Читать книгу The Person Controller - David Baddiel - Страница 19

The twins ran outside. Standing on the street,

looking up, was Eric, holding a bacon sandwich, and Janine, not holding Margaret Scratcher. Which meant something was wrong.

“What’s happened?” said Ellie.

“MARGARET! MY LITTLE MARGARET!! MY BEAUTIFUL MRS SCRATCHER!!!” Janine was screaming, in between sobs.

“What about her?” said Fred.

“She’s up there,” said Eric, pointing, in between munches.

The Stones, as we know, lived in a ground-floor flat. But next door to their building was a house lived in by the Whites. The Whites were perfectly fine neighbours, except at Christmas. At Christmas, the Whites transformed their house into the biggest Christmas building in the street – maybe in the whole town. Derek White, the dad, strung light bulbs all over the front; above the living-room window was a big neon Santa, laughing in a sleigh with all twelve reindeer a-flying; and in the garden stood an enormous Christmas tree, festooned with every colour of fairy light in the fairy-light spectrum.

Fred and Ellie liked it actually. But Eric didn’t. Eric thought that Derek was hogging the limelight. To say nothing of how much he was hogging the street’s electricity. And the thing Eric really didn’t like was that Derek built all this and switched it on … at the end of October.

That really annoyed Eric at the best of times. “Christmas isn’t for ages!” he would always grumble, looking at next-door’s lights from behind the lounge curtains.

“Oh, Eric. You’re only annoyed because you won’t be getting the turkey and the stuffing and all the trimmings for months …” Janine would always reply.

“No, I’m not!” Eric would then always protest.

“You’re right,” Janine would then always continue. “It’s mainly just the sausages wrapped in bacon you’re thinking about …”

But none of that was happening this time. This time, Eric and Janine were both outside while Derek White and his wife, Kirsty, and his two children, Leo and Emma, waited for Derek to throw the switch and light the lights.

Which he was about to do. He was standing by the Christmas tree holding a plugboard. But …

“Don’t you dare, Derek White!!” said Janine. “I’ll have you reported to the RSPCA!!!”

“Look, Janine,” Derek replied, “I always put my Christmas lights on at 7.15 on October the 22nd. It’s 7.13 now. If your cat hasn’t come down in two minutes, I’m afraid I can’t answer for the consequences …”

“MARGARET!! MARGARET!!” shouted Janine.

“Yes, come on now, Mrs Scratcher,” said Eric more quietly and only after he’d swallowed the last bit of his sandwich.

“Meoooowwwwwww …”

Fred and Ellie looked up, following the sound with their eyes. A ball of white fluff was perched on top of the Christmas tree, holding on with the tips of its paws to a big silver star: a silver star which was wired up with many, many tiny lights around its five points.

“Will she be OK up there?” said Fred.

“I’m not sure,” said Ellie.

“Oh please, Lord … I promise this Christmas that I’ll do anything you want … if you only rescue Margaret Scratcher from this terrible fate …”

They looked round. Janine was indeed, as these words suggested, praying: something neither Fred nor Ellie had ever heard her do before, not even at Christmas. She had her eyes closed and was facing away from the tree, possibly because that was in the general direction of the nearest church, about two miles away.

“… I promise not to watch so much daytime TV … promise not to have a go at Eric so much … promise to make sure the kids don’t have to eat his bacon sandwiches …”

“Fred,” said Ellie. “Prepare yourself.”

“What …?” said Fred. Then he realised that Ellie was still carrying the Controller. And he was still wearing the bracelet.

He didn’t know what she was going to do. But, whatever it was, he didn’t have a good feeling about it.