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4) Claim that Armitage was not a real rat but an animatronics one that she had made in Science class.
5) Say that she was training the rodent for some top-secret spy work for the Intelligence Service.
6) Give Armitage a white hat and paint him blue and pretend he was a toy Smurf.
7) Make two hot air balloons out of her stepmother’s gigantic bra, one large and one small, and fly off the roof to another county.
8) Hijack a mobility scooter and speed off to safety.
9) Invent and build a dematerialisation machine and beam herself and Armitage to safety5.
10) Just go to Raj’s shop and have some sweets…
Unsurprisingly, Zoe chose the last option.
“Aah, Miss Zoe!” proclaimed Raj, as she opened the door to his shop. The bell rang as she entered.
TING.
“Shouldn’t you still be in school, Miss Zoe?” Raj asked.
“Yes, I should,” muttered Zoe, downcast. She felt as if she was about to burst into tears.
Raj rushed out from behind his counter and gave the little ginger girl a hug.
“What’s the matter, young lady?” he asked, pressing her head to his big comfy belly. It was so long since anyone had given Zoe a hug. Unfortunately though, her braces got caught on his woollen cardigan, and for a moment she was stuck to him.
“Oh dear,” said Raj. “Let me just detangle myself.” He gently prised his cardigan from out of the metal.
“Sorry, Raj.”
“No problem, Miss Zoe. Now, tell me,” he began again, “what on earth has happened?”
Zoe took a deep breath and then told him. “I have been suspended.”
“No?! You are such a well-behaved child. I don’t believe it!”
“It’s true.”
“Whatever for?”
Zoe thought it might be easier to show him, so she reached into her breast pocket, and pulled out her rat.
“Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr rrgggggggggggggg gggghhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhh!!” screamed Raj.
He scuttled away and clambered up on top of the counter. There he stood for quite a while screaming.
“Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggg gggghhhh!!
“Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr rrggggggggghhh!!
“I don’t like mice, Miss Zoe. Please please please, Miss Zoe. Please. I beg you. Put it away.”
“Don’t worry, Raj, it’s not a mouse.”
“No?”
“No, it’s a rat.”
Then Raj’s eyes bulged and he let out a deafening scream.
“AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGG HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
o, no, please,” pleaded the newsagent. “I don’t like it! I don’t like it!”
TING!
An old lady entered the shop, and looked up bemused at the newsagent perched on top of his counter. Raj was clutching his trouser legs, what little hair he had on his head standing on end, and he was trampling all the newspapers in terror with his big clumsy feet.
“Ah, hello, Mrs Bennett,” said Raj, his voice shaking. “Your Knitting Weekly is on the shelf, you can pay me next time.”
“What on earth are you doing up there?” enquired the old lady, quite reasonably.
Raj looked over at Zoe. Surreptitiously, she put her finger to her mouth, imploring him not to tell. She didn’t want everyone to know she had a rat, or soon the news would spread to the estate and her dreaded stepmother. Unfortunately, though, Raj was not a natural liar.
“Erm, um, well…”
“I just bought some Spacedust,” said Zoe, stepping in. “You know, the popping sweets? It had been left out in the sun and became highly explosive and when I opened the bag it sprayed all over the shop.”
“Yes, yes, Miss Zoe,” chimed in Raj. “A most regrettable incident because it’s only been fifteen years since I had the shop repainted. I am just trying to pick the Spacedust off the ceiling.”
Raj came across a particularly ingrained piece of dirt on the ceiling and scratched at it. “Spacedust everywhere, Mrs Bennett. Please pay me next week…”
The old lady shot him an unconvinced look and peered up at the ceiling. “That’s not Spacedust, that’s just a piece of snot.”
“No, no, no, Mrs Bennett, that’s where you are wrong. Look…”
Reluctantly Raj used his fingernail to prise away the bogie he had long since sneezed up there and popped it in his mouth.
“Pop!” he added unconvincingly. “Oh, I love Spacedust!”
Mrs Bennett looked at the newsagent as if he was quite mad. “It looked more like a big piece of snot to me,” she muttered before leaving the shop.
TING.
Raj quickly spat out the ancient bogie.
“Look, the little thing is not going to hurt you,” said Zoe. She gently took him out of her pocket. Cautiously Raj clambered down, and slowly approached his worst nightmare.
“He’s only a baby,” said Zoe encouragingly.
Soon Raj was at eye level with the rodent.
“Ooh, well, he is a particularly pretty one. Look at his dinky little nose,” said Raj with a sweet smile. “What’s his name?”
“Armitage,” answered Zoe confidently.
“Why is he called that?” asked Raj.
Zoe was embarrassed she had named her pet after a make of toilet and simply said, “Oh, it’s a long story. Give him a stroke.”
“No!”
“He won’t hurt you.”
“If you are sure…”
“I promise.”
“Come here, little Armitage,” whispered the newsagent.
The rat squirmed closer to Raj to be stroked by this frightened-looking man.
“AAAAAAHHHHH! HE MADE A LUNGE AT ME!” shouted Raj, and with that he ran out of the shop waving his arms in the air…
TING.
Zoe followed him out, and saw he was halfway down the street, running so fast he would give the Olympic-gold-winning sprinters a run for their money.
“COME BACK!” she shouted.
Raj stopped and turned round, and reluctantly plodded back past the row of shops to his one. When he finally tiptoed the last few paces towards the girl and her pet, Zoe said, “He was just trying to say hello.”
“No, no, no, sorry, but he got quite close.”
“Don’t be a baby, Raj.”
“I know, sorry. He’s lovely really.”
Raj took a deep breath, and reached out to give Armitage the gentlest little stroke. “It’s nippy out. Let’s take him inside.”
TING.
“What am I going to do with him, Raj? My stepmother won’t let me keep him at home, especially as the little fella got me suspended from school. That woman hated my hamster, she is never in a million years going to let me keep a rat.”
Raj thought for a moment. To aid concentration he popped an extra strong mint in his mouth.
“Maybe you should set him free,” said the newsagent finally.
“Free?” said Zoe, a single tear welling in her eye.
“Yes. Rats are not meant to be pets…”
“But this little one is so cute…”
“Perhaps, but he is going to grow. He can’t spend his whole life in your blazer pocket.”
“But I love him, Raj, I really do.”
“No doubt, Miss Zoe,” said Raj, crunching on his extra strong mint. “And if you love him, you should set him free.”
o this was goodbye. Zoe knew deep down she wo
uld never be able to keep Armitage for long. There were a hundred reasons, but the most important one was:
HE WAS A RAT.
Children don’t have rats as pets. They have cats and dogs and hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs and mice and rabbits and terrapins and tortoises, posh ones even sometimes have ponies, but never rats. Rats live in sewers, not in little girls’ bedrooms.
Zoe trudged miserably out of Raj’s shop. The newsagent may sometimes try and sell his customers a half-eaten chocolate bar, or put a partially sucked toffee bonbon back in the sweet jar, but all the local kids knew that when it came to advice he was the best.
And that meant she had to say goodbye to Armitage.
So Zoe took the long way back to her flats, through the park. She thought this would be the perfect place to set little Armitage free. There would be crusts of bread left out for the ducks for him to eat, a pond for him to drink from and maybe even take the occasional bath in, and perhaps there was a squirrel or two whom he could befriend, or at least one day be on nodding terms with.
The little girl carried the little rat in her hand for the last part of the journey. As it was the middle of the afternoon, the park was all but empty save for a few old ladies being walked by their dogs. Armitage wrapped his tail around her thumb. It was almost as if he sensed something was amiss, and he clung on to her little fingers as tightly as he could.
Trudging along as slowly as possible, Zoe eventually reached the middle of the park. She stopped a good distance from the yapping dogs and hissing swans and barking park-keeper. Slowly she crouched down to the ground and unclosed her hand. Armitage didn’t move. It was as if he didn’t want to be parted from his new friend. He cuddled up to her hand, breaking Zoe’s heart as he did it.
Zoe shook her hand a little, but this only made him grip tighter with his tail and toes. Fighting back tears she picked the rat up gently by the fur on the back of his neck and placed him carefully on the grass. Once again Armitage didn’t move. Instead he just looked up at her longingly. Zoe knelt down and kissed him gently on his little pink nose.
“Goodbye, little fellow,” she whispered. “I am going to miss you.”
A tear dropped from her eye. It landed on Armitage’s whiskers and his tiny pink tongue slipped out to catch it.
The little rat tilted his little head to one side, as if trying to understand her, which just made it harder for Zoe.
In fact, saying goodbye was so unbearably sad, she just couldn’t take it any more. Zoe took a big breath and stood up, and promised herself she would not look back. That promise lasted only a dozen steps, as she couldn’t help stealing a glance one last time to the spot where she left him. To Zoe’s surprise, Armitage was already gone.
He must have already scampered off to the safety of the bushes, she thought. She scoured the nearby grass for signs of movement, but it was tall and he was short, and apart from a light breeze blowing the tips, the grass didn’t move. Zoe turned round and reluctantly headed home.
Leaving the park, she crossed the road. For a moment it was free of the hum of cars, and in the silence, Zoe thought she heard a tiny ‘eek’. She spun round, and in the middle of the road was Armitage.
He had been following her all along.
“Armitage!” she exclaimed excitedly. He didn’t want to be free; he wanted to be with her! She was so glad. She had been imagining all kinds of awful scenarios from the moment she left him behind – like Armitage being gobbled up by a vicious swan, or wandering into the road and being hit by a ten-tonne truck.
At that moment something came thundering along the road towards Armitage, who was still scampering slowly across to join Zoe.
It was... a ten-tonne truck.
Zoe stood frozen, watching the truck speeding closer and closer towards Armitage. The driver would never spot a baby rat in the road, and Armitage would be flattened, and be nothing more than a splat on the tarmac…
“NNNNNNNNNOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO OO!!!!” cried Zoe, but the truck thundered on. There was nothing she could do.
Armitage looked in the direction of the truck and, realising he was in trouble, started scampering back and forth across the road. The little rat was in a terrible panic. But if Zoe ran into the road she would be flattened too!
It was too late. The truck roared over him and Zoe covered her eyes with her hands.
RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUMMMMMM MMMMMMMMB BBBBBBBBBBB BBBBBBBBBLL LLLLLLLLLL LLLLLLEEEE EEEEEEEE!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Only when she could hear the truck’s engine fading into the distance did Zoe dare open her eyes again.
She looked for the splat on the road.
But it wasn’t there.
What was there... was Armitage! A little shaken perhaps, but alive. The lorry’s giant tyres must have just missed him.
Looking right and left and right again to check there were no cars, Zoe ran into the road and scooped him up.
“I am not letting go of you, ever,” said Zoe, as she held him close. Armitage let out a little loving ‘eek’…
ature finds a way to create life everywhere. In a smelly alleyway that connected the road to Zoe’s estate, among all the crisp wrappers and empty beer cans, stood a proud little blackberry bush. Zoe loved the blackberries – they were like free sweets. She was pretty sure Armitage would like them too. She picked a large one for herself, and a little one for her furry friend.
Carefully, she placed the baby rat on to the wall. As Armitage watched, Zoe put the blackberry into her mouth and started chewing enthusiastically and making appreciative noises. Then she took the smaller blackberry between her thumb and forefinger and held it out towards him. Armitage must have been hungry because slowly he stood up on his hind legs to greet it.
Zoe was delighted. The rat took the blackberry between his front paws and nibbled it greedily. It was gone in seconds. Soon he was looking longingly up at Zoe for another one. She picked another off the bush and held it up just above his nose. Without hesitation, Armitage stood up on his hind legs again. Zoe moved the blackberry around, and he followed it around on his back legs. It was as if he was doing a little dance.
“What a talented fellow you are!” said Zoe, as she gave him the blackberry. Once again he ate it greedily, and Zoe stroked the back of his neck. “Good boy!”
Inside, she was buzzing with excitement. Armitage could be trained! Better still, it was like he wanted to be. He’d got the idea of standing up even quicker than Gingernut had…
Soon Zoe was plucking as many blackberries as she could off the bush. Just as she had with her hamster, she began teaching Armitage some tricks. There was:
The walk.
The jump.
The hop on one leg.
The wave.
The dance.
Soon the bush was bare, and Armitage looked rather stuffed and tired. Zoe knew it was time to stop. She whisked him up in her arms and gave him a kiss on his nose.
“You are amazing, Armitage. That’s what I will call you when we perform together on stage. The Amazing Armitage!”
Zoe skipped down the alleyway. Her heart was dancing, as were her feet.
It was only when Zoe reached her estate that the spring in her step vanished. Not only would she have to tell her stepmother that she was suspended, she’d have to come up with some explanation as to why.
The whole episode would give her stepmother a reason to make Zoe’s life even more of a living hell. And what was a million times worse, a reason to end the little rat’s life. A life that had only just begun.
As Zoe approached the great leaning tower block, she noticed something peculiar. Burt’s burger van was parked right outside her towering block of flats. In the many years she had lived there since her mother died, she had never ever seen the van there before. It was only ever parked outside her school.
What on earth is that doing there? she thought.
Even from a distance, the smell of fried meat was stomach-churning. However hungry Zoe was, she h
ad never bought a burger from Burt’s van. The stench alone was enough to make her want to projectile-vomit. The ketchup was decidedly iffy too. Passing the van, she noticed how disgustingly grimy it was – even the dirt was dirty. Zoe ran her index finger along the chassis, and a splodge of sludge an inch thick came off in her hand.
Perhaps Burt has just moved into the block of flats, she thought. She hoped not though, as he was seriously creepy. Burt was the sort of man your nightmares had nightmares about.
The tiny flat was high up on the 37th floor, but the lift always stank. You had to hold your breath in there, which wasn’t easy over thirty-seven floors. So Zoe would always take the stairs. Armitage was safely lying in her blazer pocket, and she could feel the weight of his tiny body bounce against her heart with every step. Her breathing grew louder and louder as she ascended the building. The stairs were littered with all kinds of rubbish, from cigarette butts to empty bottles. The steps stank too, but not as much as the lift, and of course you weren’t so closed in.
As usual, by the time Zoe reached the 37th floor, she was completely breathless and panting like a dog. Zoe stood outside the front door for a moment, pausing to catch her breath before she put her key in the lock. The headmaster Mr Grave would no doubt have called her parents to tell them their daughter had been suspended. Within seconds, Zoe was sure to let loose her stepmother’s fury, a fury no doubt more rabid even than the hounds of hell.
Zoe silently twisted the key, and reluctantly pushed the rotting door open. Even though her stepmother rarely went out, the TV was off and Zoe couldn’t hear anyone in the house, so she tiptoed across the hall to her bedroom, being careful to avoid the squeakiest floorboards. She turned the door handle to her room and stepped inside.
A strange man was standing in her bedroom facing the window.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!!” Zoe screamed, startled.
Then the man turned round.
It was Burt.
smell a rat!” wheezed Burt.