Читать книгу The Mystery of the Missing Man - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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They hurried up the road, and past the Town Hall. ‘Look, that’s where the Conference is going to be,’ said Larry, pointing to a large notice. ‘Four meetings next week—and look, it says “All Coleopterists are invited to attend.” Whatever are Coleopterists?’

‘Colly-what?’ asked Bets. ‘Fatty, what are these colly-people?’

‘Owners of collie dogs?’ suggested Pip. ‘Or growers of cauliflowers?’

‘Or sufferers from colly-wobbles?’ said Daisy, with a laugh.

‘Ass,’ said Fatty. ‘They’re ... hullo, look out—here’s Mr. Goon on his bicycle. My word—I ought to offer him a few hints about a slimming diet.’

Mr. Goon bore down on them, his uniform almost bursting at the seams. He was not at all pleased to see the Five, and even less pleased to see Buster, who immediately flew at his ankles. Goon kicked out at him.

‘That dog!’ he said in disgust. ‘Call him off! So you’re back again for the holidays, are you? Well, no meddling in what isn’t your business, see? I’m going to be busy the next week or two, what with a fair coming here, and that there Conference of colly—colly—er ...’

‘Collie-dog breeders?’ suggested Fatty, innocently.

‘Oh—so that’s what they are, is it?’ said Goon, with displeasure. ‘Bringing a whole lot of dogs with them then, I shouldn’t wonder. Dogs! As if we hadn’t got enough running about in this town!’

He kicked out at Buster again, but the little Scottie kept well out of reach. ‘You’d better keep that dog of yours on the lead, if there’s collie-dogs wandering about,’ he said. ‘Vicious, some of them are—and they’d make mincemeat of that dog of yours. Good thing too!’

And away sailed Goon on his bicycle, feeling very pleased at having ticked off the five children. Buster sent a volley of barks after him.

‘Don’t say such rude things, Buster,’ said Fatty, gravely. ‘Remember that other dogs are listening.’

Bets giggled. ‘Oh, Fatty—whatever made you tell Mr. Goon about Pip’s silly idea of collie-dog breeders? He’ll be watching out for collie-dogs everywhere!’

‘Anyway—what are Coleopterists?’ asked Daisy. ‘Don’t you know, Fatty! I thought you knew everything.’

‘Of course I know,’ said Fatty, wheeling his bicycle along more quickly, as he caught sight of a clock. ‘Coleopterists are lovers of beetles.’

This announcement was greeted with exclamations of utter disbelief.

‘Fibber! Nobody loves beetles! Ugh!’

‘Fatty—we’re not as stupid as Goon.’

‘Think of something better than that, Fatty!’

‘All right, all right,’ said Fatty, amiably. ‘I can think of plenty of things. But that happens to be the truth.’

‘As if anyone would hold a Conference about beetles!’ said Pip, scornfully. ‘I’ll ask your father’s friend about it!’

‘Right. You ask him,’ said Fatty. ‘I say—that was the train whistling—do buck up. My mother will be furious if I’m late in meeting Mr. Tolling and his dear little Eunice.’

‘How old is she?’ panted Bets, trying to keep up with Fatty.

‘I don’t know,’ said Fatty. ‘You’ll soon see. Here we are—just in time. Phew—that bike-ride was as good as any slimming diet. Watch my bike for me, Pip—I’ll go on to the platform and meet father and daughter!’

He flung his bicycle against the station wall and ran inside hurriedly as the train pulled in to a standstill, the engine pouring out smoke in a way that Buster could not bear.

Fatty smoothed back his hair and waited to see whether a man and a girl got out of the train. He soon saw a very small man with a dark beard and large glasses fussing over two suitcases. With him was a girl, rather taller than the man—a stout, rather shapeless girl with two very long plaits hanging down her back. She wore school clothes—a dark blue belted overcoat, and a dark blue felt hat with a coloured band and a badge on the left-hand side.

Her loud, clear voice came to Fatty as he stood waiting. ‘No, Dad—we don’t need a porter—you can take your small case and I’ll carry the large one. We’re sure to be able to get a taxi.’

‘Where did I put the tickets?’ said her father, diving into one pocket after another.

‘You gave them to me,’ said the girl in her clear, competent voice. Fatty felt horrified. Gracious—was this hefty, bossy girl going to be his constant companion for at least a week? He watched her take the tickets out of a strong leather purse, and then put it safely away again. She looked all round.

‘Wasn’t somebody going to meet us?’ she said, ‘Well, I do think ...’

Fatty didn’t know what she was about to say, as he rushed up to the two of them, but he could guess. He smiled politely.

‘Er—are you Mr. Belling, sir? I’m ...’

‘No—my name’s not Belling,’ said the small, bearded man. ‘It’s Tolling.’

‘Oh gosh—sorry,’ said Fatty, who had quite honestly made a slip. ‘I suppose—er—well—bells toll, you know, so I ...’

‘It’s all right,’ said the girl. ‘I’m used to that silly joke, but my father isn’t—so don’t address him as Mr. Belling, or Jingling or Tingling—he just won’t understand, and it’s such a waste of time explaining to him what it means.’

Fatty was quite taken-aback. ‘Er—I’m Frederick Trotteville,’ he said, and put out his hand to take the suitcase from Mr. Tolling.

‘Well, if I wanted to be funny, like you, I’d address you as Frederick Canterville,’ said the girl, and gave him a sudden grin. ‘No, don’t take my suitcase, I can manage it, thanks. But be careful of Dad’s case—it’s full of beetles!’

Fatty looked down at it anxiously and was relieved to see that it was well strapped. He didn’t fancy the idea of dead beetles spilling over the platform.

‘I’ll get you a taxi,’ he said.

‘Put Dad into a taxi with his beetles,’ said the girl. ‘By the way, I’m Eunice—Eunice Tolling, not Belling. I don’t want to go in the taxi—they make me car-sick. I’d rather walk, if it’s all the same to you. You can put this other suitcase into the taxi too.’

‘Yes, Mam,’ said Fatty, feeling as if he were under orders. He called the one and only taxi there and helped Mr. Tolling into it. He insisted on having his beetle suitcase on his knees. Fatty put the second one on the floor, and then gave the driver his address. The taxi sped out of the station yard and Eunice heaved a sigh of relief.

‘Well, that’s Dad safely settled,’ she said. ‘What time is it—about twelve? Is there anywhere near for me to have a bun or something? I’m famished. We had breakfast at seven o’clock.’

‘Er—well, yes,’ said Fatty, and caught sight of the other four grinning at him nearby. ‘Wait a minute, though, please. I want to introduce you to four friends of mine—Larry, Pip, Daisy—and Bets.’

‘Hallo,’ said Eunice and gave them all a swift look. ‘And I suppose this Scottie is your dog? He keeps on getting under my feet—can you make him walk to heel?’

‘Heel, Buster,’ said Fatty, in a strangled sort of voice, in the midst of a dead silence. Buster obediently came to heel and sat down, looking rather surprised. Not one of the others could find a word to say. They simply stared at Eunice, and then fell in behind her and Fatty, looking at one another slyly. What a girl!

‘Er—Eunice wants something to eat,’ Fatty informed the others behind him. ‘Pity we’ve just had our elevenses. Where shall we take her?’

‘There’s a tea-shop or something over there, look,’ said Eunice, pointing to a rather expensive coffee-shop which the children did not as a rule go to, because of the very high prices.

‘That’s too expensive for us,’ said Daisy. ‘They charge a shilling just for ...’

‘Oh well, I’ll pay,’ said Eunice. ‘I must say I like the look of those chocolate éclairs. Come on—I’ll pay for you all.’

‘Well—we’ve just had buns and coffee,’ said Daisy. ‘We don’t want any more to eat. And Fatty’s trying to slim.’

‘Who’s Fatty?’ asked Eunice in surprise. ‘Oh—you mean Frederick. How rude! If that’s his nickname, I shan’t use it. Frederick, I shall call you by your proper name, if you don’t mind.’

‘Er—no, I don’t mind,’ said Fatty, signalling to the others to go away and leave them. He felt that he might be able to manage this awful girl better by himself than with the others staring and giggling.

‘Well—we’d better go,’ said Larry, reluctantly. This girl was dreadful, but it really was fascinating to see how she treated Fatty. Why—he had hardly got a word in! And to think she was going to stay in his home!

‘So long,’ said Fatty, curtly, and jerked his head violently to make the others understand that he wasn’t going to put up with them a minute longer. Grinning at him like that!

They stood and watched Fatty and Eunice going through the shop-door and finding a table. They gazed while Eunice signalled to a waitress and gave a lengthy order. They watched two plates of cakes and pastries being brought, and what looked like a cup of frothy drinking-chocolate—yes, and one for Fatty too!

Eunice was talking nineteen to the dozen! She could talk and eat at the same time, which was bad manners, but very interesting to watch. Fatty looked thoroughly miserable. He kept trying to interrupt, but Eunice was like a steam-roller—and her conversation rolled over him without a stop. She had offered Fatty an éclair, but he had staunchly refused.

‘Poor old Fatty—fancy having to sit and look at those éclairs, and remember he’s slimming, and listen to that awful girl all the time,’ said Bets, sympathetically. ‘Oh, I say—look—he’s taken an éclair after all!’

So he had. Fatty couldn’t bear to sit there in dead silence and watch Eunice devour all the pastries. If he could have talked himself, and aired his opinions as he generally did, it wouldn’t have been so bad. In self-defence he took an éclair—and another—and another.

‘Oh, Fatty!’ said Daisy, still gazing through the window. She turned to the others. ‘Come on—let’s go. If he catches sight of us, he’ll be furious. We’d better go home.’

Sadly they went down the road. Bets was almost in tears. ‘It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if Eunice had been decent,’ she said. ‘But how can we let her go about with us—and yet we can’t desert poor Fatty and leave him alone with Eunice all the time. It really is a problem!’