The Beasts of Upton Puddle Read Free Page B

entries also made mention of the Merrynether Technique, and then the thought came to him: it was a name engraved on a plaque decorating the gate of a mansion he’d seen on his paper round. Could this be the same person?
    Mr. Wheeler was still busy on the phone when a flustered Mr. Gordon burst in, dragged along by his insane rottweiler. The slavering monster spotted Joe instantly. Drawing in a rattling breath, it exploded into a psychotic episode of barking.
    Joe decided it was way past time to leave. He placed the book on the counter, waved to Mr. Wheeler, and pulled his trolley and badger out of the building.

    Wrapped snug and warm inside Joe’s jacket, the badger seemed untroubled by the bumpy trolley ride as they neared the end of Merrynether Mansion’s long driveway. Joe took a moment to admire the grandeur of the building as it came into view. The magnificent Elizabethan house was eclipsed by enormous oak trees and obscured by untamed creepers, as if in submission to nature. An overabundance of leaves and colorful blossomsalmost overwhelmed its ancient red bricks and dark beams. At the base of the mansion was the main entrance, also under threat by an array of unruly plant life. Had it not been for the white van parked by the side of the building, Joe could have imagined he’d been transported to a time when the owners would walk the grounds dressed in medieval garb and speaking the kind of language heard only in dated movies.
    Joe left his trolley by the entrance and tentatively peered around the corner at the van. The engine was running. “Hello?” he called.
    No answer.
    Joe walked to the mansion’s front door and, seeing a pull cord, tugged it. A deep chime sounded from somewhere within the house. Joe waited, feeling oddly nervous.
    A minute passed before the door swung open. For a split second, Joe expected to see a tall butler with a pale, thin face, but he was greeted by somebody completely different.
    â€œYes, young man? Can I help you?”
    For some reason that Joe could not fathom, he simply stared, unable to answer. An old lady stood before him. She was even shorter than he was, dressed in a bright red gown, almost royal in appearance. Her head was crowned with a rich hive of black hair in which not a single white strand could be seen. Her twinkling grey eyes acknowledged him from behind a pair of huge spectacles. There were so many lines carved into herskin that Joe wondered if she even needed ears to support her glasses at all.
    â€œYoung man?” she tried again with a friendly smile that miraculously produced even more lines on her face.
    â€œI . . . Badger!” Joe pointed at the trolley, feeling extremely stupid.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    Joe’s cheeks flushed. Why he felt so odd, he was not sure, but the strangest of premonitions crossed his mind as he looked at this unusual old lady—as though he were about to step inside the house and into a world that would turn his life upside down and inside out.
    â€œI’m very sorry,” he said, finally shaking the peculiar feeling. “Are you Mrs. Merrynether?”
    â€œThat’s the name on the gate.” She continued to smile.
    â€œThen I’m sorry to disturb you, but—”
    A loud crash, the sound of something very heavy slamming into metal, came from the direction of the van.
    â€œDo come in,” the old lady said suddenly. And before Joe knew what was happening, she pulled him inside with his trolley and closed the door. “Badger, you say? In the trolley? Hurt, is it?”
    â€œUm . . . yes. Can you—?”
    â€œOh, dear me, no, young man. What’s your name?”
    â€œI’m, uh, Joe Copper,” he said, being bustled through another door and into a huge leather armchair.
    â€œWell, what brings you here, Master Copper? Oh, yes . . . the badger. Would you like a cup of tea?” Shewas rubbing her hands together now, looking everywhere in the room