Eddie Albert and the Amazing Animal Gang Read online

  First published in the United Kingdom by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2022

  Published in this ebook edition in 2022

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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  Text copyright © Paul O’Grady 2022

  Illustrations copyright © Sue Hellard 2022

  Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2022

  All rights reserved.

  Paul O’Grady and Sue Hellard assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work respectively.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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  Source ISBN: 9780008446840

  Ebook Edition © September 2022 ISBN: 9780008446857

  Version: 2022-09-09

  For Abel and Halo

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  First Epilogue

  Second Epilogue

  Keep Reading …

  Books by Paul O’Grady

  About the Publisher

  If alarm clocks had feelings, then Eddie Albert’s would have been disappointed to find that sounding its alarm had been a waste of time, as Eddie had been up, washed and dressed for ages. This was unusual behaviour for Eddie as normally of a morning he was slow to wake up, preferring to press the snooze button and roll over for another ten minutes under his duvet.

  His dad would shout up the stairs telling him that if he didn’t get a move on, his Weetabix would go soggy and he’d be late for school.

  Eddie would shout back, ‘I’m up, Dad!’, craftily slide a leg out of bed and stamp on the floor with his foot, thinking that his dad would believe he was out of bed and walking around.

  Eddie’s dad was wise to the trick, though. He’d once crept quietly upstairs, avoiding the bottom stair, which creaked, and standing in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, he’d caught him at it.

  This morning was different, though, and the reason he was awake earlier than usual was because he’d arranged to meet his new friend on the way to school.

  Eddie didn’t have that many friends, so making a new friend, especially one so interesting and different, was something very special, and he didn’t want to be late.

  ‘You’re eager today,’ Eddie’s dad said, watching him gobble down his breakfast. ‘What’s the rush?’

  ‘I’m meeting a friend on the way,’ Eddie told him as he let himself out of the front door. ‘His name’s Rusty.’

  ‘Oh,’ his dad replied from the kitchen. ‘Does he go to your school then?’

  ‘No,’ Eddie said. ‘But he lives close by,’ and he closed the door quickly behind him in case his dad started asking any more questions. His new school wasn’t that far away, and he usually took a shortcut through the park, but this morning he’d arranged to meet his friend Rusty on the bench by the tree.

  Eddie had only just sat down on the bench when Rusty suddenly appeared.

  ‘Oh! You frightened the life out of me, creeping up like that,’ Eddie exclaimed, moving up the bench so Rusty could sit down.

  ‘Sorry,’ Rusty replied. ‘Force of habit, I suppose. Anyway, how’s things with you, buddy? All prepared for your holiday?’

  ‘Yes, I can’t wait,’ Eddie said. ‘Only a few more days to go.’

  They sat chatting for a while until they saw someone approaching along the path. Rusty, being extremely shy by nature, leapt up off the bench and hid behind a tree until the man had passed by.

  ‘I know him,’ Rusty said, sitting down again next to Eddie. ‘He lives in one of those houses across the park and now he’s set off for work I can take myself down there and have a look in his bins.’

  ‘Best of luck,’ Eddie shouted as Rusty set off across the park. ‘See you when I get back!’

  ‘You bet,’ Rusty replied. ‘And enjoy your holiday. Where was it you said you were going again?’

  ‘The Romney Marshes. They’re in Kent.’

  ‘Never heard of them,’ Rusty remarked as he shuffled into the bushes.

  He really is a magnificent-looking fox, Eddie thought as he watched him vanish out of sight. And quite chatty once you got to know him. But then, being able to talk to animals, Eddie found almost every animal he encountered to be ‘quite chatty’.

  Have you ever heard of the Romney Marshes? It’s an interesting place with a history of smugglers, pirates and strange goings-on. Maybe you live in the area or perhaps you’ve even been there on holiday. The Romney Marshes are in Kent and they stretch along the coast from Hythe all the way to the ancient town of Rye. It’s not really what you’d call a marsh at all. Instead you’ll find lots of flat fields dotted with sheep, winding roads and little villages. Don’t worry, this isn’t a geography lesson, and anyway Aunt Budge will probably fill you in on all the details as the story goes on.

  Do you remember Aunt Budge? Otherwise known as Lady Buddleia Sprockett? Well, she’s Eddie’s aunt, and during last year’s summer holidays he went to stay with her in her house in Amsterdam. Eddie had never met his aunt before this and he’d wrongly assumed that she’d be a miserable old lady who stank of cats and peppermints, and who moaned all day. However, Aunt Budge was nothing like that. As apart from not having a cat or a fondness for sucking peppermints, hadn’t she abseiled through the roof of a laboratory (along with Miss Schmidt, her cook) and rescued Eddie from the evil Dr Lockjaw and the equally rotten-to-the-core, Vera van Loon? But that’s another story …

  Aunt Budge was a quite exceptional lady. Why, she eve
n possessed the same special gift as Eddie – the ability to talk to and understand animals, although Aunt Budge wasn’t as fluent as Eddie. For instance, she couldn’t understand a word of Frog or Toad.

  ‘Just a load of boring croaks, as far as I’m concerned,’ she would say irritably. ‘Quite frankly, I’d hardly call them witty conversationalists.’

  Nor was she very good when it came to Alpaca or Llama, although she did know a bit of Camel, which had come in very handy when she’d gone on archaeological digs in Egypt with her late husband.

  Eddie, however, seemed to be able to talk to every species under the sun. He could understand everything – from a goldfish to an orangutan – but it was a talent that he preferred to keep very much to himself.

  You see, Eddie didn’t want to stand out from the crowd, and if his secret came out, then he knew that his life would change dramatically, and he certainly didn’t want that. There were only a few people who knew about his gift. He hadn’t even told his dad yet, although he knew that he’d have to tell him one day.

  Eddie thought about things like that when he was lying in bed. He often wondered what he was going to do when he left school. His Dutch friend, Flo, who lived in the house next to Aunt Budge’s in Amsterdam, had suggested that when he was older, Eddie would be able to put his talents to good use. He could work in animal sanctuaries all over the world and then the sick animals would be able to tell him what was wrong with them, and he’d help them to get better. Eddie thought it was a great idea, but until then, he was happy to remain plain old, perfectly ordinary, ten-year-old-going-on-eleven Eddie Albert, who just happened to be good with animals. Nothing unusual in that, he’d say to himself as he drifted off to sleep, lots of people are good with animals …

  When Aunt Budge was a little girl she would stay in a holiday cottage on the outskirts of a village on the Romney Marshes. She remembered long hot summers playing in the fields, and the cottage with its thatched roof, and cool kitchen with its flagstone floor, and chickens strolling nonchalantly in and out of the door, having a quick peck or two for any crumbs. She’d cycle to Dymchurch with a large group of kids for ice creams and they’d park their bikes and sit on the beach to eat them. She’d never been happier, and despite owning a grand house in Amsterdam, as well as a smart townhouse in Mayfair, that little cottage was the one she always dreamed about when she was asleep in bed.

  One day, many years later, when Aunt Budge was sitting in the hairdresser’s having her hair blow-dried, she saw a ‘cottage for sale’ advert in the magazine she was flicking through. As she read the description of the cottage, she knew that it was the very same one she had stayed in all those years ago.

  ‘Seriously in need of renovation,’ she read out loud to herself.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ the hairdresser said, thinking she was talking to him. ‘I’d say you’re in excellent condition for your age.’

  Aunt Budge stared into the mirror in front of her and gave the hairdresser standing behind her a look that could cut through concrete.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ she said. ‘Nor was I referring to myself. I was thinking aloud about this dear old cottage that’s for sale in this magazine.’

  ‘Oops, sorry, Lady Buddleia,’ the hairdresser replied apologetically, turning bright red. ‘I just thought—’

  Aunt Budge cut him off mid-sentence and, laughing, she said, ‘That’s quite all right, my dear. I’m not an old crock yet, but thank you for thinking that I’m in excellent condition. Even if you do make me sound like a second-hand car.’

  ‘So then, this old cottage for sale,’ said the hairdresser, quickly changing the subject. ‘Are you interested in it? I’ve often fancied a place in the countryside myself. Be nice to get out of the city for a bit of fresh air.’

  Aunt Budge thought for a moment. A memory of a postman pulling up at the gate of the cottage on his bicycle suddenly flashed before her eyes.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, then?’ she remembered him saying. ‘Beautiful part of the country, this. It’s known as the Garden of England, and in my opinion this cottage is one of the loveliest in the county.’

  Now here was the cottage that she so fondly remembered advertised in a magazine, abandoned and neglected.

  Aunt Budge suddenly felt very sad and then, sighing loudly, she reached into her handbag, took out her phone and dialled the number of the estate agent in the magazine.

  ‘Hello, this is Lady Buddleia Sprockett speaking,’ she said in her poshest voice. ‘I’m enquiring about a cottage for sale.’

  Of course, Aunt Budge bought the cottage. She believed it was fate, and driving down to Kent the next morning with her chauffeur, Whetstone, at the wheel, she discovered that the place was now nothing more than a ruin.

  Luckily, Aunt Budge loved a challenge. She was determined to restore the old place to its former glory, and within a year, thanks to an army of builders and decorators, that’s just what she did. A young family who Aunt Budge knew moved in and lived there for a while, but now that they’d moved back to Scotland the cottage was empty again, and so Aunt Budge closed up her big Amsterdam house and moved in, along with Miss Schmidt, her cook, and Whetstone, who also acted as butler.

  Aunt Budge had invited Eddie, his friend Flo and all of Eddie’s animals to spend the Easter holidays with her, and they just couldn’t wait to meet up again and explore the Romney Marshes – although Eddie hoped there wouldn’t be any scary adventures like they’d had in Amsterdam. No, this holiday would be different, he told himself.

  If only he’d known what was in store, he’d never have believed it possible …

  A lot had changed for Eddie since last summer when he’d stayed in Amsterdam. It had been quite an adventure, saving a baby orangutan from that dreadful woman Vera van Loon, and nearly having the top of his head opened up by a scary doctor. He’d also made a good friend in Flo, whose mother was Brazilian and her father Dutch. Her full name was Floortje Anna Maria Antonia Uffen. ‘But everyone calls me Flo,’ she’d explained. Flo was feisty, outspoken, loyal and brave, and one of the few people that Eddie could trust with his secret.

  Since they’d last met up, they’d kept in touch via FaceTime and Zoom until their dads had both shouted up the stairs to tell them that they’d been ‘spending far too much time on that tablet’, and that they’d ‘better put it away now and get ready for bed’.

  Eddie and Flo were attending what Eddie’s dad referred to as ‘Big School’ now, so they had lots to talk about, such as what teachers they liked and didn’t like, their favourite lessons and the new friends they’d made. In fact, they’d chat about everything and anything. Both of them had joined the school band. Eddie’s dad was a musician and Eddie was following in his footsteps by learning to play the guitar. Meanwhile, Flo was learning to play the trumpet.

  Yes, things certainly had changed for Eddie as, thanks to Aunt Budge, he and his dad had moved out of the small flat that they used to live in. She’d bought them a house, with one condition – that the spare room was always left free for her so she could come and stay with them, which they were, of course, delighted to do.

  The house badly needed decorating, as nobody had lived in it for years, and so Eddie and his dad sat down to decide on a colour scheme for each of the rooms and made plans for turning the small room at the back into a music studio.

  ‘How about orange walls in the kitchen?’ Eddie suggested as he looked at a chart with lots of different paint colours printed on it.

  ‘Don’t you think orange might be a bit much?’ his dad asked, wincing a little at the thought of facing a bright orange kitchen first thing of a morning.

  ‘Not at all,’ Eddie replied. ‘It’d be really cool, like being inside a room full of sunshine, all orangey and juicy and really bright and cheerful. Go on, Dad, what do you think?’

  Eddie’s dad looked at him for a moment and then laughed. ‘Okay, orange it is. Although I’ll have to wear dark glasses every morning.’

&nbsp
; Together, they steamed off the old wallpaper and stripped away the chipped paint. And when they pulled up the ancient carpet they found sheets of old newspaper underneath.

  ‘Listen to this, Dad,’ Eddie said excitedly as he read out an article from one of the newspapers. ‘In 1982 only seventy per cent of people had a telephone. Does that mean a landline?’

  ‘That’s right,’ his dad said. ‘It wasn’t until around 1988 that mobile phones appeared and they weren’t like they are now – they were massive great things.’

  Eddie enjoyed doing stuff with his dad as sometimes he felt more like a best friend than a dad. He felt that he could talk to him about anything, although he still hadn’t admitted that he could understand animals and hold proper conversations with them. He didn’t want his dad to think that there was something wrong with him and so, for the time being, he’d kept his special gift to himself.

  Eddie felt like a proper workman as he swept up the peeling wallpaper while his dad steamed it off the walls. He was keeping the newspapers for his history class and as they talked, he liked the way their voices echoed over the noise of the radio in the empty room.

  ‘Your mum used to love this song. I can see her dancing around the kitchen to it now,’ Eddie’s dad said, suddenly stopping what he was doing to listen to the radio. He seemed miles away as he nodded his head in time with the music.

  ‘Fancy calling a song “Chicken Tikka”,’ Eddie remarked as he listened to the lyrics and his dad burst out laughing.

  ‘It’s not called chicken tikka,’ he said. ‘It’s “Chiquitita” by Abba. Your mum loved them.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all Eddie could say. It still sounded like chicken tikka to him.

  His dad went back to steaming the wallpaper off, still chuckling to himself as Eddie stood watching him.

  ‘Do you miss her, Dad?’ Eddie asked eventually.

  His dad put down the steamer and, crouching down next to Eddie, told him that he missed her every second of the day but, as she wouldn’t have wanted either of them to be sad, they had to move on and remember all the happy memories.