The Contrary Tale of the Butterfly Girl: From the Peculiar Adventures of John Loveheart, Esq., Volume 2 Read Online Free PDF

bush, holding a heart- shaped balloon.

 
     
    The Black Dog
    I t ’ s a mile walk along a woodland path to our Uncle ’ s house. The Reverend Plum whistles as he walks, gripping Boo Boo ’ s little hand. Her other hand is within the frog puppet, who looks about, googly - eyed in wonder at his surroundings.
    “ It ’ s simply a glorious day in God ’ s garden, ” sighs Reverend Plum.
    There ’ s a rummaging in the bushes and out steps a young gentleman wearing a purple waistcoat and jacket covered in red hearts. His hair is the colour of angels: a dazzling yellow. In his hands he carries a severed head, whose mutilated stump drips onto the path. He looks at us with his ink black eyes and smiles mischievously. “ Good afternoon. I ’ m afraid if you ’ ve come for the party you ’ ve missed all the cake! ”
    Boo Boo is laughing. The reverend screams. The young gentleman keeps walking across the path and into the forest on the other side. The blood trail of the severed head is splattered on the path like rose petals.
    “ Why does the funny man have a head? ” laughs Boo Boo.
    “ He ’ s a madman! We ’ re all to be murdered! ” screams the hysterical Reverend Plum.
    “ I think we ’ re safe. He ’ s gone, ” I say.
    Reverend Plum makes us run the rest of the way.
    My Uncle ’ s house is surrounded by a spiked iron fence and is gloomy looking and run-down. The house is a dirty grey colour with a small herb garden in the back which leads into a tumbling expanse of more woodland. Outside the gates sits an enormous black hound which growls at Reverend Plum.
    “ My heart can ’ t take much more of this, ” he says, clutching his chest. Boo Boo lets go of his hand and strokes the dog, who seems very pleased and then rolls over and gets his tummy tickled. I unlock the latch on the gate, which creaks open rather theatrically. The Reverend Plum composes himself and knocks on the door, dizzy with relief.

 
     
    (the same day)
    Aberystwyth station
    Detective White & Constable Walnut
     
    Walnut and I are on a train pulling out of Aberystwyth station, for the third time. A solitary sheep, who I ’ m sure recognizes us, stares and bleats, while rain pounds the roof of the train carriage, splattering the windows. The sky is a dismal shade of purgatory-porridge.
    Walnut waves at the sheep.
    “ What did I tell you, Walnut? ” I say, exasperated.
    “ Um …” He stops waving and looks at me shamefacedly. “ You said ‘ Don ’ t touch it or we ’ ll end up in Wales again ’ . ”
    “ SO WHY DID YOU DO IT? ”
    “ I just thought I ’ d give it a little polish, make it look nice for Inspector Badger. ”
    The curse of this particular jewel transports not only the idiot who touches it but anyone standing within a few feet.
    I sink back into my seat. I sigh, exhaling all the air from my lungs. Hopefully, I may pass out. We aren ’ t alone in this embarrassment. Constable Luck and the tea lady, Mrs Sultana, had both been stupid enough to fiddle with that accursed sapphire. Mrs Sultana, having made the most of her surprise day out, had visited her nephew. Apparently he ’ s a locksmith who lives up the road.
    “ What do you think Chief Inspector Badger will do with the sapphire? ” Walnut takes a cheese and pickle sandwich out of his jacket and takes an enthusiastic bite.
    “ If he has any sense, he ’ ll throw it into the Thames. ” I look out of the carriage window at the all too familiar swell and dip of vegetable green. The grey drizzle of skyline.
    Walnut munches on his sandwich.
    The ticket inspector appears with a wide grin. “ Well, well, ” he says, sliding the carriage door open. “ You two again. You just can ’ t keep away from our beautiful land. ” And he starts singing, his eyes glistening over with Welsh mists.
    I take my pistol out and aim it at his head. “ Stop that at once or I ’ ll shoot you. ”

 
     
    Heads on Trees
    Mr Loveheart D ecapitates his Wicked N