5.30 AM
First Squawk. Olive shouts at me to go away, then burrows under the blankets. She has obviously forgotten the first rule of the chookyard.
5.45 AM
Olive refuses to join in semaphore practice, so I do it myself, standing on the lump that is her head and squawking the letters as loudly as I can.
6.20 AM
On the farm, Grandmother Polly sometimes decides that Scratch O’Clock will come before Egg O’Clock instead of after. No one else is allowed to make this announcement, not even Rufus.
But Grandmother Polly is not here.
‘It is now Scratch O’Clock,’ I say to Olive’s blankets. And I trot out to the compost heap and take out my annoyance on the earwigs. But as I gobble them down, with worms and spiders for dessert, I am struck by inspiration.
Why are Constable Dad and Olive so bad-tempered? Because of their diet! It isn’t varied enough. It isn’t healthy enough. All those beans would make anyone cross.
Luckily for them, I am here to help. I leave the rest of the worms for tomorrow and hurry around the back of the garage, where I spotted several mice yesterday.
Egg O’Clock. Yesterday’s egg is missing, so I can’t use the same nest again. But this time I will fool the rat thief! I will lay my egg in the house, where the thief will never think to look.
I gallop through the kitchen just as Constable Dad stumbles in. I’m making myself comfortable in the bottom of Olive’s wardrobe when I hear him bellow, ‘Why is there a dead mouse on my plate?’
He has found my gift. I hope he realises what a sacrifice it was on my part. I could have eaten it myself, but his need was greater.
In the kitchen, Olive shouts, ‘It wasn’t me!’
‘No, it was your chook,’ roars Constable Dad, ‘and I’ve had enough. First she tears up my notebook, then she brings vermin into the house. She has to go!’
‘She’s not going anywhere,’ shouts Olive. ‘And she probably didn’t bring it into the house, it was probably already here because you never do any cleaning and I can’t do it all myself and the house is probably full of mice and – and vermin, and you don’t even care!’
They are obviously enjoying themselves. I snuggle deeper into the wardrobe and focus on my egg.
7.45 AM
The egg comes slowly, which gives me plenty of time to think. Olive refuses to believe that Jubilee Crystal Simpson is behind the stock thefts, and so does Constable Dad. A varied diet is not enough to change their minds. I need proof.
Inspector Garcia always gets to the crime scene minutes after it happens, so she can collect evidence. If I am to bring Jubilee Crystal Simpson to justice, I must do the same.
8.15 AM
‘What do you mean, roosters?’ asks Olive. She’s getting ready for school, slamming books into her bag and stamping around her bedroom.
‘WE NEED SOMEONE TO WATCH THE ROADS AT NIGHT,’ I write.
‘They’ve set up a roster to watch the roads, Clara. And Mr Simpson’s getting cameras, and Dad is doing policeman stuff, which is obviously way more important than anything to do with his daughter, and I don’t know why we bothered to try and help him, because he doesn’t want our help. In fact, he probably doesn’t want anything to do with us. He probably wishes he didn’t have a daughter, so he could stay at his stupid police station all night and never come home, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about stupid things like cleaning.’ She slams another book into her bag.
She is angry with Constable Dad. I don’t blame her – if I’d known he wasn’t going to eat the mouse I would’ve eaten it myself. But we must not lose sight of what’s important.
‘WE NEED OUR OWN WATCHERS,’ I write. ‘WE SHOULD ASK THE ROOSTERS.’
Olive stares at me as if I was a duck.
So I explain. ‘ROOSTERS ALWAYS WANT TO KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING. THEY WON’T CARE ABOUT SHEEP, BUT IF WE TELL THEM SOMEONE IN A TRUCK IS STEALING CHOOKS THEY WILL STAY UP ALL NIGHT WATCHING.’
Olive shakes her head. She laughs, but it is not a happy laugh. She picks up her schoolbag. ‘If that’s what you want to do, Clara, you do it. I have to go.’
‘I WILL COME WITH YOU AND TRY IT OUT ON THE SCHOOL ROOSTER.’
8.35 AM
Olive is still in a bad mood, but I am not. Today I do not ride in the schoolbag. Today I ride on the handlebars with the wind in my feathers.
It is glorious.
I hop off the bike just before we reach the playground, and Olive keeps going without me. ‘I’ll see you after school,’ I squawk.
She doesn’t turn around.
9.00 AM
I go looking for the chookyard. I am a little worried about talking to a strange rooster, but I remind myself that I am a detective, just like Inspector Garcia.
She would not worry. She would stride in with confidence.
So that is what I will do.
9.05 AM
I stride in with confidence.
The rooster and fourteen hens chase me out again.
I creep in, hoping they won’t notice me straight away.
They do.
10.30 AM
I try to explain what I want from a safe distance.
They turn out to be very fast runners.
11.15 AM
I do not like the school chooks.