Free The Unorthodox Arrival of Pumpkin Allan by Suzie Twine Page B

his teeth. Then he and Lois sat on the blow-up rubber mattress in their new bedroom, which came complete with a very dirty looking and rather smelly, grey shag-pile carpet, and started to eat their supper.
    “Do you think there could be fleas living it that carpet?” asked Lois, wrinkling up her nose in disdain as she pushed a large chunk of bread and cheese into her mouth.
    “Oh probably. And the rest.”
    “And the rest?” spluttered Lois, putting her hand up to her mouth as particles of partly masticated food exploded from it. “What do you mean? Not mice surely?” Lois had an inherent phobia of small rodents, all except hamsters, which she had kept as a child.
    “It wouldn’t surprise me. You’d better pick up those crumbs you just spat into our bed, they’ll love those,” Tom chuckled. “If you feel something furry in the night, climbing…”
    “Enough Tom!” said Lois firmly, putting up her hand to emphasise that he should stop teasing. She really was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable at the thought of sleeping there.
    “We’re in the country now Lo, you’re going to need to cope with the odd mouse in the shag-pile if we’re staying here.” Tom chuckled to himself, “or is it shag in the mouse pile?”
    “And how many pain-killers have you taken today?” asked Lois, raising an eyebrow.
    “Oh, just the right amount my pet,” Tom said. Then, in an attempt to distract Lois from the thought of mice running over her face whilst sleeping, he asked her to open the quarter-size bottle of champagne he’d bought to celebrate the first night in their new home. They had left the glasses, that he had so carefully packed, in the kitchen and neither of them had the energy to go downstairs again, so they drank it out of the bottle.
    Tom lay back, feeling decidedly dopey with the combination of exhaustion, strong painkillers and an eighth of a bottle of champagne. He was just getting comfortable when Lois suddenly got out of bed, “I’m sorry Tom, I can’t sleep in this room with the idea of small creatures living in the carpet. Up you get!” She gently pulled Tom, who didn’t have reason or energy to protest, out of bed and started tugging at the edges of the carpet. Thankfully it was easy to pull up and having loosened all the edges, Lois rolled up one side of it, moved the mattress and Tom over the top, and rolled up the remainder. She then dragged it down the spiral staircase and out of the front door, into the garden. She repeated the exercise with the very old, musty, crusty underlay.
    “There, that’s better!” Lois said, returning to the bedroom in a cloud of dust. She breathed a sigh of relief, gazing around at the dusty exposed floorboards. She rearranged their bed and Tom gingerly clambered back in. Lois collapsed next to him, gave Tom a gentle cuddle and they both fell asleep almost immediately, fully clothed and unwashed.
    Within an hour Lois was awake, with a very full bladder. Moonlight was shining through the bathroom window allowing her to make her way to the toilet without putting on the revolting and horribly bright strip-light. She thought she heard a strange noise just before she sat down, so looked around to see what it was. Something was moving in the toilet bowl. Lois screamed hystericallyunti l . . Tom arrived, moaning and groaning in pain, blinking hard against the intense lighting, which Lois had now turned on.
    “What is it?”
    “There’s something moving in the toilet,” said Lois, “I can’t bear to look, I think it’s a rat!”
    “Oh, don’t be silly Lo, you’re being para…,” Tom, peering into the toilet, couldn’t believe his eyes. There, swimming around the bowl was a frantic bedraggled creature, which wasn’t a rat. It was smaller than a squirrel, with big bulging eyes. Tom swiftly grabbed its bushy tail and lifted it into the bath, where it shook violently and tried to climb out, sliding back down as soon as the curve of the bath became