And so ends this little retelling! This was a reimagining of the first chapter of The Mystery of the Disappearing Cat by Enid Blyton. Thanks to those who followed along!

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64.

“That’s Mr Tupping, the gardener next door,” I said. “I hope we never see him again!”

But we were to see more of Mr Tupping that summer. More than we imagined.

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63.

“Lovely fellow,” Fatty said. “Anyone knows who he is?”

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62.

A minute later, he reappeared with an enormous suitcase. Larry and Pip helped him get it down. Fatty clipped a lead on to Buster’s collar, and I put the black Scottie down cautiously. Buster sent a volley of barks after the man, who was just disappearing out of the gates.

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61.

“Gah! I HATE dogs. And CATS. Nasty little creatures running around your legs and tripping you over.” Turning around, he saw us. “Get outta my way,” he said, pushing past me.

Buster was still barking. I ran to Fatty, who handed the squirming dog to me. “For goodness sake, don’t let him escape! Let me get my luggage!”

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60.

A burly, untidy man was climbing out of the compartment, his back to us, dragging two heavy bags out. “That dog belongs on a leash, it does,” he said. Placing the bags down, he shook his finger at Fatty, who had appeared at the door with Buster in his arms. “Nipping at me legs like that!”

“Calm down, sir,” Fatty said. He looked furious. “Buster only barked because you kicked him! Surely you are not scared of a little dog?”

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59.

Horrified, I came to a stop by the last door. How could anyone even think of kicking darling Buster!

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58.

The racket was coming from the very last compartment. Buster seemed besides himself. For such a little dog, it was amazing the noise he could make. Fatty’s voice could be heard, trying to calm someone, but was being drowned out by a man’s voice.

“Keep that yapping dog away from me,” the man was shouting. “If it comes anywhere near again, I’ll kick its head in! Nasty little mutt!”

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57.

It sure was. We could hear the excited barks of the little Scottie coming from the end of the train. Leaving the luggage in a pile, we ran down the platform.

“Goodness!” Daisy said. “Buster seems to be in a frightful state! I wonder who he’s barking at!”

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56.

“Where on earth is old Fatty?” Pip said. “I hope he hasn’t missed the train.”

“Let’s walk down the platform, come on,” Larry said. “Maybe he needs help with his suitcase or something — listen, is that Buster?”

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55.

Doors banged open. A few people got out and made their way sedately out of the station. But no Fatty.

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54.

Just then we heard the distant whistle. Soon we felt little tremors on the platform and the train pulled into view. It was the small train, the Beaconsfield local, which connected with the train Fatty was taking from London.

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53.

Everyone roared with laughter when I told them what had happened at the bakery. It did seem funny, now that Mr Goon was not glaring at me, though I hoped he wouldn’t come around to “have a word” with my parents.

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52.

“Yes, good old Buster — he is as good as one of us!” Pip said. “Bets, any news? Any mysteries turned up for us to solve?”

“No, nothing!” I said. “It has been so quiet since you left! But I met old Clear-Orf today!”

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51.

“In about 20 minutes,” I said, looking at the station clock. “Oh, I just can’t wait to see him!”

“Me too,” Daisy said. “Honestly, I had thought it was the end of Five Find-Outers when he left after Easter!”

“Five Find-Outers — and the DOG,” I said. “Don’t forget Buster!”

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50.

I handed around the ginger buns and we stood around chatting happily.

“What time does Fatty’s train get in?” Larry asked. “What luck he is moving here! You could have knocked me down with a feather when he wrote to me with the news!”

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49.

“Pip! Larry! Daisy!” I shouted rushing to them. “How I have missed you all! Gosh, how brown you are!”

“You are not so bad yourself, Bets!” said Daisy, giving me a big squeeze. Larry, too, hugged me. My brother stood grinning, then tousled my hair.

“You are taller,” he said. He punched me in the shoulder, and asked, “Got anything to eat?”

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48.

By the time I got to Penny’s Corner, I could hear the train whistling in the distance. I panted on to the platform just as the engine pulled in. Larry, Daisy and Pip were in the front compartment. They tumbled out, dragging their school suitcases behind them.

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47.

The butcher was sitting outside in the sun, smoking. “Where is the fire, Betsy?” he shouted. “Tell cook my boy’ll be along with a fine leg a little later!”

“Late for the train, Mr Lambkin,” I shouted back. “Can’t stop now!”

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46.

Paying up, I rushed out of the shop. Across the road, I could see the Flower Market was open. If I had time, I would have gone over and said hello to Mrs Mukherjee at the Market. She let me wander around the place, which always smelt heavenly — especially the foyer, where she stocked the potted heather and pink dianthus.

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