Free Shrinking Ralph Perfect by Chris D'Lacey Page A

the line asking for Old Nick.’
    There was muttering, then the woman said: ‘Just a moment.’
    And the next voice to answer was Bone’s deep syrup. ‘Bone,’ he said bluntly.
    ‘It’s me,’ said Ralph.
    ‘And who might you be?’ Bone replied impatiently.
    Ralph shivered. He’d never been good with authoritative types. ‘Ralph,’ he said, ‘the boy from Midfield Crescent. You came to my house, looking for a plumber called Tom. Have you found him?’
    And he prayed the detective would say, ‘Oh, yes. He’d gone to see his mother in Rhyl.’ Then all fear of Jack would dissolve in an instant.
    But Bone said, ‘No,’ in a low suspicious voice, adding, ‘Why?’ in an even more menacing one.
    So Ralph told him about the missing professor. And how he’d ‘used’ the downstairs toilet at Jack’s and seen all the articles and noticed the scaffolding.
    Bone made a few quiet humming noises. Then he came out with something odd. ‘Do you know a boy called Kyle Salter?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Ralph in a squeaky voice.
    Bone sniffed. ‘See much of him, do you?’
    Ralph chewed his lip. ‘No, not for ages.’
    ‘Hmm.’ Bone clicked his tongue. ‘Only, Salter and two of his mates have done a runner. Taken off, they have, just like your plumber.’
    Ralph almost dropped the phone.
    ‘You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’
    ‘No,’ gulped Ralph. But he did know this. The phone had just gone boomy, the way it does when someone lifts the extension. He slammed it down fast and hurtled to the bathroom. From the foot of the stairs his mother’s voice shouted: ‘Ralph? Were you on the phone just then?’
    Ralph leapt into the bath again and prayed she wouldn’t push it.
    She didn’t. That evening, Penny Perfect busied herself in her favourite room: the kitchen. Ralph had been in his bedroom for the best part of an hour when the scent of warm baking entered his nostrils. His twitching nose guided him onto the landing, just in time to hear the doorbell ringing.
    His mother, wiping her hands on her apron, went to answer the caller. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ Ralph heard her say. ‘Would you like to step inside a moment?’
    ‘Delighted,’ said Jack, in his snake hiss of a voice.
    Ralph’s heart filled up with dread. He sprinted to the top of the stairs, in time to see Jack presenting his mum with a flimsy bunch of weeds. There were only three stalks and they curled over feebly. ‘Picked these fromthe garden, my dear.’
    ‘Oh, erm, thank you, Mr Bilt.’
    ‘Jack,’ he insisted, turning his trilby in tight little circles. On his wrist, the green light gave a wink.
    ‘This is quite a strange coincidence,’ said Penny. ‘I’ve just, erm, finished baking you a cake.’
    Jack raised an eyebrow. So did Ralph. She’d made a cake? So she was planning to go round and look at Jack’s house. Yes!
    Jack put a hand to his cold black heart. ‘Touched. Quite moved.’
    Penny grimaced and plumped her hair. ‘Could I bring it round tomorrow? Say about…eleven? Perhaps we could have a coffee as well?’
    ‘Perhaps we could share it now?’ Jack said.
    That had Ralph clenching his fist. He didn’t like the way Jack had said that at all.
    ‘No,’ said Penny. ‘Ralph has to stay at home. He’s grounded tonight.’
    ‘All the more for us without him, eh?’
    ‘Mister Bilt!’
    Jack showed her his smiling teeth. ‘Popped round to ask a favour, actually.’
    ‘Then ask,’ said Penny, composing herself.
    ‘Need a pair of rubber gloves,’ the builder saideerily. He craned his body forward, his dark eyes glinting like sugared currants. ‘Big ones. I’m doing a little experiment.’

Elevenses With Jack
    Whenever Ralph was frightened, he played football in his head. He wasn’t good at football. Not on a pitch, anyway. No one ever picked him for the school eleven. Mr Carpenter said he had one right foot, one left foot and neither knew which way the other was kicking. That was why, in Games, they always put