Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry (8 page)

“Poor, pitiful Ratty,” said Ana in a singsong, drying off the table. “He works so
hard
.”

“We need another boy around here!” yelled the Rat from the hall. “The professor! Joe! I'd even take Thomas!”

“Actually,” said Emmy, “we
could
use Joe. I'm pretty sure he knows how to use a mower.”

Ana reached for a broom and began to sweep. “But how can we get him invited here? We don't want to lie to your aunt—”

“I certainly hope not.” Aunt Melly spoke sharply from the kitchen doorway. “And just who, exactly, are you?”

E
MMY'S HEART BUMPED
twice, hard. The broom fell from Ana's hands with a clatter.

“Well?” demanded Aunt Melly, gripping the doorknob for support.

Emmy's heart settled into a steadier beat. She rinsed the plate she was washing and set it down. What could she tell Aunt Melly? That Ana had gotten off the train by mistake? But then Aunt Melly would call the Children's Home, and Ana would be sent away to her relatives after all.

“Don't tell,” whispered Ana, and her eyes were pleading. “I'll just go away.”

Emmy dried her hands on a towel. It was the second time in an hour that someone had begged her not to tell a secret.

Aunt Melly was talking again. “Speak up, Emmy. What is this strange girl doing in my kitchen?” Her tone was stern, but her voice wavered and the doorknob rattled slightly under her fingers.

Emmy pulled out a kitchen chair. “Please, Aunt Melly. Sit down.” She glanced around the floor and was relieved to see that Sissy and Ratty had sense enough to stay out of sight.

Aunt Melly sat down stiffly and knotted her trembling fingers together. “Just because I'm an old lady doesn't mean you can take over my home and invite strangers in without my permission!”

Emmy leaned forward across the table. “Listen, Aunt Melly. You have a secret, right?”

Aunt Melly grew rigid. “Telling secrets to family is one thing. Telling them to strangers is something else entirely.”

Emmy touched Aunt Melly's gnarled fingers. “I'm Jimmy's daughter, I'm
named
after you, Aunt Emmaline—you can trust me, okay?”

Aunt Melly blinked. Her eyes grew moist.

Emmy smoothed the ropy veins on the back of her aunt's thin hand. “I'll keep your secret. But I need you to keep mine, too.”

“And that is?” quavered Aunt Melly.

Emmy glanced at Ana. They had to come up with some explanation for Ana's presence, but the true one—that Ana had shrunk and turned into a rat and been brought into the house in a pet carrier—would be a little hard for Aunt Melly to believe.

Ana quietly found a tissue and tucked it in the old lady's hand. “
I'm
the secret,” she said. “I—sort of ran away.”

Aunt Melly blew her nose. “Well, did you or didn't you?”

“I was on the train with this lady who was taking me to my new home. And I got off the train when it stopped, and I didn't get back on in time. I didn't really do it on purpose,” said Ana, and then added in a burst of honesty, “but I'm glad it happened. Because I didn't want to go live with my relatives, anyway.”

“They only took her for the money!” added Emmy indignantly.

Aunt Melly crumpled the tissue and looked from one girl to the other, frowning. “That doesn't add up. No conductor would let a child get off the train by herself when it wasn't her stop.”

“Well, he didn't exactly see me,” said Ana.

Aunt Melly narrowed her eyes as if she could draw the entire story from Ana just by looking. Watching her, Emmy suddenly saw what her father had meant when he said the aunts were strict.

“No, my dear,” said Aunt Melly with sudden decision, “that won't do. You must tell me the whole truth.”

“You won't believe the truth,” said Emmy helplessly.

“Well, I'm certainly not believing what you're telling me now.” Aunt Melly tapped a finger on the wooden tabletop. “If I'm going to help you, if I'm going to keep your secret, I must have the facts.”

Ana and Emmy exchanged glances. “The facts are sort of weird,” said Ana, tracing a pattern on the table with her thumb.

“
Very
weird,” added Emmy.

Aunt Melly gave an elderly snort. “I used to be a schoolteacher, my dears. I've heard every story in the book.”

“You might be surprised,” muttered Emmy. “Okay, Ana, you explain. I'll find Ratty and Sissy. Maybe they'll let Aunt Melly see what they can do.”

She found Cecilia in the bathroom, working patiently at the grout with a toothbrush, and explained where matters stood.

Sissy tipped back her head. “You're sure your aunt won't tell anyone else about us if we show her our powers?”

“Pretty sure,” said Emmy. “She doesn't want us to tell about Aunt Gussie.”

“True.” Sissy's claws clicked on the bathroom tile as she headed for the hall. “Let's check with Rasty.”

They found Raston by the bookshelf. He had abandoned the dusting and was crouched over the pages of an open book, flexing his muscles. The chapter title, featuring a man with an oiled chest that looked remarkably bumpy, read “Are You Weak, Run-Down, Tired of Being Pushed Around? Ditch Your Flab and Get Flabulous!”

Emmy cocked an eyebrow. It didn't exactly seem like Aunt Melly's sort of book.

“Look, Sissy!” Raston unsheathed a claw to point. “Ten Easy Steps to a Flab-Free Life!”

“I can't
read
, Rasty,” said Cecilia patiently. “You know I can't.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Raston stared intently at the paragraph beneath him. “Hey, wow! Brussels sprouts have a fat-burning ratio of seventeen to one!”

Emmy put her hand over the page. “Listen, Ratty. Would you mind showing Aunt Melly how you shrink people, if she promised not to tell anyone?”

The Rat crouched over a paragraph of small print, his nose almost touching the paper. “Yeah, sure.” He raised his head and gazed at her earnestly. “But listen to this—there's no ‘fat' in ‘fitness'!”

 

Aunt Melly shook her head severely. “You cannot seriously expect me to believe all this nonsense. You must think I'm senile.”

“We could show you how the shrinking works,” Emmy said. “You could shrink yourself, if you didn't mind a little rat bite.”

Ratty and Sissy poked their heads out of the carrier door and looked at Aunt Melly.

“Absolutely not!” Aunt Melly pulled her hands off the table. “And furthermore”—she looked sternly at Ana—“it's one thing for me to keep Gussie out of the hospital when she wants to stay home. It's another thing entirely for you to run away from people who want you.”

“They
don't
want me,” said Ana, flushing. “And I'd stay home, too, if I had one!”

“But your social worker must be worried sick!” Aunt Melly's hands began a nervous patting on the table. “I know I asked you to keep my secret, but what am I going to say if someone calls here for you? I simply can't lie about something like this—”

Brrriiinng! Brrrriiinng!

Aunt Melly looked at the phone on the counter as if it were a poisonous lizard. She picked it up with two fingers. “Hello?”

Ana and Emmy watched her with concentrated attention.

“How lovely to hear from you, Jim!” said Aunt Melly, straightening. “And Kathy, too!”

The rodents climbed out of the pet carrier. “Emmy!” Sissy whispered. “Is your aunt going to make you go back home?”

“Even if Emmy goes, we still have to
stay
,” Raston whispered urgently. “We've got to find Ratmom!”

Cecilia nodded, clasping and unclasping her paws.

“Yes, Emmy's here, safe and sound. She's been”—Aunt Melly glanced at the sink full of suds—“doing the dishes for me. Among other things.”

There was a pause. “Teaching her to be responsible?” Aunt Melly's thin lips quirked in a half smile as she looked around the kitchen, now much cleaner than before. “I'd say she's very responsible already. But she does seem to have quite an imagination …”

Ana bit a fingernail, never taking her eyes off the white-haired woman.

“What did you say? I must have fixed the phone? I don't understand.”

Emmy snatched the letter from her pocket and unfolded it on the kitchen table, pointing to the spidery letters that spelled out

DON'T CALL! THE PHONE IS OUT OF ORDER.

Aunt Melly gazed at the letter. Her brows drew together, and her lips tightened. “I see. Well, it's working now.”

There was another pause. “Gwenda Squipp? Who's that? Yes, yes … I see …”

The squawking sound of a voice came through the earpiece, loud and clear. “… so we were just wondering if she might have gotten off the train with Emmy.”

Aunt Melly looked almost desperate as the voice of Emmy's father went on.

“And of course you'd think Emmy would call, but she's been acting a little odd lately, and you know how children can be—they love keeping secrets and don't always realize …”

Aunt Melly's hand gripped the phone until the knuckles showed white. “I'm afraid I must tell you, Jim …” She looked at Ana with pleading eyes.

“Bite my finger, Ratty,” said Ana. “Hurry!”

Raston obliged at once with a small nip. Ana promptly shrank to rat size.

Aunt Melly made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

“Again!” said Ana, and in three seconds she was a small brown rat.

Aunt Melly stared at the rat that was Ana with a strange mixture of relief and terror. The phone, forgotten, sank down.

It squawked in her hand. “You're afraid you must tell me … what?”

The elderly woman raised the receiver again. “I'm sorry,” she said faintly, “but the only girl here is Emmy.” And she slid to the floor like a limp noodle.

Emmy grabbed the phone. “Hi, Dad! Hi, Mom!” She motioned frantically, and the three rats leaped off the table. Sissy and Ana began to fan Aunt Melly with a napkin. Ratty hopped up on the old lady's shoulder and slapped her cheek briskly with his paw.

“Yes, I'm fine—what? Aunt Augusta?” Emmy wished she had time to think. Everything was moving too fast. She glanced at the stairway to the second floor and found herself saying, “Aunt Augusta is taking a nap right now.”

“Really?” Her father's voice came through the receiver, sounding tinny. “That's not like her. She was always the most energetic and zippy of us all.”

“They're getting older, Dad. They need a little more help now.” Emmy stopped, afraid to go on. She couldn't tell her father the true state of affairs. But her aunts
did
need help, and lots of it.

“Actually,” she said slowly, “the aunts could use someone to do yard work. And I was thinking, maybe Joe?” She glanced at Aunt Melly, still on the floor. Her eyes were fluttering open, and the rats scampered off her chest and up onto the tabletop before she could scream.

Emmy squatted down, facing her aunt, and spoke more loudly. “I think Aunt Melly would love to have Joe here. She could teach
him
responsibility, too.”

There was silence at the other end. Emmy began to think she had overdone it, but then her mother's voice came on. “That's a sensible idea, but we'll have to check with your aunt. Put her on, please.”

Emmy covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “My parents want to know if you would like to invite my friend Joe here.” She gave her aunt a look full of meaning. “I think it would be a very good idea. He could
help
us. With the
yard
work. And
other
things.” She put the phone into Aunt Melly's unsteady hand.

“Yes? Melly here … yes, of course …”

Aunt Melly still looked a little dazed. But something in her seemed to rise to a challenge. She was holding up well, Emmy thought, considering everything. Better than most grown-ups would have, probably. There was a bit of steel inside the old lady that Emmy admired.

“Er,” said Aunt Melly, “of course Joe could help with the mowing if he likes. And it might be safer for Emmy to have a friend with her, if she went boating.” She glanced up at Emmy, who nodded encouragingly.

“Yes … I'll make up the extra guest room. Perhaps you could ask his parents for me,” Aunt Melly went on. “And do let me know … yes, the sooner the better. He could come on tomorrow's train.”

She hung up and struggled to a sitting position. “Now, Emmy,” she said, “I don't understand any of this, and I'm not entirely sure that I haven't been working too hard.” She looked at the rats and passed a hand over her eyes.

“You
have
been working too hard,” said Emmy, “but it's all true. Ana, show her again.”

The brown rat that was Ana pattered across the tabletop, got a kiss from Sissy, and transformed into a girl without any fuss. Three seconds and another kiss later, she was back to full size and climbing down onto the floor.

Aunt Melly looked at Ana with the wide eyes of shock. “This can't be
happening
.”

“It's happening, all right.” Emmy picked up the letter that Aunt Melly had written to her parents and fanned her with it. “You've seen it with your own eyes.”

Aunt Melly fastened her gaze on the waving letter. “I suppose I could be dreaming. But in any case, I must tell you something about that lett—eeeek!” She looked up at the open window, suddenly filled with a brown and furry fluttering.

“No need for to tell anything! No need for the explaining so tedious!” A large brown bat alighted on the windowsill, folded his umbrella wings, and smiled a wide, fanged grin. “For the evening, she is here, so beautiful—but Cecilia, she is more beautifuller still! And I, Manlio, have come for to take her away!”

“Oh, no you don't,” snapped Raston.

“Am I losing my mind?” cried Aunt Melly. “Why are all these
bats
here?” She covered her untidy white hair with her hands.

Manlio waved an expansive wing at the bats who were swooping out of the evening sky to hang from the window sash, the blinds, the curtains, the branches just outside the sill. “Have no fear, postal bats have no interest in the hair of old lady persons! We are arrived on the business official—but,” he added, leering at Cecilia, “in this case the business, it coincides with the pleasure, no?”