What are they doing here?’ By now, his whole nose was sticking into the hole. He sniffed the sour smell of turpentine, which he used to clean his brushes. ‘I must be dreaming,’ he thought. ‘But dreaming or not, no rascal steals my paints and my turpentine and gets away with it! Come out, little thief, whoever you are!’
Now Munch heard sounds coming from the other end of the crate. Looking closer, he noticed a small, arch shaped hole in the side. Through that hole he saw with astonishment what looked like the hallway of a house, with doors on each side. But what was that sound? Surely not a toilet flushing? Someone washing their hands under a tap?
Now came Munch’s biggest surprise of the night.
One of the little doors opened, and out came a grey mouse, drying his hands on a blue towel, looking like he owned the place. 9
‘How could you think such a thing?’ he said. ‘Tuck in! It’s my treat.’
Man and mouse polished off the cheese and grapes, and were already halfway through the chocolates, when Munch asked a question he had been wondering about ever since his first meeting with the mouse. ‘Tell me, Storm. How do you speak our language so well?’
‘What do you mean?’ laughed the mouse. ‘I live here! We mice have been with you humans for thousands of years – in your houses, behind
Storm looked at Munch with new admiration. The old man finished tying his bandage and they both leaned back, looking out of the window.
‘Well,’ said Munch, ‘her face was a perfect circle, her hair was flaming red, and her eyes were like blueberries. When she showed up, she definitely brought us some good luck. I think I shall paint her.’
Munch ran from one painting to the next, saying, ‘It’s Edvard, remember? Ah, there you are, my girls on the bridge! You’re a little wonky, aren’t you?’ He shifted the heavy frame a little. ‘Does this look straight to you, Storm?’
‘Clockwise a little bit … yes, there!’ said the mouse. Munch’s famous painting of a woman with dark hair, called Madonna, hung next to it. He leaned forwards and observed it closely.
‘My poor Madonna! Is your face getting a bit blurry? I should have brought some linseed oil to clean you up a bit.’ Munch pulled out his handkerchief, spat on it and rubbed her eyes, nose and cheeks. Then he stepped back to inspect his work.
Of course! The armour was made from a kitchen grater. It was all cheesy!
tired after our training session, we lay down for a nap. Strange – I thought I could feel something moving in the dog’s tummy.
And cheese is a dog’s favourite treat! I started training him. Soon we were the best of friends.
I listened more closely. I realised I could hear not one, but six hearts beating inside Rolly’s tummy. Huh? Has he swallowed six live mice? Wait a minute … It was then that I made an astonishing discovery!
you can go as you are. Just bring some flowers. Where is the funeral?’
’In your bedside table.’
’What?! A dead mouse in my bedside table?’
Storm put down his razor and wiped the shaving cream from his chin.
’Poor Uncle Ee-Ee-Eeee lay there for a month, in a coma. Now he has gone to the great mouse hole in the sky. He was a painter, you know, and a great fan of yours. He watched you for many years, without you knowing. Will you come with me to the funeral?’
’Of course,’ replied Munch kindly.
Chapter 7
