“Just a few more seconds!” I said and pointed my torch across the back of the fabric.
“What on earth are you doing? I said you could look at it, not move it!” The van swayed as Declan climbed through the back doors. My torch wobbled and the light lit up an area in the bottom left of the fabric. It was bulging.
“Cole! Get out from behind there. I can’t believe you’ve—”
“Wait! I’ve found something!” I cried. “Just wait! Please!”
I crouched down and felt along the fabric where the folds had been. It was a pocket! A small, rectangular pocket that had been stitched on to the cloth. I lifted the flap and put my hand inside and my fingers felt something made of paper. I pulled it out. There was a handwritten note wrapped around some banknotes.
“It’s money!” I called, my heart racing. “I’ve found the treasure and it’s money!”
I came out from behind the painting and held out the notes. Mason and Isla gently placed the painting back against the side of the van. Declan looked livid.
“How much is there?” asked Isla, her voice squeaking with excitement.
“I don’t know. It’s all old notes,” I said.
“What are you doing?!” said Declan, carefully covering the painting back up. “This is a precious painting and I did not give you permission to move it!”
“We’ve solved ‘An Enigma in Oil’,” said Isla. “Look! Cole has found the prize.”
I held on to the roll of banknotes.
“Let me see,” said Declan. I took off the handwritten message and gave him the notes. He quickly counted them. “There are ten very old five-pound notes.”
“Fifty pounds?” I said. “Is that it?!”
He nodded.
“That would have been a huge sum back in the early 1900s,” said Isla quietly. “It would have been the equivalent of thousands in today’s money.”
“But that’s no good to me now, is it?” I cried. “I thought there was going to be enough to help us. But it’s just a few worthless banknotes!”
I turned and stared right at Basil Warrington-Jones.
“Look at him! He’s just a stupid artist who thought it would be fun to make me look a fool,” I said. “Well, Basil. Congratulations. You succeeded.”
Mason cleared his throat.
“I’m so sorry, Cole,” he said. “What does the note say?”
I swallowed hard, unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.
Congratulations!
You have found my prize and I applaud your ingenuity with all of my heart.
Take this money and do with it what you wish.
But remember, the greatest thing you can possess in this life is love.
And that comes for free.
Basil Warrington-Jones 11th May, 1909.
I scrunched the note up in my hand and dropped it on the floor.
“That’s it then. Basil won after all,” I said. I turned to Declan. “Thank you for letting us take a look at the painting, Declan. Sorry we wasted your time.”
And I jumped down from the van and ran all the way home.
Dad and Mabel Return
As I walked home my phone beeped. I had two text messages.
Isla: I’m so sorry, Cole. You tried so hard.
Mason: Bad luck, mate. At least we solved the mystery though, eh? No one’s managed that before!
I let myself in just as Mum was walking into the hallway. She gave me a weak smile.
“Declan dropped your sister’s painting off earlier,” she said. “He said that Marika is keeping a low profile to avoid all the bad publicity. Everyone is laughing at her for being fooled by a twelve-year-old, apparently.”
Whatever I said would probably just make things worse, so I kept quiet.
“As we’ve got some hot water for a change I’m going to have a bath.” She turned away and I watched as she walked slowly up the stairs. I so wanted to come home and tell her some good news: that we’d cracked the clues in the painting, found the treasure and our money worries were over – for real this time. But I couldn’t. Basil Warrington-Jones had truly had the last laugh.
Mum hadn’t mentioned the new sofa but I could smell it before I went into the lounge. It looked ridiculous in our scruffy room. I sat down and the soft cushion dipped gently. Leaning against it was a black cloth bag. I picked it up, my stomach churning. Mabel’s painting was inside. The painting that had caused all my problems. I pulled the strings tight, then ran upstairs and threw it under my bed out of sight.
Dad and Mabel arrived back from Auntie Lynne’s while I was in bed. Dad poked his head into my room, even though my light was off.
“Hey, Cole,” he whispered around the door. “How are you doing?”
I pretended to be asleep, but he came in anyway.
“Mum is just putting Mabel to bed. She fell asleep on the train on the way home, but she’s really looking forward to seeing you in the morning.”
I rolled on to my back and tucked my chin down into my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I said, trying not to cry. “For everything.”
He frowned.
“Cole, let me tell you something,” he said. “Are you listening?”
I nodded. He took a deep breath.
“I was thinking on our way home. All of us are a bit like trains really, aren’t we?” I stared at him. Where was he going with this?
“You can be chuffing along on your track without a care in the world. The sun is shining and everything is wonderful and your journey is smooth and straight forward.”
I stared at my duvet as I listened.
“But sometimes your track might veer off in a completely different direction,” he said. “Now, this part of the journey might be tricky. The sun could go behind a dark cloud and before you know it, you’re faced with a really tough hill to climb. You might get to the top of that hill, and then feel scared or out of control as you hurtle downwards, not knowing which direction the bend is going to twist and turn.”
I thought about Mabel’s painting, the auction, being on TV and everything that had gone on over the past few weeks. It had certainly felt scary and a bit like being on a runaway train. Dad paused for a moment.
“But eventually, that terrifying journey will lead you back on to the right track. Before you know it you’ll be steaming along again and the sun will come out from behind that stormy cloud. The scary bits will all be behind you.”
I sniffed.
“And when will that happen?” I said. “When will I be back on the normal track?”
Dad smiled.
“I think you’re coming around the corner right now, don’t you?” he said. “But the important thing to remember is this. All of it matters. The easy, straight track, the climb up the hill, the scary descent; it’s all just a part of your journey.”
I blinked at him as I thought about it. It had been a very stressful time, there was no doubt about that. My track had definitely veered off in a terrifying direction, but I’d also discovered a lot along the way. For one, I’d made some amazing friends. Mason and Isla had really stood beside me, even when everyone else was laughing. And as for Mum and Dad, I don’t think Mason’s parents would have been as kind or understanding if it had been him whose lies had snowballed out of control and who had ended up on national television embarrassing their entire family. All in all, I was actually incredibly lucky.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. And then I sat up and gave him a big hug.
Back on the News
I woke up the next morning to hear Dad’s mobile phone ringing. It stopped and then our home phone began to ring. My stomach turned over. The sound reminded me of when we were on the six o’clock news and everyone found out that it was really Mabel’s painting that had sold at auction. What had happened now? I curled up under my duvet and kept my eyes shut. Whatever was going on I didn’t want to know about it.
About twenty minutes later I heard my bedroom door open.
“Cole!” said a voice. I
felt a hand thump on to my legs.
“Go away, Mabel,” I mumbled, pulling the duvet higher over my head. The doorbell rang and I heard it open and close and then the clamour of lots of voices.
“Cole! Can you come down for a minute please?” called Mum up the stairs.
I groaned.
“Come on, Cole!” said Mabel, banging me on the legs again. Now what? I slowly got out of bed and made my way downstairs as Mabel bumped her way behind me on her bottom. Mum and Dad were standing in the front room, waiting for me. Declan was sitting on our new sofa and beside him was Marika.
“Oh. It’s you!” I said, blinking at her. She smiled softly.
“It is. Hello, Cole.”
My legs felt shaky so I sat down. What had I done wrong now? I didn’t think I could cope with anything else. Mabel ran into the room and hid behind Mum’s legs.
“Oh, so this must be Mabel!” said Marika, smiling at my little sister, who stared back shyly. “Get in touch when you’re a bit older and we might be able to do a deal for your paintings, don’t you think?”
Everyone laughed and I relaxed a little. They all seemed different. They seemed … happy. I saw that Declan was holding a bundle of old banknotes. It was the money that had been hidden behind the canvas of ‘An Enigma in Oil’. In his other hand he had the note, smoothed out from where I’d scrunched it up.
“Declan said that you solved the painting, Cole,” said Mum. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I shrugged.
“There wasn’t anything there, just some old money that’s pretty worthless,” I said. “It was a waste of time.”
Marika shook her head. “But it hasn’t been, Cole. What you have done is incredible.”
I looked at her and she flashed her wide, bright smile.
“You were right about the treasure,” said Declan. “There’s not a huge amount of value in these old notes. Some collector might pay a few hundred for them, that’s all.”
“So … what’s incredible?” I said.
“It’s the publicity,” said Marika, her eyes twinkling. “That painting has baffled experts for over a hundred years. And now you and your friends have solved it! That’s a wonderful achievement.”
Mum grinned at me, and tears pricked my eyes when I saw how proud she was.
“It’s in the papers already,” said Declan. “Look!”
THE BOY WHO FOOLED THE WORLD SOLVES MYSTERY PAINTING.
Cole Miller, the 12-year-old boy who fooled the Marika Loft Gallery and hundreds of bidders by selling a picture that was actually painted by his THREE-year-old sister for £100,000, has SOLVED the mystery of ‘An Enigma in Oil’. The artist, Basil Warrington-Jones, donated the painting to the Crowther Museum in 1909. He declared it contained a “treasure map” which led to a substantial reward, causing hundreds of people to try and solve the riddle.
The answers to the mysterious painting have remained hidden, until now. Cole Miller and his two friends made it their mission to find the treasure and they succeeded where many have failed. The reward, a few old banknotes, is of little value, but the news that the picture has finally been solved is expected to spark a new interest in Basil Warrington-Jones, and the museum itself. There are unconfirmed reports that the museum’s closure has now been put on hold so that the general public can visit and see the painting, and the clues that led to the treasure, for themselves.
I put the paper down and looked up.
“The museum’s not closing?” I said.
Mum shook her head. “Dr Sabine rang first thing. They’re going to keep us open for at least another six months!”
“But that’s brilliant!” I said. “You can keep your job!” The relief and beaming smile on Mum’s face was the best thing I’d ever seen.
“I’ve had lots of requests for an interview,” Declan said to me. “How do you feel about that?”
I shook my head.
“No. No journalists and no TV crews this time, thank you,” I said. “If they want to find out more then they’ll just have to go to the museum.”
Mum laughed and gave me a huge hug.
“We’re planning a big exhibition about Basil Warrington-Jones and the painting. We are going to highlight the clues in the areas that you found so that everyone can find out more about them. You’ll have to tell me how you did it!”
I nodded, then I thought of something.
“But Marika owns the painting now,” I said, turning to her. “The exhibition won’t be complete if it’s not on display in the museum.”
“I was only buying the painting to give it a safe home,” Marika said. “Its true home is in the museum. I’ve cancelled the sale.”
“But what about all the other things that have been sold?” I said. I thought about the men carrying out the stuffed crocodile.
“The museum has hundreds of other items in storage which they are going to put on display, isn’t that right, Jenny?” said Dad.
Mum nodded.
“Yes, we can’t wait to show all the treasures that no one has seen for decades. We are going to plan some really big reveals for some of them too!”
Declan passed me the pile of banknotes. “I believe these belong to you, Cole,” he said. “You could try contacting an expert and see if you can sell them?”
I shook my head. “I think they should go back to the museum,” I said. “You could use them as part of the ‘Enigma in Oil’ exhibition, Mum?”
Mum smiled.
“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she said.
Mabel Miller
A few days later Mum and Dr Sabine appeared on the local news telling everyone just how wonderful their museum was. Dr Sabine took the jackal-headed canopic jar with her and explained what it was and how Basil Warrington-Jones had used it as part of his treasure hunt. Mum asked if I was sure I didn’t want to go on TV with them, but I said no. I had had enough publicity to last a lifetime.
Mum was brilliant on television. She didn’t look nervous at all; she just talked about her job and how important the museum was for the local community.
“There’s not many places where you can see a real mammoth hair, right up close,” she’d said. The presenter laughed, thinking she was making it up, but Mum went on to insist that it was true. Their little local museum had a real hair from a real mammoth on display in one of the glass cabinets in the grand gallery. I decided I’d make sure I went back to take a look at that for myself. It sounded amazing.
When I got home from school, Dad was just getting his coat on to go out.
“Ah, there you are,” he said nervously. “I’m off now, Cole. Mum will be back at the usual time.”
“OK, Dad. Good luck,” I said. “You’ll be fantastic.”
Dad smiled, but he looked scared. He had a job interview. When we’d been on TV – the day that Mabel had told the world that the painting was hers – Dad had mentioned to the presenter that he used to be a music roadie. The manager of the local theatre had seen him and got in touch. They were looking for a stagehand to work in the evenings when they had shows and they liked the fact that he had experience with sound and lighting.
Dad took a deep breath as he opened the front door.
“Remember, you’re just approaching a bend in your track, Dad, that’s all,” I said. Dad smiled at me and then walked out with his head held high. I closed the door behind him. I had a good feeling about this job.
My little sister was spinning around beside me.
“Mabel have a biscuit, Cole?” she said, as soon as Dad had gone.
“I’ve got something even better for you, Mabel,” I said. “Follow me.”
I headed upstairs and she padded up behind me. I went into my room, knelt on the carpet and reached under my bed, pulling out the black cloth bag that Declan had returned on the day we solved ‘An Enigma in Oil’. Mabel’s eyes widened when I opened the bag.
“Mabel’s painting!” she said, reaching out her arms. She sat cross-legged and put it on her lap and
gazed at the bright colours. “That’s Mabel and that’s Cole,” she said, pointing at the two rectangular blobs.
“Yep, that’s us,” I said. “But there’s something you need to do, Mabel. To show that the painting is really yours.”
I took a brush and tube of blue paint from the art box that was still sitting in the corner of my room. I painted over the “C” that I’d put there, and then I chose a bright yellow paint from the box and dabbed the brush into it.
“I was once told that it’s very important to sign your work,” I said. My sister stared at me, her eyes wide. “I’ll help you, shall I? We can put an ‘M’ for Mabel just there.”
Mabel grinned and grabbed the brush and I helped to guide her hand as we painted the wonky letter.
We both admired the painting as Mabel held it up.
“ ‘Catch’ by Mabel Miller,” I said out loud. “That’s all your work! You’re so clever.”
Not long ago, this painting was worth a hundred thousand pounds. It seemed impossible to believe it now. Mabel sighed and dropped the painting on to the floor.
“Cole play the butterfly game?” she said.
I smiled at her.
“OK, Mabel,” I said. “Let’s play.”
Lisa Thompson’s Favourite Hoaxes from History
There have been some particularly fascinating hoaxes throughout history. Some funny, some a bit … gruesome, but all incredibly clever. Here are some of my favourites!
Spaghetti Trees:
I’m not a big fan of April Fool’s Day and I’ve never really understood the desire to make other people feel silly, but this must be one of the best April Fool’s deceptions ever. In 1957 the BBC TV news show Panorama orchestrated a pretty spectacular hoax on their viewers. During the programme, they transmitted a three-minute film of a family in Switzerland harvesting spaghetti from their “spaghetti trees”. Pasta was not an everyday food item back then, and of the eight million viewers that saw the black-and-white footage, many of them were fooled. The next day hundreds of people rang the BBC, asking how they could grow their own spaghetti trees. Brilliant!
The Boy Who Fooled the World Page 18
