennymore. If indeed Beardy was his father.

Beardy gazed with interest at the untidy room but gave no sign that he recognised it. He giggled softly.

‘Hey,’ said Fizzy quietly, looking at Fennymore. ‘It looks just like your great-aunt’s place. When we moved in, everything was in a mess, just like this. The furniture had been thrown around and even the nightdresses with all the flowers on had been yanked out of the drawers.’

Suddenly the air shimmered and Hubert materialised. Fizzy stopped talking and gave him a puzzled look. The silvery grey gentleman gave a little cough and, as everyone stared at him, he patted down his silvery grey coat with an elegant gesture. Then he tossed a few wisps of hay aside with the toe of his silvery grey shoe and looked around him.

‘Now I know why I live such a Spartan life,’ he said. ‘All that tidying up is a terrible nuisance. Ah, I see that Fenibald has become acclimatised. How is he?’

But Fennymore didn’t answer. It had all become too much for him. Apparently it had looked just like this at Aunt Elsie’s also? The last time he’d been there, everything had been the way it had always been. What could all this mean?

Then something occurred to him, something very important. He rushed past Hubert and Fenibald, who was bleating, ‘Hubert, honey-pie.’ In the hallway, he slipped on the rag rug and went sailing into the kitchen, his arms flailing.

The drawers of the old kitchen cabinet had been pulled out and the contents lay scattered on the floor – multicoloured rubber bands, the little paper flags that Fennymore always stuck in his banana-splits, dried-out conkers from last autumn and all kinds of knives, forks and coloured plastic ice-cream spoons. Even the oven was open and there were wisps of hay everywhere. Only the old waste-bin was exactly as Fennymore had left it. The lid was closed and there were no banana skins or pâté wrappings lying near it. Fennymore’s heart pounded. He took off the lid and looked inside.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.