Dead Hairy Page 5

  Chester the chest hair leapt onto Abbie’s arm. He wriggled into her palm and made a heart shape. She laughed nervously. Then she stroked him.

  Perdita turned back to the shrunken head. ‘We’d better get on. I have to go and start cooking soon.’ She pulled out a stitch from the left eyelid.

  ‘Why do you have to cook?’ Abbie had never baked so much as a bean for the Rotten Lot.

  Perdita looked surprised. ‘It’s my job. No one else can do it. Auntie Mell’s allergic to uncooked food. Uncle Dirk’s got low blood sugar. He feels faint before meals. And Dad’s always busy with whatever it is he’s busy with. Now could you unthread the right eye?’

  Abbie took a deep breath. She picked gingerly at a stitch. Chester made an encouraging sweatband round her wrist. ‘So what exactly do they do all day, your aunt and uncle?’ she asked.

  ‘Auntie Mell prepares my lessons. She left school early to become a beautician, so teaching’s hard work for her. And Uncle Dirk’s an accountant. He does the books for the museum.’ From the state of the place, Abbie couldn’t imagine that would take long. But Perdita explained he was setting things up for when the museum opened. ‘Till then we have to live off Dad’s Very Odd Job money. Mum used to do some hairdressing to pay for her trips, but of course that’s dried up now.’

  The girls unpicked the last stitches from the eyelids. There was another low groan.

  ‘What?’ asked Perdita.

  ‘Wasn’t me,’ said Abbie, ‘not this time, I swear.’

  ‘To eswear ees no nice.’

  The girls jumped back. Chester shot up Abbie’s sleeve.

  The head swivelled on its stand. The eyelids pop-ped up. Black eyes glared at them.

  ‘Who eswear?’ said the hoarse voice. It was definitely coming from those lips.

  Abbie and, for once, even Perdita were speechless.

  ‘Qué?’ said the head. ‘You lose your tongues? Ees no excuse. I lose mine four hundred and thirty year ago. But now I espeak again. And I see again too.’

  Perdita recovered first. ‘Hello, um … Sir. My name’s Perdita, and this is –’

  The head wobbled irritably. ‘Your names I know. Hokay I been blind. Hokay I been dumb. But my ears they leesten more than four centuries. To sigh of sloth in jungle. To poop of pirhana in river. To whoop of your mama when she find me. To talk in thees room since I arrive.’

  ‘Who are – I mean who were you?’ whispered Abbie. ‘Before … ?’ She didn’t like to finish.

  Chester poked out of her sleeve, trembling.

  The head cleared its very short throat. ‘I am Fernando Feraldo, Esplorer of Ecuador, Conquistador of Quito, Raider of Rainforest.’ Then, in a smaller voice, ‘And trophy of tribesmen.’

  ‘What happened to you? Why did they – you know?’ asked Perdita.

  ‘The Jivaro tribe of Amazon, they shreenk my head. Because it too beeg. Because I theenk hokay to take their land in jungle for eSpain. Because I theenk hokay to steal their gold and make them eslaves.’ A tear wandered down his lumpy cheek. ‘I raid their land – and they raid my head. For my greed, you see, I shreenk to nobody. For my greed, you see, I have no body.’

  ‘How terrible,’ murmured Perdita. ‘You poor thing.’

  ‘No!’ snapped Fernando. ‘Thees I deserve. But my wife, she no deserve.’

  ‘Your wife?’ Abbie couldn’t imagine this jumbo raisin being married. But what was new? She couldn’t have imagined any of the things she’d seen over the last few days.

  ‘My wife,’ said Fernando, ‘she tell me I wrong to raid Jivaro. She come weeth me. Try to estop me. And they shreenk her too.’

  ‘The other head!’ exclaimed Perdita. ‘The one that fell out of Mum’s bag!’

  ‘Si.’ The head nodded on its stand. ‘Your mama, she find us both. And then she lose my ladylove. For four hundred and thirty year we have lie together on jungle floor. And then paff, my Senora, she gone – vamos!’ More tears dribbled down his cheek. Chester – very bravely for a timid patch of chest hair – jumped onto Fernando’s cheek to mop up the tears.

  Abbie wasn’t quite sure how to put the next question. Her curiosity had an inner chat with her delicacy. Delicacy got a kick in the pants. ‘How come your, er, brain has, ah, lasted all these years?’

  Fernando glared at her. ‘How I suppose to know?’

  Perdita’s delicacy didn’t even have pants. ‘Probably all those hot stones,’ she said cheerfully, ‘rolling inside your head and preserving things.’

  Fernando sniffed snootily. ‘You lucky it preserve,’ he said, ‘for now it help you. Sewn into silence I theenk, I leesten. And now at last I espeak – so you must leesten.’

  If he had a finger he’d wag it, thought Abbie.

  ‘Do not talk of your mama before that woman. Or her man.’

  Perdita frowned. ‘You mean Auntie Mell and Uncle Dirk? Why ever not?’

  ‘They up to no good.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Abbie.

  Fernando flared his nostrils. ‘You see these nosey holes? After all these year they smell all theengs. And aunt and uncle – hwaff.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘They make beeg steenk. Of greed, of grab, of grasp.’ He paused dramatically. ‘Of conquering conquistador.’

  Chester jumped onto Fernando’s head and bounced up and down.

  ‘The Curly One, he agree,’ said Fernando.

  ‘How dare you!’ Perdita burst out. ‘Auntie Mell’s wonder-ful! And she’s been fantastic since Mum left. Comforting me, cheering me up, when she’s just as upset as I am. And Uncle Dirk’s working so hard to get the museum on its feet.’

  Fernando snorted. ‘Pah! You and your father, you do all work here. And few days ago I hear them. Straight from – how you say? – horsie mouth.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ asked Abbie excitedly. Having grasped that a shrunken head could talk, she was keen to hear what it had to say.

  ‘That morning,’ said Fernando softly, his eyes darting round as if to check no one was eavesdropping, ‘they in here, alone. Thees I know because I hear the uncle say, “Matt and Perdeeta, they gone for Very Odd Job”. ’

  ‘Maybe that was the day you came to our house,’ said Abbie.

  ‘Then the aunt, she say, “Read this.” Then I hear rustling. Then silence. Like someone reading. Then Dirk, he laugh. Sneaky snorty laugh, like thees – “Heh heh heh.” And he say …’ Fernando paused like a bad actor … ‘he say, “Good!” ’

  It was Perdita’s turn to snort. ‘ “Good?” So blooming what?!’

  Fernando shrugged. Or rather, he would have done if he’d had shoulders. ‘Suit self,’ he said, ‘you do not have to believe. But I will watch them. When they look at me, I dead like thees.’ He closed his eyes. ‘And when they look away, I alive like thees.’ His eyes sprang open. ‘But you must not tell about me. If anyone find out, perhaps they sell me for freaky peep show. If I estay here, I can espy. ’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Abbie.

  Perdita wheeled round. ‘You don’t actually believe him, do you? You’ve never even met my uncle!’

  Abbie hesitated. It wasn’t exactly that she believed Fernando. More that she didn’t know what to believe any more.

  Perdita glowered at her. ‘You’d better go. I have to make dinner.’

  Anger flamed up Abbie’s throat. ‘Don’t blame me!’ she snapped. ‘You show me all these crazy things, like hairy fish and Bobus hairs, and expect me to believe them. Then here comes another crazy thing and you expect me not to believe it! It’s all so confusing.’

  ‘You theenk I crazy theeng?’ said Fernando huffily. ‘I show you who crazy round here.’ His face folded its arms.

  ‘Look,’ said Abbie, ‘there’s nothing to lose. If Fernando’s wrong, your aunt and uncle have nothing to hide. And if he’s right, then they might be hiding something about your mum. They might know if she’s –’

  ‘Of course she’s still alive!’ shouted Perdita. ‘I keep telling you that. I don’t need a nosey parker shrunken
head to find out.’

  ‘Well maybe you don’t need me either!’ yelled Abbie. ‘Maybe you should go and look for your mum by yourself.’ She grabbed the cell phone from her pocket and added meanly, ‘I’m jolly well phoning mine. And I’ll see myself out, thank you!’

  She stormed towards the door, nearly knocking the Hairy Hoot off its stand. Chester scuttled after her and tugged her shoe. But she kicked him off. Before slamming the door she looked back to see Perdita clap her hands over her ears as Fernando declared, ‘Thees nosey holes, they no lie.’

  ***

  Matt heard a key turn in the lock. Footsteps cracked across the Hair Science floor. Then a hand clapped him on the shoulder and a voice said, ‘How’s it going, old fruit?’

  Matt turned round. ‘Hello Dirk. Still no luck, I’m afraid. I keep changing the potions and testing them. But how c-can I tell if they’ve worked, when all I c-can test them on is insects?’

  ‘Good point.’ Dirk rubbed his chin. ‘What you need is a bigger animal to be your guinea pig. Like for instance … a guinea pig!’ He clapped Matt on the shoulder again.

  Matt shook his head fiercely. ‘No! I c-couldn’t possibly do tests on anything c-cuddly. It wouldn’t feel right.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Dirk frowned. ‘Leave it with me, old bean. I’ll think of a way round this.’

  ***

  ‘Eat your carrots, Minnie,’ said Coriander. ‘Remember they’ll help you see in the dark.’ Minnie stuck a carrot in her ear.

  ‘I said see, not hear, you little monkey!’

  Across the room Winnie frowned indignantly. Monkey indeed!

  8 - Fishy business

  ‘Nothing,’ muttered Abbie, as Mum asked for the third time what she’d done to upset Perdita. ‘We had an argument. It’s not always my fault, you know.’

  ‘She’s so nice. If I can help you sort it out …’ Mum glanced into the rear view mirror. The look Abbie gave her could have gone into the washing machine and still come out dirty.

  By the time they got home, though, it was sorted out: in Abbie’s mind, at least. Perdita shouldn’t have shouted. But things were so hard for her. And Fernando’s claim that her aunt and uncle were up to something must be shocking. Aunt Melliflua – with all her ‘plumcakes’ and arms round shoulders – was looking after Perdita (even if it was in a ‘cook my dinner, sweetie’ sort of way). And Uncle Dirk was helping to run the museum (even if it was in a losing money sort of way).

  Anyway, never mind them, Abbie had to make it up with Perdita. No way was she going to lose this whacky new friend. Or her trip to Spain. There was only one thing to do.

  But saying sorry wasn’t easy. Abbie needed some help. Some encouragement. Some biscuits.

  She sneaked into the kitchen, grabbed some ginger nuts from the tin, crept past Ollie in the sitting-room and dashed upstairs, her shirt bulging.

  ‘Muuum,’ Ollie’s voice curled upstairs like a bad smell, ‘Abbie took four biscuits.’

  Abbie shoved them under her duvet and ran onto the landing. ‘Did not!’ she yelled.

  But Mum was already in her bedroom. ‘Oh really?’ she said, pulling back the duvet.

  ‘I took five.’

  Mum’s left hand clasped Bob. She looked at Abbie for a long time. Then, without a word, she gathered the biscuits and went downstairs.

  Abbie waited until she was in the kitchen then tore down to the sitting-room. Ollie was on the sofa colouring in a picture.

  Abbie jostled his elbow so that the felt pen went over the line. ‘Creepie crawlie,’ she whispered. Just as he opened his mouth to howl the phone rang.

  ‘I’ll get it!’ they both shouted. They wrestled on the sofa until Ollie slipped out from under Abbie.

  ‘Fine,’ he said down the phone. ‘How are you?’

  Who was it? Ollie never had polite chats on the phone.

  ‘I drawed a card for you,’ he said. ‘But Abbie messed it up.’ Abbie looked at his picture. A tall wonky girl was playing ball with a small wonky boy. The girl’s mouth was wider than her face. The boy had curly hair.

  ‘Yes.’ Ollie giggled. ‘But you won’t catch me. I’ll wear my magic boots.’

  Heat whooshed up Abbie’s throat, as if she’d swallowed a hot drink upside down. How dare her brother have fun with her friend? How dare her friend have fun with her brother?

  ‘Abbie,’ called Ollie. ‘It’s Perdita.’

  ‘I know that, you flea.’ Abbie grabbed the phone.

  ‘Abbie?’ came Perdita’s voice. ‘I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have flown at you. I was just so mad when Fernando accused my aunt and uncle.’

  Abbie’s throat cooled. ‘It’s OK. I’m sorry too. And look, there’s no proof, just Fer–’ she broke off. Ollie was suddenly having great trouble opening the sitting-room door. ‘Let’s just wait and see.’

  ‘OK. So you’re still on?’

  ‘Course I am.’

  ‘Thanks. Hey, Dad’s paid me for mending the shrunken head. I’ve got your money too. And guess what, he said it looks great, you can’t even see the stitches.’ She giggled. ‘Wonder why. I’d better go. I’ve got to help Dad with the washing up.’

  ‘Do you have to do that too?’

  ‘Auntie Mell’s allergic to detergent. And Uncle Dirk has to lie down after dinner or he gets dizzy. Can you come round tomorrow? I’m sure there’ll be another job for us.’

  ‘Sure.’ Abbie guessed that Mum would be glad for her to go. She ended the call then went into the kitchen to ask.

  Mum was washing lettuce. ‘Course you can, darling. I’m so pleased you’ve made it up with Perdita. Now, would you lay the table, please?’

  Abbie was just about to make a face when she thought of Perdita cooking, clearing and washing up. Her face stayed unmade and the table was laid.

  Next morning, as Abbie was putting her shoes on, Ollie came into the hall. ‘Can I come too?’ he asked. ‘I want to give my card to Perdita.’

  Abbie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not invited.’

  Dad came downstairs. ‘I’m sure Abbie’ll pass your card on,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you, Abbs. Matt said he’d give me a quick tour of the museum.’

  Abbie stared at him.

  ‘I just phoned Matt to ask if I could bring round Mum’s bedside lamp,’ he said. ‘The switch doesn’t work.’

  ‘But …’ Abbie’s stomach met her feet.

  ‘A quick tour,’ Dad repeated firmly.

  Matt and Perdita were waiting by the gate. They led the way across the field to the museum.

  As they passed the balding bush, Dad gave it a pat. ‘Know how you feel, mate,’ he chuckled.

  ‘You’re embarrassing me,’ hissed Abbie.

  Matt went first through the archway, then Perdita, then Dad. Halfway up the first flight of stairs he turned round and grinned. ‘Isn’t this great, Abbs?’ She couldn’t help grinning back. He was like a great galumphing puppy with his tongue hanging out.

  On the first landing Matt gazed at the wonky ‘Hairstory’ sign. ‘Must fix that,’ he murmured.

  Of all the things that need fixing, thought Abbie. But what she said was, ‘You’re going to love this, Dad.’

  And of course he did. The girls watched him stone-the-crows his way round the room.

  ‘Let’s leave them to it,’ whispered Perdita.

  Abbie followed her upstairs. ‘What if your dad tells mine everything?’ she said.

  ‘What’s there to tell? Dad doesn’t know our plan. The worst he can say is that Mum’s gone missing. And your dad’ll be so busy asking questions they probably won’t even get round to that. Come on. We’re going to clean the Hairyquarium.’

  They rested on the second landing. Abbie leaned against the door to Hair Science. A grey mat slid out under the door and shot up her leg. ‘Hi Chester,’ she said. He settled on her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. She breathed in his talcum powder scent.

  On the third landing Perdita pulled out a bag from her pocket. ‘Want some?’

  Wi
thout thinking Abbie took a handful. The dry bubbles crackled on her tongue, crisp as bacon and crunchy as toast. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Lice crispies. Full of protein.’

  Abbie spat them onto the floor. Funny how good they’d tasted till now.

  Perdita opened the door to Rare Hair. Abbie was about to go over and greet Fernando when she saw two figures on the far side of the room. Their backs were turned. They were looking at the Hairyquarium. Chester dived down the front of Abbie’s T-shirt. The figures turned round.

  ‘Halloo sweetie pies.’ Aunt Melliflua waved.

  ‘Bouncing bullion!’ growled the man next to her. ‘You gave us a fright.’

  ‘Sorry Uncle Dirk,’ said Perdita. ‘This is my friend Abbie.’

  Uncle Dirk grunted: a hard grey grunt to go with his hard grey hairstyle.

  The girls joined them at the fish tank.

  ‘So calming, aren’t they?’ sighed Aunt Melliflua. ‘We were just admiring them.’

  ‘We’ve come to clean them out,’ said Perdita.

  ‘Good show, girls,’ said Uncle Dirk. He raised the glass he was holding and sipped a colourless liquid. Abbie got the feeling it probably wasn’t water.

  From head to trouser hems, Uncle Dirk was grey. His eyes were slaty and bored. His thin face was ashen. His suit gleamed like wet concrete. But his shoes! They twinkled up at Abbie, poppy red and pointy. And, from the way he parted them slightly as she looked, Abbie could tell that Uncle Dirk was very proud of his footwear.

  ‘We’ll leave you to it, angel cakes,’ said Melliflua. ‘You know I’m allergic to cleaning fluids. Come Dirkie.’ She took his elbow and steered him out of the room.

  When they’d gone Chester poked out of the top of Abbie’s T-shirt.

  ‘Why did you hide, Chess?’ asked Abbie.

  Perdita stroked his grey curls. ‘Auntie Mell and Uncle Dirk didn’t really take to Chester when they came to live here. They thought he was a bit –’ she cupped her hands round her mouth so he wouldn’t see and whispered – ‘icky.’ She took her hands away. ‘And they asked if we’d –’ she cupped again – ‘get rid of him. So we pretended to. They don’t know he’s still here.’