by Laura Wood
“You guys!” I hissed, as Kip and Ingrid puffed up behind me, “I got it!”
“YESSSSSS!” Kip yelped, pumping his fist in the air. “And you looked like a NINJA leaping through the air like that.” His eyes shone with admiration.
“You really did,” Ingrid agreed. “I can’t believe you were moving so fast!”
“Thanks!” I grinned, but then an angry whirring noise beneath my fingers reminded me of the problem at hand. “What shall I do?” I whispered. “This thing can see and hear everything!”
“You’re going to have to break it,” Ingrid said in a low voice.
“No!” I said. “This could be our chance; this could be our big breakthrough! If I break it, how will we find out where it came from?”
“We’re seeing Doris tomorrow,” Ingrid whispered. “She’ll be able to fix it. Don’t smash it up as badly as Kip did. Just … squish it a bit.”
The beetle’s little legs were twirling around with increasing energy. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling a bit bad, even though it wasn’t a real beetle. And with that I pressed down gently with my hand until I heard a little pop, and the legs stopped moving. I waited for a moment, listening carefully, but the whirring noise had stopped as well. Gingerly I lifted my hand and the beetle stayed where it was. There was a long, thin crack down its back, but not as much damage as there had been on the last one.
“Do you think that’s done it?” I asked.
Kip bent over for a closer examination. “Looks like it,” he said cautiously, poking at one of the legs. We all held our breath, but nothing happened. I slipped the beetle into my pocket. We were just going to have to hope it wasn’t recording anything until I could get it locked away somewhere safe. At least Ingrid was right and we could get it to Doris tomorrow … she’d know what to do.
“So what do we do now?” Ingrid asked, rubbing her arms and stamping her feet as the snow continued to fall, leaving blurry footprints in the snow.
“Footprints!” I exclaimed. “That’s it!”
“What?” Ingrid asked, confused.
“The snow could help us,” I explained quickly. “Spread out and look for footprints.”
“Argh!” Kip exclaimed. “There are footprints everywhere!” He crouched down low to the ground, stroking his chin. “It looks like there are three people. One of them has really weird shaped feet…” He leaned down further to examine the prints more closely. “I deduce that it’s a whole group of spies after us and, possibly, one alien.” His voice was getting increasingly panicked.
“Those are our footprints, Kip,” I said patiently. “It’s your elf shoes leaving the strange marks.”
“Oh right, yeah,” Kip said, scratching his neck and looking down at his curly green boots.
The three of us spread out, carefully picking our way across the snow, our eyes peeled for possible tracks that could confirm someone was out here with us. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find the culprit’s footprints or not. On the one hand this may give us the lead we’d been hoping for all this time and help us to find some answers, but on the other, I didn’t think that running into a mysterious spy while alone in the snow would be the most enjoyable experience.
“Over here!” I heard Ingrid’s voice call.
Kip and I made our way over to where she was standing. “There,” she said, and pointed. The falling snow was already covering it up but there was a trail of smudged and partial footprints, as though someone in a rush had been trying to cover up their tracks as they went. Or perhaps I should say … something.
“Well, those footprints aren’t from my elf shoes,” Kip said firmly.
He was right. These footprints were like nothing I had seen before. They were big, about twice the size of my own feet, and they looked like they had been made from someone walking barefoot, apart from the fact that they were wider than a normal foot and had only four distinct toe prints at the top.
“So, what do we think?” Kip asked with a nervous laugh, “a four-toed, barefoot giant is following us through the snow?”
“It’s a very curious footprint, that’s for sure.” Ingrid crouched down next to it. “But I think it must be human. There’s no animal that I can think of that leaves tracks like that. And the only animals in here are squirrels and foxes, anyway!”
“Maybe it is aliens,” Kip said uncertainly.
“Well whoever … or whatever it is, they’re gone now,” I said, trying to sound brave and pointing to the trail of prints that led out the other side of the trees and down the hill towards Brimwell.
“Hang on…” Ingrid called. “I think … there’s another set of footprints here as well!”
“What?!” I exclaimed, rushing over to the new tracks.
“This person did a better job at covering up their prints, but there are some smudgy prints here,” she pointed, “and here.”
“It looks like these footprints were being chased by the weird monster prints,” Kip said, and I could see at once that he was right.
I felt my brain struggling sluggishly to make sense of it all so I jumped up and down on the spot, trying to warm it up. Surely there was a sensible answer that linked everything together (as Dougie Valentine always says, “even the unlikeliest series of events make sense once the solution presents itself. Now back to where you came from, you evil gnome overlord!”), but if there was, I couldn’t find it. It seemed like the more we searched for answers the more confusing things became.
“Maybe we’d better go inside then,” Kip said, interrupting my thoughts. “You know, before my fingers fall off. Or we get eaten by giants. Whichever comes first.” His teeth were chattering pretty noisily.
“Hot chocolate does sound good right now,” Ingrid admitted.
“And there’s nothing else for us to find here,” I said, reluctantly. “Let’s go.”
We headed back through the snow towards the bright, welcoming lights of the school. You could practically see the warmth shimmering off the walls. As we climbed the steps to the entrance hall I cast a long look over my shoulder towards the trees. They looked as if they had all huddled together for warmth, their bare branches tangled together creating a snow-covered canopy. What secrets were lurking there in the shadows? I wondered, and how on earth were they connected to me?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We sat over our cups of steaming cocoa in the dining hall all by ourselves and tried to get to grips with what had just happened. My fingers dipped into my pocket and brushed against the cool metal of the beetle.
“This feels so weird,” Kip said, looking around. “Have you ever noticed how massive this place is?”
He was right – without all the other students in the dining hall, it felt as though we had suddenly shrunk down to the size of tiny beans. Either that, or we were normal size but we had stumbled into a giant’s house… Anyway, you get the point – the school was BIG.
“Do you think…” Ingrid began, and then trailed off. “Do you really think someone is trying to hurt Poppy … and watching all of us?” she blurted out. Her cheeks flushed and she fiddled with her cup. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just being here when it’s like this is a bit … creepy.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, feeling my legs jiggling nervously beneath the table. “It’s easier to believe that sort of thing when it’s all spooky like this.” There was a pause.
“None of it makes any sense!” I burst out, finally. “Who can be behind it? Why would anyone even want to keep an eye on me? I’m not exactly the most exciting person. All I do is go to school.” I scrunched up my nose. “Admittedly we’ve proven ourselves to be a serious, ace detecting trio” – here the other two nodded in agreement – “but even that can’t explain someone resorting to using serious spy equipment just to watch us go to lessons and put on a school play.”
“AND,” Kip said eagerly, “let’s not forget those weird footprints. How do we explain them, eh?”
“It seems like two people were in the woods with us
,” Ingrid agreed. “And one of them had … um, foot problems.”
“Foot problems.” Kip snorted. “More like one of them was some kind of giant, four-toed MONSTER.”
“I don’t think that’s very nice,” Ingrid said. “After all, for all we know this … person … is the one who keeps rescuing Poppy.”
The three of us fell silent while we mulled this over. Kip blew noisily on his cocoa, and I realized my legs were still a bit shaky. I had always thought that once I found out who my mother was then all of the questions that I had about my past would be answered. Instead, it seemed like things were more complicated than ever. Everything had started after I phoned that number that had been left with me at the circus. That was when I had started to suspect someone was watching me. And on the first day of term, when the runaway van had almost knocked me down, someone had left a new set of clues for us. It was all linked to whoever wrote the notes, I was sure of it … but how?
As my brain was whirring and whirring, the quiet coiled around us like a snake, seeming to squash all of the air out of the room.
Then, with an enormous BANG, the door slammed open.
“Aggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhh!” The screams of three terrified twelve-year-olds actually did a rather impressive job of filling the big, empty dining hall.
“There you are!” a voice called, echoing off the walls. “Why are you all shrieking like that?”
“Miss Susan!” I exclaimed, trying to mop up some of the cocoa that had sloshed out of our mugs with my sleeve.
“I think now that we’re out of term time you can officially call me Aunt Elaine again,” she said with a smile. We still hadn’t quite got the hang of the whole name thing – it turns out it’s pretty complicated being related to your teacher – but this did seem to be the pattern we had fallen into.
“OK, Aunt Elaine,” I said with a grin.
“But what do we call you?” Kip asked, his mouth slightly open, aghast at the thought of calling a teacher by their first name.
“Um… Well, I’m not sure. Let’s just stick to Miss Susan, shall we?” my aunt said, awkwardly.
Kip nodded, looking relieved.
“Ingrid, Miss Baxter has heard from your parents and they’re planning to arrive tonight and stay here at Saint Smithen’s because of the snow.” She turned towards the window and I noticed that it really was starting to snow very heavily. My toes curled up in delight at the thought of snowmen and snowball fights.
“What time will my mum and dad arrive?” Ingrid asked.
“I’m not sure,” Miss Susan said, still eyeing up the snow distastefully in that silly way grown-ups have of only seeing lovely snow for all its faults. “Quite late, I should think. The traffic is going to be a nightmare,” she finished and I struggled to stop my eyes from rolling. Why are adults so obsessed with traffic?
Miss Susan’s attention returned to us. “Now, what are your plans for the evening?”
“Our plans?” I repeated dumbly. We didn’t really make our own plans while we were at school. People usually told you what time you were going to have your dinner and where you could spend your free time and what time you had to go to bed. Suddenly all of the delicious possibilities of being the only kids in the school presented themselves. Perhaps we could have a midnight feast in the chemistry lab, toasting marshmallows over the Bunsen burners. Maybe we could walk around the library in our pyjamas, or build snowmen in the front gardens under the light of the moon. I eyed up the freshly falling snow, assessing whether there was enough for a proper human-sized creation.
“The other remaining staff are all eating here, but I thought perhaps you might all like to have dinner with me?” Miss Susan said, an unsure edge to her voice as if she was worried that we might turn her down.
“Oh, yes!” I exclaimed excitedly.
Miss Susan looked surprised but pleased by my obvious enthusiasm. As did Kip and Ingrid. I gave them both what I hoped was a meaningful glare, which drew a knowing nod from Ingrid in response. Kip, however, continued to look pretty confused, and I gave him a kick under the table to let him know he should play along.
Because I had a plan.
Having dinner with Miss Susan in her rooms was a nice treat, but it also meant one other important thing … snooping. If Miss Susan knew anything about the person who had left us the notes, the person who had possibly been following us for months, then I was about to find out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It wasn’t much later that the four of us were sitting around a small table eating cheese on toast off pretty china plates.
“Sorry about the simple tea,” Miss Susan said. “I’m afraid I’m not a terribly good cook, and with Mrs Barnfield going home before the snow got too bad…” She trailed off, holding her hands out in front of her.
“S’all right,” Kip said through a mouthful of melted cheese. “I love cheese on toast. The good news is you did plenty of slices. People who are stingy with the portions are the absolute worst. I think it says a lot about a person, you know … how many pieces of toast they allocate for each person.”
“Oh, right,” Miss Susan said faintly.
Kip gestured to the mountain of cheese on toast that sat on a plate in the centre. “You’ve got the proportions spot on, miss.” He frowned then and pulled his Dictaphone out of his pocket before clicking the buttons. “Toast – simple pleasure or personality test?” he muttered into the microphone, before putting the Dictaphone away again.
We settled into a comfortable silence and I mulled over how best to bring up the question of whether Miss Susan knew anyone in my mum’s life who may be connected to all these strange events.
“Did Poppy’s mum know a giant with four toes?” Kip’s big voice smashed the silence into tiny pieces.
Miss Susan blinked. “A giant with four toes?” she repeated weakly, staring at Kip in confusion.
“Mmmm,” Kip nodded, slurping his tea. “Four toes on each foot, I mean. Not four toes total.”
I glared at him. This was hardly the subtle approach I was hoping to take. “I think Kip means, was there any friend of my mum’s in particular that you remember? Maybe anyone … unusual?”
Miss Susan really looked bemused now. “I’m very sorry, Poppy, I know you must have questions about your mother. It’s only natural, although I must admit these are a little more, um, specific than I was expecting.” She tipped her head to one side. “But I’m really the wrong person to ask. I knew so little about her life; I only know the things I read afterwards…” She stopped here, and I could almost see the light bulb going on over her head as an idea struck her. “Now why didn’t I think of that sooner?” she exclaimed.
“What?” I asked, quickly.
“Well, I told you that your mum was a writer. She wrote for magazines and newspapers; she was always off having adventures and writing stories about them. Unfortunately, I don’t have any of her work. I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to keep anything after Evangeline died, it was just too upsetting, but perhaps they might have some of her writing in the library?”
“The library?” I echoed, my brain buzzing like the busiest of beehives.
“Yes.” Miss Susan was nodding eagerly now. “It would certainly be worth a look in the old archives. Mr Fipps has an absolute treasure trove in there. He may well have something.” She looked over at me and her face was hopeful. “Would that help, Poppy? Reading something like that?”
“Oh yes,” I breathed. “That might help an awful lot.”
The news that there might well be juicy clues just waiting for us in the library swooshed through me like a surge of electricity, leaving me crackling with excitement.
“Well, good. Perhaps you can ask Mr Fipps about the articles when he gets back after the holidays,” Miss Susan said, interrupting my gleeful thoughts, and my heart sank. I had completely forgotten that Mr Fipps had gone and that the library was closed for the next couple of weeks. This kind of life-altering mission was precisely why libraries were
so crucial in the first place.
“Now, how about some pudding? I think I might have some chocolate biscuits around here somewhere,” Miss Susan continued, interrupting my inner railing against the library gods. Her smile was relieved, probably glad that the conversation was over. I don’t think she really enjoyed talking about my mum too much.
As she stood to retrieve the biscuits from a cupboard, it seemed that we weren’t going to get any more answers out of Miss Susan on the subject of the mysterious person connected with my mother, who may not only have left me at the circus, but could also still be looking out for me or possibly trying to hurt me. I sipped thoughtfully at my tea. Perhaps if I could track down some of my mum’s articles from the time, they may contain some sort of clue. Ignoring Kip’s voice as he established the rules for a biscuit-dunking contest, I began to formulate a plan. It looked like we were going to have to get into the library sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
About twenty minutes later and halfway through our epic biscuit-dunking competition (the rules were pretty easy to follow in the end), there was a knock at the door. Miss Baxter’s face appeared, quickly followed by the rest of her. She was bundled up in a long red coat, with a green scarf wrapped around her neck.
“Hello,” she said brightly, rubbing her hands together. “I just thought I’d let Ingrid know that her mum and dad have arrived.” There were still a couple of unmelted snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks were pink. I thought she looked like an advert for a Christmas catalogue.
“We’d better come and say hello, then.” Miss Susan was already getting to her feet.
“CHOCOLATE DIGESTIVES ARE THE MOST EFFECTIVE DUNKERS AND CAN BE DUNKED FOR A MAXIMUM OF EIGHT SECONDS,” Kip yelled urgently into his Dictaphone. “Sorry,” he said, clicking the off button. “Just wanted to make sure that the scientific integrity of the experiment was not compromised through not recording our results properly.”
