How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant (10 page)

Saturday

.

Chapter 23

Kirsty watched the sunrise with bleary eyes. For a moment, its bright rays glancing in through a gap in her curtains seemed cheerful. It was nearly spring. But then she remembered there was a row coming, like dark clouds in the distance. She got up, shivering as she pulled on her dressing gown. Downstairs, she made herself a bowl of cereal and sat down on the kitchen step to eat it.

The house was quiet, except for the crunch of the cereal in her mouth. She could hear early traffic pass by in front of the house and, after a while, the gurgling in the pipes that meant the heating was switching itself on. She shovelled another spoonful into her mouth, splashing milk down her chin. It seemed easier to think when the house was so still . . . like a monastery in a kung-fu film. She was a monk in a mountain fortress. Eagles soared above and the whole misty valley opened before her. She was seeking wisdom, and deadly fighting skills. She put down the bowl and pulled her legs into the lotus position, each ankle tucked under the opposite knee. She took a breath of cold, fresh air and focused her mind.

There were two problems, both part of a bigger picture. First, Dad. Last night, in his room, Kirsty had realised that he was moving further and further away. Time and space just weren't helping, whatever Mum said. The second problem seemed easier, but still impossible: how to stop the row that was bound to happen when Mum called the council.

The bigger picture was how everything had changed since Grandad died. The two problems were like the yin-yang painting on Grandad's shed – different, but fitting together somehow. Both had happened because Grandad died. Could they be solved together?

If there was a huge, colossal row it might get Dad out of bed. He'd have to get involved in things again.

But that was no good. She had to
stop
the row so that she could keep her promise to Grandad.

If she took Dad to the allotment she might be able to persuade him to take her side and stop Mum calling Mr Thomas.

But there was no way she could get him out of bed. It would take the strength of an elephant to drag him down there.

And then, suddenly, a vivid ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds, and the valley was illuminated in gold light. The eagles cried in triumph.
The strength of an elephant.
Kirsty had had a brilliant idea.

.

Chapter 24

‘Wake up,' Kirsty whispered into Dawn's ear. It was tricky to stand on the bunk-bed ladder and hold a cup of tea and try to wake Dawn. She shook Dawn's shoulder. The tea – which was the colour of polished brown school shoes – spilled over on to the floor. ‘Rats.'

‘Wha' matta',' Dawn mumbled.

‘Wake up. Tea for you.'

‘Lea' me 'lone.'

Kirsty rolled Dawn over to face the day. ‘Come on, it's morning. Time to get up.'

Dawn's angry T-rex glare nearly stopped Kirsty, but not quite. It was pretty scary, but Kirsty felt way too excited to stop. She shoved the cup towards Dawn, who took it with a scowl. She slurped at it, then coughed. ‘Yuck! That's stronger than the Incredible Hulk.'

‘Are you awake yet?'

‘God, I hate sharing a room with you. You're like an evil alarm clock. What time is it anyway?'

Kirsty grinned. ‘Er, quarter to seven.'

‘What?' Dawn shoved the cup back at Kirsty. ‘I don't believe you! Go away. Scram. Vamoose. It's Saturday. Let me sleep.'

‘No, come on, Dawn. I need to speak to you. I've had a brilliant idea.'

‘I don't listen to brilliant ideas before ten o'clock at the weekend.' Dawn threw the covers over her head and crawled down into the warm bed. Kirsty sipped at the tea. Dawn was right. It was horrible. She left to go and wake Ben.

The front room was in darkness, but Kirsty could tell from the moment she opened the door that he was awake. He was breathing quietly, not the regular deep sound of sleep. He had his grey duvet pulled high up over his head.

‘Morning,' Kirsty whispered.

‘Hello.' Ben's reply was dull and flat, as though he were speaking from far away. Kirsty let her eyes get used to the murky dark, then stepped inside. At the weekend, the front room became a tangle of clothes and books as Ben spread out. Kirsty was careful not to trip over the draught excluder or tread on any of the more radioactive-smelling socks.

‘I'm glad you're awake,' she said. ‘Dawn won't wake up and I need to talk to you both.'

‘You tried to wake her? That's practically a suicide attempt.'

Kirsty sat down on the edge of his bed. It creaked in protest at the extra weight. ‘Why are you awake?'

Ben turned to look at her. ‘I couldn't sleep. Bad dreams.' He paused. ‘I dreamt about Grandad. But it wasn't really Grandad, it was Dad and Dad was the one who died. And when I woke up it didn't really feel better, because in a way that's what it's like, isn't it? As though Dad's . . .' Ben's voice faded to a whisper.

Kirsty nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it is a bit like that. I miss Dad.' She smiled suddenly. ‘But I think I know what to do about it. That's why I was trying to wake Dawn. Come on, get up. You'll have to help me wake her up.'

‘OK. Just pass me my suit of armour, will you?'

‘She's your sister, not a dragon.'

‘At seven o'clock in the morning, there's no difference.'

Ten minutes later, Dawn was propped up in bed like a hospital patient. Her face was creased with pillow marks and she looked furious.

‘I swear, as soon as I can be bothered to get up out of this bed, you two are toast,' she said.

Kirsty grinned at her. ‘Morning! I've had a great idea. I wanted to tell you about it before Mum and Dad get up. Well, Mum, anyway.'

Dawn's eyes narrowed. ‘OK, you have thirty seconds and then I'm going back to sleep. This had better be good. Remember, your life is in danger.'

Kirsty took a deep breath. She was like the sultan's wife in the
Arabian Nights
, talking for her life, telling stories to avoid the cruel fate of the sultan's other, slaughtered wives. The executioner was only metres away, sharpening the blade. Only her words would save her now. She could almost feel the heat of the desert, the soft rustle of silk against her skin, the weight of the diadem on her head.

‘Get on with it,' Dawn said. ‘Twenty seconds left.'

‘OK, OK. Like I said, I've had a great idea. It could solve everything. We'd get to keep the allotment and Dad would get better. But it's a risk. It's dangerous and we could get into trouble.'

‘That doesn't sound great,' Ben said.

‘Wait. I haven't got to the best bit.'

‘Ten seconds.'

‘We steal an elephant.'

There was a silence. Kirsty looked at both of them. Ben was wide-eyed with horror. Dawn was wide-eyed – at least she was awake now.

‘We steal a
what
?' Dawn asked.

‘An elephant. A stuffed elephant. From the museum.'

‘
Why
exactly?' Ben said after another long pause.

Kirsty grinned. If he wanted to know why, then he wasn't saying no. At least not yet. ‘Here's what I think. Dad doesn't think there's anything worth getting up for, right? It's almost as though he's fading away. He doesn't listen when you tell him things. He hardly notices you're there. He's not interested in
anything.
I think we have to
make
him interested again, whether he wants to be or not.'

‘But why an elephant?' Ben asked blankly.

‘It has to be something big! Something extraordinary!' How could she make them understand? ‘It has to be something that really shakes everyone up, makes them pay attention. There's no way Dad can stay in bed if he knows his kids are out robbing museums! He'd really
notice
stuff again!

‘And – this is the best bit – if we steal from the museum, we'll get Mr Thomas's attention too. He loves the museum. His favourite gallery is Natural History. The woman at the desk told me so. And the stuffed elephant is the best thing there.'

‘I suppose everyone's interested in a good crime. Especially one committed by your own children,' Dawn said nodding. ‘But do you really think it will make a difference to Mr Thomas?'

‘We've tried being nice and that didn't get us anywhere. We tried being cunning and that's going to get us grounded when Mum finds out. We have to get mean! If we kidnap something that Mr Thomas cares about, then he might listen. We can hold it to ransom.'

Dawn was nodding. ‘Two birds with one stone. It's risky, but I like it.'

‘Dawn!' Ben leapt up. ‘You can't be serious! You must be still asleep! We can't steal an elephant. It's crazy! It's insane! It's impossible.'

‘It's genius,' Dawn said. ‘Consider it a challenge. Kirsty's right. Dad's like a zombie. We need to give him a shock to snap him out of it. And Mr Thomas will give us the allotment so that he can get the elephant back. He loves that museum. He'll be a hero. Everyone's happy. Don't worry, Ben. It will be fun.'

‘But even if we could find a way to do it, do you really think it will work?'

Kirsty nodded. She was surer than she had ever been before. ‘This is the only thing that will work,' she said.

Ben bit his lip. Then he shrugged silently.

‘Woo-hoo!' Kirsty punched the air. ‘We're going to steal an elephant!'