“I am very, very disappointed,” said Mr Taylor.
I was back in his office again. Hopefully for the last time.
“I’m disappointed as your headmaster, I’m disappointed on behalf of the staff and I’m disappointed for the entire school.”
I stood there listening and stared down at my hands. This time he hadn’t offered me a seat.
“The embarrassment you have caused to your family, your school, and ultimately yourself, is quite something.”
He shuffled some papers on his desk and looked up at me.
“We have issued a statement of ‘no comment’ to the press and we won’t be changing that at any point in the future. And, unfortunately, Marika Loft has decided to withdraw her offer to finance the refurbishment of the art department.”
Great. Now all the teachers would hate me as well. I glanced up at my Mr Taylor. His brow was furrowed as he stared down at the papers in front of him.
“I’m afraid it’s down to your parents and Marika’s team to try and sort out the mess you now find yourself in.”
I wasn’t really sure why he’d asked me to go to his office. If it was to make me feel bad then he needn’t have bothered. I felt terrible already. And things were about to get much worse.
“I’m afraid some of the members of the press have found your house,” he said, clearing his throat. “Apparently, there is quite a crowd gathered outside, waiting for you to get home.”
“My house?!” I said. “Why?”
“They want a photo for tomorrow’s paper, I guess,” said Mr Taylor. “Your mum has asked that you go straight to the museum from school and meet her in the foyer.”
“What about Dad and Mabel? Are they OK?” I said.
“Apparently they’ve gone to stay at your auntie’s for a night or two. To escape all the attention.”
He must mean Auntie Lynne. She was Mum’s sister and, although I hadn’t seen her for a year or so, she was really kind.
“Would you like someone to walk to the museum with you?”
I shook my head.
“No, sir. Thank you,” I said. Going there with Isla and Mason to try and solve ‘An Enigma in Oil’ felt like the best distraction right now. I turned to leave and then stopped.
“I’m … sorry,” I said. Mr Taylor didn’t look up.
I spent the day trying to dodge the calls of “cheat” and “liar” and worse. After the last bell, Mason and I headed down the corridor to go and meet Isla.
“I’m not taking any notice of what my mum and dad say,” said Mason, flushing pink. “Just so you know.”
“OK,” I said. There was an awkward silence for a moment. “I’m glad you’re helping, Mason. What with your superior knowledge of riddle solving and that.”
He shoved me on the arm and I grinned.
“I spotted the number on the cabinet when we were looking for the key to get to the canopic jar, didn’t I?” he said. “You’d never have got this far without me.”
We both laughed.
“At least Isla is helping us, eh?” I said.
As we got closer to the drama studio we could hear a cello.
“That’s her,” I said to Mason. We waited by the door and listened. Mason didn’t say anything. His eyes were wide as the sounds of the cello reverberated in the corridor. He creaked his neck around the door to take a look and the music stopped instantly.
“Well, come in, then!” shouted Isla from inside the room. We both crept in. It felt strange, like we were intruding on something.
Isla was sitting in a chair with her cello between her knees.
“Blimey, Isla,” said Mason. “I don’t know anything about music, but … that was amazing.”
Isla grinned. She twiddled a small silver screw at the end of her bow.
“Thanks,” she said.
“So, you said you’ve solved another clue?” I said. I was looking forward to having something else to think about, other than the really bad day I’d just had.
“OK, are you ready for this?” she said, her eyes wide and sparkling. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large sheet of paper. It was a copy of “An Enigma in Oil”. Basil Warrington-Jones’s smug face stared out at me.
“I printed this out so that I could work on some ideas when I was at home. The last clue, ‘listen to the river’, was so intriguing!” she said.
“But what does it mean?” said Mason.
“I’ll get to that,” she said. “Take a look at the river and tell me, what do you see?”
Mason squinted. “Um … water?” he said.
She turned to me.
“Leaves?” I said.
“The leaves are important, yes,” she said. “But I think you’re both missing the point. This isn’t a river at all.”
“It isn’t?” said Mason. Isla shook her head, then went to her bag again and took out a blank piece of paper and pencil.
“I’m going to draw what I see. These ripples in the water are very important. Can you see there are five of them?”
We watched as she drew five long lines, one under the other.
“And, to me, it looks like those leaves are deliberately positioned on the lines, don’t you think?”
Mason nodded and we watched as she drew the leaves as dark circles on to the lines.
“Now, these weeds on one side, they look a bit blurry in this print. I expect it would be much clearer in the original painting. I’m guessing that they are curled into the shape of a treble clef.”
She drew a squiggle shape on the left side of the five, straight lines.
“I don’t believe it!” said Mason. “It’s music! The river is a piece of music!”
He patted her on the shoulder and she glared at him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Isla, that is utterly brilliant. You are brilliant!” I said. “There is no way on earth that we’d have spotted that, is there, Mason?” He shook his head.
“When you look at sheets of music as often as I do then it’s pretty much staring you in the face,” said Isla.
“So now what?” said Mason.
“Now I will play it and we can see if it helps with any further clues,” said Isla, smiling. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this! I didn’t want to try without you two.” She grinned at us and then studied the picture. She added two more notes to her sheet of paper, then placed it on to her music stand. There were seven notes in all.
“It’s going to be a rough melody,” she said, positioning the cello between her knees again and picking up her bow. “I’m not able to tell the duration of the notes or whether they are flats or sharps, but hopefully we’ll recognize the tune.”
She pressed her fingers on to the strings at the top of the cello and began to play. She played three notes and then stopped. Smiling to herself she started again, this time making each note last longer. When she got to the end she put her bow down.
“Recognize it?” she said. Mason looked as blank as I did.
“It’s nice, but no,” I said.
“Saint-Saens?” said Isla. “Have you heard of him?” We shook our heads. “Camille Saint-Saens was a French composer. One of his most famous pieces of chamber music was ‘The Carnival of the Animals’. Remember it now?”
She had such a big smile on her face that I really, really wanted to say I knew what she was talking about. But I didn’t.
“We don’t know it, I’m afraid,” I said. “Is that what that section of music is called? ‘The Carnival of the Animals’?”
“No, ‘The Carnival of the Animals’ is the name of the whole piece,” said Isla. “This little section is just one part of it.”
She played the seven notes again as Mason and I listened.
“It’s one of the most famous pieces of classical music there is,” she said, putting down her bow.
“And what’s it called?” I said.
She looked at me and took a long breath as she smiled.
“It’s called, ‘The Swan�
��,” she said. And just like that, we were back in business.
The Swan
“The taxidermy birds!” I cried. “Come on. Let’s go!”
“What?” said Mason. “What are you talking about?”
I threw my rucksack over my shoulder.
“There’s a whole gallery of stuffed birds upstairs in the museum! There must be a swan amongst them somewhere. Are you coming, Isla?”
“Of course!” she said, packing the cello into its case. We waited as she put it into a cupboard and then we headed off. As we walked I told them about what Mr Taylor had said about the journalists at my house.
“They want to get me to say something or get a photo of me,” I said. Isla and Mason were quiet for a bit and then Mason spoke.
“Wow,” he said. “So that’s how it must feel to be famous.”
“It’s horrible,” I said. “I’ve never wanted this. I just wanted to help my mum and dad.”
“Well, maybe this will be your answer,” said Isla, smiling. “If we solve the riddle of ‘An Enigma in Oil’ then who knows what treasures you’ll find!”
When we got to the museum there was a large truck parked outside, with a metal ramp running down to the road. Dr Sabine was directing two men wearing gloves who were carrying a stuffed crocodile.
“Look. They’re starting to move things out already,” said Mason.
“Before long the whole place will be empty,” said Isla. “If we’re going to solve the painting then we’ll need to be quick.”
“Hi, Cole,” said Dr Sabine. “Your mum is in the office.”
“Thanks, Dr Sabine,” I said. “We’re going to take a look around first. Before everything goes. Is that OK?”
She smiled. “Of course,” she said. We headed to the museum steps.
“What if the birds have gone?” I whispered. “The swan might not even be there any more. It might have been sold.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” said Mason, as we went into the foyer. It was packed with boxes. “Let’s go and take a look.”
We headed to the back stairs, past the Egyptian section and up to the bird gallery. The sound effects of the seagulls and seascape had been turned off now. It was eerily silent.
“Whoa, creepy,” said Isla, looking around. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?” Everywhere you looked there were tiny black beady eyes staring at us from behind glass.
“Right, first one to find the swan gets to keep the treasure. Ready? Steady? Go!” said Mason, running off down the centre of the gallery. Isla giggled and ran in the opposite direction. I headed towards a case full of birds of paradise. I smiled to myself. This was great. I could almost forget about all the trouble I’d caused.
It didn’t take long for Mason to call out.
“I’ve found it!”
Isla and I ran to him.
The stuffed swan was standing amongst some dry reeds in a cabinet. Its feathers were bright white, but its orange bill looked faded and old. “This is so weird,” said Isla, staring at it. “Surely it’s better to see an animal in their real habitat, not dead and behind glass?”
“It’s a Victorian thing,” I said. “Mum said it was fashionable back then.” I looked all around the inside of the case, then around the outside. Nothing.
“This is so stupid,” said Mason. “What’s the point of creating a puzzle that is completely impossible to solve?! It’s a waste of time.”
Isla took the museum leaflet out of her bag and opened it to the map in the centre. I saw she’d drawn a red circle round the Egyptian gallery where we’d found the canopic jar, and a circle where the model ship was. She took a pen out of her bag and put a circle in the bird gallery.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Just making a note of where we find each clue,” she said, quickly folding up the leaflet and putting it in her pocket. “So, is there anything there?”
“Yes!” said Mason. “There’s something around its leg!”
Mason got down on his knees and peered inside the case. Isla and I dived on to the floor to join him. Around the swan’s leg and just above its webbed foot was a piece of paper.
“There’s something written on it,” said Isla. “I can’t read it. Can you?”
I squinted into the gloomy case. I could just make out the tiny handwriting.
“Oh. It only says one word. Hawaii.”
We all stood back up.
“Any ideas?” I said. Isla and Mason looked blank.
“Hawaii…” said Isla, clearly thinking. “A state of America… What could it mean?”
My head hurt. I didn’t know anything about Hawaii.
“I went there once!” said Mason. “Mum and Dad took me. But I was only three.”
“Why isn’t there more of a clue?” I said. “One word! That’s not going to help, is it?”
Isla was pacing around and around.
“It’s one clue, but they always draw us back to the picture, don’t they? The ship hidden as a rock, the musical notes as ripples in the river… Maybe there is something in the painting that we haven’t spotted yet?”
“Cole! What are you doing in here? I said to wait in the foyer.” I turned around and saw Mum. Her face looked all crumpled. For a few blissful minutes I had forgotten all about the trouble I was in. Now it hit me in the heart with a dull thud. I’d let my parents down in the most public way possible.
“I’m so sorry about the journalists at our house, Mum,” I said, walking towards her. “I truly, truly am.”
I thought she was going to give me a hug, but she just sighed.
“Marika’s office rang. The sale has been cancelled. She told me they are going to release a statement saying…” Her voice wobbled. “Saying that they had no knowledge that you had submitted someone else’s painting, and that you no longer have a contract with the Marika Loft Gallery. The painting has been withdrawn from sale. Fortunately, the highest bidder hadn’t paid yet, so that’s something to be grateful for. You are very, very lucky that no one is pressing charges against you for fraud.”
I nodded. Everything just sounded so serious.
“Declan is bringing Mabel’s painting back tomorrow and then, as far as they are concerned, the whole matter will be closed.”
“How’s Dad?” I asked.
“He’s OK. I could do with him being home though. The new sofa is being delivered tomorrow so I’m going to have to take time off for that.”
I’d forgotten all about the new sofa. That was going to cost them more money!
“Can’t you cancel it?” I said. “And you can return my trainers!”
Mum’s face looked even more strained.
“You can’t return the trainers, Cole. You’ve worn them! And as for the sofa, we rang the shop and we’re tied into the contract. We can’t get out of it.”
I couldn’t believe it. We were worse off now than we’d been before the painting had sold!
“But that’s stupid,” I said. “The shop will have to let you cancel it! You’ve got to talk to them again.”
“Cole, I’ve already begged them, and they refused!” snapped Mum. “Just leave it, OK? Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
She took a deep breath and wiped her forehead. This was all my fault.
“Um, sorry to interrupt, Mrs Miller, but we’re going to head home. OK, Cole?” said Mason. I’d forgotten he and Isla were there. They must have heard everything.
“Sure,” I said.
Isla squeezed my arm.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to do this,” she said quietly. “We’ve solved three of the clues. That’s amazing! Let’s try again tomorrow.”
I sighed. At the moment, the chance of doing something right in my life felt utterly impossible.
The Journalists
Mum and I walked home in silence. When we got to our house there was a crowd of people standing on the pavement outside.
“Oh no,” said Mum. “I was hopin
g they’d be gone by now. Come on, Cole. Put your head down.”
She placed her arm around my shoulder as we hurried past.
“Mrs Miller! Did you know your son was planning to commit fraud?”
“Are you going to carry on painting, Cole?”
“Does Mabel know her picture sold for all that money?”
“Have you received any of the money from the sale, Mrs Miller? Have you spent it already?”
“Hey, Cole! How does it feel to have fooled the world?”
We ignored them, rushing into the house and slamming the door behind us. My heart was pounding. We stood in the hallway for a moment, getting our breath back, and then Mum went silently to the kitchen.
“Are you OK, Mum?” I said. She looked at me. Her forehead was all wrinkled and she looked close to tears.
“I’m going to put the kettle on,” she said.
The house was unnaturally quiet without Dad and Mabel. I missed them. If it wasn’t for me then we’d all be there together. I wouldn’t even have minded playing the butterfly game. After dinner I went up to my room, as I had a feeling Mum wanted to be on her own. I lay on my bed and stared at the box of paints that was still sitting in the corner. I could see the tubes of paint were all sticky where Mabel had got her messy hands on them. Everything had gone so wrong. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep. It was too early for bed but I didn’t want to keep replaying the excruciating moment when my lie was exposed on the five o’clock news. My phone beeped. I sat up and took a look. It was a group text from Isla and Mason.
Mason: Has anyone had any ideas about Hawaii?
Isla: I’ve been thinking. Basil’s clues are always hidden in a different part of the painting. The jackal in the wood, the rock/ship in the grass and the music in the river.
I quickly flicked to the photograph of the painting on my phone. She was right.
Cole: Yes!
Isla: OK. So, where do you think the next clue might be hidden?
I looked back the picture. There was something completely obvious staring right at me. Or someone.
Cole: Basil Warrington-Jones!
Mason: Him!
Isla: Yes! This puzzle is like completing a word search. The hidden words are never in the same area, are they?
The Boy Who Fooled the World Page 16
