How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant (16 page)

‘Oh no, look!' Dawn said. She pointed in the other direction. Angela was forcing her way through the crowd. She was fully dressed and groomed, her make-up done perfectly. She'd been thinking of the telly too, Kirsty thought. Angela was smiling and waving at Dad. Dad half-raised his hand back. Angela reached the car where Mum and Dad stood. They were talking, but Kirsty was too far away to hear their conversation.

‘What do you suppose they're saying?' Kirsty asked.

‘Oh, you know. A lifetime's grounding. Shut in our rooms till we're old enough to vote. Bread and water for every meal till Doomsday.' Ben shrugged and bit into a chocolate bar that he'd found in the sandwich box.

‘Do you really think so?'

Dawn was silent for a moment. Then she sighed deeply. ‘I think they're doing their best to get us out of trouble with the police. They love us, don't they?'

‘Dad looks quite angry now,' Kirsty said, reaching for another cheese sandwich.

Dawn peered out from behind the elephant's leg. Dad was slapping the bumper of a police car. Someone had given Mum a mug of tea.

‘Any sign of the council yet?' Ben asked.

Suddenly the loudspeaker crackled into life. ‘This is impossible!' a voice blustered. Kirsty looked out. It was Mr Thomas. He was here. He walked forwards, his slippers flapping as he climbed over a row of leeks. ‘This is ridiculous!' he bellowed. ‘Preposterous! I've been woken up in the middle of the night! So has Mrs Thomas! And for what? An escaped elephant ransomed by some cheeky monkeys!'

‘Does he mean us?'

‘Yup.'

Mr Thomas was closer now and still yelling.

‘We have to give him our demands,' Ben said. ‘Do you want me to do it?'

‘No. I'll do it,' Kirsty said. ‘But it would be nice if you'd stand near me, both of you.'

Kirsty stepped out. Ben and Dawn followed and stood right beside her. She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Thomas,' she said. ‘Mum, Dad. Everyone. We took the elephant for a reason. Not just for fun. Although it was fun. We want to keep Grandad's allotment. We want you all to listen to us. Especially Dad. Dad, we love you and we want you back. That's all.'

Mr Thomas stopped walking. The loudspeaker hung down by his side. A ripple ran through the police officers as Kirsty spoke. Dad sat down on the bonnet of the car. Would they listen? Would they understand?

And then, Mr Thomas began to chuckle – slowly at first, but then louder and louder until he was clutching his sides and crying. ‘They stole a ruddy elephant! A great, big elephant!' he gasped.

Dad gasped. ‘They ruddy did too!' Dad stood shakily and walked out towards them. He held open his arms. He looked so thin and pale in the glow of the searchlight. Kirsty ran forward. Dad scooped her into the air and held her close. She could feel the rough growth of his beard against her cheek as she hugged him back.

‘I'm sorry,' he whispered.

Kirsty could hear Mr Thomas still giggling to himself as she closed her eyes against Dad's shoulder. He carried her back to Ben and Dawn. She could feel them hugging her too. She squeezed Dad as hard as she could.

For the next hour, the police officers scribbled in their pads; Dawn answered questions in front of a few television cameras; Ben snuggled inside a warm blanket, holding a white mug full of hot tea.

Kirsty sat on an upturned bucket as she watched the elephant being driven away on a truck. The sky was getting lighter, the stars winking out one by one like the candles on an old man's birthday cake. The sun would rise soon. She lay her palms down on to the grass and pushed against the earth. What would happen now? To the allotment? To them? The earth was damp and cold from the gathering dew. The allotments were emptying out. Soon there would be no sign that any of this had ever happened.

Kirsty stood up and wiped her wet hands on the front of her shirt, then went to find her family.

Wednesday

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Chapter 34

The rest of the night was a blur. Angela whisked Dawn and Ben away before Kirsty could even say thank you to them. Kirsty was tucked up in bed with a hot-water bottle as soon as they stepped through the door. She slept without dreaming for hours. She woke around lunchtime, with the sounds of the day creeping in through her open window and a breeze fluttering the curtain. When she finally got out of bed, she could hear voices downstairs. Dad and Mum were talking to someone. A grown-up someone. The police? Kirsty wrapped her dressing gown about her tightly and pulled hard at the belt. She crept downstairs.

She trod carefully down the hall until she reached the living room.

‘Oh, you're awake, then?' Mum had seen her. Mr Thomas was sitting on the settee, a cup balanced on a saucer on his knee. He smiled at her. Dad sat next to Mr Thomas. His beard was gone. He was wearing his favourite red T-shirt. Kirsty stared at him. He was out of bed! There was a glowing kind of joy in her stomach that she had never felt before. Even if she ended up in prison after last night, it would be OK, because Dad would be able to come and visit.

Mr Thomas spoke. ‘I thought it was a dream! Really, I did. Mrs Thomas set me straight. She said in all her years she had never been woken up by a stuffed elephant before, and it set me laughing all over again.'

‘Morning, Mr Thomas,' Kirsty said.

Mum went into the kitchen and came back with a mug of tea. She passed it to Kirsty with a wink. The tea felt nice and warm, and Kirsty was glad of something to hide her face behind.

‘Sit down,' Dad said, pointing to the empty armchair. Kirsty lowered herself into it, keeping both hands wrapped around the mug to stop them shaking. ‘Am I going to prison?' she blurted out.

Dad looked serious for a moment, then smiled. ‘No, not this time. The museum isn't going to press charges. It seems that Mr Thomas is on the board of trustees. Which is not to say that you won't be punished, young lady.'

Kirsty's eyes widened. Was this the lifetime of hard chores that Ben had predicted?

Mr Thomas spoke. ‘Yes. We've been talking. We think that a few months' community service is in order.'

Kirsty's heart sank as she thought of the miserable things she had seen on the TV: the toilet cleaning, the wall painting, the stupid overalls they had to wear.

‘Yes,' Mr Thomas continued. ‘We think it would be a good idea for you to do a spot of work out in the community, helping others. We were thinking you might take over one of the recently vacated allotment plots, thus ensuring the continued vitality and –'

Had she heard right? An allotment plot? Kirsty squealed, put down her mug and ran over to Mr Thomas. She threw her arms around him in a bear hug. Luckily, his cup was empty before it hit the carpet.

‘Thank you! Thank you!'

She stepped back and looked at Dad. He smiled, but his eyes still had a far-away look. She reached out and touched his face. ‘It's all right, Dad. There's no need to be sad. Everything's going to be better soon.'

Dad smiled. ‘I know. But you're so like your grandad. This is what you both wanted. I'm sorry I didn't see it before. I haven't been well. I wasn't paying attention to the good things that I've got. I was too caught up in the bad stuff. But I feel a bit stronger now. Come on.' He stood up. ‘We've got work to do down the allotments. Go and get your wellies on.'

‘Dad! Brilliant!' Kirsty threw herself into Dad's arms and felt him hug her tight. He was on his way back to them. When he finally let go, Kirsty asked, ‘But would you mind if I went by myself? Just for this first time.'

Dad exchanged a look with Mum, as though something was being decided. Then he said, ‘Sure. We'll come over later. You can tell us all your plans.'

Summer

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Epilogue

By the time that summer arrived, Kirsty's community service had paid off. She had worked on the allotment all spring and now green shoots had sprouted into towering plants; leaves had unfurled into a lush canopy and, if she was really quiet, she could hear jaguars padding past in the undergrowth.

It was just like she had planned it. Coming here alone the day after they had stolen the elephant, she had stood on the dark earth and made a new promise to Grandad. She had promised that she would always keep the people she loved close to her, no matter how far they might travel. And she'd promised to plant some marrows, even if they did taste revolting.

And she had done it. But it wasn't just her. Dawn and Ben were facing justice too. Every weekend they had come down with forks and hoes and moans and groans to help. Dad came some days too. He didn't get better all in one night. He was still sad sometimes, but he got out of bed every day. Kirsty was sure that he was going to be OK.

One Saturday, Kirsty asked everyone to meet at the allotment. Mum, Dad, Ben and Dawn, even Angela.

The sun burned hot above them, insects buzzed among the flowers. It was a perfect day. They stood in a circle. Dad held a small jar. Grandad's ashes. They had agreed that Kirsty would speak. Now that it was time, she wasn't sure if she could, the lump in her throat was so big. Then she felt her sister squeeze her hand. She stepped forwards. ‘Grandad. I know you can hear me. We've all come to say that we love you. And we miss you. And we hope you think we're taking good care of your allotment.'

Kirsty saw Mum wipe her eyes with a tissue. Then Dad stepped forwards. He moved up to the tallest sunflower. He knelt down and unscrewed the jar. A small cloud of dust billowed out. He lifted the urn and shook it on to the ground. The light grey ash swirled for a moment and then settled over the brown earth.

No one spoke. The sun twinkled on the yellow petals of the flower. Then Dad smiled at Kirsty. ‘I put some paint in the shed. I thought we could redecorate it today.'

Kirsty looked at the shed, at Grandad's yin-yang and her dolphins. Redecorate? No way! ‘Dad, we can't paint over the dolphins.'

Dad smiled. ‘No,' he said. ‘But we can add to them. There are the other walls to do. Mum and I were thinking that an elephant might look great on one of those. What do you think?'

Kirsty grinned. ‘Brilliant,' she said.