Jolly Foul Play: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery

by Stevens, Robin

  ‘What do you want?’ Astrid asked.

  ‘Why should I want anything?’ said Margaret, her voice so loud that I could hear it quite easily, although I stayed a careful ten paces behind her. ‘I only— See here, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ said Astrid sourly. ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘See here,’ said Margaret again. ‘I – I wanted to say that on Tuesday night—’

  At that moment, up came Lettice. Lavinia was lurking behind her. She was making a botch of it. She was much too far away to hear anything, halfway down the corridor, picking at her nails and yawning.

  Margaret caught sight of Lettice and froze. ‘I meant what I told you then,’ she said loudly. Her mood had changed as abruptly as if she had flicked a switch. ‘Your hair does look utterly fake.’

  Astrid gasped, her face crumpling. ‘Oh!’ she choked out, and then she turned and hurried away, almost at a run. Lettice nodded at Margaret, but although Margaret nodded back, her face was stiff.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ said Lettice.

  ‘Don’t!’ said Margaret miserably, and I was more sure than ever that she would have said something quite different if Lettice had not arrived. I thought of what we had seen on the night of the murder. Margaret had seemed to be going out of her way to be nasty to Astrid then, and she was doing it again now, but at the same time I felt that she did not really dislike her at all.

  The bell for lessons rang, and I had to hurry not to be late to Latin.

  9

  That morning, lessons happened like pauses in a sentence when it is spoken aloud. Most of what I remember of it I spent lurking about at the bottom of the stairs to Big Girls’ Wing, pretending not to see Lavinia and Kitty and Beanie as I was doing so, and trying not to catch Beanie’s eye as she grinned and wriggled at me. I barely saw Daisy – she is annoyingly good at this part of detection, while I really do dislike tailing people. It is such a bother. This mission was even more frustrating than usual. The Five are Big Girls, and that meant, under Deepdean rules, that they could go places that a fourth former simply cannot. There was so much that I knew I was missing that it made my teeth clench.

  But despite the fact that I struggled to overhear anything really useful, what I saw was almost more important. The Five were skirting around each other, tense and mistrustful, but all the same they kept on coming back to each other. The loss of Elizabeth had stuck their group together with the most awful glue. They were all suspecting one another, and unable to say it. That made them hate each other, but need each other more than ever.

  I saw Enid hiss something in Lettice’s ear that made her blanch and rush away. I saw Una mutter something to Florence that made Margaret, overhearing, blush bright red with rage. They could not seem to leave each other alone.

  And although I was looking at the Five, I was also seeing us – Kitty and Beanie and Lavinia and Daisy and me. I saw the way Kitty and Beanie have their own slightly private language and the way Lavinia is jealous of it, although she hides it beneath her general crossness. I saw that Kitty and Lavinia both want Daisy to notice them, and fight for it (while Beanie simply assumes that Daisy will not notice her, and has taught herself not to mind). And once again I saw the odd new way in which Daisy was looking at me, as though she had something on her mind that she could not say out loud. This case, it seemed to me, was becoming as much about us as about the Five.

  At bunbreak we convened on the North Lawn, munching our Chelsea buns. ‘All right, Detectives,’ said Daisy. ‘What have you discovered? And if you didn’t see anything, you weren’t looking properly.’

  ‘I did,’ said Kitty. ‘Or, well, I think I may have done. Una’s in a terrible pet. She hates that the younger girls aren’t being respectful. She tried to give some third formers detention, but they ignored her. Then, after Latin, there was something else. Miss Lappet came to talk to Una. She had today’s Times under her arm, she must have just read it. “These new laws of Herr Hitler’s,” she said. “Very tidy – no room for doubt now, is there? Your father must be pleased, Miss Dichmann.”’

  ‘What laws?’ whispered Beanie.

  ‘About Jewish people,’ I whispered back. Since this summer, I have become rather interested in Europe, and what is going on in Germany in particular, although not because I like it. Hearing about it gives me a sick feeling, but all the same I cannot look away. ‘In Germany, there are lots of things you can’t do any more if you’re Jewish, and Hitler and the Nazis are making a special list of all the Jewish people, so there won’t be any mistake about who can do things and who can’t.’

  ‘That isn’t very nice,’ said Beanie, frowning. ‘Are you sure? Why would anyone do that?’

  I did not know how to answer that, so I only shrugged.

  ‘So? Why does any of this matter?’ asked Lavinia.

  ‘Because Una looked ill to death,’ said Kitty. ‘And I thought … well, that might be important. You know her father’s something high up in Hitler’s government? She usually boasts about him, but she didn’t today. And I thought that might be important.’

  ‘Oh! Remember what that fifth former said, that Elizabeth was speaking to Una about her father on Tuesday night?’ I said. ‘What if Una’s secret is about her father and the Nazis? What if he’s not as close to them as he pretends to be?’

  Kitty looked pleased. ‘That’s what I think,’ she said. ‘It fits – and, oh, if you’d seen Una’s face! She was terrified.’

  Daisy clapped her on the back. ‘Assistant Freebody, this is excellent work!’ she said. ‘Well done. Now, who else?’

  We all hesitated. It was difficult to follow that.

  ‘Lettice isn’t eating,’ said Lavinia. ‘I stole her bun just now, and she didn’t even notice.’ She held it up to show us.

  ‘Yes, well, she never eats, does she?’ said Kitty. ‘But that’s not a secret.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she get hungry?’ asked Beanie. ‘I’ve always wondered. She’s so thin …’

  Kitty put her arm around her. ‘Oh, Beanie,’ she said.

  ‘She’s looking for paper too,’ Lavinia went on. ‘She’s pouncing on any bits of paper she finds, and then, when none of them are secrets, she looks as though she doesn’t know whether to be pleased or even more afraid. The only time she stopped hunting was to have a boring conversation about some dress she’s having made.’

  ‘Some dress!’ said Kitty. ‘That isn’t some dress. You mean her coming-out gown, for her presentation at Court in January. I’ve heard about that. She’s having it made specially in London, by the same dressmaker who dresses the Queen. It’ll be peach satin, with a bow, and—’

  ‘Yawn,’ said Lavinia rudely.

  ‘It’s what I heard!’ said Kitty defiantly. ‘I’m only reporting it. She even went to finishing school in Switzerland this summer, Lausanne, I think, to prepare for the ball properly.’

  ‘If I have to hear any more about that dress I shall be sick,’ said Lavinia, stuffing bits of her stolen bun into her mouth. ‘She talked about it with three different people. The same conversation! And nothing about her secret at all.’

  ‘Beanie?’ asked Daisy, raising her eyebrow. I could tell that she was not impressed with Lavinia’s detective skills.

  ‘Florence is very quick,’ said Beanie, flushing. ‘I didn’t quite— Sometimes I couldn’t—’

  ‘Admit it, you couldn’t keep up with her,’ said Lavinia.

  ‘No!’ said Beanie. ‘I mean … I did sometimes. I know she rushes about all over the school like a mad thing when there are other people about, but when she’s alone, she breathes.’

  ‘She breathes?’ said Daisy and Kitty together.

  ‘She breathes,’ repeated Beanie. ‘Stops and breathes. Like this.’ She put her hand on her chest and blew out her cheeks, leaning sideways against Kitty.

  ‘Whatever are you doing?’ asked Kitty sceptically. Daisy was watching her with narrowed eyes. I could almost see her thinking.

  ‘I d
on’t know!’ said Beanie. ‘That’s what she did. It was as though she wasn’t feeling well. But the rest of the time she was striding about like anything and shouting at people about top buttons and detentions and things, so perhaps I misunderstood.’

  ‘Humph!’ said Daisy. ‘That is interesting. What if Florence really isn’t well? This – it may be important. Now, Hazel, you’ve been quiet. What did you discover?’

  ‘Er,’ I said. ‘Margaret … I think there’s something going on between her and Astrid. They met in the corridor, and they were speaking about Tuesday evening, but as soon as Lettice arrived, they stopped.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Daisy, ears pricked. ‘Lavinia, why didn’t you mention it?’

  ‘I didn’t see it,’ said Lavinia, sighing. ‘Anyway, Hazel’s told you now.’

  ‘It was strange,’ I said. ‘Margaret was being quite nice to Astrid, but then, as soon as she saw Lettice, she said something horrid to her, and Astrid ran away. It was rather like what happened on Tuesday, actually.’

  ‘Interesting!’ said Daisy. ‘Very interesting. Now, shall I tell you what I saw Enid do?’

  ‘Work?’ asked Lavinia sarcastically. ‘Like she always does?’

  ‘She was trying to work,’ said Daisy. ‘But she was terribly distracted. She kept darting in and out of rooms, and while Miss Lappet was busy talking to Una she went into the History room for almost five minutes. When she came out she looked dreadfully guilty.’

  ‘So?’ asked Lavinia again.

  ‘So,’ said Daisy, ‘it’s interesting, that’s all. Perhaps she’s looking for the Scandal Book as well – but if she is, she’s being very careful not to show the others.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said, remembering something. ‘The Big Girls have an important History test next week. I heard Enid mention it before Prep yesterday.’

  ‘Watson!’ gasped Daisy. ‘You genius! Why – this could be the link. What if Enid wasn’t looking for the Scandal Book? What if she was hunting for Miss Lappet’s test paper?’

  ‘You mean, you think she might be cheating?’ whispered Beanie.

  Daisy nodded, cheeks flushed. ‘It does fit!’ she said. ‘Imagine! A cheat, at Deepdean. A cheat, cheating her way to university! Why, it’s dreadful.’

  There is a funny thing I have noticed, about the English and cheating. When you cheat in England, it becomes more than just the fact of cheating, it becomes part of who you are.

  ‘But you can’t know it’s true, not unless you catch her at it!’ said Kitty. ‘We’re only guessing, really.’

  ‘Kitty’s right,’ said Lavinia. ‘You’re just making things up. Is detecting always like this?’

  ‘We aren’t guessing,’ said Daisy crossly. ‘We’re theorizing. And we have four theories: that Enid is a cheat; that Una’s father is not as close to the Nazis as she has been saying; that Margaret and Astrid have some sort of secret together; and that there is something wrong with Florence’s health. Now all we have to do is prove our theories right, and to do that we need to search the Five’s dorm, like I said. We must do it as soon as possible. The only suspect we haven’t made headway on is Lettice, and so it’s especially important that we search her dorm area. You never know what clues we may find.’

  The bell for the end of bunbreak rang then. We were further along with the case, closer and closer to the Five’s secrets. As we pushed through the throng into Library corridor, I was already composing another letter in my head. I turned and looked at Daisy, expecting to see her smiling at me – but instead I caught her giving me a very sharp stare. My stomach sank. I had thought that Daisy and I were all right again after this morning, but it did not seem to be true. And if we were not, I could guess why.

  10

  All the rest of that morning, I kept on getting the most unpleasant creeping feeling, as though all the air was being let out of me, as though I had made a horrid mistake that I could not put right. Could Daisy really know about Alexander’s letters? And if so, could she really hate me for it? Surely not. But then, I had the evidence of my own eyes. Something was wrong with her.

  It did not help that another secret had come out. This had been found lying on the path to House, by the third former Alma Collingwood, and it was the most scandalous one yet.

  ‘Emmeline Moss killed her twin!’ gasped Kitty. ‘Apparently it was when they were very young. They were both standing next to a pond, and Emmeline pushed her in, and she drowned.’

  ‘Oh!’ cried Beanie, eyes welling up. ‘Oh, how awful! It can’t be true! It must be a mistake.’

  ‘That’s what the secret said!’ said Kitty.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be a fact!’ I said. ‘Some of the secrets in the book are lies. You know there’s that one about my father!’

  Kitty looked rather guilty. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I forgot – well, I suppose they’re not all true. But most of them are.’

  We stepped through the front door of House. The smell of steak and kidney pudding gusted about us, but for once it made me feel ill, rather than hungry.

  At that moment Emmeline Moss herself, a fifth former with dark hair and a thin face, came pushing past us out of the door. She had tears in her eyes. Someone in the hallway laughed, a nasty sound, and everyone else turned to look at the door, and us. I felt again how horrid gossip could be, whether or not there was truth to it. It would be impossible to see Emmeline from now on, and not think of her twin, and wonder whether it had been an accident.

  ‘Ooh, the post’s been!’ said Beanie. I turned to look at our pigeonholes, and I saw Daisy’s head snap round as well. There was a letter for Kitty, and one for Clementine, and … one for me, in the handwriting I knew very well.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Daisy coolly, from behind me.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, feeling myself flush scarlet. ‘Let’s go to lunch.’

  ‘But you’ve got a letter,’ said Beanie. ‘Look!’

  I froze. ‘It’s from my cousin,’ I said. I was suddenly tingling all over.

  ‘Hazel Wong, you haven’t got a cousin,’ said Daisy. And she reached forward and picked up Alexander’s letter by its edge, dangling it between her fingers. ‘So who could this be from?’

  I felt my face going red. ‘I do!’ I said, following her as she walked through the doorway into the Dining Room and fighting not to snatch the letter away from her. ‘You just don’t know about her.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ said Daisy, and little pink spots appeared at the tops of her cheeks. ‘You know it isn’t. And I can tell when you lie.’

  ‘I am not lying!’ I said, and my own cheeks were burning again.

  ‘Yes you are,’ hissed Daisy, sitting down in her seat at the table, just too far away for me to be able to reach for her. ‘I know you, Hazel Wong, I know you inside out, and I know what you’ve been doing.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ I said, my stomach churning.

  The whole table was watching us now. I hated the eager look on Clementine’s face. I could feel a new story starting, more gossip about me, and it would all be Daisy’s fault.

  ‘Of course I do! You’ve been writing to a boy, Hazel Wong! You’ve been doing it all term, and you thought I wouldn’t notice!’ She lowered her voice. ‘Just tell me you haven’t told him about the case,’ she hissed. ‘You haven’t, have you?’

  I felt dizzy and thin, as though I was hovering somewhere above all our heads like one of the ghosts we used to try to summon with our Ouija-board rituals. This could not be happening. ‘I—’ I said. ‘But … he’s a detective too, you know that, I was just—’

  Daisy went white. ‘You broke the Detective Society pledge!’ she hissed. ‘How could you? You … enemy!’

  ‘No,’ I said, the words stumbling out of my mouth. ‘Daisy—’

  ‘And the worst part is,’ said Daisy at last, very quietly, although I could see every movement her mouth made, ‘that he doesn’t even like you like that, Hazel.’

  I slapped her. My hand moved on its own, as though we
were two parts of a magnet. I heard the crack of it, then Beanie’s wail. Daisy did not make a noise.

  The whole Dining Room gaped, and then Florence stood up from the end of our table. She shouted, ‘Stop that at ONCE! Wells! Wong!’ Then she put her hand on her chest, and I saw what Beanie had meant about her breathing. Her face looked pale, and I could believe at that moment that she really was ill.

  But I could hardly think about that. The dizzy feeling was worse than ever, and I got up, snatched the letter from where Daisy had dropped it on the table, and rushed out of lunch into the corridor. I raced up the stairs – someone shouted after me, but I ignored them – and before I knew it I was in the airing cupboard where once Daisy and I had held our first ever Detective Society meeting. I crawled into the very lowest space, among the crackling fresh sheets that smelled of starch and coolness. We keep a spare torch there, and I dug it out and clutched it, and my letter, and this casebook. How could I have done that to Daisy? How could she have done that to me?

  I tore open Alexander’s letter, heated it against the torch, my fingers shaking, and read.

  11

  Weston School, Wednesday 6th November, evening

  Dear Hazel,

  Really? A murder at Deepdean? Murder does follow both of you around. Of course, if you think it was murder, then I believe you. George and I agree that it could not have been Jones, and so he must have been framed by one of the prefects. No one else could have done it, it’s so neat, really, perfect, except that it’s going to be terribly hard to narrow them down any further. Do any of them have alibis? Do you know their motives? I suppose clues will be particularly important in this case. Have you been able to go back to the scene of the crime yet? I wish we were on the spot with you. Listen to gossip as well. You never know who may have seen something important. What does Daisy always say? Constant vigilance. Good luck, and keep us up to date. I wrote this as quick as I could and sent it by return of post.

  Alexander

  I crumpled the page against my knee. It was exactly what I had wanted to read – Alexander must have read my first letter yesterday afternoon, and replied immediately by the second post – but all the same, it had been the cause of the most terrible rift between me and Daisy. Her words floated back through my head: he doesn’t even like you like that, Hazel. It made me furious. Alexander and I were friends, that was all. Why did Daisy have to be so cruel and twist it into something awful?