by Gwen Lowe
Surely it can’t be him! thought Alice, studying it with increasing horror.
But it was.
And as her legs began to buckle in terror, the new Best Minister for Everything Nicely Perfect lifted his head and looked directly up at her.
Alice ducked behind the curtain again, heart thudding. Had the Best Minister seen her?
There’s no way I’m going to let anyone take me away like that – especially not him! I’ve got to get out right now!
This thought made Alice feel brave. Very quietly, she slid her feet into her factory-fresh trainers. Then she stuffed her steam-cleaned school bag with a bottle of purified water and slices of stale toast. She was ready to go.
But leaving by the spotlessly scrubbed front door wasn’t an option. The only way out was through her bedroom window. Alice sighed. Just her luck that it faced the street where the new Best Minister was waiting. Even worse, everyone else was standing by the porch.
She needed a diversion.
Meanwhile, Mr Dent was still pleading with their visitors.
‘Please, if you insist on coming in, take your boots off and go through my super-strength decontamination unit first.’
Alice thought arguing was foolish; the men looked like they meant business.
‘Enough! We’re coming in! Stand aside!’
‘No way! Not without taking your boots off! Hey . . . ARRRGH!’
Alice peered round the curtain. The men had hurled Mr Dent face-first into her mother’s favourite plastic rose hedge. Mrs Dent had got it specially made to terrorize next-door’s cats – the branches had whisker-snagging fluffy flowers and lethal metal-tipped thorns. Her father would be stuck there for a while.
The men disappeared in through the doorway, slamming the door. As the bright light cut off, the driveway was plunged back into blackness. Alice couldn’t see anything. It would be minutes before her eyes adjusted to the dark.
But . . . if she couldn’t see anything, neither could the Best Minister, still sitting in the car.
It was now or never.
Carefully easing her bedroom window open, she climbed on to the ledge. Below was a big drop to the porch roof. Alice took a deep breath. Despite thinking about jumping out lots of times before, she had never been brave enough. But there was no choice now. She had to get away.
It’s too quiet – they’ll hear me! Alice fretted. But she needn’t have worried, because next-door’s cats had found Mr Dent.
‘OWWW! Get off my legs, you . . . you . . . mouse-breath vermin! Stop biting me! ARRRGH! Don’t you DARE do that on my back . . . you . . . you . . . lousy flea-ridden pests!’ he shrieked, struggling uselessly against the thorns.
Alice couldn’t help it, she giggled. It was too dark to see what next-door’s cats were doing, but she could guess, and she could hear them all right, purring contentedly.
It was the perfect diversion. Hanging by slippery fingertips from the windowsill, Alice waited until Mr Dent let out the loudest scream ever. Then she let go.
THUMP!
Swallowing a yelp, she clung to the porch roof, heart banging.
Had anyone heard?
But the only sound was Mr Dent moaning.
Sliding to the edge of the porch roof, Alice dropped to the side passage and fled into the pink-tiled back garden. Hastily, she scrambled over the garden wall and ran across next-door’s medal-winning flower beds, accidently crushing this year’s prize dahlias.
She had a horrible feeling that before long there would be a massive search for her, with helicopters and lights. There might even be dogs, big fierce ones with snapping jaws.
But there was no sign of a chase yet and a few gardens later, Alice felt happier. It was great to be outside without being stuffed into a coat. Also she had never been allowed to run across grass or soil before. Mrs Dent always insisted on ‘tarmac or concrete only, much more hygienic’ and had refused to let Alice go to school on games lesson days in case she trod in something too horrid to think about.
Alice grinned. I’m free! I can do what I want now! she thought. Thinking this cheered her up a lot as she jogged on.
But two minutes later, she reached the main road leading out of the estate.
Alice hesitated. The road looked totally exposed in the yellow lamplight – but she knew she had no choice. It was the only exit. Making up her mind, she sprinted forward at top speed, her feet thudding on the hard pavement.
If she could just get off the road before they came looking . . .
A horrible thought suddenly struck her – they must know this is the only way out too, that’s why they didn’t follow me!
And then Alice heard the low throbbing of a helicopter coming towards her, fast. Where had that come from? Horrified, she looked up. The helicopter’s searchlight was sweeping down the estate. In a few seconds it would catch her.
She had to get off the road and hide right now!
Legs trembling, Alice looked around frantically.
There was a fence on the far side of the road – but it was too high to climb. And the only other option . . . Alice looked despairingly at the slanting blackness beside her. It led down to the river.
Going into the water was dangerous.
People drowned doing that. There was no way . . .
Then she heard the noise of cars speeding along the main road. Hurriedly, Alice slid down the incline and crouched down by the river bridge.
Below her, inky black water rushed silently past. Above her, sinister black cars swished through the lamplight. The helicopter was getting louder and louder. Alice swallowed and covered her ears, a cold sweat breaking on her skin.
She had got off the road just in time.
The water beside her was foul, with trails of tiny bubbles and the odd plastic bag swirling in the current, but it was her only way out now.
Alice shivered. All she knew about swimming was from reading about it and practising on the carpet. In truth, she’d never swum in anything bigger than the bath. Even though swimming pool water was full of chlorine, her mother never let her go. ‘Think of all those nasty diseases you might catch from toddlers with dirty bottoms!’ Mrs Dent always said, her eyes full of fear.
As Alice tried frantically to remember how to swim, the whole sky lit up above her. The helicopter was overhead!
That did it. Grabbing a nearby tree branch, she slid nervously into the foul water. I can hide under the bridge – if I don’t drown first! Alice thought, not believing she was doing this, especially with a cold. She was bound to end up with pneumonia – and Mrs Dent would never forgive her for that.
And then she laughed. She laughed so much with relief that she had to lean against the bridge wall for support.
She didn’t need to swim at all – the shallow water barely came up to her knees!
The helicopter hadn’t seen her; Alice heard it sweep away, still searching. Quietly, she slipped out into the darkness and waded along in the shallow water.
After that it was easy. Alice scrambled out on to the riverbank footpath just before her stream joined the main river. Soon she had left Nettle Close far behind and was heading out of Knott Sowell town.
The next morning, Alice awoke abruptly from a nice sleep on an old squishy sofa. She had found it dumped by a bend in the river path, hidden from the road by friendly whispering trees.
Sleeping out under the stars had been fun, but now Alice felt grubby and grumpy and afraid. I don’t know where to go now, she thought, and that terrified her.
I’m not scared! she told herself fiercely as she ate the stale toast for breakfast.
‘I’m not scared!’ she said, jumping up and shaking a hopeful pigeon off her lap.
‘I’M NOT SCARED!’ she shouted, making the timid pigeons around her feet take off in fright. Alice giggled – and giggling made her feel a lot better.
‘I’M NOT SCARED!’ she shouted, even louder.
But as the birds circled overhead, scolding her, Alice froze. She could hear foot
steps, the thud of boots along the river path. Heart thudding, Alice dived into the bushes behind the sofa and peered through the leaves.
Had they heard her too?
And as two figures marched around the bend, Alice gulped nervously.
They were police officers.
Both wore bulletproof vests bristling with gadgets. The man was enormous, sweating heavily in his dark-blue uniform. But it was the smaller woman who scared Alice. From her suspicious darting eyes to her eager clawed hands, she was terrifying. Alice cowered lower as they stopped nearby.
‘So what’s going on here then?’ asked the policeman, looking around suspiciously.
The woman lifted her nose and sniffed. ‘Those pigeons were spooked by something – there’s someone here, Sarge, I can smell them.’
She took a step towards the bush, still sniffing loudly.
Alice could see the woman’s boots moving closer. Oh no! She was terrified, but strangely she really wanted to giggle . . . she couldn’t help it . . . she bit her hand to stop herself . . . she was going to giggle and scream and . . .
Tough bony fingers grabbed her ankle and tugged, hard.
‘ARRRGH!’ Alice screamed, trembling with fright.
The fingers squeezed tighter.
‘Got her!’ the policewoman shouted triumphantly, dragging Alice out by her ankle. ‘See, told you so! Right, on your feet, girl and stand to attention!’
‘Well, well, what have we here?’ the sergeant asked, frowning as Alice scrambled up, trying to stand to attention on wobbly legs.
‘And who are you?’ he demanded.
Alice didn’t know what to say. Telling him her real name was probably not a good idea. But before she could say anything, he abruptly wrinkled his nose and stepped away.
‘Eeeh, you do smell!’
‘No I don’t!’ Alice protested.
‘You do, you know . . . and you’re covered in dirt,’ he said with deep disapproval. ‘When did you last wash? Your face is filthy and birds could nest in your hair.’
Alice suddenly remembered her parents talking about the Best Minister’s new rules. Her heart filled with dread . . . Oh no! He’s getting the police to track down smelly and dirty children. Of all the rotten luck – why couldn’t she have got caught on a day when she’d had at least five showers? She hadn’t washed for days, and sleeping on that old sofa was the last straw . . .
Her captors exchanged glances.
‘A child that doesn’t wash . . .’ said the sergeant significantly.
‘Oh goody, we can use the new Best Minister’s latest grimy and grubby children law. I do so love using our brand-new powers.’ Smirking widely, the policewoman pulled out a shiny new notebook.
Alice had a very bad feeling about this. Noticing that the notebook cover had a picture of a shield with a clock on it, under what looked like crossed toothbrushes, she really wished she’d listened more to her parents going on about the new Best Minister. Now that she looked, both officers had gleaming badges with the same logo pinned to their vests.
Alice shivered, remembering that face she’d seen in the back of the long black car. Whatever happened, they mustn’t find out who she was.
‘Make the order for immediate and drastic action. It’s for her own good – just look at her hair,’ ordered the policeman. He looked at her. ‘Now tell me, what’s your name, girl?’
Alice hadn’t realized how hard it is to make up a pretend name on the spot. She looked around wildly for help.
As the policeman tapped his foot impatiently, a smart blue boat putt-putted past on the river behind him. Its name was painted in bright letters on the bow: Portland Bill.
Well, Bill didn’t suit her, but . . .
In desperation, Alice stared at her feet. A small grub was wriggling over one of her dusty shoes.
‘Err . . . Portland, my name’s Portland, er . . . Portland Maggott.’
‘Portland Maggott?’ said the policeman in disbelief. ‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘Mine,’ said Alice firmly.
‘Hurry up Portland Maggott – get in, girl!’
The policewoman wrenched open the back door of the waiting police car. She shoved Alice inside so hard that Alice ended up sprawled across the back seat.
Unfortunately there was already someone else sitting there.
Mortified, Alice hastily pushed herself upright, off the lap of the scruffy boy staring at her in horror.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered, her face burning.
‘S’all right,’ the boy muttered, avoiding her eyes.
Alice slid as far away as possible from him, still flaming with embarrassment as she did up her seat-belt. Turning her back, she looked out of the side window as the two police officers jumped in.
‘Right, let’s get rid of these two nuisances!’ said the policewoman from behind the steering wheel, stamping down on the accelerator. The car leapt forward in a frenzy of flashing lights and wailing sirens.
They travelled at rocket speed, streaking through towns and villages, swerving round corners and through red lights. Alice began to enjoy herself. It was the best car ride she had ever been on. (This was not saying much, as she had never been out of Knott Sowell town before. Her parents panicked at the thought of Alice using public toilets.)
But every mile increased the distance between her and the answers to her questions. She had lots of questions. Why was the Best Minister after her? What was the pie? Who was Russ?
‘Hey, is yer name really Portland Maggott?’
Alice turned. The boy was staring at her with curious brown eyes. Alice considered his question. Until she knew what was going on, it was probably better if no one knew her real name.
She nodded.
‘Yes – what’s yours?’
‘Kevin, Kevin Mudd, I’m eleven. Me mum’s just been rushed into hospital. The kids have all gone to their dads, but mine couldn’t have me, he’s in prison,’ he told her, scratching his untidy brown hair. There was mud streaked across his face.
‘How many brothers and sisters have you got?’ asked Alice curiously.
‘Six,’ replied Kevin, counting them off on his fingers. ‘There’s Keeley, she’s six, then Keith, he’s five, Kenny’s four, so’s Kari-Anne, then little Kiera’s two and Klint’s the last. He’s just a baby, so he went to the hospital with mum.’
He turned away, looking upset. Alice guessed he didn’t want to talk about it. She changed the subject quickly.
‘Do you know where they’re taking us?’
‘Some place called Tryton Mell. I heard ’em tell me mum in the ambulance. She was really worried coz it’s a long way from here.’ Kevin shrugged, scratching his head again. ‘Never heard of it so I don’t know nothin’ else.’
‘Never mind, Portland,’ called the policeman from the passenger seat. ‘We’ll track down your parents, no doubt about that. Then we’ll slap them with the Best Minister’s new thing for grown-ups who don’t look after children properly: the Shiny and Sparkling Children’s Order. They can pick you up after they’ve done the compulsory training and you’ve all had a good scrub. Meanwhile, you’re off to Tryton Mell School. Gertriss Grammaticus, the headmistress, is excellent at sorting out grimy children like you two.’
He turned to smile at her. ‘Soon your worries will be over.’
Only if you don’t find out who I really am, thought Alice.
Hours later the car swerved off the road and halted in front of a pair of gigantic gates. Not just any old gates, these were fortified top-of-the-range castle gates – every inch of nailed wood polished to dazzling brilliance. Large letters were carved into the archway above:
TRYTON MELL
‘Here we are!’ trilled the policewoman happily, as the gates swung open.
The narrow drive behind the gates twisted through a storybook forest. Some trees were perfect for climbing; others curled into ready-made dens.
But Alice noticed that all overhanging branches along the driveway had
been brutally cut. The freshly scarred trees were now exactly in line with the tarmac edge. Not a single leaf or twig blighted the pristine road. It didn’t look quite right somehow.
‘Too neat, gives me a rash,’ muttered Kevin. Alice thought it was a good thing he hadn’t visited her house – it would probably give him boils.
But they had an even greater shock when the car drew up in front of the house.
‘Frazzling Fruitcakes!’ said Kevin faintly.
Alice couldn’t speak.
House was the wrong word. It looked like someone had taken a handful of mansions, thrown in a couple of castles, stirred in a few farm buildings then added a few parks for good measure.
‘What a weird place!’ Alice managed to say at last, but Kevin seemed too overwhelmed to reply.
They scrambled out of the car as the policeman tugged the gleaming bell pull beside the massive front door. While they waited, Alice and Kevin studied the dazzlingly bright blue plastic sign by the side of the door.
Tryton Mell
Turning grubby good-for-nothings
into politely perfect pupils
They exchanged alarmed glances.
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ whispered Alice, her heart sinking.
‘It’s really loose – look, there’s something underneath,’ said Kevin. He twisted the plaque. Underneath was another plaque – this one looked old, made of weathered brass. In friendly round letters it said:
Welcome to Tryton Mell
Professor Tryton says
‘Have fun every day the Tryton way’
‘They’ve rebranded,’ the policeman explained, noticing what Kevin was doing. ‘Now put that back at once!’
‘I liked their old brand better,’ muttered Kevin. He dropped the plaque hastily as they heard the click of a lock turning.
The perfectly varnished door began to open, soundless on well-oiled hinges.
‘Oh no!’ Alice reeled backwards as she caught sight of the person on the doorstep.
