Jolly Foul Play: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery

by Robin Stevens

  The airing-cupboard door creaked open and I froze. But then … ‘Hazel?’ whispered Beanie.

  ‘Here,’ I whispered back in relief, and Beanie came burrowing into the sheets like a little animal. She huddled up close to me, and after a moment she patted my arm. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said miserably. ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t think Daisy meant it,’ said Beanie. ‘I don’t think either of you meant it. Kitty’s terribly cross with her for teasing you. Were you really writing to a boy?’

  ‘Daisy always has to be right,’ I said. ‘And yes, to Alexander. Remember I told you about him? We met him on the train this summer.’

  ‘Oh, I remember,’ said Beanie. ‘He sounded nice. It’ll be all right. I know it will. You and Daisy are friends, always.’

  I was not sure about that, but I did not want to hurt Beanie by saying so.

  We sat leaning our heads together and not speaking for a while. I felt my breathing steady and my heart calm in my chest. Beanie was enormously comforting.

  And then the airing-cupboard door opened again.

  I nearly opened my mouth to say, Who is it? but something made me pause, just in case it was Daisy. And a moment later, I was gladder than anything that I had stayed quiet – for the person who came through the door was not Daisy, but Florence.

  I saw her worn-in brown shoes and her legs, very long and rather trunk-like (from all the sport she does, of course), with fine reddish hairs on them, and I could smell her, like grass and exercise. Then someone else came through the door behind her. These legs were blonde and shapely, and the shoes at the bottom of them were glossy and quite new. They belonged to Una.

  Beanie had her fingers around my arm, quite painfully, and I said, ‘Shh!’ in her ear. I felt her give a jerky little nod, and knew that she would be quiet. I was amazed. Beanie and I, quite by accident, had managed to be on the spot for the sort of meeting that we had wanted to overhear, and assumed that we never could.

  ‘I don’t see why we have to meet in the airing cupboard,’ said Una, sounding rather snobbish about it.

  ‘Oh, do be quiet, it’s the only secret place in this wretched House,’ said Florence. Her voice was rough, and she moved restlessly.

  ‘So, what do you want to say to me?’ asked Una, her slight German accent coming out more than usual in her words. I wondered if she was nervous. ‘And why can’t you say it in front of the others?’

  ‘You know perfectly well,’ said Florence. ‘Elizabeth. If she had told those secrets, she would have ruined us all. It was enough for any one of us to—’

  ‘To kill her?’ asked Una. ‘Ah, you’ve thought of that too. It’s certainly true. You think one of us did do it. But which? Or is this your confession?’

  She said it coolly, as though it hardly mattered, but I could feel shivers of tension run through the space between them.

  ‘Of course not! I’m innocent. But one of us isn’t.’

  ‘So why ask me here? It could be me. I might be the murderer. And then what would you do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Florence. ‘Because I won’t tell. And I know you won’t either. Because your secret isn’t just about you. It’s about your father – your whole family.’

  Una tensed. ‘Is this because of the Games?’ she asked. ‘Are you afraid that if my father is removed from the Party you’ll have no one to stay with in Berlin next summer?’

  ‘Don’t be slow,’ said Florence. ‘You know what I’m trying to say, more than any of the others would. No matter who is guilty, we can’t let on what we know, because if one of us falls, we all do. If it’s discovered that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident, all our secrets come out. Whoever did it would have no reason to keep them hidden any longer. You lose your family. I lose the Games.’ There was almost a sob in her voice as she said that. Florence, who had seemed so hard and strong! ‘You know, I don’t think Elizabeth ever really understood what our secrets meant. To her, they were just … ways in. It was the only way Elizabeth knew to be close to someone: by keeping their secrets. She didn’t see why we should be hurt by them. But you do, and that’s why I asked you here. You understand that more than anyone. We have to stick together and make sure what happened to Elizabeth officially stays an accident. Jones has been blamed for being careless about the rake, but that may not be enough.’

  ‘I know,’ said Una. ‘We must get hold of that book. Then we’ll be safe. And Elizabeth won’t matter.’

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ said Florence, fierce again.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Una. ‘I may have an idea about that. We shall see. And in the meantime, we don’t say anything about Elizabeth, or who might have done it. We keep the secret. We’re good at that, by now.’

  They shook hands. Then the airing-cupboard door opened once, twice, and we were alone again. I could feel Beanie shaking next to me, like a little dog, and I put my hand on her shoulder. Daisy and I might be arguing, but in the face of the astonishing things we had just heard, that hardly mattered. When you are a detective, some things are more important than yourself.

  1

  Beanie and I raced back to the dorm, but when we arrived, only Kitty and Lavinia were there. ‘Daisy’s gone,’ said Kitty. ‘She said she had to do something.’

  That ached, but I was not surprised. Of course Daisy would not be here. She was in another part of House, following her own leads. It was my punishment for what I had done. I thought about what Florence had said, that knowing secrets was the only way Elizabeth knew to be close to someone. And I thought I knew who else that sounded like.

  ‘But just listen to what we heard!’ said Beanie. In a flood of words, she poured out what we had seen.

  ‘But do you really think they were telling the truth?’ asked Kitty.

  I nodded. I did not want to detect, not at all, but I had to hold myself together. ‘I don’t see why they wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘What Florence said about the Games next summer – that’s the Olympics, of course. And when we put that together with what Beanie saw, I think she really is ill, and hiding it because she wants to go to Berlin.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Kitty. ‘Why, of course! You know, my cousin knew someone who had something wrong with her heart, and she’d pant after she went up the stairs.’

  ‘Ooh!’ said Beanie. ‘Yes! That’s just like what I saw. Oh, poor Florence! Imagine!’

  Despite myself, I began to feel excited. ‘And Una—’ I said.

  ‘Una’s is about her father and the Nazis!’ said Beanie.

  I thought about some of the things I had learned this summer on the Orient Express, and what Miss Lappet had said to Una.

  ‘What if Una’s father is secretly Jewish?’ I asked. ‘Or someone in her family is? If the Nazis found out, he’d have to leave the Party. Her family might even have to leave Germany. That would fit, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Beanie. ‘Oh, poor Una!’

  ‘Beanie, stop feeling sorry for everyone!’ said Lavinia. ‘One of them’s a murderer, remember?’

  ‘Even murderers are people,’ said Beanie. ‘And they both said they didn’t do it.’

  ‘You can’t just believe them, Beans!’ said Kitty. ‘But we can write both motives down on our suspect list now, can’t we?’

  ‘We do still have to make sure we’re right,’ I said. ‘We need to get proper evidence. A conversation, even that one, isn’t enough.’

  ‘Do you think Daisy will still let you—’ Kitty began. There was a very still, uncomfortable silence.

  ‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘I’ll write them down anyway. The suspect list needs to be updated.’

  I hoped they could not see my hands shaking.

  The bell for the end of lunch rang. ‘Ugh!’ groaned Lavinia. ‘Games!’

  Kitty looked at me. ‘Games,’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Didn’t you say we needed to look for clues?’

  I could feel my heart speeding up. Although Games meant facing Daisy for t
he first time after our argument, it also provided the perfect opportunity to hunt for clues at the scene of the crime. I realized that I was actually looking forward to getting onto a sports field.

  2

  It was a cold, wet English day outside. The trees on the sports field stood up ghostily out of the mist at the edges of the pitch, moisture shivering off them onto the grass in heavy patters.

  It was strange to step through the gates and see the field again, the grass hardly even showing a mark of all the feet that had crossed it on Tuesday evening. Except there, between the lines of the hockey pitch and the pavilion, and showing up horridly darkly against the silver-green ground, were the remains of the bonfire, and close to that was the spot we all knew to avoid, the place where Elizabeth Hurst had fallen on Tuesday night. The rain had made all the blood wash away. There would be no clues there.

  The changing room in the pavilion was subdued. Even Clementine was dampened, and Beanie whimpered as she pulled on her games knickers. I felt like whimpering too, from the cold and the upset in my chest. Daisy kept glaring at me, but not speaking to me. I knew that I had been the one to slap her – but she had been so awful to me. How were we to make it up this time, and if we could not, what would it do to the case? I had not yet told Daisy about what Beanie and I had overheard, and I did not know where she had gone at lunch. Neither of us had ever solved a case without each other before. How were we to deduce the answer to this one without sharing all the information that we needed?

  ‘Buck up, Beans,’ said Daisy, with one more flick of her eyes at me, and she put her chin up and marched out onto the pitch. Beanie, Kitty and Lavinia all looked from me to Daisy, unsure what to do. Then, of course, they followed her. ‘Sorry, Hazel,’ Beanie whispered to me as she went.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said stupidly, stumbling after them. But I did not mean it.

  Third and fourth formers take Games together on Thursday afternoons, and when we arrived outside again, most of the third form was already waiting, Binny Freebody in the lead. She smirked at Kitty, and Kitty glared at her and muttered about impertinent little sisters.

  ‘I heard that,’ said Binny, scowling. ‘And see here, Kitty Freebody, you may think you’re so grown up, and you and your friends know everything. But you don’t. You’re just as in the dark as anyone, all you bigger girls. You’ll see. There are things about this school that only we younger years know, isn’t that right?’

  All her friends shifted about and nodded, although I saw little Martha Grey blush. Once again, I had the feeling of power shifting. The third formers ought to be afraid of us fourth formers, but now it was us who stepped back from them. Sophie Croke-Finchley clutched her hockey stick protectively, and Rose Pritchett looked pale.

  Kitty, though, snorted. ‘You are quite the worst little sister imaginable,’ she said. ‘If only someone would bump you off next!’

  ‘Ooh!’ said Binny with relish. ‘That’s a horrid thing to say. Don’t let a mistress hear you talking like that!’

  Just then Miss Talent, the games mistress, strode up, glaring and tugging at the whistle on a string around her neck. ‘Form up into teams, girls!’ she barked. ‘You! You! You! And you! You’re one team, and the rest of you are the other. Stop groaning! You! Fetch the hockey sticks. You’ll have to get out one of the spares – there’s been one missing since yesterday. Hurry up, we don’t have all day! Now come back here and jog. Go! Down to the end of the field and back. And don’t look so lumpish! At the double, girls, quick!’

  I never thought I would miss Miss Hopkins, our old games mistress, but, well, life is surprising. Miss Talent’s Scottish barks followed us down the field as we ran on our warm-up lap, cross about that missing hockey stick. She seemed half convinced that the third formers had hidden it – which, I thought, they probably had. My neck was warm and the chilly air clung to my arms and legs, making me feel uncomfortably hot and uncomfortably damp and short of breath, even in the cold. I watched Daisy lope away at the front of the pack, Kitty just behind her, and was resentful.

  By the time we began the hockey game proper, I was already wheezing. Lavinia and I hovered back in our usual spot in defence (the little third former Alma was in goal, looking very nervous behind her padding). Binny and her friends had all managed to get themselves on our team, with Clementine, while Kitty, Daisy and Beanie were on the other. I could see from Kitty’s face that she was still cross with Binny, and even before they clashed sticks and began, I knew it would not be a friendly match at all. Kitty had her teeth set, and she began to make great lunges forward, passing back and forth with Daisy, leaping high over attacking sticks and almost bowling Clementine over as she went.

  Daisy came down the field towards me, and dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. She looked so determined. How could I stop her? I readied myself, stick out – and she whisked round me as though I was not even there, putting the ball neatly in the back of the goal. She had not even met my eye.

  But then Kitty began to exhibit some very odd behaviour indeed. She pelted down the field towards Lavinia and me again, and I readied myself for another awful steamrolling. But then, instead of passing sideways to Daisy, she seemed to stumble, and the ball went flying to the left to land in the long grass under the trees.

  Lavinia grumbled, and went lumping off to fetch it, coming back a few minutes later with her legs and games socks covered with leaves. It made me think of something … I almost remembered it … but then it was gone as Miss Talent shouted at us.

  ‘Hit it, Temple! Good grief, girl, hit the ball! Have you learned nothing in four years?’

  Lavinia managed a weak, resentful hit, glaring hotly at Miss Talent as she did so, and the ball was back in play. But only a few minutes later, Kitty came pelting at us once again, and the same thing happened. Off the ball flew, thunking against a tree trunk this time and dropping out of sight.

  ‘FREEBODY MAJOR, BADLY PLAYED!’ roared Miss Talent. ‘Wong, fetch it now!’

  I sighed. I did not at all want to go digging about in the mould at the bottom of the trees, but the key to surviving Games is to seem vaguely willing, and anyway, it was better than facing Daisy again. So off I went at a stumbling jog (I have perfected this – you appear to be making an effort, when really you are moving no quicker than walking) after the ball.

  3

  Kitty really had hit the ball hard. At first I could not find it. I stared about, disgusted at the thought of digging my fingers into the black bits of leaf and the wet leaning grasses.

  ‘HURRY UP, WONG!’ roared Miss Talent behind me. ‘Ach, Wells, fetch a new ball! We can’t wait!’

  Then I saw the ball, tucked under a bramble just where its thorns would bite my fingers trying to pull it out. I stepped forward to get it, but at that moment, most luckily, I realized what was really going on. I was not supposed to find this ball straight away. Kitty is an excellent shot, and so she must have sent it deep under this bush on purpose. And I saw her reasoning. There might be a clue here. We had heard that rumour from Martha about someone rushing towards the trees at the edge of the field, just before the fireworks went off. Kitty was giving me an opportunity to see if it was true, and if it was connected in any way with Elizabeth’s death. It was an excellent piece of detective work on her part.

  So I crouched down, as though I was still hunting for the ball, and began to work my way across the ground. I still did not want to touch the wet leaves, so I took up a twig and poked my way into hollows and lumps of grass. Raindrops fell on the back of my neck, making me shiver, and I kept glancing across at the game. I could tell that Kitty was doing her best to distract Miss Talent while I worked, and that Beanie and Lavinia were helping her. Then Daisy suddenly made a most impressive play, and scored a goal. She went into an enthusiastic victory dance with Kitty, and Miss Talent grumbled and tried to break them apart. My heart did its own strange dance in my chest. Had Daisy noticed what I was doing? Was she trying to help as well?

  But then she did
glance my way with a most bitter glare, and I realized I must have been mistaken. I looked down quickly, my heart thumping, and kept on searching.

  I found a pair of games knickers, and a sock, waterlogged and fading. A Fry’s chocolate wrapper (no chocolate inside). And then I saw something else that made my heart race. It was a hairclip, a pretty silver one with a delicate filigree flower. It looked clean, only a very few leaves covering it. It could not have been here long. This was contraband, not regulation at all. Very few girls could get away with it without a mistress ordering them to remove it.

  But a prefect could.

  4

  ‘HURRY UP IN THERE, WONG!’ bellowed Miss Talent, and of course I had to jerk upright, clutching the ball in one hand and tucking the clip into my games knickers with the other. I came galloping back onto the field rather awkwardly, as the clip burrowed down and dug determinedly into the top of my leg, and nodded at Kitty. I wanted to tell her that I had at last found a clue.

  She must have understood my meaning, for she waved her stick at me, and so the message passed between the members of the Detective Society. I saw Daisy raise her hand – it might have been to me, or it might have been to tuck a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear – and then the game continued. I felt broken by what had happened between us. It was truly dreadful, to be fighting with someone who ought to be your friend and to be hiding things from them. In a way, I was almost glad that she knew about Alexander … at least I was no longer lying.

  I wondered if this was how the murderer felt, how all the Five were feeling. And I had a rush of pity. It hurts to do bad things, even the small sort of bad things that I have done. I have been part of investigating four murders now, and I am just as sure as I ever was that murder is never worth it. It does not make you happier, or better. It only tears you apart.