Stop! There's a Snake in Your Suitcase! Read online

  As the man and his houseboat moved off down the canal, Sophie took the phone back and dialled 999.

  ‘He won’t get far,’ Grandad said. ‘He’s using the worst getaway vehicle in the world! His top speed in that houseboat will be five miles per hour!’

  ‘I just hope the animals are OK,’ said Sophie.

  ‘A man like that belongs in a zoo!’ growled Grandad, as the houseboat rounded a curve in the canal.

  ‘I wouldn’t let him anywhere near a zoo,’ murmured Sophie.

  A voice crackled on the other end of her mobile phone.

  ‘Hello,’ Sophie said, holding the phone up to her ear, ‘can you put me through to the police, please? This is an emergency.’

  Chapter 4

  Tom, Sophie and their grandad stood side by side on the bank, staring at the houseboat as it made its way down the river.

  Then Tom whispered to Sophie, ‘I’m going to chase him.’

  Sophie whispered back, ‘What are you talking about? Don’t be an idiot!’

  ‘He’ll get away if we don’t do something!’ Tom said. ‘You should come too.’ He turned to Grandad. ‘I’ll come and see you later, Grandad. Me and Sophie have urgent business to attend to.’

  ‘Who’s Sergeant Peters?’ Grandad said, cupping his hand around his good ear.

  ‘Not Sergeant Peters – URGENT BUSINESS,’ Tom said. He put his skateboard down on the towpath and Rex hopped on the front.

  As Tom pushed off, Sophie sighed and followed him, Felicity scampering along beside her.

  As they turned the corner of the canal, they passed London Zoo, where their parents worked. The canal cut the zoo in two, with owls and toucans and a giant aviary on the north side of the canal and giraffes and zebras and all the other zoo animals on the south side. Two bridges linked the two sides of the zoo.

  Tom and Sophie passed underneath the first bridge at exactly the same moment as their mother and father walked over it. Mr and Mrs Nightingale had just finished their shifts at the zoo – Mrs Nightingale worked in the zoo hospital and Mr Nightingale worked in the large-mammals section.

  Mr Nightingale spotted Tom and Sophie on the towpath below.

  ‘Tom! Sophie!’ he called out.

  But they were too busy talking to each other to hear him.

  ‘They’re up to something,’ Mr Nightingale said to his wife. ‘Tom had that look in his eye.’

  ‘You mean the don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-on-a-mission look?’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘Yes, I know the one. It always reminds me of you, for some reason.’

  ‘Well, I’d better see what they’re doing,’ said Mr Nightingale, jogging away from his wife. ‘Besides, it’d be a shame to miss out on the fun.’

  Tom and Sophie passed the other zoo bridge. Usually they’d stop to peer up at the birds in the aviary, but not today.

  ‘There he is,’ said Tom. ‘I can see the back of his boat.’

  ‘We’d better keep our distance,’ Sophie said, ‘or he’ll see us.’

  Rex was still balancing on the front of Tom’s skateboard. Now Tom had slowed down, the little terrier hopped off and started trotting along the towpath again.

  ‘Your skateboard’s pretty noisy, you know,’ Sophie said. ‘He’ll hear it if you’re not careful.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Tom picked up his board and put it under his arm. ‘What time did the police say they’d get here?’

  ‘They didn’t,’ said Sophie as they walked briskly along the towpath, sticking close to the bushes.

  ‘Quick! Hide! He’s looking this way!’ Tom exclaimed.

  They both ducked down behind a bin.

  ‘Someone’s chucked away a whole packet of Cheestrings,’ Tom said.

  ‘Do NOT eat them!’ hissed Sophie.

  ‘They’ve not even been opened!’ protested Tom.

  ‘Shh, he’s speeding up,’ Sophie said.

  The houseboat started to move more quickly. Tom and Sophie had to run to keep up with it.

  ‘He’s shouting at someone on the bank,’ said Tom.

  The houseboat was going at maximum speed now. Soon Tom had to stop to get his breath back.

  ‘You . . . keep . . . going,’ he gasped. ‘Will catch . . . up . . . on . . . skay . . . board.’

  ‘OK, keep Rex and Felicity with you,’ said Sophie.

  Tom bent over for a few moments to catch his breath, Rex on one side of him and Felicity on the other.

  Sophie picked up the pace. She was one of the fastest runners in her school, particularly over short distances, so she had no problem keeping up with the houseboat.

  She passed an old couple out for an early evening stroll.

  ‘Hello, Mr Davies, Mrs Davies,’ she panted as the houseboat on the canal slid in between two others that were heading in the opposite direction.

  Sophie continued to run as quickly as she could.

  Then she saw the man balancing on the roof of the houseboat. He was peering down at the bank. Then he threw three large objects into the bushes and jumped back down on to the deck.

  Sophie reached the spot where he had thrown the objects. They looked like two pillowcases and a suitcase. The suitcase was tangled up in a hedge. One pillowcase was sitting in the middle of the towpath and the other was perched on the very edge of the towpath, about to drop into the canal.

  Instinctively Sophie picked up the pillowcase that was at the edge of the path and threw it towards the hedge for safety. It made a loud hissing noise, just as Tom’s skateboard appeared behind her.

  ‘What happened? What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  Rex barked at the pillowcases while Felicity sniffed at one of them and then backed away.

  ‘He’s dumped this stuff,’ Sophie said, nodding at the pillowcases and the suitcase.

  ‘What’s in them?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Well, I heard hissing,’ Sophie said, ’so I’m guessing snakes.’

  Tom approached the pillowcase on the towpath and prodded it gingerly with his toe.

  ‘Tom, what are you doing?’ Sophie cried out.

  A king cobra reared up out of the pillowcase. Its hood was open and it was leaning back, ready to strike.

  ‘Get back! Get back!’ Sophie screamed.

  Tom fell over backwards and landed on the towpath with a thump.

  The cobra darted its head forwards and then backwards, threatening to bite.

  Sophie grabbed Tom by the armpits and dragged him backwards as quickly as she could. She picked up Rex and Felicity’s leads and yanked them back too.

  ‘A cobra bite can kill you in twenty minutes,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m OK, I’m OK. He didn’t bite me,’ said Tom.

  ‘You mean, he hasn’t . . . yet,’ said Sophie. ‘We need to get further back – some cobras can spit venom into your eyes and blind you.’

  The cobra was starting to emerge from the pillowcase. Its top half disappeared into the hedge; its bottom half was still sliding across the towpath. It was five metres long at least.

  ‘It’s escaping!’ Tom cried. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Don’t move. I’m ringing Dad’s mobile,’ said Sophie, at the same time as a ringing tone came from behind them.

  ‘Dad? Dad!’ she cried as her father appeared by her side.

  ‘Hello, kids,’ he said. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Then he saw the bottom half of the king cobra sticking out of the hedge.

  ‘Have you been bitten?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘No,’ Tom and Sophie said.

  ‘OK, get right back over there. Behind that tree,’ he ordered them.

  As they backed away, Mr Nightingale groaned quietly. ‘Why can’t you just find stray kittens – like normal children?’

  Chapter 5

  Within five minutes, the towpath was swarming with zookeepers, vets, police officers and fire-fighters.

  Tom and Sophie were sitting on the branch of a tree about twenty metres away, watching it all. Rex and Felicity were tied to the bottom of the
tree.

  Tom and Sophie saw how the zookeepers had special equipment to handle the snakes.

  One of the snakes was picked up with a pair of long-handled tongs and dropped carefully into a box.

  Another longer snake was picked up with two huge metal hooks that were tucked under his belly and then used to gently carry him into another box. His middle section hung down loosely between the two hooks.

  Most of the keepers that were handling the snakes wore a large black glove on one of their hands.

  ‘I’ve read about those gloves,’ said Sophie. ‘They’re made of special material. Snakes can’t smell your skin through them. If they bite you, their fangs can’t get through either.’

  The keepers were putting some of the snakes in boxes near the canal. Others were placed in boxes next to the trees.

  ‘Why have they separated out the snakes like that?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Looks like they’re keeping the two types in different places,’ Sophie explained. ‘I think those ones are venomous and these ones here are non-venomous.’

  She pointed at the collection of boxes and bags nearest the tree they were sitting in.

  ‘So these snakes can’t kill us?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Sophie said, ‘they can definitely do that. Only not with a bite – just by squeezing our guts out! It’s called constriction.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Tom. He thought for a moment. ‘I wonder what would be worse – being squeezed to death or getting bitten.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Sophie. ‘Getting bitten by, say, a cobra would mean that you may be paralysed in ten minutes. Then your lungs would pack up. Then you’d die.’

  ‘And what about being constricted?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Well, the snake coils itself round you and slowly squeezes until you stop breathing. Then it stretches its jaw round your legs and starts swallowing you whole.’

  ‘Cool!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘That sounds way better. I’m going to ask Dad to show me some of the constrictors.’

  ‘I don’t know if he will . . .’ Sophie said.

  ‘But we found them!’ Tom protested. ‘They’re basically ours, aren’t they?’

  Sophie was looking at her mother and the group of vets that were peering at the snakes in their boxes.

  ‘I just hope those snakes are OK,’ said Sophie. ‘Some of them looked really sick.’

  At that moment, her phone rang. ‘Mum’ flashed up on the screen. Sophie could see Mrs Nightingale holding her phone about thirty metres away.

  ‘Sophie, where are you? Is Tom with you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, look up,’ said Sophie. She waved. ‘Wave at Mum, Tom.’ Tom waved.

  ‘Get down from there,’ Mrs Nightingale said. ‘You shouldn’t be so close to all this.’

  ‘OK, keep your hair on,’ said Sophie.

  ‘You’ll have to have dinner at Grandad’s tonight,’ Mrs Nightingale said. ‘The snakes are coming to the zoo, so your dad and I could be a while.’

  Sophie hung up and said, ‘Yesss – dinner at Grandad’s!’

  ‘Yesss,’ said Tom.

  Dinner at Grandad’s meant takeaway pizza.

  Tom and Sophie dropped Rex and Felicity back at The Ark. Then they made their way to Grandad’s houseboat, the Molly Magee.

  Tom grabbed the rope that hang down from the brass bell by the front door and rang it loudly.

  Quickly they told Grandad everything that had happened.

  ‘Lovely creatures, snakes,’ Grandad said, as they waited for the pizzas to arrive. ‘Never understood why people hate them so much.’

  ‘I don’t hate them,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Nor do I,’ said Tom.

  ‘That’s because you’ve got brains in your heads,’ said Grandad. ‘If you believe what you read in books, it’s very different. In the Bible, all the evil in the world is because of a snake. The devil turns into a snake and tempts Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. And look at all the old myths: the Hydra, whose top half was just dozens of snakes, Medusa with her snakes for hair . . .’

  ‘Snakes for hair?’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Excellent. I’d like to see Mum try to brush that.’

  ‘Thing is,’ Grandad said, ‘all of these stories are unfair to snakes. They’re pretty shy and gentle really. They’ll only bite you if you bother them. And if you bother snakes, then you deserve all you get!’

  Tom’s stomach started to rumble.

  ‘Years ago, before I became a vet,’ Grandad said, leaning back in his chair, ‘I spent a year in Texas, researching rattlesnakes. They’re fabulous creatures. Every time they shed their skin, they get another segment on their rattle. Did you know that? So the young ones are completely silent. And the old ones are very loud. Can you think of any other species like that?’ He roared with laughter.

  ‘Now, in Texas,’ he continued, ‘some of the locals did this thing called a rattlesnake round-up. It was totally barbaric! They hunted and killed hundreds of rattlesnakes every year, just for fun! Anyway, one time I was just watching one male rattler, when I saw a local spring out of the brush and chop its head clean off. And you know what happened? When he leant down to inspect it, the head twisted round and bit him. Ha ha! Bet he didn’t see that coming! you see. Anyway, I couldn’t save the snake, but I saved his mate. She gave birth to seven splendid little snakelets the following week.’

  ‘What happened to the man?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Oh, I gave him some antivenin,’ said Grandad, ‘but only after he’d promised never to hurt a snake again.’ He burst out laughing again.

  ‘You didn’t!’ Sophie exclaimed with a grin.

  ‘I certainly did,’ said Grandad.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Splendid,’ said Grandad.

  He went to answer it and came back with three cardboard boxes of pizza.

  ‘Three ham and pineapples with extra olives, anchovies and spicy beef,’ he said. ‘Dinner is served!’

  Chapter 6

  The following day was a Saturday. This meant one thing for Tom and Sophie – a day at the zoo.

  Tom woke up first. He and Sophie had their own rooms on the boat, but they were quite small, and the walls between them were thin, so it was possible for Tom in his bed to talk to Sophie in her bed without raising his voice.

  ‘Soph, are you awake?’ Tom asked, staring up at the ceiling of his room.

  ‘No,’ groaned Sophie through the wall.

  ‘How do snakes sleep?’ Tom asked. ‘Can they shut their eyes?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Sophie. ‘Hang on – they can’t, because they’ve got no eyelids. I suppose they just curl up and stop moving.’

  ‘When a snake’s asleep,’ said a sleepy voice from their parents’ room, ‘they won’t react to anything. You can move an object in front of their pupils and they won’t look at it.’

  It was Mrs Nightingale.

  ‘Now go back to sleep, it’s far too early,’ she added.

  Tom lasted another ten seconds, staring at the ceiling and trying not to talk.

  Then he asked, ‘You know all those snakes we found? Will they be there in the reptile house today?’

  ‘Of course not, you dummy,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Sophie!’ Mrs Nightingale exclaimed. ‘Don’t be mean to your brother.’

  ‘They’re in quarantine, mate,’ said Mr Nightingale. ‘They have to be checked for diseases and kept separate from the other snakes. For a good few months. Now go back to sleep, or we’ll put you in quarantine too.’

  ‘Really, Dad? Really?’ Tom exclaimed. ‘Can I go in quarantine with the snakes?’

  ‘Flipping heck, Ed,’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘That was hardly going to quieten him down.’

  Everybody accepted that the day had begun.

  After getting washed and dressed, the family assembled in the living room for breakfast.

  Mrs Nightingale sliced some bread and put it under the grill. Mr Nightingale and the children turned the living room into a dining room. They s
lid the sofa into the wall and pushed the TV into its cabinet. They flipped out the dining table from under the window and unfolded four collapsible chairs. They slid a small shelf into a slot above the table and placed the jam and honey on it.

  Mr Nightingale had built most of this furniture himself, because normal tables and cupboards were nearly always too big to fit neatly into a houseboat.

  Sophie picked up the two bottles of milk that had been left by the milkman on the towpath outside. She poured some into a saucer for the cats.

  As the family munched toast and crunched cereal, Tom asked more questions.

  ‘So how big is the biggest snake in the world? And how many ribs do they have? How can you tell if it’s a girl or a boy?’

  ‘Tom, it’s a bit early for this,’ Mr Nightingale said, scratching his head. ‘Save up all your questions and we’ll answer them later.’

  ‘Or type them into Google,’ said Sophie, yawning.

  Tom tried a different approach. ‘So how long is quarantine then? When can we see the snakes? Do they have names yet? Can one of them be called Tom, because I found them?’

  Their mum smiled. ‘You can’t see the snakes just yet,’ she said, ‘but when the quarantine period is over, they’ll probably join the zoo collection and you’ll be able to meet them properly.’

  ‘When will that be though?’ asked Tom. ‘Next week? The week after? I might be bored of snakes by then. I might be into pigs or chimps or something.’

  ‘If only . . .’ Mr Nightingale said, pouring himself more coffee.

  Half an hour later, the Nightingales said goodbye to all the animals on The Ark and headed to the zoo. They walked along the towpath, over the bridge, along the edge of Regent’s Park and through the staff turnstile.