Free Fennymore and the Brumella by Kirsten Reinhardt Page A

invent something himself.
    And then, a few weeks after the day his parents had disappeared, Aunt Elsie making that same journey, running through the fruit bushes, ignoring the thorns. Twigs were smacking Fennymore in the face. She stopped at the door of the Invention Capsule, breathing hard. Then she drew the key out of the padlock and held it up in the sunlight.
    â€˜You’re never to go in here again, Fennymore,’ she said. ‘You must promise me that. And I’ll get rid of the key to this horrible hut. All this invention nonsense has brought nothing but trouble.’
    â€˜I remember now,’ said Fennymore, and then he told Herr Muckenthaler the whole story.
    After that they sat for a while, saying nothing and looking at Beardy, who was taking a little snooze on the carpet, using a pile of books as a pillow.
    Then Herr Muckenthaler suddenly said, ‘I have an idea.’

CHAPTER 18
    In which Fizzy has to cope with Dr Hourgood and an unpleasant cat
    Fizzy opened one eye carefully. She could make out the blurred outlines of the furniture. A massive writing desk, a set of armchairs, a glass cabinet full of things. Where was she? Her body felt like lead and she had a horribly dry mouth.
    Wearily, she closed her eye again and tried to remember. Nothing. She tried opening the eye again. Everything was still all blurred. But there, in front of her, something was moving in one of the armchairs.
    â€˜Miaow,’ went the something in such a piercing voice that Fizzy opened both eyes with the shock of it and saw an orange cat in front of her, watching her out of narrow yellow eyes.
    The creature was fat. Unbelievably fat. Its fur gleamed. It looked as if it was brushed for at least two hours a day.
    â€˜Wah,’ went Fizzy in disgust. She sank back further into her squashy armchair. She hated cats.
    â€˜Miaow, miaow, miaow,’ went the cat again, this time a full tone higher.
    Fizzy put her hands over her ears.
    On the third miaow, the door opened and Dr Hourgood came into the room. He had a plate in his hand, and there was a sudden smell of fish.
    â€˜Hmm,’ he said.
    The cat stretched its orange-striped tail stiffly in the air and moved the tip of it back and forth, purring all the time.
    Fizzy nearly got sick from the smell of fish. And from the sight of this doctor, who had Fennymore’s parents on his conscience, and just came waltzing in here as if nothing had happened.
    He picked up the cat, stroked its fur gently and sank, cat in arms, into the armchair. He held out the plate to the cat.
    Creamed herring , thought Fizzy. Disgusting!
    â€˜So, Merle,’ said Dr Hourgood to the monstrous animal, which had immediately started to chew voraciously. ‘You’ve done a good job of keeping watch.’
    The animal gulped the fish greedily, burped and then rubbed itself against the doctor’s legs.
    Fizzy stared at his hand, which was still stroking the orange fur. It was wearing a cream-coloured glove.
    And then it all came back to her. She’d been in the living room in The Bronx. Fennymore had just run into the kitchen. Hubert’s wand had begun to vibrate. He’d said, ‘Oops! Work!’ and dematerialised. Fizzy had put a blanket over the sleeping Fenibald and looked around the devastated room. And then there’d suddenly been this sweet smell of almonds and a hand in a cream glove had pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose.
    â€˜You creep,’ she snarled now at Dr Hourgood.
    The tender look disappeared from his face as if someone had turned it off.
    â€˜Miss Kobaldini,’ he said in a tone that Fizzy knew well. It was the tone the supermarket cashier used when her mother had to put the bill on the tab again; the tone of the official at the social-housing office when she said, ‘The houses have been otherwise allocated to respectable, tax-paying citizens.’
    And Fizzy knew exactly how to respond to this tone. She gave the doctor a