by Laura Wood
**Dangerous pause**
Fanella: What is that you say?
Marvin: (nervously) Oh, nothing, nothing. Forget I mentioned it.
Fanella: What do you mean when I look in the mirror? I thought you just break my hairbrush so I have to borrow one from Leaky Sue. Where is mirror? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Marvin: (nervous giggle) It’s just a bit of harmless magic. Nothing to worry about.
**Scuffling sounds**
**A VERY LOUD SCREAM**
**Smashing glass**
Marvin: Fanella! You shouldn’t throw mirrors like that. That’s seven years’ bad luck.
Fanella: MY HAIR IS GREEN. MY BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL HAIR IS GREEN LIKE … LIKE THE SNOT.
Marvin: (snort of laughter)
Fanella: I KEEL YOU! YOU TOAD! YOU … YOU … WORM. WAIT UNTIL I HAVE MY HANDS ON YOU.
**More smashing sounds**
Luigi: I say, what’s going on here then? Ee Gads, Fanella… What’s happened to your hair?
Fanella: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
Luigi: Sorry, sorry, it looks very lovely. I’m sure it’s terribly fashionable… No! Not Leaky Sue’s prize collection of china parrot figurines!
**Even more smashing sounds**
**Ominous silence**
Marvin: Ohhhhhhh, Fanella. You’ve done it now. You’re going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE.
Fanella: Hmmm. I don’t think so. I think I will tell Leaky Sue that YOU did this. (cackling with laughter)
Marvin: (gulps) You … you … wouldn’t.
Fanella: REVENGEANCE IS MINE! (sweetly) Oh, Leaky Suuuuuuuuuue…..
Marvin: Nooooooooooo!
**Scuffling sounds as phone is picked up**
Luigi: (breathless) Hello? Is anyone there?
Me: Luigi, it’s me!
Luigi: What ho, Poppers! Just came to give you a ring on the old telephone myself and here you are. Must have inherited some of Pym’s talents for seeing the future, eh what?
Me: (sigh) I’ve been here the whole time, but I think Fanella got a bit … distracted.
Luigi: Yeeees. It looks as though she and Leaky Sue are chasing Marvin around the garden. Ahhhh. Little Buttercup is joining in! She’s so playful.
**A distant scream**
Luigi: (shouting) Nothing to fear, madam! She’s only playing. No, no, no one is getting eaten. (into phone) Oh, for heaven’s sake, why do all these silly hotel guests think Buttercup is trying to eat them? Just because she’s a lion! They look like a tough, grisly lot anyway. My Buttercup’s got better taste than that! Ha ha!
Me: Luigi, I just wanted to make sure everything is on schedule for Friday.
Luigi: Ah, well as to that, Poppers, there’s been a small hiccup, I’m afraid. Old Hortence has decided to go to London to do her Christmas shopping and she wants us to escort her back up to Burnshire Hall, so our journey is being delayed by one day.
Me: But what about us?
Luigi: Pym’s spoken to your Miss Baxter and you’re to stay for an extra day then we can come and get you. Sorry, Poppers, but you know what the old dragon is like – there’s no changing her plans once they’re made.
Me: (sighs) I know. I’m just so excited to start the holidays!
Luigi: Me too, me too! Old Chivvers has promised faithfully to keep the home fires burning… There’ll be steaming cocoa and gingerbread waiting for us. Now, I’d better go and check on the others… It seems Buttercup is eating someone’s glove. At least, I hope it’s a glove! Haha! See you soon!
**End of transcript**
I put the phone down and sighed. A whole extra day before we could get going on our Christmas hols. Still, I thought with a grin, it was going to be pretty fun having the whole school almost completely to ourselves. And maybe the extra time would come in handy. We did have a mystery to solve after all, and mysteries wait for no man … not even Father Christmas himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The rest of the week flew by in a blur of rehearsals and lessons. There was barely any time to think about investigating, and a part of me was a bit relieved. It wasn’t the nicest idea, thinking that someone might actually be out to get me, but as no other disasters took place, I began to feel myself relax and really get into the festive spirit.
On the day of the big performance the school was full of people. Making our way into the main hall we weaved our way through the gathering crowd of our upcoming audience. It was traditional for residents of Brimwell, the nearest town to Saint Smithen’s, to be invited, and it wasn’t long before we bumped into a familiar face.
The blood drained from Kip’s face.
“Penny!” I exclaimed happily.
Penny Farthing is a pal of ours who owns a shop dedicated to cat-based merchandise in Brimwell. The reason for Kip’s unhappiness was because Penny combined a love of smothering, suffocating cuddles with a need to bestow cat-themed knitwear upon us. I do my best to tell Kip off for being ungrateful, but, to add insult to injury, Penny does always give him a fluffy jumper in size extra-small and tell him bracingly that he’ll “grow into it one day”.
Kip was gathered in for a hug from which he emerged very pink in the face and gasping for air.
“What are you doing here?” he croaked, and then, after meeting my stern gaze, “Not that it’s not lovely to see you.”
“Aren’t you a little dear!” Penny crooned. “Well, Miss Baxter invited Magda and I up to see the performance, of course!” She beamed at us, and gestured over to the other side of the entrance hall where her friend Magda was animatedly chattering to Miss Baxter. I noticed that Magda was also holding a bedazzled purple tiger-print cat carrier in which, no doubt, Penny’s long-suffering cat, Buttons, was trying to have a nap.
“Yoo hoo, Magda!” Penny trilled. “Look who I found!”
Miss Baxter looked a little relieved to be interrupted.
“Hello, Poppy,” Magda exclaimed. “And Kip and Ingrid, too! I was just telling Miss Baxter here about my new eco-fashion line. It’s called EGG BOXES. You’d never know it, but I make everything out of recycled egg boxes! Isn’t that clever?” She held out a wrist covered in bangles that had clearly been made from chopped-up egg boxes.
“Brilliant,” I said faintly.
“Well, ladies, I’m sure these three need to be getting backstage, so that they can prepare for the performance,” Miss Baxter broke in, gently.
“Oh, of course,” Penny fluttered. “Off you go! We’ll be cheering you on!”
Miss Baxter ushered us into the great hall where chairs were being set into rows by a team of students led by Letty.
“Is that a straight line, Geoffrey?” she barked. “I don’t think so. What was your last job, building towers in Pisa?” She turned to us as we passed, rolling her eyes in despair.
Poor Geoffrey hung his head in shame.
On stage a flurry of activity was taking place as the scene was set for our festive spectacular.
“OK, you lot,” Miss Baxter said with a grin. “You’d better get going. Madame Patrice will be having a heart attack over missing cast members!”
At that moment there was a banging sound and the woman herself burst on to the stage. “WHERE. IS. MY. ELF?” she cried, waving her arms dramatically.
“Oh, good,” I heard Kip mumble.
“Coming, Madame Patrice,” Ingrid called.
Madame Patrice squinted out at us from the stage, her eyes narrowed and her hand up shielding them, even though the stage lights weren’t actually on yet.
“Daaaaaaaaaarlings!” she drawled. “The show must go on! Chop, chop. Don’t you love these last few minutes before a performance?” She raised her cigarette holder to her lips and inhaled sharply. “The theatre has a way of getting into YOUR BLOOD, doesn’t it?”
“Madame Patriiiiiiiice.” A girl in our class called Jacinta appeared, clutching her stomach. “I can’t go on,” she moaned. “I’m going to be sick!”
“Nonsense,” Madame Patrice exclaimed briskly, her heel
s clicking as she ushered Jacinta off stage. “Why, it’s natural to feel nervous. I remember my own time in the West End…”
“Let’s get this over with then,” Kip muttered, dragging himself towards the stage as though a man-eating shark lay behind the curtains.
Although, of course, Annabelle was back there … so I suppose he wasn’t that far off.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In fact, I bumped into Annabelle almost as soon as I arrived backstage. And I do mean “bumped”. Kip and Ingrid had gone off to get into their costumes, but Madame Patrice had sent me on a hunt for Father Christmas’s beard. As I rounded a corner I ran splat into Annabelle, sending us both flying towards the floor.
“Ooooooow!” she howled, getting to her feet and rubbing her elbows. “Watch where you’re going, you idiot!”
I had been about to apologize, but Annabelle always has such a way of bringing out the worst in me. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I snapped. Then I noticed Annabelle’s eyes were rimmed red, as if she had been having a good old cry. “Hey, are you OK?” I asked, uncertainly.
“I’m fine,” Annabelle sniffled, and then she pulled herself up tall, a fierce scowl on her face. “At least I was, before you practically ran me over.” With that she swept past me towards the stage.
“OK, OK,” I muttered to her back. “Sorry for asking.”
The performance went as well as could be expected, and Kip’s angry elf went down a storm … especially as he got angrier and angrier the more people laughed at his outfit. Or perhaps it was his dance moves. Or his terrible singing voice. He did win the battle with Madame Patrice over the tights in the end, but I think having his curly elf shoes peeking out from under his school trousers was worse somehow.
I especially liked it at the end of the show when we sang “Jingle Bells” and everyone joined in, even grumpy Dr MacDougal. The sound of our voices filled up the hall and with the twinkling lights all around I could feel the festive spirit zipping through me.
Finally, Miss Baxter made her way on to the stage. “Thank you to all of you for another wonderful term here at Saint Smithen’s,” she beamed. “I hope you all have a truly fantastic holiday. And we all look forward to welcoming you back in the new year!”
“Look!” a voice shouted, and with perfect timing, like something out of a film, we saw the first perfect fluttering snowflakes gently kissing the ground outside the tall windows.
“Yahooooo!” A shout went up around the hall and, as one, the entire school bundled out of the great hall and out the front door, arms stuck haphazardly through coat sleeves as we ran.
Ingrid and I danced around, laughing while big fat flakes of snow dusted our hair, as if someone in the sky was sprinkling us with icing sugar. On the dark fabric of my coat sleeve I could see some of the beautiful, intricate patterns that made up each individual one.
Kip was sticking his tongue out and trying to catch as many snowflakes as possible. “Disappointingly flavourless,” he said, pulling a Dictaphone from his pocket and speaking into it in a very serious voice – no doubt keeping track of his thoughts for the next riveting instalment of “KIP EATS STUFF”.
Penny and Magda appeared at our sides. “You were all MARVELLOUS,” Penny cried. Then she looked about with a worried frown. “I don’t know if Buttons is going to be too keen on this snow,” she said. “The poor thing really does feel the cold. Luckily he has his own special little cat jumper that I knitted him at home.”
A pathetic miaow rang out from the carry case, as though Buttons had heard this terrible news.
“I’m sure he – er – loves that,” I said. “I know we all love your jumpers.”
Kip made a snorting sound that he quickly turned into a coughing fit.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Penny beamed. “I’ve got your Christmas presents with me. Magda, have you got the bag?”
Magda produced a carrier bag and handed it to Kip. Inside were three gifts wrapped in bright pink paper covered in cats wearing Santa hats.
“Oh, lovely!” I said, giving Penny a hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Now, don’t go opening them until Christmas Day!” Penny waved her finger. “And come over for a hot chocolate at the shop when you get back, won’t you.”
“Oh, we WILL,” Kip agreed loudly. Penny’s hot chocolate came with whipped cream, marshmallows and a chocolate flake.
“Thank you, Penny,” Ingrid said.
More mewling from the cat carrier distracted Penny at this point. “Time to go!” she said cheerfully. “Enjoy your holidays, all of you.”
With that she and Magda made their way back towards the school gates.
Kip was squeezing the presents. “Feels like another cat jumper,” he said with a sigh. “To add to the collection.”
“Well, I like the cat jumpers,” said Ingrid stoutly. “They’re really snuggly.”
I looked around, and despite the freezing cold, I felt a warm glow inside as though I was being powered by my own little electric heater. There’s just something about the first snow of the year that’s completely magical. When I was little, Pym always used to know when it was going to snow before it happened thanks to her psychic visions. My favourite was when it was about to start snowing late at night and Pym would wake me up. We used to creep outside in our pyjamas and wait for the first flakes to fall, then Pym would tell me that it was magic fairy dust like in Peter Pan, and that it would make me fly. She used to take me up on the trapeze so that I really did soar through the air and I truly felt that a bit of the snow’s magic had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, remembering such happy times, I was very, very glad that I would be seeing my circus family the next day.
In the meantime, cars had begun rolling up the long gravel drive, ready to transport students home for the holidays. Slightly hassled-looking parents emerged, all gesturing crossly at the skies and generally being pretty down on all the lovely snow.
Cries of “the traffic is going to be a NIGHTMARE” could be heard all around, and the merry band of Saint Smithen’s pupils, who had been enjoying the winter wonderland, were whisked away in a business-like fashion to collect their belongings. Soon only the three of us remained.
An eerie silence stretched out around us, filling the frozen air. Suddenly, it was all too easy to imagine someone really was watching us. I thought about the beetle and the mysterious accidents and I shivered. (Although, to be completely truthful, I suppose this could have had something to do with standing out in a snowstorm… But who can say for sure? I think it was probably a sense of impending doom, myself.) Apparently the others felt the same because Kip cleared his throat nervously.
“So,” he said, and his voice was a bit squeaky, “what should we do now?”
“Probably stop standing out here in the freezing cold,” I said, realizing that my teeth were having a good old chatter.
“Let’s go and see if someone will make us a hot drink,” Ingrid said, very sensibly.
“Ooh!” Kip’s ears perked up at that (and I do mean his ears: he was still wearing his plastic elf ones at this point). “Perhaps there’ll be a biscuit or two on offer as well…” His face was hopeful as he turned back towards the dining hall, almost falling over his curly shoes.
“Aggggghhhhh!” I was startled by a sudden squeal from Ingrid. Without another word, she turned and started running away from the gravel drive and towards the rolling lawns in front of the school.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kip and I took off after her, darting between the towering oak trees, slipping and sliding in the freshly fallen snow (of course, Kip was slipping more than me thanks to his impractical footwear).
“Ingrid!” I panted, following her into the wooded part of the grounds where the trees were much thicker. “What is it? What’s going on?” We wound between the gnarled trunks and I tried not to trip on the big roots jutting through the snow.
Ingrid had come to a screeching halt. “Oh no,” she muttered. “I lost it.” She stamped her f
oot in frustration and slipped over, sprawling on the ground. “Oooof,” she groaned.
I reached out to her and helped her up. When she was back on two feet she dusted the snow from her coat.
Kip finally arrived, trailing behind. “When did you get so fast, Ingrid?” he asked, leaning over with his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths. “Oh, and also … why exactly are we doing a voluntary cross-country run in the snow?”
“I saw one!” Ingrid exclaimed.
“One what?” I asked, my mind fuddled.
Ingrid’s face was serious as she turned to us, her eyes enormous and gleaming behind her glasses. “It was another spy beetle,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
“WHAT?!” Kip and I cried in one voice.
Ingrid nodded. “It was only for a second, but I’m pretty certain. It was so strange; as soon as I saw it, it ran away … as if it knew I was looking.”
“And it managed to avoid you,” I said slowly, “so someone really must be controlling it.”
“What, with a remote control?” Kip asked. “But then, they must be nearby!” He narrowed his eyes nervously, on the lookout for a shadowy robot-beetle-operating figure lurking between the skeletal, wintery trees.
A shiver slithered down my spine like the wriggliest of electric eels. Was there really someone out here right now with us? I felt my breath coming in quick puffs, leaving little clouds of mist hanging in the air as if I was a cheerful little steam engine. Only I wasn’t exactly feeling cheerful at this particular moment.
We stood frozen to the spot for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. Everything was so still, and I strained my ears for anything at all. What would Dougie Valentine listen for, I wondered – the sound of someone breathing perhaps, or a twig breaking underfoot? My mind was working as busily as it could.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it too. A flash of silvery blue. “I see it!” I shrieked, and leapt through the air, twisting in a neat somersault as I did so, and landing sprawling on the ground with my hands thrust in the snow. At first I thought I hadn’t managed to catch it, but then I felt the cold metal between my fingers: a different kind of cold to the snow.
