Snakes' Elbows (5 page)

9 The Painting

What on earth was Barney doing?

As with so many things that seem completely mysterious, the explanation was really quite simple. At the exact moment when the young woman with the umbrella arrived at the chestnut tree, Barney turned to Dandelion who was curled up snoozing under the piano. ‘Come along, Puss,' he said. ‘It's time to go.'

With the cat at his heels he stepped out of the bedroom and switched on the light. Before Barney was a long dim corridor. All along the left-hand side were windows, and all along the right-hand side hung a series of marvellous
paintings. The first showed a handsome man in a dark red robe and a velvet hat.

‘Good evening, young sir,' Barney murmured as he passed by and switched on the second light. This revealed the second painting, of a bowl of wood strawberries on a crisp white linen cloth. Barney paused briefly to admire it. The strawberries were so lifelike that he could almost taste them in his mouth. He switched on the next light and smiled. ‘You like this one, don't you,' he said to Dandelion.

The cat mewed and put her paws up on the wall, trying to touch the painting of a fine fat silver salmon lying on a china plate.

Barney plodded steadily onwards, switching on light after light as he went on looking at all his paintings. At the end of the corridor was a short spiral staircase which he carefully descended, bringing him onto a similar passageway, although now the windows were on his
right-hand
side and the paintings on his left.
Click, click, click
went the light switches.
Clump, clump
,
clump
went Barney's feet. Dandelion's soft paws made no sound at all. Slowly they made their way through the house until they were on the ground floor.

At the end of the final corridor was a stout door on which Barney knocked.

‘Come in, come in.' Wilf was standing by the stove in his slippers and dressing gown, his eyes bright and his hair on end. As soon as Barney came into the room Wilf set a pan on the stove to heat, then bent down and poured out a saucer of milk far Dandelion. ‘There you go, Pussens, there's your supper.' As the cat drank, Wilf pottered around the kitchen preparing two mugs of cocoa and chatting to Barney about the day that was ending.

‘Thank you for helping me with everything and looking after me so well,' Barney said.

‘My pleasure. There you go. Mind now, it's hot.'

‘Thank you, Wilf. Sleep well.'

‘You too, Barney. Have nice dreams. Night night, Pussens.'

With Dandelion licking the milk from her whiskers and Barney carrying his mug of hot cocoa, they set out to retrace their steps through the house. Barney switched off each of the lights in turn as they went and said a last goodnight to his paintings. By the time he reached the bedroom his cocoa had cooled enough for him to drink it. Then he said goodnight to Dandelion, turned out the light and in no time at all Barney was fast asleep.

The following morning, Wilf soft-boiled two eggs for Barney's breakfast and grilled a mackerel for Dandelion. He brought the food upstairs on the trolley as usual. ‘There's something in the paper this morning that you'll find interesting,' he said.

On the front of the
Woodford Trumpet
was a photograph of Barney out cycling. He was freewheeling down a hill on his bike with his hair on end so that it looked even wilder than Wilf's. Dandelion's face peeked out above the
middle button of his cardigan, for he often carried her around like this now, as he had done on the day he found her.

‘BARMY BARNEY GETS ON HIS BIKE!' said the caption below the photograph.

‘To be honest, that sort of thing doesn't interest me,' Barney said, carefully tapping at the top of his boiled egg. ‘It doesn't even bother me any more. It's just silliness.'

‘No, no, I didn't mean that. Look here, at the top of the page,' and Wilf pointed to the headline ‘ANGEL GOES UP FOR SALE.'

‘That's just silliness too,' Barney said, glancing at the paper again as he put salt on his egg. ‘Everybody knows you can't buy an angel and even if you could, what would you do with it?'

‘Oh just read it will you!' exclaimed Wilf, who was beginning to lose patience.

‘Sorry,' said Barney, and putting down his egg spoon he obediently picked up the newspaper. ‘The Haverford-Snuffley Angel is up for sale. The Haverford-Snuffley Angel! My goodness
why didn't you say so? This does interest me, Wilf. It interests me very much indeed.'

Surprisingly enough it interested Jasper too. At that very moment he was also sitting up in bed reading the paper and eating soft-boiled eggs. (It was a Tuesday.) ‘Listen to this, lads,' he said to Cannibal and Bruiser, who were still snoozing in their basket.

Barney and Jasper began to read aloud the same piece from the paper at exactly the same moment.

‘The Haverford-Snuffley Angel is up for sale. “It's a TINY little painting, no bigger than a POSTCARD,” Mrs Haverford-Snuffley told our reporter yesterday in an EXCLUSIVE interview with the
Woodford Trumpet
. “It's been in our family for HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of years, ever since it was PAINTED for Theophilus Haverford-Snuffley. I don't WANT to sell it now but I HAVE TO because I need the MONEY.
Haverford-Snuffley 
Hall is FALLING DOWN. There's a great big HOLE in the roof. I have a JAM JAR at the bottom of my BED to catch the rain and I'm FED UP with having to rise in the middle of the NIGHT to empty it. It's freezing cold in ALL the rooms because there's a great big HOLE in the FRONT DOOR too. Then last month we discovered heaps of BATS living in the ATTIC and even they were cold and damp and SHIVERING. Although the
Haverford-Snuffley
Angel is a TINY painting I expect to SELL it for POTS and POTS of money. So I'll be able to FIX the front DOOR and the hole in the ROOF and make the ATTIC nice and COMFY for the BATS. Who knows, I might even have enough LEFT OVER to buy myself a NEW HAT!” The Haverford-Snuffley Angel will be sold by SPECIAL AUCTION in the Woodford Sale Room next FRIDAY at 1.00pm sharp.'

‘The size of a postcard,' Jasper said, nibbling thoughtfully on a toast soldier. ‘You don't get a
lot of angel for your money, do you?'

‘I saw it once you know, Wilf,' Barney said. ‘Mrs Haverford-Snuffley loaned it to an exhibition and I saw it there. It was one of the loveliest things I've ever seen in my whole life.' His boiled eggs were going cold in front of him. ‘Just think, if you owned it you could look at it every single day in the year. How marvellous that would be!'

‘If you owned it you could close it away, and then nobody would ever be able to see it,' said Jasper, licking butter off his fingers. ‘Even if it cost lots of money now, you could probably sell it for lots more in the future. And everybody would be dead impressed that you were rich enough to spend all that money on a piddling little painting.'

And once again Barney and Jasper, without knowing it, suddenly spoke aloud together, saying exactly the same thing in exactly the same moment: ‘I simply have to have it!'

10 The Auction

The whole of Woodford was abuzz and agog when Friday came. A great crowd of people pressed into the sale room at half past twelve and jostled for the best seats. The reporter from the
Woodford Trumpet
was scampering around talking to people and scribbling furiously in his notebook the whole time. The photographer was there too, taking pictures of everyone as they arrived.

Plooff!
Here was Jasper Jellit looking elegant in a white linen suit, with Cannibal and Bruiser on two stout leather leads.

Plooff!
Here was Mrs Haverford-Snuffley
wearing a straw hat with a hole in the crown and a bat hanging from the brim. ‘We're both terribly excited, aren't we?' she said and the bat nodded. ‘I want a new front door and all the bats want central heating.'

Plooff!
Here was Philomena Phelan, the director of the Woodford Art Gallery, with a glum expression on her face. ‘We'd love to buy the painting for the gallery so that everyone in the town could see it whenever they wanted,' she said, ‘but we have hardly any money so I'm not very hopeful.'

Plooff!
Here was a strange-looking character who crept into the room and didn't want to have his photograph taken at all. He was wearing dark glasses that may well have hidden a pair of small bright eyes, and although his hair was plastered flat to his head that might only have been because he had put wax on it: usually, it probably stood straight up in mad tufts. The pink nose of a cat poked out from the pocket of his jacket.

Up at the front of the room was the Haverford-Snuffley Angel, displayed for all to see. Although it really was no bigger than a postcard it was bright as a jewel. The angel had soft brown hair and eyes like a squirrel. Its wings were made of coloured feathers, crimson and green and deep, deep blue. It wore a simple linen gown and in its hands it held a strange musical instrument, like a violin with only one string. The angel looked as if it was alive.

Small wooden paddles were being given out to the people who were seriously interested in buying the painting. Jasper and Philomena took one each, as did the mysterious stranger. He then took a mobile phone out of his pocket. ‘Hello? That you? It's me, Wilf,' he whispered into it. ‘Listen, I'm really nervous. Explain to me again how the whole thing works.'

‘Have you got your paddle?' Barney said.

‘Yes.'

‘Well, the man will say a price and if you're willing to pay that price, you lift your paddle.
The auctioneer then says a new, higher price. If someone else is willing to pay that, they hold up their paddle. It goes on like this until the price the auctioneer says is so high that no one wants to pay it. The last person who had their paddle up when the man bangs the desk with his hammer gets to buy the painting,' said Barney, who was hopeless at explaining difficult things. ‘Do you understand?'

‘Oo-er, I'm not sure that I do,' Wilf said.

‘Don't worry, you'll see how it works once the bidding starts. I'm going to stay on the line, so I'll help you if I can. Just do your best.'

Everybody was settling down in their seats now, for the auction was about to begin. At exactly one o'clock, an important-looking man in a dark suit swept into the room. He went up to a desk at the front beside the painting and taking out a small wooden hammer he knocked
rat-a-tat
three times. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. We only have one item for sale today, but it is a remarkable one: the
world-famous Haverford-Snuffley Angel. And so without further ado, let me open the bidding at five thousand.' Philomena Phelan eagerly lifted her paddle.

‘Six thousand.' Jasper lifted his.

‘Seven thousand.' Philomena lifted hers again.

‘Eight thousand.' Once more Jasper.

‘Ouch!' Wilf suddenly felt a set of sharp claws jab him in the stomach. Looking down, he saw a cross little cat's face glaring at him from under the flap of his jacket pocket. ‘Gosh, yes, I'd better start bidding too,' he thought.

‘Nine thousand.' Wilf lifted his paddle and the auctioneer nodded towards him.

‘Ten thousand.' Philomena Phelan again.

The bidding went on like this for quite some time. It struck Wilf that perhaps they had started with a ridiculously low price so that they would all have a chance to get used to waving their paddles in the air and stop feeling nervous.

‘How are we doing?' said Barney's voice in the phone that Wilf had kept pressed to his ear all this time.

‘I think I'm getting the hang of it,' Wilf hissed back.

By now the price had gone up to seventy thousand and Philomena Phelan was beginning to look worried but she lifted her paddle all the same. ‘Eighty thousand.' Jasper proudly raised his paddle.

‘Ninety thousand,' said the auctioneer. Wilf made his bid.

Looking sad and disappointed Philomena put her paddle down. She was going to have to stop bidding: the Haverford-Snuffley Angel was too expensive to buy for the people of Woodford.

Now it was all down to Jasper and Wilf! Which of them would hold his nerve and win the day?

‘One hundred thousand.' Jasper lifted his paddle and smiled at the auctioneer. Afterwards,
some people would say that they thought they also saw Cannibal and Bruiser grinning from time to time during the auction. One woman even claimed she saw them wink at each other but she must have imagined it, for such a thing isn't possible.

‘It's getting very dear,' Wilf whispered into the phone. ‘It's up to one hundred thousand.'

‘That's all right, I can manage that,' Barney replied. But it was a lot of money for a painting, and the people in the room were beginning to be astonished at how high the price was going.

‘Two hundred thousand!' Wilf again.

‘Three hundred thousand!' Jasper waved his paddle.

‘Oooohhh!' said the crowd, as though it were at a circus.

‘Four hundred thousand!'

‘Aaaaahhh!'

‘Five hundred thousand!'

‘Goodness me! You bats will get your central
heating, that's for sure,' cried Mrs
Haverford-Snuffley
.

‘Six hundred thousand!' The crowd gave a strangled gasp with a kind of giggle somewhere in the middle of it, as Wilf raised his paddle and made his bid.

‘This is a world record for a painting of this size,' said the auctioneer who had gone pink in the face. He was terribly excited but he was trying not to show it.

‘Seven hundred thousand!' Jasper again!

‘We're getting close to my limit, Wilf,' Barney said. ‘If it gets much more expensive than this, I can't afford it.'

‘Eight hundred thousand!' Dandelion put her paws over her ears as Wilf lifted his paddle. The suspense was too much; she couldn't bear to listen.

‘Nine hundred thousand!' Jasper!

‘We can go to a million but no higher,' Barney said.

‘One million!' cried the auctioneer and Wilf
waved his paddle in the air.

‘One million I am bid! Do I hear one million one hundred thousand?'

All eyes were on Jasper now, and he knew it. He was at his limit too, but he wasn't going to stop. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see if he would bid one million one hundred thousand. He twiddled the paddle as if he could hardly be bothered to lift it, as if the whole thing had become a bore to him. But he was within a whisker of getting what he wanted. All he had to do was raise his hand and the Haverford-Snuffley Angel would be his. Pretending to yawn, he moved to lift the paddle and make the final bid for one million one hundred thousand.

But before he could do it, just at that very moment, to everyone's amazement something completely unexpected happened. Cannibal jumped up and grabbed Jasper's wooden paddle, snapping it in two. In exactly the same moment Bruiser leapt and sent Jasper flying,
knocking him backwards off his chair and on to the floor. ‘Eeek! Gerroff!' he cried, for Bruiser was sitting on his chest now, growling and pinning him down.

‘One million one hundred thousand! No takers?' shouted the auctioneer over the racket, for the place was in uproar. Mrs
Haverford-Snuffley
fainted and the bat fluttered wildly around the room. The reporter from the
Woodford Trumpet
couldn't write fast enough to keep up with everything that was happening, and the photographer was taking pictures
non-stop.
Plooff! Plooff!

Cannibal was smashing the paddle into matchsticks and Bruiser was still sitting on top of Jasper growling. People shrieked and Dandelion popped out of Wilf's pocket and climbed onto his head, the better to see what was happening.

‘Do I hear any advance on one million?' It was still Wilf's bid!

‘Miaow!'

‘Stoppit! Down boy!'

‘Going for one million!'

‘Aaargh!'

Plooff!

‘Gggrrrrhh!'

‘Help!'

‘Going!' shouted the auctioneer at the top of his voice over all the hullabaloo. ‘Going, going …' and he banged on the desk with his hammer … ‘GONE!

‘Gone for one million to the little fat man with a mobile phone and a cat on his head!'