Jane Blonde: Sensational Spylet

by Jill Marshall

  Janey slid off the chair. ‘I’ll just go and get changed.’

  She didn’t break into a run until she was out of sight along the hallway, but then she took to her heels as quickly as if she was wearing Fleet-feet, flinging herself up the stairs two at a time. Panting, she closed the bedroom door behind her, then dragged her unopened blue suitcase into the en-suite bathroom and locked that door behind her. Only then did she remove the suitcase key from her pocket and open the lid. To her amazement, as soon as she opened it a chunky missile of fur sprang into her arms, sinking tiny needles of pain into her flesh.

  ‘Ow!’ she squealed, wrestling with the soft, wriggling body for a moment until she came face to face with a large squirming tabby kitten. ‘Trouble! How did you get in there?’

  Trouble wriggled again until Janey put him down and gave his head a scratch. He was really quite cute, she decided, with fine yellowy stripes across his brown fur, and large emerald eyes that stared, unblinking, into hers. As if he knew how lovely he was, Trouble rubbed Janey’s hand hard with his head, then stalked off to fish in the toilet with his little lion paws.

  ‘I should send you straight back, Trouble. But it’s quite nice having a friend here.’

  Grinning, Janey turned her attention back to her suitcase. There were no clothes apart from her Lycra Jane Blonde SPI-suit, a pair of lime-green pyjamas that she had outgrown and an outlandish collection of multicoloured headscarves and immense chunky jewellery in Day-Glo colours. G-Mamma’s personal taste had obviously got the better of her. Under the clothes lay a large, white, plastic shower head: a portable Wower! Reaching up over the bath, Janey unscrewed the impressive round brass shower attachment and replaced it with the white one. She knelt down to see what else was in the case. Apart from a supermarket carrier bag containing a month’s supply of doughnuts and chocolate bars, and a sheet of paper covered in information about the North American wood frog, there was nothing. Certainly nothing Janey could actually wear.

  She sat among the sorry pile of clothing and picked up a disgusting acid-yellow medallion necklace with the ends of her fingers as if it was a dirty sock. ‘Oh, G-Mamma!’ she grunted in irritation.

  ‘Blonde-girl, you there? Where have you been? I’ve been waiting ages!’

  At the sound of G-Mamma’s voice, Janey looked around the room, then giggled to herself. There was no way G-Mamma could be in a room this size without Janey knowing about it.

  ‘Stop sniggering at me, Blonde, this is no time for messing! Man alive, you look even more terrible than usual.’

  ‘Can you see me, G-Mamma?’ Janey glanced round again, confused.

  ‘Of course I can! And if you look in your SPIV you’ll see me too. The SPIV! The necklace, child!’

  Sure enough, as Janey brought the foul chunky jewellery closer to her nose, G-Mamma loomed into view. ‘Did I activate this?’

  The little image on the yellow disc jiggled animatedly. ‘Of course you did! Picked it up and said my name, didn’t you? That’s how a SPIV works. How else would I be talking to you?’

  ‘What’s a SPIV?’

  ‘SPI Visualator, Blonde.’

  ‘Oh. Right. G-Mamma, it’s just a suggestion, but I think it might help in future if you tell me how things work. You know, in advance?’

  G-Mamma looked sulky. ‘I forget how little SPI:KE training you’ve had, that’s all. Now, listen, I have to tell you something.’

  ‘No! Me first!’ hissed Janey. ‘I’ve found out something here about St—’

  ‘NO TIME, JANEY!’ barked G-Mamma. Janey stopped abruptly. ‘I need to talk to you about the SPIT. I’ve run some more tests and I think I know where it came from. And you’re not going to like it, honey-child.’

  ‘Tell me!’ Janey could barely contain herself.

  G-Mamma’s face became very, very serious. ‘There’s no way to soften the blow, Blonde-girl. I think the person who tried to poison you was . . . your mother.’

  Janey stared back at her godmother’s face, fury gathering in her chest. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I wouldn’t joke about something like that. The tests are conclusive, I’m sorry to say. The SPIT was in the washing-up liquid. Then there was the soap on the landing that sent you flying down the stairs, and the bucket that whacked you on the head. They’re all cleaning materials she uses in her job. She could have been brainwashed by the Sinerlesse Group on the bank roof. Janey, I think they might have turned Gina Bellarina against her own daughter!’

  Rage exploded like a thunderbolt ripping through Janey’s head. ‘NO! No, G-Mamma! That’s my mum you’re talking about. She loves me, she wouldn’t ever hurt me. She’s sent me to Uncle James’s so I can be safe, because she’s so worried about me. Stop it! Do you hear me? Stop it now!’

  Janey threw the SPIV on the floor. Instantly G-Mamma’s tortured round face, mouth open ready to reply, disappeared from the medallion. Janey could not, would not, believe it. G-Mamma had got it completely wrong, and Jane Blonde would have to find out the truth for herself. There was so much still to discover: how the Sinerlesses were getting to her; what her uncle Solomon wanted her to do next to help him; what the Hallidays were hiding under their stairs; why she had a strange feeling about St Earl’s Sanitation and Security Enterprises . . .

  Suddenly Janey thought of Uncle James, probably sitting downstairs focusing on his watch. He would only come and get her if she didn’t get moving. Janey pulled on her too-small pyjama top, shut and locked the case and left the bathroom, turning the key behind her and dropping both keys into her pocket.

  As she’d suspected, Uncle James was pacing the hall, sniffing discontentedly. As Janey came down the stairs he looked up, then went completely white with shock.

  ‘Well. Heavens. I was wondering what I should do with you today, but I see there’s absolutely no question.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ spluttered Janey, alarmed.

  Uncle James picked up his mobile phone and dialled rapidly. ‘I never saw such an appalling array of bag-lady clothes on a member of my family in all my life. Well, I won’t stand for it. I’m getting Billy back with the car and I want you in it. We’re going shopping.’

  an unexpected invitation

  Pleated skirts. Itchy jumpers. Woolly tights with rope patterns on them – Janey hated her new selection of clothes so much that she was almost tempted to stay in her shrunken pyjamas. But Uncle James seemed ridiculously pleased with his choices and, as he was paying for them, she felt it would be rude to complain. Besides, shopping made Uncle James uncharacteristically chatty.

  ‘Did you and Mum ever go shopping together?’ she’d asked as they wandered round.

  ‘Heavens, no. Your mother used to be far too stylish for me. And of course I was just the little brother, so she couldn’t be seen out in public with me.’

  ‘Mum was stylish?’ Janey thought about her mother’s sensible wardrobe.

  ‘Oh, yes, my word, yes. Well, until your father died. After that, she didn’t care what she looked like.’

  Janey gulped. It was an automatic physical reaction whenever anyone mentioned her father. ‘Was . . . was my dad stylish then? What was he like?’

  Putting down the brown shoes he’d been examining, Uncle James stared thoughtfully into middle distance. ‘Do you know, I can’t really remember. I’m sure he was a very fine chap. But I truly can’t remember.’

  Janey trudged along behind her uncle. It seemed like his brain had been zapped just like her mum’s. ‘Well, do you know anything about Uncle Solomon?’

  Her uncle looked much more comfortable with this question. ‘Ah, yes. Solomon Brown. The enigmatic but stupendously effective head of Solomon Enterprises. They make Sol’s Lols, you know.’

  ‘I know. Anything else?’

  ‘Well, he has other business interests. Not things you’d understand, Janey. Have you heard of business-sponsored schools? There are quite a few around now. Instead of being government funded like most schools are, a business like mine i
s put in charge to run it like a tactical project. That’s what I’m doing for your school. Ooh, look at these gorgeous coats!’

  ‘Your bank runs my school?’ Janey was incredulous.

  ‘Well, no, the headteacher runs it, obviously. But we provide the business know-how. What we call management consultancy.’

  ‘And you pay for it?’ Janey stared with horror at the slime-green mackintosh Uncle James was eyeing.

  ‘Well, actually, it’s your other uncle that does that. Your school is sponsored by Sol’s Lols. He’s organized it all brilliantly – well, with considerable help from me, of course. He has government back-up, and the very best brain in the country – moi – to oversee it.’

  As they approached the checkout, Janey’s mind was whirling.

  ‘I was supposed to meet him to discuss your school the other day, you know,’ blared Uncle James over his shoulder. ‘We had an appointment at the bank, but then I won that long weekend in Madeira completely out of the blue. Would have been nice to meet the mystery man.’

  Janey was shocked. Her Uncle Solomon was more involved in her life than she’d thought. Perhaps he’d planted someone at school to protect her. She thought of the lovely Miss Rale. Could her teacher be working for Solomon’s Polificational Investigations? It seemed a bit mad, but so did everything right now. And what about Uncle James’s surprise holiday win? Janey wondered if the Sinerlesse had arranged that, if they had intercepted information about Uncle James’s meeting with Solomon, just like they’d found out about Janey’s rendezvous at Sol’s Lols headquarters. So who was leaking information to the Sinerlesse Group? Could it be the same person who had tipped them off about Solomon’s discovery in the first place? Or could it be someone closer to Janey . . . someone who’d given her faulty Fleet-feet. Left her stranded in Scotland with no way home. The same person who was now trying to turn her against her own mother. Janey felt sick. She didn’t know whom to believe or trust. She’d just have to go with her own instincts. And somehow she couldn’t think badly of G-Mamma.

  Janey decided not to push her uncle for any more information right now. When they got back to the car, Billy stowed the shopping bags in the boot before climbing into the driver’s seat, the peak of his hat pulled down almost to his nose. The chauffeur was murmuring into his phone as he drove, but Uncle James was too busy staring out of the window to notice that Billy wasn’t focusing.

  Back at the house, Uncle James switched on the hallway light. Something twinkled on the doormat. Janey watched as her uncle picked up a gilt-edged card and strode over to the telephone. He lifted the receiver and began to dial, speaking to Janey all the while.

  ‘Look, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Janey, but it does appear to me that you’re much better now. Completely fine, in fact. And I really do need to get to the office tomorrow. So I’ll just give your mother a— ah, Jean, good evening. It’s James.’

  Janey could hear her mother on the other end of the line. For once not concentrating solely on his conversation, Uncle James let his eyes drift over the card he was holding.

  ‘No, no, Jean, she’s perfectly all right. I’ve bought her some new clothes. She arrived dressed like a circus act. No, that’s why I was calling, to see . . . oh, hang on a moment, would you?’

  As he held the little card up to the light, his face broke into a surprised smile. He glanced over at Janey.

  ‘Look, I was calling to see . . . if it would be all right with you if Janey comes to a party with me. We’ve been invited to a ball this evening, it seems. Yes, of course I’ll look after her. Good. Janey will call you tomorrow to tell you all about it. Or you never know, they might invite staff too and we’ll see you there. Anyway, must go. Time to get ready!’

  Uncle James handed the invitation to Janey. A gold rim swirled around the edges of a crisp dove-grey card, with the wording embossed in rich, dark red.

  St Earl’s Sanitation and Security Enterprises

  requests the pleasure of the company this evening of

  Miss Janey Brown

  (chaperoned by Mr James Bell)

  for a celebration ball at Lear Hall, Royal Wessex County.

  Start 7.30 p.m. prompt. Dress formal.

  Ha! So Uncle James didn’t get to go to the ball unless he was taking Janey. She turned the invitation over. In pencil, someone had written her name in distinctive, rounded handwriting that gave her a strange tingle in her stomach. Hadn’t she seen that handwriting somewhere before? As she finished studying the card, Janey noticed that Billy was standing there, shrouded in shadow, moonlight glinting off the polished peak of his chauffeur’s cap.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind a late invitation, Mr Bell,’ he said gruffly. ‘Edna thought you and the young lady might enjoy an evening out.’

  Uncle James beamed. ‘Not at all, Billy! We’re delighted. Will you be able to drive us over there in a little while, once we’re changed?’

  ‘Course, sir. See you and the young lady shortly.’

  Janey stepped back into the shelter of the staircase. Something about Billy’s voice, and the way he said ‘young lady’, made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. It reminded her of someone, but who?

  ‘Well, won’t that be a lovely ending to the day?’ said Uncle James, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Pity we didn’t know about it before, isn’t it? Could have bought you a dress to wear while we were shopping. See if the girls have something suitable in their wardrobe. Otherwise you may have to go in the kilt and a Fair Isle jumper.’

  Janey frowned. And not just at the thought of having to wear one of Fen or Edie’s frilly dresses. There was something very peculiar about St Earl’s Sanitation and Security Enterprises. How often did small cleaning companies host balls? Janey felt like she was a hair’s breadth from discovering something very important. She had to get to that ball, and soon.

  ‘Don’t worry about my outfit, Uncle James,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve got just the thing.’

  ‘Great!’ he answered, running spryly up the stairs. ‘Let’s meet back here in forty-five minutes. And, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’

  Janey hurtled into her bedroom. As she opened the door of the en-suite bathroom, Trouble mewed and rubbed against her ankles.

  ‘Oops! I’m sorry I left you for so long,’ said Janey. ‘You must be starving!’

  Showing no signs of hunger, the kitten followed Janey into the bathroom. Remnants of half-munched doughnuts were littered across the tiled floor, which was also dotted with little piles of cat pooh.

  ‘Oh, kitty, that’s gross!’

  She didn’t have much time. Sighing, Janey rummaged in the cupboard under the sink for a cloth and some bleach. ‘G-Mamma should be clearing this up. I should tell her you’re here. Well, let her do the stewing for once. Trying to tell me my mum’s poisoning me.’ She cleaned up as best she could. ‘No, I can’t play now, Trouble. I’ve got to get ready for a party. Come on, Blonde. Focus!’

  Jumping into the bath, she positioned herself in front of the shower head. It was much lower than the one in G-Mamma’s Wower, so she had to bend to get her head underneath it, but to her pleasant surprise, it worked brilliantly. At one point it felt almost like the fluffiest of flannels were cleaning and massaging her legs and ankles. She peered down through the glittery water.

  ‘Oh no! Trouble! What are you doing in here?’ Laughing, Janey stroked the cat’s head as the Wower worked its magic.

  There was only one robotic hand to massage her scalp, emerging from the centre of the shower head like an alien’s tongue. This meant her hair didn’t turn completely platinum blonde, but had strands of Janey’s own hair colour mingled in among it. The effect was still tremendous, bringing out the silver-grey of her eyes and highlighting her cheekbones.

  When she was done Janey stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a huge soft towel. She was still studying herself in the steamy mirror when a throaty yowl rang out from the bath. Janey peered over the edge and clapped a hand to her mouth.


  ‘Oh, Trouble, look at you!’

  Trouble was no longer a cute short length of tabby fur. He was long, sleek and handsome. All the yellow hairs in his tabby coat had gathered together so that now he had two fluorescent go-faster stripes running like train-tracks down either side of his rich, chocolate-brown body. The tufty little forelock he had sported on his head had transformed into a full glossy quiff. And his eyes now seemed to take up half his face, pulsating with flashing rings of green and amber.

  Most remarkable of all was Trouble’s tail, which shimmered with golden brilliance. It looked like the Olympic torch. The transformation didn’t seem to concern Trouble one little bit. He gazed at Janey with his luminous jewel eyes, leaped nimbly on to the side of the bath and dropped down into Janey’s suitcase.

  ‘Crikey!’ cried Janey. ‘Loves water, hates mice – that’s what G-Mamma said. You’ve been Wowed. You’re my SPI-cat! I love it!’

  Shaking with laughter, Janey clambered into her SPI-suit. She looked in the mirror again. ‘Hmm, not quite right,’ she said. All-in-one Lycra was hardly suitable attire for a ball – and she still had to be recognizable as Janey Brown.

  Reaching high above her head, Janey unhooked the shimmering shower curtain and wrapped it around her waist. Stars sparkled against the silver backdrop of her SPI-suit. Then Janey fished among the colourful items that G-Mamma had packed for her. First, she found a long gauze headscarf the colour of lavender. Coiled around her waist, it held the starry curtain in place and made the suit and skirt blend into one shimmering designer dress. Next Janey found a pair of shiny white boots with Fleet-feet soles and a pair of egg-sized clip-on crystal earrings. On her ears they would have made Janey look as if she had mumps, but attached to the top of the white boots they gave the appearance of fairy-tale glass slippers.

  Janey picked up the SPIV and put it around her neck. She might be angry at G-Mamma right now, but it was good to know she could communicate with her if she needed to. Against her silver catsuit the SPIV softened from its eye-searing acid yellow to a burnished gold, finishing her outfit perfectly. Even her Ultra-gogs looked stylish. As a final touch, Janey opened the shoebox and took out the rocket-shaped hairslides that Uncle Sol had sent her. She pushed them into her sleek pelt of hair, where they glimmered and gleamed.