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.
‘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…
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…
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