The Crims by Kate Davies

The Crims by Kate Davies

Author:Kate Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-09-25T04:00:00+00:00


THE NEXT DAY, Imogen met Mrs. Teakettle at the door as she arrived to look after the Horrible Children. “I’m so sorry,” she said before Mrs. Teakettle could take off her coat, “I should have called you before you came all the way out here—Isabella is still a bit pukey, so it’s probably best if I look after the kids again today.”

“She’s still sick?” said Mrs. Teakettle, looking actually disappointed. She really does like the Horrible Children, Imogen realized, impressed. “How about the others? Are they eating again? How are their bowel movements?”

“Uh, terrible,” Imogen replied, not looking in Mrs. Teakettle’s eyes. “I don’t think any of us are quite over it, honestly. The loo is getting quite a workout! Ha . . .”

Mrs. Teakettle’s eyes narrowed. “Have you cleaned with bleach? Norovirus is notoriously hard to get out of a toilet.”

“I keep cleaning and cleaning, but then someone uses the loo again and, well—I’m afraid we’re still probably terribly contagious. You really don’t want to come in here.” Stop talking, she told herself. “The fewer the details, the more believable the lie”; that was one of the very first things Big Nana had taught her. Imogen smiled at Mrs. Teakettle apologetically. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” said Mrs. Teakettle, patting Imogen’s hand. “Why don’t you let me come in to help? You’re probably still recovering yourself.”

“Recovering?” said Imogen. “No, no—I’ll look after the kids today. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

“I have immunity.” Mrs. Teakettle tried to enter the house, but Imogen barred her way. Mrs. Teakettle looked at her with surprise.

“I think this is a particularly rare strain . . .,” said Imogen, getting desperate.

“I have immunity to almost everything,” said Mrs. Teakettle, with a steely smile. “I was a very unlucky child, illness-wise.”

Imogen looked at the babysitter. Was she imagining things, or was Mrs. Teakettle challenging her to come up with a better excuse? “Look,” said Imogen. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. The truth is, I’ve missed my cousins terribly. I’ve been away at school, you see. But now I’m back and . . . and I want to look after them by myself today.”

Mrs. Teakettle raised her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say so?” she said. “I don’t blame you—they’re such a delight! Just give me a call when you want me to come back.”

Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. That had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. As she watched the babysitter drive away in her tiny car, she called out to the Horrible Children, “The pigeon has flown the nest!”

“Finally,” Delia called back. “That bird was always pooping on my bike.”

“Not an actual pigeon—Mrs. Teakettle! Operation Charm Offensive has commenced!”

Imogen felt nervous. Good nervous. Operation Charm Offensive wasn’t just an idea scribbled in her notebook anymore—it was real. She hadn’t come up with such a complicated plan since she and Delia had plotted to fly to New York on the back of an American eagle and steal the top of the Chrysler Building to use as a playhouse.



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