Читать книгу The Mystery That Never Was - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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Uncle Bob was just the same as ever, except that he was a bit thinner, and rather pale. Nicky’s mother, his sister, made a fuss of him.

“Oh Bob, dear! Whatever have you been doing to yourself? You’ve gone as thin as a rake!”

“Now Lucy, don’t exaggerate!” said Uncle Bob, and gave her such a bear-hug that she gasped. “I’m a bit overdone, that’s all! If you can put up with me for a week or two I’ll soon be as fit as a fiddle! Hallo, boys—what’s this about meeting several of me at the station?”

The boys told him, and he roared with laughter. “You’re a couple of idiots! I can see you need a few lessons in detective work! Come on in and help me to unpack my bag.”

It was grand to have Uncle Bob staying with them again. Punch was thrilled too. When the boys let him out of the shed, giving him a bone as they had promised, he ignored the bone completely, and tore up the garden, barking loudly. He had already heard Uncle Bob’s voice, and not even a juicy bone could tempt him! He flung himself on Uncle Bob, and licked every bit of him that he could.

“Here—be careful of Uncle Bob—he’s rather frail at the moment,” said Nicky, grinning. “Isn’t he pleased to see you, Uncle! You’ve come on a good day—it’s the first day of the Easter hols!”

“Good for you!” said Uncle Bob, clapping Nicky on the back. “You’ll be able to take me for some walks—and maybe we can do some bird-sleuthing together—you’re still keen on birds, I suppose?”

“Oh yes,” said Nicky, pleased. “Ken and I mean to go out bird-watching as usual. We’ve heard there’s a sparrow hawk somewhere on the hills, and we’d like to find his nest. Not to take the eggs,” he added hastily, knowing his Uncle’s strict ideas about egg-collecting. “Ken’s got an old pair of field-glasses. Wish I had!”

“Well—I might lend you my pair,” said his uncle, who was by this time up in his room, opening his bag. “I always have a pair with me—useful in my work, you know—and as I shan’t be needing them this time, I’ll lend them to you. That’s if you’ll promise to care for them as if they were made of gold! They’re jolly fine ones.”

“Oh, Uncle Bob! Thanks most awfully!” said Nicky, overjoyed. “It’s not much fun sharing a pair, you know. Ken always wants to use them when I’m longing to—but it’s jolly decent of him to lend them to me, anyhow. Now we’ll each have a pair. I say—are these the ones you use? What magnificent field-glasses! I bet Mother’ll say you’re not to lend them to me!”

Everyone liked Uncle Bob, and as for Mrs. Hawes, she was, as Nicky said, “quite potty on him.”

“We always get smashing cakes when you come, Uncle,” said Nicky, at tea-time, when a grand new fruit-cake appeared on the table. “And I bet we’ll get heaps of rissoles now, because Uncle Bob likes them. Shan’t we, Mother?”

“Bob always was spoilt,” said his mother.

“I wish I was,” said Nicky. “How did you manage to get spoilt, Uncle Bob?”

“Let’s change the conversation,” said his Uncle. “Actually, when we were kids, I always thought your mother was the spoilt one. Well—what sort of a report did you get for last term, youngster?”

“It hasn’t come yet,” said Nicky. “Two of the teachers were ill at end of term, so the reports are held up. Horrible! It means I have to shiver in my shoes longer than I need. Don’t let’s talk about reports! Let’s talk about Punch. We’re going to teach him a lot of new tricks, Uncle. Will you help?”

“You bet!” said Uncle Bob, helping himself to a second piece of the fruit-cake. “My word, Lucy, if Mrs. Hawes goes on cooking and baking like this, I shall get so fat I’ll have to buy new clothes!”

Punch was sitting as close to Uncle Bob as he could. He liked his smell. He liked his voice. He liked the firm way in which Uncle Bob patted his head. How wonderful to have his two best friends together—Uncle Bob and Nicky!

“I thought I’d teach Punch to fetch people’s slippers for them, Uncle,” said Nicky. “Think how pleased Dad would be to find his slippers by his armchair each night! And I could teach him to fetch you your outdoor shoes, Granny! Then you wouldn’t have to go and look for them.”

“Hm!” said Granny. “If Punch is going to be as clever as that, he will be a busybody! I think it would be better to teach him to wipe his feet on the mat when he comes in from a walk—that really would be something!”

“Wuff!” said Punch, sitting up straight, proud that he was being talked about. He gave Nicky’s hand a lick, and then Uncle Bob’s. He did so like this family of his! He gave a happy sigh, and laid his head down on Uncle Bob’s foot.

“He’s getting a bit soppy,” said Nicky, amused. “Biscuit, Punch?”

Punch stopped being “soppy” at once, and sat up, barking. “Beg, then; beg properly!” ordered Nicky, and waited for Punch to sit up on his hind legs, front paws waving in the air.

“Not very steady, are you?” said Nicky, and gave him a biscuit.

It really was good to have Uncle Bob in the house. He was always ready for a joke, always ready to give a hand with anything, and full of funny stories about his work, though, of course, he never gave any secrets away. He took Punch for long walks, he went shopping for Nicky’s mother, and was quite one of the family.

But there were times when he sat silent by the window, drawing on his pipe, hardly answering anyone who spoke to him. He puzzled Nicky and Ken one rainy morning. They were full of high spirits, and wanted him to join in the fun—but he seemed somehow far away, and didn’t even notice when Punch tried to leap on to his knee.

Nicky went to his Mother. “Mother—is Uncle Bob all right to-day? He’s hardly spoken a word.”

“Well, I told you he’s been overworking,” said his mother. “He’s been forbidden to do any of his work for some time—and the days must sometimes seem empty to him now that he has no puzzling cases or problems to work out. With a brain like his, he must often be bored to death, not being able to use it. I only wish something interesting would happen, so that he could have something to think about.”

“What sort of thing do you mean?” asked Nicky. “Burglaries—or kidnappings—something like that? I bet our policeman would be proud to have Uncle Bob’s help if anything happened here. But nothing ever does—unless you count things like Mrs. Lane’s washing being stolen off her line—or somebody breaking the grocer’s window!”

“No, of course I don’t mean things like that,” said his mother. “I don’t really know what I do mean—except that Bob needs something to take his mind off himself. It’s not like him to sit and mope at times. I think the doctor’s wrong. Bob doesn’t need time on his hands like this—he wants something to do—something to set those brains of his working again, instead of rusting.”

This was a long speech for his mother to make. Nicky stared at her, worried. “Would he like to go bird-watching with us?” he said, hopefully. “Or shall I ask him to help me to teach tricks to Punch? He’d do anything for Uncle Bob.”

“Well—you ask him. See what you can do,” said his mother. “He can’t bear me or Granny to fuss round him—and I can’t bear to see him sitting there not taking any notice of anything, as he’s doing to-day! Maybe you and Ken can help him more than anyone else can.”

Nicky went off with Punch, looking thoughtful. Poor Uncle Bob! He certainly must miss the exciting life he usually had—tracking down criminals—perhaps hunting a murderer—finding stolen goods! But what could he and Ken do to help?

“Come on, Punch—we’ll find Ken, and see if he’s got any good ideas,” said Nicky. Off they went to Ken’s shed, little knowing what good ideas Ken would have—and what extraordinary things would come of them!