Jane Blonde: Sensational Spylet

by Jill Marshall

  ‘Now, you are to stay in bed. And don’t let any strangers in. Or, let me correct that – don’t let anyone strange in.’ Mrs Brown flicked her head wildly towards G-Mamma’s house. ‘I’ll be back at lunchtime – maybe you could get up then.’

  The door slammed as her mum hurried off to work. Seconds later Janey heard the fireplace panel sliding up and G-Mamma’s contorted face and fleshy neck appeared like a live gargoyle. ‘Sweet Solomon, child. Get your booty over to my side, will you? I just cannot fit through here.’ Janey shimmied through the opening.

  ‘I thought you were going to have it made taller?’

  ‘I was.’ G-Mamma bit into a large doughnut, dribbling jam down her chins. ‘But your uncle Solomon has to sign off on all SPI-doors, and as we know your uncle Solomon—’

  ‘Is in hiding.’ Janey refused the Danish pastry G-Mamma was waving at her and plonked herself down at the counter. She giggled when she realized that the red gloop bubbling away in a glass jar was raspberry jam, with which G-Mamma was steadily refilling her doughnut. ‘Do you think he’s . . . well, is he still alive?’

  ‘We don’t know, Blonde-girl. You’re the only one who’s heard from him. But the Sinerlesse Group will get hold of him again – and Ariel will be even more cheesed off since she messed up the chance to catch you both in Scotland. We need a new lead for you, B. And I need to get on to those Hallidays sharpish.’

  Janey thought seriously. ‘I know this is a silly question, but has anyone checked his home?’

  ‘It’s not such a silly question.’ G-Mamma chewed and waved her hands around, flicking sugar about the room. ‘It would be so obvious that nobody would think of it, would they? Problem is, honey-mine, that nobody, but nobody, knows where Uncle Solomon’s home is. I’ve never even met him, let alone found out where he lives.’

  ‘With a face like that, he should live with Santa at the North Pole,’ said Janey, thinking of the Sol’s Lols logo.

  G-Mamma’s eyes brightened. ‘That’s as good a place to start looking as any. Good work, Blonde. Get ready to go tonight. I’ll have your equipment ready – I’m sure I’ve got a tunnelling snowplough around here somewhere . . .’

  ‘I was joking!’ Janey’s eyes bulged at the thought of a Satispy trip to the North Pole, stopping to ask any of Santa’s elves she met if they were her uncle. Thankfully, before G-Mamma could talk her into it, she heard the doorbell ringing back in her own house. ‘Better go and see who that is!’

  ‘Be careful!’ spluttered G-Mamma through the remains of her doughnut. Janey gave her the thumbs-up and hurried through the fireplace. Putting on her dressing gown, she went downstairs to the front door and peered through the spyhole on tiptoe.

  There was nobody there. Then suddenly the doorbell bonged again, right in Janey’s ear. She put the safety chain on the door and opened it enough to peer through.

  ‘Didn’t see you this morning,’ said a husky voice. ‘Thought you might have fallen into something again and need my help to get out. You OK?’

  ‘Freddie!’ Janey fumbled with the catch and threw open the door. ‘Come in! Had a bit of an accident the other night, but I’m all right now. You do always appear when I need you, don’t you?!’

  Freddie grinned. ‘Found these on the doorstep.’

  He handed her a small box of expensive chocolates, each individually wrapped in a tiny square of differentcoloured gauze. A neat pink card was tied on to the box with purple ribbon. ‘Sorry about last night – hope you’re feeling better. From A and Mrs H.’

  ‘What’s that about then?’ asked Freddie, peering over her shoulder.

  Handing him the box after helping herself, Janey told Freddie an edited version of what had happened at Alfie’s. His cheeks swollen with chocolates, Freddie wandered around the kitchen, opening cupboards. ‘So it fell on your head, just like that?’

  Janey knew she couldn’t explain too much – there was no point getting Freddie involved. She might even put him in danger. ‘Yeah, just like that.’

  As Freddie raised his eyebrows, Janey was saved from any more difficult questions by the doorbell ringing again. Puzzled, she ran to the door. This time, the person on the doorstep was tall enough to be seen through the spyhole. It was Janey’s teacher, Miss Rale, her sweet face etched with concern.

  ‘Hello! Are you all right? It was my first day back and I thought I’d pop out during morning break to see how you are. Oh, I’m sorry, you’ve got company,’ said Miss Rale as she caught sight of Freddie in the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t worry, come in!’ said Janey, grinning. She led her teacher through and was rather alarmed to notice Freddie shooting Miss Rale a look of disgust as they entered the kitchen. Her teacher blushed. As Freddie stood up, briskly said goodbye and let himself out, Janey decided she would have a word with him about being so rude.

  ‘So you heard about my accident,’ said Janey, turning to Miss Rale.

  ‘Accident? No.’ Miss Rale sat down neatly. ‘I realized you weren’t there this morning, and you seemed to be about to tell me something the other day – I was just worried that something might have happened to you.’

  ‘Mrs Halliday didn’t tell you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen Mrs Halliday yet today.’ Her fair eyebrows peaked in a pretty frown. ‘Are you all right, Janey? I’m sure I’d be able to help you if you just told me what was wrong.’

  Janey didn’t think she could tell Miss Rale what was going on – for a start she probably wouldn’t believe her. But she wanted to.

  ‘Look,’ continued Miss Rale, ‘let me make us both a nice cup of tea and you can tell me all about it. I’m sure it would make you feel better, Janey.’ She bustled over to the sink, popping her bag down next to her, and began to make tea as if she was Janey’s own mother.

  Janey decided that she could give Miss Rale a version of what happened, sort of in the same way she had with Freddie. Some men had been worrying her mum. Her long-lost godmother had turned up. She’d slipped on some soap and hurt her back and then a bucket had fallen on her head. She hadn’t had any friends until now and she couldn’t bother her mum about it, as she was already holding down more than one job to try to make ends meet. Yes, it sounded like it could be true. As Miss Rale placed a fragrant and inviting mug of tea in front of her, Janey took a deep breath and smiled.

  ‘Oh, sorry, just a minute, Janey.’

  Stepping back over to the sink, Miss Rale took her ringing mobile phone out of her bag and spoke into it quickly. Janey slurped her tea as a distraction. It smelt floral and light, very tasty. It reminded her of something pleasant, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  Miss Rale tutted and put her phone away. ‘Bad timing, I’m afraid. Got to get back to school. So sorry, Janey. I was really hoping to hear about whatever’s been troubling you, see if we can’t work it out between us. But hopefully we can find five minutes to talk tomorrow.’

  For a brief moment Miss Rale put her hand over Janey’s and Janey looked fondly at her teacher’s long, slim fingers. She couldn’t imagine why Miss Rale, so lovely and so pretty, wasn’t married already. But her teacher was wearing a ring – not a wedding ring, but a large flat signet ring on her right hand. Carved into the oval disc on the top was the initial ‘S’. It looked a little familiar.

  ‘What’s the “S” for, miss?’ she asked.

  Her teacher smiled. ‘Well, I know it’s not considered good form to tell pupils things like this. But my first name is Susan. Don’t tell a soul!’ she added in a mock-stern voice. ‘Got to dash, Janey!’

  Janey waved as Susan Rale raced down the path, turned left and hurried along to the main road. Catching a bus back to school, Janey supposed. She was still standing on the doorstep when a voice called to her from down the road.

  ‘Janey! Inside in your dressing gown!’

  Her mother bustled through the gate, scolding her for not being in bed, for being on the doorstep in her dressing gown where anyone could see her and for generally not doing anythin
g she had told her to do that morning.

  ‘And you’ve had visitors, I see!’ she said, taking in the teacups on the kitchen table. ‘I nearly asked Miss Lear to come round when I bumped into her a while ago, but I thought you might not be feeling well enough for guests. Obviously I was wrong. Janey, didn’t I say not to let anyone in?’

  ‘It was my teacher, Mum. I had to let her in!’

  ‘Oh, really? How lovely of her, Janey,’ cooed Mrs Brown, her tone of voice suddenly changing. ‘What a nice school Winton is! Not like that strange St Earl’s place where I’ve been cleaning for Miss Lear.’

  ‘What’s strange about it?’ asked Janey. Talking of strange, she was starting to feel a little peculiar.

  ‘Well, for a start, I haven’t seen any pupils yet. In fact, I’ve been there twice now and never seen a soul, even though it’s the middle of the morning.’

  ‘Maybe they’re on holiday. It could . . . oh! Mum, hel—’

  Mrs Brown spun around. Janey was slumped forward in the chair, her head spinning like a kaleidoscope. Her mum’s face swam into view and then whizzed away again, her eyes growing closer together until she looked like a cyclops. She could hear her mother shouting, ‘Janey! Janey, what’s wrong? Oh my lord, your head’s swelling!’

  But try as she might, Janey couldn’t get any words out. Her throat seemed to be closing up. She was finding it hard to breathe. And as the supply of air to her head shut down, she crashed forward on to the tiles.

  truth hurts

  Hearing Mrs Brown’s shouting and the chair crashing to the floor, G-Mamma shot through the front door like a charging elephant. ‘Don’t worry, I’m here!’ she yelled, barging Mrs Brown out of the way and appraising Janey’s state with wide blue eyes. ‘She’s having an allergic reaction.’

  ‘Allergic reaction?’ bleated Mrs Brown.

  ‘Yes, like eating a peanut.’

  ‘Eating a peanut?’

  ‘Yes. Do you have any adrenalin?’

  ‘Adrenalin?’

  ‘Sweet soul survivors, what has happened to you, Gina? Did they blitz your brain of all common sense as well? Look, lie her down flat, I’ll be back in a moment. Call an ambulance.’

  Within a minute G-Mamma was back with a small silver syringe kit. She shoved Janey’s mum aside and administered a dose of adrenalin. By the time the ambulance arrived a few minutes later, Janey’s eyes were open and her head was beginning to clear. While she lay on the floor the paramedics did a variety of tests and then drew Mrs Brown into the hallway. Janey didn’t attempt to get up, but watched as G-Mamma shuffled closer to the door to eavesdrop.

  ‘They’re asking if you’re allergic to anything. Told you so. Are you allergic to anything, by the way? Wheat? Penicillin? Your brain-wiped mother?’ G-Mamma looked inquisitively at Janey. Janey shrugged and shook her head, screwing up her face as the horrible sick feeling set in again. ‘What were you eating? Choccies? These choccies? You’re not allergic to chocolate, are you? No? Phew, relief! Life wouldn’t be worth living if you couldn’t eat chocolate, girly-girl! Oh, listen, they’re saying you’ll have to go to hospital for tests, find out what it is you reacted to. I’ll check things out round here while you’re gone. This is a bit fishy, Blondey. Whoops! Here she comes.’

  Dropping one of the chocolates into a mug of lukewarm tea, G-Mamma smiled brightly at Mrs Brown as she came back into the kitchen. She pretended to be enjoying a sip of the tepid brown liquid.

  Mrs Brown glared at her. ‘Look, thank you for all your help and everything, but I think we can let the professionals take over now.’

  ‘Well, pardon me for saving your daughter’s life,’ replied G-Mamma frostily. ‘I’ll be off, Janey. Let me know when you’re back.’ She stalked past the paramedics and out of the front door with her mug of tea.

  An hour later, Janey was lying on a bed in the hospital for the second time that week, feeling like a pin cushion after several blood samples had been taken from her. Her mother sat at her side, clutching her hand and cooing sympathetically.

  ‘I’m sure that’s the last of them now, darling.’

  The nurse nodded. ‘The doctor’s given the all-clear, so you can take Janey home whenever you like.’

  ‘Lovely, thank you. Now, sweetie, why don’t you tell me what you think it might have been? I won’t be angry if you ate or drank something that you shouldn’t.’

  Janey opened her mouth to protest. ‘I never eat or drink anything I shouldn’t, Mum. And I always eat what you tell me, even those revolting ketchup sandwiches you think I like but which actually I’ve hated for years. I’m always good. Apart from once, when I was six, I did steal the Easter eggs you’d bought as presents and ate them all myself.’

  Mrs Brown stared at her. ‘You . . . you said a dog ran in and took the bag!’

  ‘I lied!’ said Janey, puzzled as to why she had suddenly confessed to this now. ‘But I threw up so much afterwards that I never ate or drank anything I wasn’t supposed to ever again.’

  ‘I see. And you don’t like my special sandwiches.’ Mrs Brown’s telephone manner was starting to creep into her voice. She crossed her legs in a quick, vicious twirl. ‘Well, Janey Brown, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?’

  Janey sighed. Everyone wanted her to tell them things, and she couldn’t. But . . . why not? There was so much she wanted to tell her mother, and suddenly she found she couldn’t keep anything from her any longer.

  ‘OK. Listen. You might not want to hear this, but I’ve been sneaking into G-Mamma’s at night through my fireplace and I’m going to become a SPI. Uncle Solomon’s real business is called Solomon’s Polificational Investigations, and I’m going to work for him but he’s gone missing, chased into hiding by—’

  ‘You’ve been sneaking into G-Mamma’s at night?’ Her mother was scarlet with rage. ‘How dare you, Janey? And how dare that wretched woman entice you into doing such naughty things?’

  ‘Mum, I’m not six any more, you know. They’re not naughty things, they’re important things. I’m a SPI, and I’ve got this fantastic silver outfit with all sorts of gadgets, and when I’m in it I feel sensational and—’

  ‘Stop right now!’ roared Mrs Brown. She started gathering up Janey’s things with stiff, spiky movements. ‘Not another word of this . . . this rubbish, this . . . this complete claptrap. I’m taking you home this instant, and after I’ve called the police about that . . . that monster next door I’m sending you somewhere safe, somewhere sensible, where your head can’t be filled with all this fantastical nonsense! Your uncle a spy? He makes ice lollies, Janey. You’re being ridiculous! Come on, we’re getting a cab. If you’ve quite finished?’ And she clattered off down the tiled corridor with such ferocious speed that Janey had to run to keep up with her.

  But now that she’d started talking, Janey found that she hadn’t quite finished at all, not by a long way.

  ‘It’s really not nonsense, Mum, I can promise you. Uncle Solomon’s in danger and I’ve got to find him so I can help him stop anyone ever uncovering his secret project. He’s had to go underground. I have to get to him before the Sinerlesse Group do. The other night I had to go to Scotland to find him.’

  ‘The other night? You went to Scotland during the night?’

  Janey nodded cheerfully. ‘Only he wasn’t there and—’

  ‘Oh. And you flew by yourself to get there and back in a night?’

  ‘Kind of. Well, I went on the Satispy, which is a satellite system you can travel on. Well, not you, because you’re not a spy, not any more at least.’

  Mrs Brown stopped short at the door of the taxi. ‘Please, please stop, Janey. If you go on any more, I’m afraid that someone from the psychiatric unit will hear us and I might never be able to bring you home again.’

  ‘But I was just—’

  Her mother held up a hand. ‘Listen to me. You’re going to have to go to Uncle James’s house. He’ll look after you. I want you away from that G-Mamma!’

  Janey w
as furious. Her mum couldn’t send her off to Uncle James’s house – it was miles from G-Mamma. She tried to protest over and over again, words flying from her mouth, but her heart sank when she realized her mum wasn’t going to give in. It would be impossible to get to the SPI-lab, or get hold of any of her SPI equipment, and without those she would never be able to discover Uncle Solomon’s whereabouts, or what connection he had with freezing frogs. Or what she was supposed to destroy. Nor would she be able to find out why these terrible ‘accidents’ kept happening to her. There was no point in arguing, however – her mum had MADE UP HER MIND.

  Mrs Brown was still talking. ‘Don’t worry about school. You’ll need a few days off after the latest disaster. I’m sure Mrs Halliday will understand. And if you decide you really have to go, Uncle James can arrange for a car to drive you over. He’s got enough money, and a chauffeur, now I come to think of it. I’ll come over every couple of evenings to keep you company. And when we’re sure you’ve had enough rest we’ll think about letting you come home. Once I’ve had social services remove that maniac from next door.’

  ‘What if Uncle James doesn’t want me there?’ asked Janey, desperate to stay at home.

  Mrs Brown looked bemused. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? He doesn’t have a choice! He’s my little brother; he’ll do as I ask.’

  When they arrived home from the hospital, Mrs Brown reached for the phone immediately, rapping a few comments into it before putting down the receiver and turning to her daughter.

  ‘Right, that’s fine. Uncle James will be here in an hour to collect you. Go and get some things together – enough for a few days. We can review the situation at the weekend.’

  Janey trudged upstairs to her bedroom. She reached under her bed for her small blue suitcase, but instead her hand fell into something sticky. The substance was thick and dark red, oozing in a glutinous puddle from under her bed. ‘Blood!’ Janey screeched.

  Crawling backwards as fast as she could, away from the slick of gore on her bedroom carpet, she reached up the wall behind her and tapped. Immediately the fireplace panel rose up into the brickwork, and she scrambled into G-Mamma’s SPI-lab.