The Curse of Captain Cross-eyed Read online

  For Angus and Granny Elspeth with love

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Seven

  The problem: My old bike. I am growing too big for it, but we can’t afford a new one as Dad is off work with a broken leg.

  The brainwave: Ask Mr Maini at the corner shop if he has a paper round so I can save up for some new wheels.

  The dilemma: There is a paper round, but it takes in Weir Street and I’ve heard that the people who live there are weird.

  The hero: Me, of course. Jonny Smith. I’m not scared – it’s only a paper round. And just how weird can the people in Weir Street be…?

  Chapter One

  It was the first day of my new job, and I was up really early. Well, not as early as Mum and Dad and Ellie. Ellie’s my little sister. Little sisters should be cute, right? Not Ellie. If she’s not yelling, she’s eating. Everything in sight. Noggin, our cat, gives her a wide berth, ever since she nibbled his tail. And Mum’s put Jaws, the goldfish, up on a high shelf, just in case.

  I got to the breakfast table just in time to find Ellie with her fingers in the jam and her beady eyes on my toast. She stretched out a sticky, plump hand…

  “Leave!” I said, the way I speak to Brutus. That’s our dog. I snatched my toast from under her greedy little gaze and headed for the door.

  “Good luck, Jonny,” called Mum from the kitchen.

  “And don’t be late for school,” shouted Dad, scratching the itchy bits inside his plaster with a knitting needle. He’s a community policeman and hates being off work.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” I called, already half-out the door. “Miss Dodds’ll kill me if I’m late again,” I muttered to myself.

  Miss Dodds knows every excuse under the sun, and won’t accept any of them. I know. I’ve tried often enough. She’s got this special kind of teacher’s eye that can staple your tongue to your cheek with just one look. And she thinks my head is full of nothing but football.

  I ran out to the shed, grabbed my bike, and pedalled off to the corner shop.

  Mr Maini was standing behind the counter with a large orange bag full of newspapers.

  “Good morning, Jonny,” he smiled. “You’re in good time. Look, I’ve marked on the numbers for you. Be careful to deliver each paper to the right house. The numbers in Weir Street can be a bit … weird.”

  “I’ve heard the people can be a bit weird, too,” I said. “That’s why everybody calls it Weird Street, and the paperboys don’t last.”

  “People are people,” shrugged Mr Maini, and said no more.

  That worried me. What was it about Weird Street?

  I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder and got on my bike. It was harder to cycle carrying the papers and my knees kept banging on the handlebars. I managed to miss most of the traffic, though, by scooting along back alleyways, then freewheeling down Barr Avenue till I met the junction with Weird Street.

  That’s when the trouble began…

  For a start, Weird Street is a steep hill and pedalling up it was a real struggle. For another thing, I nearly fell off my bike several times as I turned my head to look at all the strange houses. Houses are houses, right? Windows, walls, the occasional door. Not in Weird Street. In Weird Street all the houses are different.

  My first stop was at house number 34 and a half. It is set right back into the hill. It has bottle-bottom windows and an old oak door covered in iron studs. The garden is full of junk, while on the flat roof there are dozens of neatly planted rows of potatoes. You don’t expect to see vegetables where chimneys should be!

  A chimney was all I could see of the next house. I propped my bike up against its high hedge, opened the squeaky gate and crept through the shoulder-high grass. It was quiet and eerie with only the odd, soft rustling. Could there be wild animals lurking there? I caught a flick of what looked like a tiger’s tail, so I threw the paper in the direction of the house and left, sharpish.

  Fortunately, I didn’t see anything unusual on the next few deliveries and I was feeling happier as I pedalled further up the hill to number 57. Its garden was very neat and tidy, with every plant standing to attention. Everything looked quite ordinary, if you didn’t count the stone Viking warrior fiercely guarding the water butt. I breathed a sigh of relief and popped the paper through the gleaming brass letter box. Yikes, it snapped back and nearly took my fingers off!

  The worst was reserved for number 13. Unlucky for some. Number 13 had a crazy, dancing parrot looking out of the window, and a one-eared cat sitting on the doorstep. But no letter box.

  So I knocked on the door.

  Silence.

  I knocked again.

  More silence. Then the clump of heavy boots sounded along the hallway. It was scary. Finally, a little porthole window in the front door opened and a loud voice boomed out.

  “WHO GOES THERE? FRIEND OR FOE?”

  Chapter Two

  Friend or foe? Help! I hadn’t expected that. What could I say?

  “Er … paperboy,” I muttered.

  “A boy made out of paper? How very strange. Don’t you blow away in the wind?”

  “Paper delivery boy,” I tried again.

  “Then where is the paper?”

  I held it up and a hook came out of the porthole to get it. Startled, I let the paper drop, and the door opened.

  A large pirate was standing there. “I am Captain Cross-eyed,” he bellowed. “Who are you?”

  “J-J-Jonny. Jonny Smith.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jonny Smith,” he said, and held out his hook.

  I gulped and shook the hook. It came away in my hand.

  Captain Cross-eyed gave a great belly laugh, then his real hand slid down his sleeve and took the hook back from me. “Good trick, Jonny Smith. Don’t you agree?”

  I wasn’t going to disagree with a huge pirate, so I just nodded. Then I turned and ran down the path. I jumped on my bike and pedalled away fast, only stopping to hand in my orange bag to Mr Maini.

  “Did you know that an enormous pirate lives at 13 Weird Street?” I gasped.

  “A pirate? In Weir Street? What kind of crazy boy are you? Mr Cross lives at number 13. Nice man. Works in the sausage factory. Now, don’t be telling silly stories, Jonny Smith.”

  It was clear Mr Maini did not believe me.

  I jumped on my bike again and headed for school. When I got there though, the playground was empty, except for a crisp packet blowing in the wind.

  “Oh no,” I groaned. “Late again. Miss Dodds will never believe I was held up by a gigantic pirate.”

  I was right.

  “A large, huge, enormous, gigantic pirate? That’s certainly one of your more inventive excuses, Jonny Smith,” she said, looking down her long nose at me. “You can stay behind at break and write out the whole fantastic story.”

  I sighed and went to my desk. The day was getting worse. First Mr Maini didn’t believe me, now it was Miss Dodds. And I had a story to write. Miss Dodds knew I always played football at break, and she knew that the inter-schools’ final was coming up soon…

  I slumped down in my seat.

  “A large, huge, enormous, gigantic pirate?” parroted my pal, Sara, nudging my elbow. “Good excuse, Jonny.”

  “The best yet,” agreed Surinder, who was sitting behind me.

  “It’s not an excuse,” I whispered. “There was a big pirate. The people in Weird Street are weird.”

  As they picked up their pencils, I could tell from their grins that
Sara and Surinder didn’t believe me, either.

  Neither did Mum and Dad when I told them about it after school.

  “What an imagination you have, Jonny,” smiled Mum, handing me the cutlery to set the table for tea.

  “It’ll get you into trouble one day,” warned Dad. “I happen to know Ian Cross. He manages the sausage factory and very kindly donated several boxes of bangers for the children’s barbeque last summer.”

  “Sossiz, sossiz,” grinned Ellie.

  “I’m telling the truth,” I protested, as Mum ladled tomato soup into bowls. “There really was a pirate.”

  But no one was listening.

  I sat down at the table and picked up my spoon. It’s been the weirdest day of my life, I thought, and no one believes me. However, I was determined to stick with the paper round. I wasn’t going to give up like the other paperboys. I was also determined to show everyone I was telling the truth about the pirate. The question was, how?

  Chapter Three

  The idea came to me as I was getting dressed the following morning.

  “It’s simple,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  I would take my mobile phone and photograph Captain Cross-eyed when I handed over his paper. Then I’d have a picture to prove my story was true.

  The only problem was I’d then have to take my phone to school, and Miss Dodds had banned them. One morning, everyone in the class had played the ‘psycho’ ring tone when she’d arrived. BIG MISTAKE. Still, if my phone was switched off, she’d never know, would she?

  I grabbed a quick bowl of cereal, dodging the bits of soggy crusts Ellie threw at me. Then I set off for Mr Maini’s.

  He was busy in the back of the shop when I arrived and gave me a wave as I collected my papers. “Perhaps you’ll see dinosaurs in Weir Street today, Jonny Smith,” he laughed.

  I felt for my phone and switched it on. Just wait, Mr Maini, you’ll see, I thought.

  But he didn’t, and neither did I.

  When I arrived at number 13, I was all ready to take the photo, but there was no sign of Captain Cross-eyed. Or his parrot. Or his cat.

  I knocked at the door.

  Nothing.

  I knocked at the door again.

  Still nothing. I even sneaked round to the back garden.

  No one. Unless you counted the garden gnome fishing beside the wheelie bin.

  Disappointed, I left the paper under a large stone and went on my way. So much for my big idea. But I wasn’t late for school, so Miss Dodds wasn’t able to give me a telling off … till my phone rang.

  “There’s an ice-cream van in the playground!” cried Peter Ho.

  Everyone rushed to the window to look. Everyone except me. I knew my ring tone when I heard it. I gasped and quickly switched off my phone.

  But I was too late. Miss Dodds had spotted me. “Sit down, everyone,” she ordered. “Jonny Smith, bring that phone over here. You know I do not allow them in the classroom. I hope there’s a good reason why you have it with you.”

  I could hardly tell her I was hoping to photograph the pirate she didn’t believe I’d seen yesterday, could I?

  So I didn’t.

  “No good reason,” I said instead.

  “Very well. The phone will stay in my desk for the rest of the week, and you will spend your break doing an extra maths exercise.”

  That meant no football practice again. The other boys in the team glared at me.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed. I sighed. I’d be lucky to play in the final at this rate.

  Sara and Surinder looked at me sympathetically, and at break, they stayed behind to help me with the maths.

  “Why did you bring your phone in?” asked Sara. “You know how crazy Miss Dodds went about the ‘psycho’ thing.”

  “I wanted to get a photo of the pirate in Weird Street,” I muttered.

  “You’re not still on about that, are you?” said Surinder. “Pirates live in books, or in films, not in a street near you, Jonny.”

  “This one does,” I insisted. “He lives in Weird Street and I’ll prove it. Just you wait and see.”

  I thought about the problem all day. I even thought about it during football practice after school. Which was a mistake.

  “Smith! Keep your eye on the ball,” yelled Mr McGregor, our coach. “You’re playing like a big tumshie.”

  Tumshie is the Scottish word for turnip, so clearly Mr McGregor wasn’t very pleased with me. But it was worse than that.

  “What’s up with you, laddie?” he asked after the game. “Have you forgotten what your feet are for?”

  “No,” I muttered. “Just got something on my mind.”

  “Well, get it off your mind or you’re off the team. O.K.?”

  Very much not O.K. I cycled home feeling miserable. I’d lost my mobile phone and almost lost my place in the football team. What was going to happen next?

  Chapter Four

  “You’ve to take Ellie and Brutus for a walk,” said Dad, when I got home. “Mum didn’t have time. Gran’s poorly so she’s gone over to see her.”

  “Oh no!” I groaned. Pushing Ellie’s pram around was so uncool. But, with Dad out of action, there was nothing else for it.

  Ellie stopped chewing the ear of her pink rabbit just long enough for me to put on her shoes and coat.

  “Eets. Eets,” she grinned, as I strapped her into the pushchair.

  “No sweets,” I said sternly. “You’re fat enough. Walkies,” I nodded to Brutus, who was hovering hopefully nearby.

  He wagged his tail and we set off along the road.

  We reached Mr Maini’s corner shop and that gave me an idea. I could take Ellie and Brutus for their walk along Weird Street. That way I could try to catch a glimpse of Captain Cross-eyed.

  “You’re a genius, Jonny Smith,” I said.

  And it was a good idea when I was whizzing the two-ton toddler down Barr Avenue, but not when I had to push her up Weird Street.

  “How would you like to pull the pushchair up the hill, like a husky?” I asked Brutus.

  But he just ignored me, and lifted his leg on the big three-wheeler bike parked outside number 34 and a half.

  “That bike’s even older than mine,” I said.

  At last I made it to number 13. I knelt by the chestnut tree at the front gate and pretended to be fixing my shoe while I checked out the house.

  But there was no one around.

  Oh well, it had been worth a try, I thought, and was just about to leave when I spotted something. I backed against the tree. A man had appeared at an upstairs window. He was wearing a black jacket and a three-cornered hat. On his shoulder sat a dancing parrot and, on the end of his arm, I could clearly see a gleaming hook.

  It was Captain Cross-eyed!

  “Look, Ellie. Look, Brutus,” I whispered. “It’s him. It’s the pirate!”

  Ellie looked up and pointed. “Pi,” she said, pleased.

  “That’s right. Pirate. Good girl.”

  The figure disappeared and, though I waited a little longer, there was no further sign of him. “Probably swinging in his hammock, drinking his rum ration and eating his weevily biscuits,” I told Ellie.

  I turned the pushchair round and, with Brutus at my heels, headed for home. But at least I had seen Captain Cross-eyed again. At least I knew I hadn’t imagined him.

  “Now you can tell everyone you’ve seen the pirate, too,” I said to Ellie.

  “Pi,” she agreed.

  When we got home, Dad was setting the table for tea. “Oh, good, you’re back,” he said, opening the oven. “Mum’s been delayed. We’ll start eating without her.”

  I wasn’t listening. “Guess what,” I said excitedly. “We walked to Weird Street and I saw the pirate again. He was at an upstairs window and was wearing a black jacket and a three-cornered hat and…”

  Dad put on his stern, policeman’s face. “Are you still on about this pirate nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense, Dad.
It’s true. Ask Ellie. She saw him, too. Didn’t you, Ellie?”

  Ellie beamed and pointed at the dish in Dad’s hand. “Pi,” she said.

  “That’s right,” smiled Dad. “Steak pie. My favourite. Now, let’s sit down and eat. And I don’t want to hear any more of this rubbish.”

  I sat down, and Dad served up the pie. Ellie’s greedy eyes gleamed at the sight of it and Brutus sat beside me looking hopeful. But I was too annoyed to enjoy the food.

  “I did see the pirate,” I whispered to Brutus. “I wish people would believe me. It’s a pity you haven’t learned to talk yet…”

  Chapter Five

  We were supposed to be doing silent reading in class the next day, but I was busy thinking about Captain Cross-eyed. I kept a careful eye on Miss Dodds as I took out a piece of paper and started to set down the facts the way Dad had shown me.

  Then it hit me.

  I. Cross. Or Cross I. Or Cross-eyed, alias Captain Cross-eyed. They were obviously all the same person.

  “Why didn’t I realise before?” I said out loud.

  “Why didn’t you realise what before, Jonny?” snapped Miss Dodds. She was at her desk doing some school reports and hated being disturbed.

  “Er, silent reading,” I said, quickly hiding the piece of paper. “It’s very good.”

  Miss Dodds fixed me with her steely gaze. “Then do it silently. The clue is in the word silent.”

  “Yes, Miss Dodds,” I said excitedly. “Thank you.” She didn’t know it, but she had just been very helpful. That was what I needed. Clues. Clues to the existence of Captain Cross-eyed.

  But where would I find them?

  I thought for a moment. What would a real detective do?

  He would search Captain Cross-eyed’s wheelie bin! There were bound to be clues there… Empty rum bottles, weevily biscuits, parrot feathers… But I was going to need help if I was to do it without being seen. I looked over at Sara and Surinder and smiled. What are friends for?