I Don't Believe It, Archie! Read online

  The large woman stared accusingly at Archie. ‘What have you done with him?’ she demanded.

  ‘Me?’ said Archie. ‘I haven’t done anything!’

  ‘You’ve stolen his body, haven’t you!’ said the small woman.

  ‘No!’ said Archie. ‘Of course I haven’t! Why would I steal a dog’s body?’

  ‘He probably wants to do experiments on it,’ said the large woman, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Archie. ‘I’ve read about children like him.’

  Archie wondered how much worse this whole business could get.

  ‘Look,’ he said, firmly. ‘I haven’t stolen your dog’s body. How could I? I mean, where would I have put it?’ He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and held out his arms to show there was nothing there.

  ‘He’s got it in his coat,’ said the small woman. She pointed. ‘Look! You can see he’s got it in his pocket.’

  There was indeed a bulge in the pocket of the coat he was carrying, but Archie assured the women that there was nothing inside.

  ‘It’s empty,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you, if you like.’ And he reached into the pocket of his coat and took out … the body of the little dog.

  ‘How could you!’ The large woman shook her head in disbelief. ‘First you kill him, and then, when all we want to do is bury him quietly in the garden, you steal his body! I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine,’ said the small woman, who had stopped crying and was looking at Archie as if she was quite in the mood to do some killing herself. She began rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.

  ‘Let’s see how he likes being strangled and kicked, shall we …?’

  ‘Please,’ said Archie, backing away. ‘Please! I have no idea how that body got into my pocket and—’

  ‘I do,’ said a voice.

  Archie spun round to find a girl standing on the pavement behind him. He recognized her at once. It was Cyd, the girl he had met the day before in the car that got buried under a lorry-load of gravel.

  ‘I live over there,’ said Cyd, pointing to a house on the other side of the road, ‘and I saw everything that happened.’

  ‘You mean you saw this boy strangle Timmy, and then come back and steal his body?’ said the small woman.

  ‘No,’ said Cyd, ‘because that’s not what happened.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What happened was that you …’ – she pointed to the large woman – ‘… were out in front of your house doing some gardening, and the dog was chewing at the buttons on your shoe.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ The large woman gave a sad smile. ‘Timmy loved doing that!’

  ‘And then one of the buttons came off,’ Cyd continued, ‘and got stuck in his throat, so that he couldn’t breathe. You didn’t notice that he was choking, and you didn’t see him stagger out on to the pavement and collapse. This boy found him, bent down to try and help …’

  ‘Yes!’ said Archie, vigorously. ‘Yes, that’s right!’

  Cyd ignored him, and continued talking to the large woman. ‘But then you told him to get away, so he kicked the dog into the tree.’

  ‘No!’ said Archie. ‘No, that’s not right at all!’

  ‘And it’s very lucky for you that he did,’ said Cyd, still ignoring Archie, ‘because that is what saved the dog’s life.’

  There was a pause. The two women looked rather confused.

  ‘But he didn’t save Timmy’s life!’ said the large woman eventually. ‘Timmy’s dead!’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Cyd. ‘You see, hitting the tree dislodged the button from his throat. It knocked him out, but it meant he could breathe again.’ As she spoke, she held up a small brown button. ‘I just found this on the pavement.’

  The large woman looked at the button and then at her shoes, which had one button missing.

  ‘I … I don’t understand,’ she said.

  ‘Nor do I,’ said Archie.

  ‘You … you think Timmy’s still alive?’ said the small woman doubtfully. ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, he was two minutes ago,’ said Cyd. She turned to Archie. ‘After you left him on the wall, I could see him starting to move. You were all so busy talking to each other you didn’t notice, but I saw him trying to stand up, and then he fell off the wall. Luckily, he landed on your coat, but you didn’t see that either. Then, when you picked your coat up, he slid down into the pocket. Which is where you found him.’

  There was another long pause while the others absorbed this information.

  Archie stared at the dog in his hand.

  ‘He doesn’t look very alive,’ he said, but at just that moment, the little dog slowly opened one eye and stared up at him.

  ‘He’s not dead!’ shouted the small woman. She leaped over the wall, rushed over to Archie and scooped the dog up in her hands. ‘I don’t believe it! Timmy, you’re still alive!’ She held the little dog up to her face and it began licking her cheek.

  ‘Yes, he’s alive,’ said Cyd. ‘Thanks to Archie. He saved your dog’s life. In fact, he saved it twice.’

  ‘Twice?’ The small woman looked at her, puzzled, the dog still clutched to her face.

  ‘He saved it once when he got the button out of its throat,’ said Cyd, ‘and then again when he stopped you from burying it while it was still alive.’

  ‘Oh, yes! Yes, he did, didn’t he! Oh, I don’t believe how stupid I’ve been!’ The small woman had started crying again, but she was smiling gratefully at Archie through her tears.

  ‘You saved little Timmy!’ The large woman had come over to stand beside her sister. ‘And all I did was shout at you. I am so sorry!’

  Both women told Archie how sorry they were several times, and then they insisted that the children come indoors for some cake and a glass of milk. They were still saying how sorry they were, and how grateful, half an hour later, when Archie finally said that he really ought to be going. Before he left, the large woman took a ten-pound note from her pocket and insisted that he take it as a small reward for what he had done, and the short woman gave Cyd a box of chocolates.

  ‘I am really glad you turned up when you did,’ said Archie, when he and Cyd were standing back out on the pavement. ‘I was starting to get a bit worried.’

  ‘I’m glad I could help,’ said Cyd. ‘Especially after what you did for me, yesterday.’ She paused. ‘You know, when you told me odd things happened to you every day, I didn’t really believe you.’

  ‘No,’ said Archie. ‘People don’t usually.’

  ‘But they really do, don’t they?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Archie. ‘Every day.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Not really.’ Archie gave a little shrug. ‘Dad says it’s the Laws of Chance. He says odd things happen to most people at some time in their lives, but they’re not evenly spread out. Some people have a few odd things happen to them, some people don’t have anything happen at all, and some people have odd things happen to them every day.’

  ‘Like you?’ said Cyd.

  ‘Yes,’ Archie nodded. ‘Like me.’

  ‘So …’ said Cyd thoughtfully, ‘you think something odd might happen to you tomorrow?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Archie. ‘If I go out.’

  ‘Well, if you do go out,’ said Cyd, ‘could I come along and watch? You could pick me up on the way to wherever you’re going.’

  ‘All right,’ said Archie. ‘If you like.’

  ‘Good!’ Cyd tucked her box of chocolates under her arm. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ She turned, crossed the road and, before she let herself into her house, gave Archie a wave and smiled.

  She had, Archie noticed, a nice smile.

  His mother, however, was definitely not smiling when he got home.

  ‘How can anyone,’ she demanded, ‘take an hour to walk down to the shops for some milk, and then come back without any? Honestly!’ She let out a long, exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t believe it, Archie!’

  On Wednesday, Archie wen
t down to the library to change some books.

  On his way, he called in at Cyd’s house, as he had promised, to ask if she would like to come too, and Cyd said yes please. She was going on holiday to Florida at the end of the week and wanted something to read on the plane.

  As they walked down the hill together, Cyd asked Archie what sort of odd things had happened to him in the past.

  Archie told her the story of the time a small alligator had fallen out of the sky and landed in the hood of his coat. And about the time he had been digging in a friend’s garden and found a cluster of World War Two bombs and, when they got to the library, he was in the middle of telling her about the time he had been trapped in a lift with a woman giving birth to twins.

  ‘They were telling me what to do, on the emergency phone,’ he said, ‘but then I found …’ He paused. ‘My hand’s stuck!’

  ‘That must have been embarrassing,’ said Cyd. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘No, no, I mean … now,’ said Archie. ‘My hand’s stuck now.’

  There were double doors at the entrance to the library, each with a brass handle in the middle. Archie had used his left hand to take the handle of the door on the left, only to find that the door didn’t move. So he had taken the handle of the door on the right with his right hand, pushed it open, and was about to walk in when he found his left hand was stuck to the other door.

  ‘How do you mean, it’s stuck?’ asked Cyd.

  ‘I mean it’s stuck!’ said Archie. ‘As in it won’t move.’ He paused. ‘I don’t believe it! This one’s stuck as well!’

  Archie had tried to move his right hand from the right door handle, and found that that one didn’t move either.

  Looking through the glass at the top of the doors, Archie could see an old lady hurrying towards them from inside the building, calling anxiously.

  ‘What’s she saying?’ he asked.

  ‘I think she’s telling you not to touch the door handles,’ said Cyd, ‘because they’ve got glue on them.’

  The old lady pulled open one of the double doors. Archie’s hand went with it.

  ‘You don’t want to touch the handles,’ she said. ‘I’ve just put glue on them!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Archie. ‘Useful information but … a little late.’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ said the old lady. ‘Are you stuck?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ The old lady looked at Archie apologetically. ‘The glue was for me, you see. But then I thought, before I stuck myself on, that it might be a good idea to make one last trip to the toilet.’

  ‘You were going to glue yourself to the door handles?’ said Cyd.

  The old lady nodded. ‘I was going to chain myself to them originally,’ she said, ‘but the man at the shop said superglue would be cheaper. Steel chain is quite expensive you see, and of course I’d have to buy some padlocks as well. The man said, if I just glued myself to the door handles, they’d never get me free. Not without pulling my hands off.’

  ‘Did he?’ Archie sighed. ‘Oh, good …’

  ‘Forgive my asking,’ said Cyd, ‘but why would anyone want to glue themselves to the doors of a library?’

  ‘It’s a protest!’ said the old lady. ‘Like it says on the banner!’

  ‘What banner?’ asked Cyd.

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s fallen down again!’ said the old lady. ‘It must be this wind. Excuse me.’

  Getting out of the library with Archie glued to the doors was a little tricky. The old lady tried hitching up her skirt and stepping over his arms, but she was not very tall and, in the end, she went down on all fours and crawled underneath.

  Outside, she found the edge of the banner that had blown down and got Cyd to hold it in place. Then, while she pinned it back up, the old lady explained that someone was planning to pull down the library and build a car park.

  ‘I’m sure he hasn’t got proper permission,’ she said, ‘and I’m not going to let it happen.’ She pointed to a poster on one of the doors. ‘Lots of people use this library, and I’ve told him if he tries to knock this place down I’m quite happy to be buried in the rubble.’

  When she had finished putting up the banner, she came back to stand beside Archie. ‘I’ll just take some of my clothes off,’ she said, ‘and then I’ll glue myself beside you.’

  Archie looked rather alarmed. ‘Take some clothes off? Why?’

  ‘Well, I can’t do it after I’ve glued myself to the doors, can I?’ said the old lady. ‘I’d never be able to pull the sleeves down.’

  ‘I think Archie was wondering,’ said Cyd, ‘why you wanted to take your clothes off in the first place.’

  ‘Oh, I see!’ The old lady smiled. ‘Well, that’s for the reporters, you see. My granddaughter says the newspapers love taking pictures of women with not many clothes on.’

  She began to unbutton her cardigan.

  ‘I’m not sure getting undressed is a good idea,’ said Cyd. ‘There’s a very chilly wind …’

  ‘We all have to make sacrifices,’ said the old lady cheerfully. But then a worried look crossed her face. ‘Although, maybe I should visit the toilet again first. Just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry,’ Cyd told Archie when the old lady had gone back into the library. ‘I can get you free.’

  ‘You can?’ said Archie. ‘How?’

  ‘There’s a solvent you can use to get rid of glue,’ said Cyd. ‘My mum’s a nurse – she does that sort of thing all the time.’ She had taken out her mobile and was tapping in the numbers. ‘I’ll just call her and tell her what’s happened.’

  Archie was about to say thank you when he noticed a man with a pointy nose and a shiny suit standing a few feet away, looking very cross.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well …’ said Archie.

  The man with the pointy nose gestured to the banner overhead and the posters on the wall.

  ‘A protest?’ he said. ‘You’re protesting about me knocking down the library?’

  ‘Well …’ said Archie.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid!’ said the man. ‘Come on. Move!’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Archie. ‘I—’

  ‘I think you can!’ said the man with the pointy nose, and he grabbed one of Archie’s arms and pulled.

  ‘Ow!’ said Archie.

  ‘You can’t just pull him,’ said Cyd. ‘He’s glued to the doors. You’ll tear all his skin off.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said the man with the pointy nose. ‘I don’t mind how much skin I tear off. And if pulling him doesn’t work, I’ll get a knife and cut off his hands.’ He pulled again.

  ‘Eeow!’ said Archie.

  ‘Help!’ said Cyd in a loud voice. ‘Somebody help, please!’

  ‘What’s going on here, then?’ A burly-looking man had stopped on the pavement.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said the man with the pointy nose. ‘Just this kid causing trouble.’

  ‘I am not causing trouble,’ said Archie.

  ‘This man says he’s going to cut off Archie’s hands with a knife,’ said Cyd.

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ said the man with the pointy nose.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ said Cyd.

  ‘Well, all right, I did, but it was just a joke!’

  ‘I have glued myself to the doors …’ – the burly man had begun reading from one of the posters on the door beside Archie – ‘… to stop them knocking down the library.’ He turned to the man with the pointy nose. ‘I didn’t know anyone was knocking down the library.’

  ‘Someone’s knocking down the library?’ said a woman with a shopping trolley who happened to be passing. ‘Who’s knocking down the library?’ She turned to her companion. ‘Did you know anything about them knocking down the library?’

  Archie was never quite sure where all the people came from but a crowd gathered on the pavement with remarkable speed. Ten minutes later, there were at
least fifty people there, all asking the same questions. Who was knocking down the library? Did they have permission? Why hadn’t anyone been told?

  And there was a good deal of murmured support for the young boy who had glued himself to the door handles in protest.

  You had to admire him for sticking to his principles, someone said. It was better than being at home glued to the television. And when they read the words on the poster that said ‘I am prepared to die in the rubble rather than let this library be destroyed’, a lot of people told Archie they thought he was very brave.

  A lot of people also wanted to know who was pulling down the library and why, and Cyd told them that the man with the pointy nose was the one who was doing it.

  The man with the pointy nose tried to explain that he was only pulling down the library because it really was the best thing to do.

  ‘What we need in this area,’ he said, ‘is more parking spaces, not a library. There’s already a huge library in the centre of town – and who wants this one? I mean, nobody actually uses it, do they?’

  ‘I do,’ said Archie. ‘So does Cyd.’

  ‘Right!’ The man with the pointy nose laughed. ‘So a few kids come down—’

  ‘There’s a reading group that meets here every Thursday,’ said Cyd, who had been studying one of the posters.

  ‘OK, so there’s a reading group—’

  ‘And the Mums and Toddlers meet on Mondays,’ added Cyd.

  ‘So a few Mums and Toddlers come down here as well—’

  ‘And the Chess Club meets here,’ said Cyd, ‘and the Over-Sixties Murder Mystery Society and the—’

  ‘All right!’ The man with the pointy nose held up his hands. ‘But apart from a few kids, a reading group, the Mums and Toddlers, the Chess Club and the Over-Sixties Murder Mystery Society … does anyone actually use this library?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the burly man from the front of the crowd, ‘I do. So does my wife. And you’re not knocking it down. Not while I’m here.’ And he came and stood beside Archie. ‘I’m with the kid.’