The Curse of the School Rabbit Read online

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2019

  Published in this ebook edition in 2019

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

  HarperCollins Publishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  Text and illustrations copyright © Kerr-Kneale Productions Ltd 2019

  Cover design copyright © HarperCollins Children’s Books 2019

  All rights reserved.

  Judith Kerr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

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

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008351847

  Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008352608

  Version: 2019-06-05

  To my grandchildren,

  Alexander and Tatiana,

  with all my love

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  It was all …

  Keep Reading …

  About the Publisher

  It was all the fault of the school rabbit.

  The school rabbit is called Snowflake, and it belongs to Miss Bennet who teaches the Second Years. If Miss Bennet didn’t have Snowflake, she wouldn’t be able to teach the Second Years or anyone else. They write stories about Snowflake for English and draw Snowflake in Art, and for Arithmetic they weigh Snowflake and measure Snowflake in both centimetres and inches.

  I never liked Snowflake because when I was in Miss Bennet’s class and trying to measure Snowflake’s length in centimetres, Snowflake peed on me. Miss Bennet said it was an accident, but I think Snowflake did it on purpose.

  Now my little sister Angie is in Miss Bennet’s class, and she thinks both Snowflake and Miss Bennet are wonderful. Angie does all the story-writing and drawing and measuring of Snowflake, and she has even invented a Snowflake dance with which she shows off to the grown-ups. Actually Angie shows off a lot of the time anyway, and sometimes people say she takes after our father, who is an actor. But Dad always says that acting is not showing off but immersing yourself in the character. I don’t think Angie immerses herself in a rabbit.

  Having a father who is an actor can be either a good or a bad thing. It’s good when people have seen him on television and say nice things about him.

  It’s not so good when he is out of work or “resting”, as they call it, and he wanders about the house looking sad, and we can’t have new clothes or holidays away.

  Dad had been having one of these “resting” patches for a while, and I was getting a bit worried because it was coming up to Christmas and I really need a new bicycle.

  But then one evening Uncle Mike appeared unexpectedly while we were having our supper. We all like Uncle Mike. He and Dad were at acting school together, but Uncle Mike didn’t become an actor. He became a director, which is someone who gives actors jobs, so I was extra pleased to see him.

  Uncle Mike was very excited. He said he had been asked to direct a film starring an actor called Gordon Strong, who used once to be famous. In the film Gordon Strong would play a dashing secret agent, which is what he always used to do, but he would also have a partner. The partner would, of course, be less dashing, but it was work and the money was good, and it was up to Dad what he made of the part, said Uncle Mike.

  Dad said, “Oh Lord! Gordon Strong!” and Uncle Mike said, “I know, but he’s much better these days. In fact, I thought I might bring him round here. The family atmosphere, you know. He’s very sentimental about families, never having achieved one himself.”

  Mum said, “Well, he’ll be very welcome, of course,” and Angie said (as I knew she would), “I’ll do my Snowflake dance for him,” but Mum said, “No, if Mr Strong comes to see us, he and Daddy will just want to talk.”

  Then Dad said, “He won’t like me being taller than him,” and Uncle Mike said, “Well, most people are taller than Gordon Strong, but it might be a good idea for you to crouch down a bit, so that it won’t be so noticeable.” Then they all said the usual stuff about Angie and me being very polite to Gordon Strong, which we would have been anyway, and in the end Uncle Mike said he would bring him to tea the next day.

  Next day when I came home from school Uncle Mike and Gordon Strong had already arrived and they were talking with Dad in the living room. Dad was leaning forward in a way he doesn’t usually do, so his head and Gordon Strong’s head were more or less on a level because Gordon Strong was really quite short.

  Uncle Mike said, “Tommy, say hello to Mr Strong,” and I said, “Hello, Mr Strong,” and Mr Strong said, “Well hello, Tomasso,” which I think is Italian.

  There was a special tea waiting on the table with little sandwiches and cakes and I wondered when we were going to eat it, but Uncle Mike and Dad and Mr Strong kept on talking and Dad was looking very cheerful, so that was good. Mum said that Angie was supposed to be dropped off by someone and they were late, but just then the doorbell rang. I could hear Mum’s voice in the hall, and Angie’s, and someone else’s, which seemed to go on rather. Then there was a sort of thump, and then the door flew open and Angie just stood there. She was holding something in her arms and she shouted, “Traraa!” like someone in the circus and then she threw out her arms and the thing jumped across the room, and it was Snowflake.

  Dad said, “Angie, what on earth …?” and then the front door banged and Mum came in and said, “It was Miss Bennet, she was in a terrible state …” and Angie said, “We’ve got to look after Snowflake because poor Miss Bennet’s mother is ill and Miss Bennet has to go and look after her, and I told her you wouldn’t mind and she’s given me a list of all the things Snowflake likes to eat.”

  Uncle Mike laughed, but I could see he didn’t really think it was funny, and he said, “Well, Gordon, there you see it, ha ha, that’s family life.” But Mr Strong didn’t say anything. He was standing absolutely still and looking down at Snowflake, who was peeing on his trouser leg.

  I’m not quite sure what happened next. I think Dad made a sort of lunge at Snowflake, but he must have tripped, and he and Mr Strong both fell over. Mr Strong was left half kneeling on the floor, but Dad was stretched right out on his stomach, reaching out for Snowflake, who’d got away, of course, and I saw Mr Strong looking down at Dad and sort of measuring him. It was a bit like measuring Snowflake, only he was doing it in his head and frowning.

  Uncle Mike helped Mr Strong up and Dad got up too and everybody was apologising and fussing about Mr Strong’s trousers. They were pale grey but almost black where Snowflake had peed on them, and I think they were beginning to smell a bit too. Uncle Mike was still trying to pretend that it was funny, but it wasn’t a bit convincing.

  At last Uncle Mike said in his pretend-jolly voice, “Well, after all this I think we deserve some tea,” but Mr Strong said it had been delightful meeting us all, but now he must go.

  Mum said, “Won’t you just stay for a quick cup?” and Mr Strong said, n
o he was sorry, and Uncle Mike said, “Then let me drive you,” and Mr Strong said, “Thank you, but my driver is outside. I’ll be in touch.” And then he had to push past Angie who had got hold of Snowflake and was standing in his way by the door, and he gave a sort of shudder and left.

  After this nobody said anything for a bit. We heard Mr Strong’s car drive off, and then Dad said, “Well, that’s that.”

  Uncle Mike said, “It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. You’re a good three inches taller than him and he spotted it, of course. Mind you, being peed on by a rabbit didn’t help.”

  Angie said, “It wasn’t Snowflake’s fault. Mr Strong was staring at it. Snowflake hates being stared at.” Then she made a soppy face and said, “Poor bunny.”

  I looked at Mum, and I could see that, like me, she was thinking that now there wouldn’t be much money for Christmas presents. I wouldn’t have minded so much, only I really, really need that bicycle. The one I’ve got is about six sizes too small for me. So I shouted at Angie. I shouted, “Poor bunny! Ha! I spit on it,” which is what the villain in one of Mr Strong’s old movies always said, and Angie screamed, “Mum! Tommy said he’d spit on Snowflake!”

  Mum said, “Oh, stop it, both of you,” and then she said, “I think we all need some food inside us.” So we sat down at the table and we ate every bit of Mr Strong’s special tea, and it was delicious but a bit sad.

  Miss Bennet had brought a hutch for Snowflake to live in, and after tea Dad put it in the garden with Snowflake inside it. Then he and Mum read Miss Bennet’s list of how to look after Snowflake, which was about three pages of very untidy handwriting, like they always tell us at school not to do, and Dad said, “OK, basically it’s just two feeds a day and a weekly clean-out. But it seems that rabbits need exercise as well. Do you suppose they go to the gym?” Dad can be really quite funny sometimes.

  Anyway, it made Mum laugh a bit and she said, “We could just let it run about in the garden,” but Dad said there was a hole in the fence and it would get out. Then Mum looked at the list again and said, “She says to make it some sort of a harness and take it for walks on the green,” and then they both looked at me, and I said, “No! I’m NOT taking that rabbit for walks on the green,” and Angie shouted, “I will! I will! I’ll take Snowflake for walks,” but of course she’s too small, and in the end I had to say I’d do it because Mum and Dad would both be too busy.

  This was because Mum was trying to become a teacher and they made her write a lot of essays and things, and Dad had to go to auditions, which are places where they give actors jobs. Anyway, Dad said I’d be the official rabbit keeper and I’d get paid 50p a day, which is £3.50 a week and more than my pocket money. And the way things were going, I thought I might have to pay for a new bike myself, so I’d better start saving my money.

  The next day, which was Saturday, Mum and I looked at Miss Bennet’s list together, and it said that Snowflake’s harness should be made of a bandage, which wouldn’t hurt Snowflake’s skin, and Mum told me to go and buy one from the chemist.

  The chemist lady is a bit fussy, and when I said I wanted a bandage, she said, “What sort of bandage?” and I wasn’t sure, so I said what Mum sometimes says when she is trying to buy us clothes. I said, “Well, obviously nothing too vastly expensive.”

  The chemist lady looked a bit surprised and said, “None of our bandages are expensive, but I need to know what this bandage is to be used for.” So then I had to say, “It’s to make a harness for a rabbit.” There were a lot of other people in the shop and I knew they’d laugh, and they all did, and I felt a total idiot.

  When I got home, Mum wound the bandage round Snowflake’s chest and tummy and tied it in a knot, with one of the ends left long for me to hold like a lead. Then we tried walking round the garden with it, and Snowflake was hopping about and seemed quite pleased.

  “There, you’ll have no trouble with giving this rabbit a little walk on the green,” said Mum, and it did seem quite easy. The green is at the end of our street. It’s really just a big rough patch of grass and bushes and a few trees. Nobody much goes there because there is a much nicer park not far away.

  It poured with rain all Sunday, but on Monday I got up extra early to take Snowflake out before school. It was still quite dark, and there was nobody else about on the green. Snowflake hopped about all over the grass and I held on tight to the end of the bandage until Snowflake finally stopped and sniffed at what looked like a small gap under a bush.

  I said, “Don’t be silly, Snowflake – that’s not a rabbit hole,” because there are no rabbits on the green and never have been. But Snowflake went on sniffing, and I was getting a bit bored, and then, suddenly, something came running and leaping at us, and it was not a rabbit but a big black dog. The dog was growling and barking and baring its teeth and Snowflake did a great bound and clung to my legs with all its horrible claws, which hurt. But obviously I didn’t want the dog to eat Snowflake. So I snatched Snowflake up to my chest and shouted at the dog to get away. But suddenly there was not just one dog but several, all different kinds and colours, and all barking like mad, and I thought, Perhaps they’re going to eat ME.

  Only then, luckily, there was a whistle. It was very loud, and the dogs looked sort of embarrassed and stopped barking, and a quite small old lady appeared. She had wild white hair and a fierce expression and she was wearing an anorak with “Approved dog walker” printed on it. She blew her whistle again, and then she shouted at the dogs with words that Dad had told me were quite rude, and I saw that the dogs were all on leads, but they were those retractable ones, and the old lady just hauled the dogs right back towards her and made them sit down. She came and peered at Snowflake and said, “Ha! You were very nearly rabbit pie,” and she turned to me and said, “Better take it home quick.” Then she shouted, “All right, come along, you!” and blew her whistle and the dogs all jumped up again and then she and the dogs sort of melted away into the dark.

  When I got home, I told Mum what had happened and how I’d saved Snowflake from the dogs, and I thought Snowflake would be grateful. But it just scarpered back into its hutch, and Mum said, “What’s that smell?” and I found that Snowflake had peed on me. So I had to have a wash and all clean clothes, and in the end I was late for school, and I thought, I hate that rabbit!

  Mum said that taking Snowflake for walks was clearly a bad idea, and that Dad would mend the hole in the fence, so that Snowflake could be let loose in the garden. Mending stuff is not Dad’s best thing, but he did it anyway, though the patch in the fence looked a bit rough. So then all I had to do was to feed Snowflake and clean its hutch.

  Dad was fed up because he’d auditioned for a part on television that he’d almost got, but then they gave it to someone else after all. It wasn’t even a very good part, but, as Mum said, it would have helped to pay the bills. They were talking about it with Uncle Mike, who had come round to tell us that the film with Gordon Strong had been cancelled.

  Uncle Mike said that there had been a big row with the producer because Gordon Strong had threatened to sue the film company for allowing him to be peed on by a rabbit, which was clearly mad, and the producer had said he wasn’t going to waste his money on making a film with a madman, and so now the whole thing was off.

  “So where does that leave you?” said Dad.

  Uncle Mike said, “Out of work,” and Mum said, “Join the club,” and they all laughed the way people do when they don’t really think something is funny, and I knew that it was no use even thinking about a new bicycle.

  Mum had had an email from Miss Bennet to say that her mother was better, but still needed her, so would we mind looking after Snowflake for another few days? She’d also sent some money for anything Snowflake might need, and I thought Snowflake certainly needed me to look after it, so at least my rabbit-keeper’s fee would be safe.

  The only person in our house who was happy was Angie who sang, “Snowflake is staying, Snowflake is staying!” while do
ing her rabbit dance, until she began to splutter and cough, and Mum said, “You’re not starting a cold, are you?”

  She took Angie’s temperature and it was quite high, and Angie had to go to bed. But this made her even happier because she wouldn’t have to go to school in the morning and would be able to look out of her window and watch Snowflake in the garden.

  Only, being Angie, she did rather more.

  The way it usually worked was that Mum let Snowflake out to scamper in the garden about lunchtime, and then, when I came home from school, I would retrieve Snowflake, put it back in its hutch, and give it its rabbit supper. But the next day when I went out into the garden after school, there was no rabbit. It was quite cold and trying to snow, and I thought perhaps Snowflake had managed to get back into the hutch, but it wasn’t there either. So I shouted, “Mum!” But Mum said she’d left Snowflake hopping about in the grass as usual.

  Then we both noticed one of Angie’s slippers on the ground and Mum said, “Oh, no!”

  When Mum opened the door to Angie’s room, Angie’s bed was empty, but I could hear her saying in one of her silly pretend voices, “Can I offer you one of these delicious cakes?” and there she was on the floor, in her nightie, having a tea party with her dolls. And then I saw that one of the dolls wasn’t a doll at all; it was Snowflake. The reason I had thought it was a doll was that Angie had dressed Snowflake in some of the dolls’ clothes. She’d tied a sort of bonnet round Snowflake’s head, only Snowflake’s ears got in the way, and she’d tried to put a doll’s dress on it, which was much too small, but it didn’t seem to bother Snowflake. All Snowflake wanted to do was to eat some special rabbit treats that Angie was feeding it.