Farewell to Raymond

Easter seems like a long time ago, but I have included a lovely painting by Sebastian in South Africa in this the final chapter of Rattus Runs Amok.  Also featured is our wonderful Easter Bunny aka Uncle Stephen. The original rat came to a soggy end in our garden...I wonder if Raymond will survive? Thanks for reading. 😃

Chapter Ten: Raymond Meets the Easter Bunny
Raymond could not have moved even if he’d wanted to; he was frozen with fear. The buzzard was hanging low in the sky and had spotted him with its beady eyes. Raymond braced himself for the attack and when it came he felt a talon clutching his soft fur and hoisting him into the air. Below them, the field was getting smaller and smaller.

So this is what it feels like to fly, thought Raymond. They were right over the garden now when suddenly the unthinkable happened: the buzzard dropped him and swooped down, picking up a baby rabbit, that had hopped out of the bushes, instead. It was all over in seconds: the rabbit was flying away and he was falling, falling…

He plummeted through a gentle broom bush and did a belly flop on top of something very soft and spongy. It was Orange Cat who was settling down for the night. She was not best pleased.

‘Get off me,’ she mewed. ‘I’m the one who’s supposed to have nine lives.’

Raymond lay there breathing in the scent of coconut as delicate yellow petals drifted round him like snowflakes. He crawled back to his nest and licked a puncture wound in his side. As he fell asleep he thought how glad he was to be alive.
In his dream Raymond was being held down by something heavy and a hooked beak was about to dismember him. He struggled awake. It was late morning and Smudge was frolicking around excitedly.

‘I was having a nightmare,’ said Raymond. ‘What did I miss?’
‘I think it’s Easter,’ said Smudge. Something else Raymond did not know about.
‘Himself has just put a sign on the gate and Missus Daisy is out in her boots carrying a basket of eggs.’
‘Let’s go and see,’ said Raymond. They set up a lookout post in a gnarled elder shrub, concealed by luscious black berries.
‘This place smells,’ said Raymond.
‘God’s stinking tree,’ said Smudge and then he puffed out his chest and recited:

Bour tree, bour tree: crooked rung 

Never straight and never strong; 

Ever bush and never tree 

Since our Lord was nailed to thee. 

‘I don’t know what you’re saying,’ said Raymond, confused, ‘but it sounds depressing.’
‘It’s a poem,’ said Smudge, ‘about Easter and the elder. I think the story turns out all right in the end, though.’
‘I don’t understand how you know things,’ said Raymond, ‘and what have eggs got to do with it?’
‘Now that I don’t know,’ said Smudge, ‘but they’re fun to find.’

Missus Daisy was wandering round carefully hiding colourful eggs behind clumps of daffodils, under thick hedges and shoulder high in trees.
‘She makes it too easy,’ said Smudge. ‘Look, she’s putting out little signposts to show the way.’
‘But why is she doing this for us?
‘It’s not for us, silly. It’s for them.’

Two cars were pulling into the driveway spilling small children from doors right and left. At the same time, the visitors tumbled out of the house with shrill shouts of welcome.
‘Oh no, not him,’ said Raymond as he watched Georgie carefully lifting something out of the boot of the car and carrying it into the garage. It was some kind of complicated wooden contraption with a platform, a lever and a pulley.
‘I wonder what he’s up to?’ said Raymond.

The two little girls, Ruthie and Rose, were dressed alike in pink frocks and pretty bonnets. Rose was waving a stick with ribbons attached, twirling round and round. Someone was blowing bubbles and Ruthie was spinning too trying to catch them.

Joy and Bastian were conspiring together in a corner, trying to pull a long worm out of the grass while Nate and Teddy chased a beautiful butterfly.
‘What a cheerful scene!’ said Raymond.

Adults were calling the children indoors for lunch and through an open window Raymond and Smudge could hear the clatter of cutlery, the scraping of chairs and the laughter of family.
‘Now!’ said Smudge, scampering across the grass. Raymond followed him into the dense undergrowth in the far corner. They double checked they could not be seen from the house, then they located the first of the eggs. Smudge unwrapped it with his tiny paws, cracked it against his teeth and handed Raymond a piece of the shell. Raymond sniffed it.

‘Chocolate?’ he said. ‘You didn’t say the eggs were chocolate.’
Raymond loved chocolate but he couldn’t help feeling a little bit guilty about stealing the children’s treats.
‘We won’t eat them all,’ said Smudge, tucking into a second egg and licking his lips.
The partners in crime found and gobbled ten or more eggs and were starting to feel rather sick.
‘I think we’ve had enough,’ said Raymond.

‘Indeed you have,’ sounded a deep voice.
Lolloping across the lawn came the biggest rabbit Raymond had ever seen. It was whiter than white with fluffy pink ears, big teeth and a wide mouth.

 

As usual, Smudge leapt into a tree leaving Raymond to face the music.
Raymond was perched on the lower branches of a magnificent pink magnolia whose velvety flowers were budding into crescents reaching for the sky. He had gorged on milky chocolate and did not really want to run away…again.

He took off round the side of the house with the white rabbit in hot pursuit, literally. He seemed to be struggling to breathe and Raymond could smell the sweat. When he looked back, the rabbit was bent double groaning with the exertion. ‘It’s the Easter Bunny!’ squealed Joy. The children came running out of the house to embrace their furry friend.

Smudge was nowhere to be seen so when Raymond came out of hiding he made his way back to the oil tank alone. All in all it had been a good day: he had escaped death, made a safe landing, learned about Easter, stuffed his stomach with chocolate and outwitted Himself once again.
‘He’s not in great shape,’ said Himself, shaking his head. ‘One beer too many, I fear.’
‘No,’ gasped the white rabbit, ‘there was a…’
‘Never mind,' said Himself, ‘let’s get on with the Easter egg hunt.’

Missus Daisy was distributing little plastic buckets to the girls while the boys ran on ahead, searching for the sign that read START HERE.
He passed by the front of the open garage and something yummy caught his eye. Georgie had placed a square of peanut chocolate on the little platform of his wooden toy. A peace offering?

Maybe I have misjudged him, thought Raymond. He’s a kind boy, after all. I think I have room for just one more nibble before bedtime...                                                                           
THE END

Chapter Nine: Raymond Finds Food

Raymond’s nostrils were filling with water and he felt as if he had no strength left. A torrent was still pouring from the tap and he was getting hotter by the minute. His body was swirling in a little whirlpool, round and round, and all he wanted to do was to give up and sink to the bottom. Suddenly, something hit him on the head. What now? he thought.

He couldn’t see anyone in the room but objects were flying into the bath from above: a metal tank which disappeared below the surface; a yellow rubber duck; a toy soldier and…happy days... a green plastic yacht! Raymond could not believe his luck. He struggled across to the boat. It was also turning in the swell of water and it was difficult to make it stay still. It was this or the end so Raymond summoned his last bit of energy and managed to haul himself in over the side. He fell face down and coughed water from his lungs. He was not safe yet. Things were still raining down on him and he could now see a little child’s hand chucking toys for all he was worth.

The boat smacked against the side of the tub just below the taps. Raymond spied a hanging chain. He quickly reached out and grabbed it. He was not sure if it would take his weight but he had to try. With a struggle he pulled himself out of the boat and clambered up the few inches to the rim of the bath. On the other side all he could see was a gorgeous mop of blonde curls.

‘Teddy! Teddy! What on earth are you doing in there?’ shouted Missus Daisy.

There was no time to lose. Raymond leapt onto the ledge, knocked over a plant and escaped out of the open window under cover of steam as shouty people entered the room:

‘They’ve filled the tub!’
‘What a waste of water!’
‘Well, let’s just bath them now.’

Outside, Raymond shook his fur like a dog and droplets spun everywhere. Keeping to the flowerbeds, he made his way back to his den. He was never, ever going back inside that house again!

------------------------------------------------------- 

After his ordeal, Raymond slept for most of the day, snuggled up in Missus Daisy’s bloomers. It was hunger that drove him back over to the seeds at the foot of the bird table. Late afternoon was a good time to eat because the birds were settling for the night and there was a whole day of pickings to be had.

‘Aren’t you tired of seeds?’ asked Smudge.  He was sitting in the tree crunching a hazel nut.
‘I had some cheese earlier, but I didn’t care for it,’ said Raymond.
‘I know where we can get something more substantial,’ said Smudge.

Himself had left a gap at the bottom of the garage door again and the pals squashed themselves under.

‘I don’t see it,’ said Raymond looking round.
‘See what?’ said Smudge.
‘The bicycle built for two.’
‘It’s just a song,’ sneered Smudge.

Raymond was annoyed that Smudge was such a know-it-all. He felt stupid sometimes, but the squirrel was his best friend, his only friend, because Orange Cat who was watching them through the window didn’t count.

‘Look here,’ said Smudge. Against the stepladder leaned a large lumpy bag.
‘What’s in it?’ asked Raymond.
‘Potatoes,’ answered Smudge. ‘The farmer brought them yesterday. Fresh as anything.’

Raymond sniffed the bag. It was made from thick layered paper. This was going to be easy.

‘We’re a team, you and me,’ said Smudge, as Raymond began to nibble a small hole, which became a medium-size hole and then a huge hole in the bottom of the bag. A single potato, round and hard, dropped out onto the cement floor. Smudge picked it up and headed to the door.

‘You chomp; I’ll carry,’ he said.

They worked quickly and before long they had built a small pile of stolen spuds beside the oil tank. 

‘That’ll last us all summer,’ said Smudge. 

Raymond did not like to admit to his friend that he did not know what a potato was, much less how it tasted. He licked soil from the surface of one and spat it out. 

‘No,’ said Smudge, ‘you have to bite into it. We’ll eat one for supper later.’ 

But just at that moment Missus Daisy was also thinking about supper for her visitors.

‘We’ve got some lovely Comber earlies,’ she announced, trundling out to the garage. You could hear the screech for miles.

‘My potatoes! Look at what that filthy rat's gone and done!’

Himself was at her side in seconds, two tan skinned boys in tow.

‘Right lads,’ he said reaching for the gardening implements, ‘we’ll flush the rascal out.’

The boys were excited.

‘They talk funny; are they foreign?’ whispered Raymond, watching them beating the life out of the budding camellias with a trowel and a gardening fork.

‘Australian, probably,’ said Smudge. ‘Now that’s an accent!’

Himself was armed with a long handled hoe. He was advancing with it thrust out in front of him like a spear and he was getting much too close for comfort.  Smudge had long since taken to the trees. So much for friendship, thought Raymond. The whole stealing potatoes thing was his idea in the first place!

‘It’s like a hunt,’ said the younger boy.

‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you elephants and lions like you’re used to,’ Himself said, ‘but this fellow is just as dangerous.’

Raymond beamed with pride. Dangerous, was he? He’d show them dangerous! The older boy must have had a sixth sense because he was creeping through the bushes towards Raymond’s nest. Instead of making his escape into the shuck, Raymond lurked among last year’s fallen leaves and waited for the boy to reach out his trowel and poke the cardboard box.

‘I’ve found something,’ shouted Bastian, ‘and here’s some potatoes.’

With that, Raymond sprang forward and sank his sharp teeth into the back of the child’s hand. Now it was the boy’s turn to wail.

‘He bit me! Something bit me!’

Raymond scurried off into the field while a mummy’s voice reassured her sobbing son and Missus Daisy ran for the antiseptic lotion.

‘Ha!’ chuckled Raymond. ‘Round two to me.’

He gave a leap of delight and was instantly sorry. Riding the thermals above him was a big brown bird, its talons spread like knives and it was looking straight at him…

Chapter Eight: Raymond has a Bath

When Himself appeared outside the greenhouse, his face was red and swollen with rage. Smudge and Raymond only had a few precious seconds to decide how they were going to avoid being torn limb from limb by the salivating dog.

‘We have the advantage,’ said Raymond.
‘How?’ said Smudge.
‘There are two of us and only one of him.’
‘But he’s much bigger,’ whimpered Smudge.
‘Brains are better than brawn,’ said Raymond.

As the door slid open, Himself released the dog who hurtled into the greenhouse, like a bullet from a gun. Smudge was crouched at the far end of the small space, trying to be invisible. Raymond had climbed up onto a low shelf crammed with plastic pots containing tiny green shoots.

‘Dodge!’ he yelled, when the dog’s jaws were inches from Smudge’s face.

This was a new word to Raymond and Smudge. They had heard it when the children were playing games at the party. The daddy threw a ball and shouted, ‘Dodge!’ and they had to jump out of the way.

‘Dodge!’ he screamed again, and Smudge threw himself sideways, coming within a whisker of getting mauled. The dog was running too fast to stop and he slammed into the glass wall with a loud crunch. That bought the pals some time. Smudge sprang for the door where Himself was waiting with a heavy spade. The squirrel hurled his body against the man’s chest, knocking him to the ground as Raymond scurried out under his legs. It was all over so quickly and the dog simply lay down licking his bruised snout. The friends did not wait to see what Himself intended to do with the spade. Smudge scampered high into a tree and Raymond ran straight towards the house.

Raymond knew that the dog would soon recover and sniff him out so he clambered up onto a sill and slipped in through an open window. It was quiet inside. Raymond’s heart was pounding as he crept across a bedroom carpet and out through another door.

As he slid along a slippery floor he got a shock. Coming towards him down the hallway was another rat! The rat had clearly spotted him and was watching him intently. Raymond stopped in his tracks; the other rat stopped too. Raymond tilted his head to one side; the other rat did the same.
He’s copying me, thought Raymond. Who does this guy think he is?
He was not pleased. This was his patch.
The rats slowly crawled towards each other, neither one averting his gaze.
If he doesn’t back off, I’ll have to fight him, thought Raymond, but I’m exhausted.
Still they kept coming, closer and closer, until their twitching noses were almost touching. It was a stand-off. Raymond’s whiskers felt the air in front of him. They touched something cold: cold and hard, like glass.

Suddenly a door banged somewhere behind him and Raymond dashed into the nearest room. When he looked back out along the hall, the other rat had mysteriously disappeared.  Raymond’s problems were not over yet. Against the wall on the far side of the room stood several creatures he could not name: one was grey with a very long, snake-like nose; another was spotted yellow with an equally long neck and in a tree were three cheeky looking brown animals with long dangly arms.

A tree? thought Raymond. Indoors? He took a closer look and laughed. The creatures were not moving; they were not real. The room was filled with toys, cushions and little coloured pieces of hard plastic. It hurt Raymond’s feet to walk on them. So he looked for somewhere to hide and rest. Inside a little red tent he found exactly what he needed: a pile of soft toys. He chose a brown teddy bear with a furry tummy and curled up for a snooze.

It was early morning when he woke.  Someone was shouting: ‘Teddy! Teddy!’
They must know I’m in here on the teddy bear, thought Raymond, filled with fear. They’re coming to get me!
He could hear loud voices in the hallway. Raymond crept to the doorway and saw someone plonking down a big heavy suitcase. House guests, home for the holidays. Missus Daisy was crying and hugging and dabbing her eyes with a hanky.

‘Come and see the play room,’ she said, leading two small blonde boys by the hand.

Raymond did not wait around to meet the visitors. He made a dash for yet another room. How many rooms were there? He was walking on cool tiles. Raymond explored a wet space. A big lump of cheese was sitting on a dish in the corner. If there was anything Raymond loved to eat, it was cheese. He didn’t recognise the brand. It was paler than cheddar with a red label: Imperial Leather.

‘Posh!’ said Raymond, taking a huge bite. He swallowed it without chewing. It left a funny taste on his tongue so he slurped water from a shallow puddle and was surprised when a big bubble burst out of his mouth, floated up into the air and popped.  Cool! he thought.

Raymond clambered up the side of a wicker basket filled with dirty clothes and hopped onto a smooth glossy surface. ‘I wonder what this is for?’ he said, looking down into a large tub.
The door behind him opened and, caught off guard, Raymond felt himself slip sliding down a slope. It felt like fun, except for one thing: he was deep inside a huge cavern and he could not possibly climb out. The white walls rose on all sides like a glacier.

‘Bastian, please go and use the bathroom,’ called a mummy’s voice, ‘and don’t forget to wash your hands!’

A boy with hazel eyes peered over the edge of the bath. He saw Raymond but did not utter a single sound. Raymond waited. The boy reached down, pushed a small metal plug into a hole and turned on a silver tap. A huge jet of hot water spurted out and before he knew it, Raymond was wading up to his knees. This isn’t funny, he thought. He hoped the boy would rescue him but instead he turned on his heels and left the room.  The water was getting deeper and deeper and Raymond started to struggle.

‘Help, somebody!’ he squeaked. ‘Please!’ His little feet were paddling frantically and his mouth was full of suds.

He hated getting his fur wet, but that was not the worst thing.

'Help!' he spluttered. ‘I can’t swim…’

Raymond Again

Chapter Seven: Raymond has a Rest

The world was upside down. It looked very different to Raymond and it seemed to be swinging from side to side. The boy was carrying him towards his own lair between a cypress tree and the beech hedge which bordered the road. Someone was waiting for them there: a younger boy.

‘Look what I’ve got, Nate,’ said Georgie.
He dangled Raymond in front of his brother’s face.
‘Oooh!’ said Nate, reaching out to touch Raymond.
‘No,’ said Georgie, snatching him away, ‘he’s mine.’
‘Are we going to kill him?’
‘No, I’m going to keep him.’

With that, Georgie plunged Raymond deep into his camouflage trouser pocket and zipped him in.
It was dark in there. The zip had strong metal teeth so Raymond focused on the pocket’s satin lining. He began to nibble.  Outside, he could hear parents calling for their children. It was time to go home.
‘Let’s get you strapped in,’ said a daddy voice. Doors banged with a loud clunk and Raymond realised they were getting into a car. He nibbled faster. In the kerfuffle he managed to make a small hole and drop down the leg of Georgie’s trousers. Of course, the boy felt him wriggling and he started to yell.
‘My rat, my rat!’
‘Stop that noise and DO NOT get out of your car seat,’ commanded the daddy, starting the engine.

Raymond had managed to squeeze between the seats and was now in the boot of the car surrounded by wellington boots, heavy outdoor clothing and a child’s bicycle.
The car was reversing slowly down the driveway. Raymond looked out of the window, feeling desolate because he was leaving his home, possibly for good. Smudge was watching from the tree and he gave a little wave. A tear trickled down Raymond’s nose.

Suddenly, someone was screaming, ‘Wait!’
Granny Daisy emerged from the house with an armful of tiny paper packets.
‘Party bags!’ said, Joy, excitedly. ‘Granny forgot the party bags.’
Missus Daisy yanked open the boot, set down the bags and slammed it shut, but not before Raymond had seized his opportunity, launching himself out of the car and dashing into the laurel shrub panting and sweating.
He could hear Georgie wailing all the way up the road. 

Raymond wondered about the goodies in those bags, but he and Smudge feasted on sandwich crumbs, sticky bits of icing and discarded sausage rolls long after it got dark. 

‘People who live in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones,’ said Smudge wisely.
The next day, he and Raymond were hiding in a magnolia tree watching Himself inside a glass cage.
It was chilly out and they were looking for somewhere warm to have their afternoon nap. Orange Cat was splayed at her master’s feet, fast asleep as usual.
‘Who’s throwing stones?’ asked Raymond.
‘No one,’ said Smudge. ‘It’s just a saying.’
‘But what does it mean?’
‘How should I know?’ answered Smudge
They gazed into the greenhouse.
‘It looks so cosy in there and we need to get inside,’ said Smudge.
Raymond looked at Orange Cat.
‘We’ll have to get her out first,’ he said.
The cat was a lazy lump who wasn’t going anywhere.
‘If we can lure Himself out, then she might follow,’ said Smudge.
They tried everything: rustling the tree, pushing over the garden bench and even trying to imitate the purring of a cat.
Himself kept busy with little plants in pots and Orange Cat did not bat an eyelid.

‘You’ve given me an idea,’ said Raymond. He scurried back down into the garden and round the corner to where the edge of the lawn met the house.
‘Look!’ he said.
Smudge was baffled.
‘Stones,’ said Raymond.
There was a narrow bed of small pebbles running the length of the wall. Raymond began to lift them up one by one and gave them to Smudge who gathered as many as he could against his chest.
‘Now what?’ said Smudge.
‘Now we do battle,’ said Raymond.
The pair crept along the low wall towards the summer house. They had to make several runs before they had carried enough stones onto the roof. From there, they had a good view of the greenhouse.
‘Oh, I see now,’ said Smudge.
‘We’ll be like gunners arming the canons,’ said Raymond. ‘I’ll pass the stones to you and you can fire them, I mean throw them.’
‘Ok,’ said Smudge, warming to the task.
The first stone simply tinkled on the glass and the second missed completely.
‘Throw harder,’ said Raymond.
Smudge drew back his arm and launched a sharp stone with all of his might. He overbalanced in the process, lost his footing on the felt roof and tumbled towards the flowerbed. Just as he hit the ground, he heard a loud shattering sound. He joined Raymond behind the summer house, their nosey noses jutting out.

Himself was shouting and leaping about to avoid the broken glass which had smashed at his feet. Orange Cat was covered in little splinters and was trying to lick her fur. She mewed in pain as she ambled away to get help. Himself carefully lifted the bigger pieces of glass and then humphed off towards the house. He returned with a broom and a dustpan and soon the floor of the glasshouse was swept. Smudge and Raymond waited patiently until the coast was clear before slipping in through a little gap near the door and settling down for a well-earned rest in the humid heat.

When he woke, Raymond sensed immediately that something was wrong. There was no sign of Himself or Orange Cat, but he could hear a snarling sound nearby. Just outside the door of the greenhouse was a gigantic black dog. Raymond woke Smudge and they sat quite still watching the beast who was watching them. Raymond was relieved to see that the dog was tied to a tree, but he was straining at the leash, slabber dripping from his cruel mouth.

Smudge looked for an escape route and was horrified to see that, while they were sleeping, someone had covered the broken pane with thick black plastic. Raymond edged towards the hole where they had come in, but it too was blocked by a wedge of wood.
They could hear Himself stomping angrily up the path.
Oh no! thought Raymond. We’re trapped…