Poppy Pym and the Beastly Blizzard

by Laura Wood

  “I can play his part,” Boris volunteered.

  “And I can play Luigi!” Fanella said, pleased. “I will wear the false mooostache.”

  “That might be better,” Luigi agreed. “More of a behind-the-scenes man, myself.”

  “Then it is settled.” Fanella beamed.

  “And my family name shall be avenged at dawn!” Luigi cried dramatically, shaking his fist at the heavens.

  “Dawn is a bit early for me,” Boris said, scratching his cheek. “I’d quite like a bit of a lie-in tomorrow.” Fanella nodded in agreement.

  “And my family name shall be avenged after breakfast!” Luigi cried. “Probably around ten o’clock!”

  “I think we should not wait. We do it tonight in the moonlight,” Fanella put in thoughtfully. “It will all look more excellent and atmospheric.”

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  While this scene had been playing out in front of me I stood, frozen to the spot. Was it possible that Great-Aunt Hortence had stolen the Penny Black? My mind couldn’t wrap itself around the possibility. The evidence was damning indeed, but everything in me screamed that she was innocent. I had known her my whole life, and although she may seem ferocious and prickly at times, I knew with absolute certainty that she didn’t have a criminal bone in her body. So what on earth was going on?

  “We need to go and talk to Great-Aunt Hortence,” I hissed urgently to Kip and Ingrid. “And we need to do it now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Moments later we were knocking gently on Great-Aunt Hortence’s door. After a few seconds she opened the door and, seeing that it was us, stood aside to let us in.

  Miss Baxter had given her one of the rooms that the school used for visitors. It was on the third floor and was small but quite luxurious with a thick creamy carpet and a big, high four-poster bed draped with curtains covered in pink roses. Great-Aunt Hortence looked a bit out of place in all her black garb, and when she perched neatly on the edge of the bed she looked small, like a porcelain doll from another time.

  “We just wanted to make sure that you were OK,” I said quickly.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she replied, with a thin smile. “There’s no need for you to concern yourself with this, Poppy. It’s a ridiculous situation and everyone will see that soon enough.”

  “Do you have any idea how the stamp could have got in the pudding?” I asked.

  Great-Aunt Hortence gave the tiniest shake of her head. “I realized how it looked immediately, of course,” she sighed. “That inspector friend of yours did too.”

  “Inspector Hartley is a good detective,” Kip said stoutly. “He won’t arrest an innocent person.”

  Great-Aunt Hortence snorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, dear,” she said. “I think without a feasible alternative I’m the best suspect he has.”

  “But you didn’t do it!” I exclaimed. “I know you didn’t!”

  Great-Aunt Hortence’s blue eyes softened. “I’m glad,” she said, and then she frowned. “Though for the life of me I can’t work out how the stamp could have made its way into the pudding in the first place. The only time it was unsupervized was when we were all having dinner and it was steaming in the pan. But everyone was there!”

  “Except Doris,” Ingrid said. “Not that I think she did it!” she added hastily.

  Great-Aunt Hortence nodded. “Besides which she’d have had to walk past us to get into the kitchen, unless she went all the way around the building and through the snow,” she said. “It doesn’t make any sense. How could the stamp go from Mr Blammel’s pocket to the pudding? It’s like some kind of magic trick.”

  “I’m sorry about my dad,” Ingrid said quietly. “He gets very worked up about that stamp, as you may have already noticed.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Great-Aunt Hortence said. “I quite understand that it was the heat of the moment. I just wish I could give him some answers. I know how it looks – it seems impossible for anyone else to have done it. It’s not an ideal situation to be in.”

  I felt a shiver run through me, despite the heat blasting out of the radiators. Was it possible that Great-Aunt Hortence was going to be found guilty of a crime she didn’t commit? As she said, we were completely lacking in other suspects; even Professor Tweep had been in the room when we were having dinner so it seemed increasingly unlikely that he was involved. (Plus, this was only confirming what my detective instincts had already been telling me.) But without an alternative suspect, there would be little choice for Inspector Hartley but to arrest Great-Aunt Hortence. I imagined her being led away in handcuffs and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. Something had to be done, and it was up to us to do it. But with so little time, how could we possibly manage it?

  There was just too much to do. This situation was turning into a real emergency.

  Emergency. The word pinged in my brain as if it was written in flashing, neon letters. Or … scribbled on the back of an envelope. All of a sudden I knew what we needed to do.

  “I’m sure it will all be fine,” I babbled, “and you probably want to get some sleep, so we will leave you to it. Don’t worry, Great-Aunt Hortence, I have a feeling everything is going to work out just fine.” I grabbed at Kip and Ingrid, tugging them from the room with me. “Goodnight!” I called over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Kip, rubbing his arm where my fingers had been digging into his jumper.

  “I’ve got a plan!” I said. “Something that might solve all of our problems, but we need to break back into the library. We need a phone.”

  “A phone?” Ingrid said. “Who are you going to call? Everyone you know is here.”

  “Not everyone,” I said. “Come on.”

  “So just to be clear, you want us to go back out into the dark again while we still aren’t sure if there’s a yeti on the loose or not,” Kip said, “so that we can break into the library for the second time in two days?”

  “Correct,” I nodded. “And I want to do it now before anyone notices we’re missing.”

  There was a pause.

  “Let’s go,” Ingrid said.

  Creeping out of the front door I was stopped in my tracks by a rather spectacular scene that was unfolding on the big lawn.

  “Hug the shadows!” I hissed to Kip and Ingrid, and the three of us pressed ourselves up against the wall, invisible to the crowd assembled in the snow.

  Fanella, draped in a dark cloak and sporting a sizeable false moustache, was brandishing a sword and twirling it rather clumsily in the direction of Boris.

  “YOU VILLAIN!” she yelled. “You insult my family honour, and now … I KEEL YOU!”

  She charged towards Boris, catching her sword in her voluminous cloak as she ran. “CURSES!” she hissed, stamping her foot and sending a spray of snow into the air. “This cloak, it is too big for me, but also such a good costume.”

  “Art is suffering!” Letty yelled encouragingly from the sidelines.

  “This is true,” Fanella acknowledged, “and a great artist like me is suffering all the time.”

  “YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR ME,” Boris boomed then, flexing his huge muscles. “I am the mighty STAMP COLLECTOR.” He turned here towards Mr Blammel, who was hovering nearby, looking as though he wished he was anywhere else. “I really need to flesh out the character here,” Boris said in a low voice. “Tell me … what is your favourite biscuit?”

  “Well I don’t see how that’s relev—” Mr Blammel began, but he was cut short by a swift glare from Fanella’s fiery eyes. “Rich tea biscuits, I suppose,” he said sulkily.

  I heard a sharp intake of breath from Kip. “Rich tea biscuits?!” he whispered, horrified. “Those are the actual worst. Only just above no biscuits at all.”

  “Shhhh!” I hissed.

  “Well, sorry,” Kip’s voice huffed in the darkness, “but rich tea biscuits? Of all the biscuits in the whole world? They don’t even have any chocolate on them.” He trailed of
f, furiously, and I heard the buttons on his Dictaphone being clicked, along with some angry mutterings about biscuit league tables.

  It seems that Mr Blammel’s rich tea biscuit revelation had also rather shaken Boris, who stood frozen in the snow, clearly trying to adopt the appropriate characteristics of a bland biscuit fan.

  “Bah!” Fanella exclaimed. “Is taking too long, Boris. Let’s fight!”

  Boris’s eyes snapped angrily. “Quiet, LUIGI!” he exclaimed, reminding Fanella of her role. “I do not know who Boris is. I am Mr Blammel … and I … LOVE … RICH TEA BISCUITS!” he roared, charging forward with his sword glinting in the moonlight.

  The two clashed swords very impressively for several minutes, and then, when both of them were red-faced and panting, they reached some sort of silent agreement to begin the tragic, moving death-scene portion of events.

  “OH WOE! OH WOE! I AM KEELED!” Fanella screeched, flopping to the floor and writhing in the snow.

  “I too have been struck and mortally wounded by fate’s cruel arrow!” Boris shook his fist at the heavens and fell to his knees.

  Letty tripped daintily into the scene and began spraying a tube of fake blood liberally into the snow, around the two groaning bodies.

  It was time to make our escape. I signalled to Kip and Ingrid to follow me and moved stealthily along the wall of the building, trying hard not to make any sound – although the very loud weeping and wailing that now seemed to have erupted from the audience was providing excellent cover.

  A cry of “Cruel world! He was too young to be taken from us!” cut through the air. “He just loved rich tea biscuits so much!”

  We crept over to the library as quickly as we possibly could. This was partly because we didn’t want to get caught, partly because we understood the urgency of Great-Aunt Hortence’s situation, and partly because we still suspected there was something lurking in the grounds. The snow had stopped falling now, as Miss Baxter had said that it would, although it was very deep. The path that Miss Susan and Mr Grant had cleared didn’t extend as far as the library, so by the time we reached the steps we were all frozen and very soggy.

  “This had better be worth it,” Kip said through chattering teeth. “I can’t feel any of my toes. And I like my toes. I would like to hang on to them for as long as possible.”

  This time, as we didn’t have our torches or my lock-picking tools, I picked the lock myself with a hairgrip, feeling the pins move in the dark as I wiggled it carefully up and down. It took a few seconds longer than it would have taken me with a light, but eventually it clicked into place and the door opened.

  “We’ll have to risk turning the lights on,” I said once we were inside, and I flicked the light switch on. “Let’s just be quick.”

  “Doing what?” Kip asked. “We still don’t know what we’re doing here. Who are you going to call?”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a familiar card. It was the number that had been pushed under my and Ingrid’s door at the start of the year. I’d been carrying it around in my pocket for months along with the receipt that came with it, waiting for an opportunity to use it. It looked like that time had come. “I think this counts as a real emergency,” I said.

  “You’re going to call the number!” Kip squeaked.

  “We think the number is connected to the person who has been watching us,” I said reasonably. “And maybe whoever it is can help. We don’t know if they’re good or bad, but at least this way we’ll finally find out and perhaps we’ll find out who sent the beetles at the same time,” I pointed out, trying to sound brave. “Anyway,” I continued, “it’s stopped snowing now so in the morning the police are going to take Great-Aunt Hortence away. We don’t have a choice.”

  “You don’t really think there’s a yeti out there, do you?” Ingrid asked Kip.

  He looked torn. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess that a yeti roaming around Brimwell does seem a tiny bit unlikely,” he admitted grudgingly, “but then there are the footprints. How do you explain that? Huh? Those weren’t the footprints of a normal human. We don’t know what is following us.”

  “Maybe the person on the other end of the phone can give us the answers,” I said as we stood in front of the wall of payphones. I lifted the receiver and took a deep, calming breath, noticing my hands were trembling. I began dialling the long string of numbers written on the card.

  “It’s a good job the power didn’t go out,” Ingrid said. “We’re lucky we can use the phone at all.”

  “I don’t know if it is lucky,” Kip said. “I’m not sure that I trust whoever is on the other end of that phone.”

  “Me neither,” I said. “But we’re running out of options.” I finally finished dialling the number and there was a long silence before the phone gave two short rings.

  “Tooraloora’s Umberjigs,” a woman’s voice crackled down the line.

  “Yes, hello,” I stammered, my hands sweating as I clutched the receiver. “We have an emergency. I was told to call this number. I don’t…”

  “I’m sorry, madam,” the voice interrupted coolly. “We are an umbrella shop. I don’t know to what you are referring. Do you have an order with us?”

  “Yes! Yes!” I gasped, fumbling for the receipt. “I have a receipt for a purple umbrella.”

  “Thank you for your call,” the woman said. “Your order details have been logged.”

  Then the phone went dead.

  “Well,” I said as I hung up the receiver with even shakier hands than before. “We’ll see what happens now.”

  And that’s when all the lights went out. Again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “Well that’s a good start.” Kip’s voice was as acidic as a bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps, stinging through the darkest of darkness. “What is it with this school and all the lights going off at the CREEPIEST POSSIBLE MOMENT?”

  “Mmmm,” I said, trying to keep my own voice level. “I’ll admit it’s not … ideal.”

  “Do you think it was because of the phone call?” Ingrid sounded nervous. “Do you think somehow that made the power go off?”

  “How could it?” I asked, and my question hung in the darkness like a bad smell.

  The three of us were frozen to the spot. I don’t know if you’ve ever broken into an enormous school library to make a secret phone call to a shadowy figure who might or might not be following you around and then had all the lights go off very suddenly, but I can tell you it’s not the most pleasant experience. In fact, it’s pretty flipping spooky. As my eyes began to adjust I could just begin to make out the looming shapes of the bookcases and tables. I started to move a little towards the blue-black rectangle that I knew must be the window, bashing into something on my way.

  “There’s no need to panic, anyway,” I squeaked. “This happened before, remember, and Miss Baxter said the emergency generator would kick in so I’m sure that will be the case in just a few seconds.”

  I held my breath, but the seconds kept passing and nothing happened.

  “Nothing’s happening,” Kip said.

  “Thanks,” Ingrid replied flatly, “if you hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “Well, sorryyyyyy,” Kip grumbled.

  “Let’s not fight,” I said quickly. “It looks like the lights are out in the main building as well. Or, at least,” I sighed, “I can’t see anything at all out of the window so I guess they must be.”

  “How are we going to get out of here if we can’t see anything?” Ingrid asked.

  “It’ll be easy,” Kip said confidently. “Just follow me.” There were a series of increasingly loud banging noises … and a smashing noise … and finally an enormous groan. It was clear that things hadn’t been as easy as Kip predicted.

  I could almost hear Ingrid’s eyes roll.

  “You all right, Kip?” I called.

  All I got in response was another groan. Well, at least he was alive.

  “
I’ll get us out of here,” I said. “Just give me one second.”

  “What are you three doing?” A new voice asked, rippling through the darkness. I swung around to see a ghoulish floating head coming towards me.

  “AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH.” A scream rang in my ears, echoing around the library. With a shock, I realized that the scream was coming from me. I shut my mouth, embarrassment washing over me as I finally recognized that the ghoulish floating head belonged to Mei Zhang, and that she was wearing a torch on a band around her forehead.

  “Mei!” I gasped. “What are you doing here?” Relief flooded my body, but was quickly followed by something more sinister. My mind was racing. Surely it was suspicious that Mei appeared on the scene right at this moment … and prepared with a head torch as well? I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully.

  “Is everyone all right?” she asked, not exactly answering my question. The light from her torch carved out a dim circle of light around us.

  “We’re fine,” Ingrid said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Kip grumbled, picking himself up off the floor.

  “What are you three doing here?” Mei went to give Kip a hand.

  “We needed to make a phone call,” I said, deciding not to give too much away. “What are you doing here?” I asked, and my voice sounded hard and brittle.

  “I saw that the lights were on,” Mei shrugged. “Before they all went out, I mean. Good job I had my torch with me!” she finished brightly.

  “Yes,” I replied suspiciously. “It certainly was. We thought we were going to be stuck here. Do you always carry a torch about with you?”

  Mei smiled, and I thought I saw a nervous look twitch across her face. “I was thinking I might go for a night walk later. To look for some owls,” she said.

  “Owls?” Kip repeated and I could hear the scepticism in his voice. It seemed that he also found Mei’s appearance suspicious.

  “We’d better go,” Mei said quickly. “Stay with me. We should try and get back before the grown-ups notice we’re missing.” She guided us back through the library and outside with her torch. It really was terribly dark with all of the lights from the main building out, and we scrunched across the snow in silence.