Neville didn’t sleep that night, and he couldn’t find Rubella.
The next morning he looked for the laundry room, but couldn’t locate it. Over the next few days he tried to search the rest of the huge ship, but, being nearly constantly on duty in the kitchens, he didn’t get much of a chance.
In the odd moments when Canker didn’t need him to slice squid, pickle fish eyes or roast sea cucumbers, Neville would sneak off to the crow’s nest at the top of the mast. He surveyed the decks from his vantage point, but still couldn’t see Rubella.
While he was looking down, he picked at one of the toadstools that were sprouting across his neck and shoulders. After so long Underneath he was starting to turn grey-green too. If Lady Jaundice wanted to dump him and Rubella once they were inside the gundiskump, he’d have to be even tricksier than she was and outsmart the mean old gurnip … but how? Neville tossed the toadstool he’d picked into the sea and counted the notches he’d scratched into the side of the crow’s nest.
‘Seven days at sea,’ he groaned.
