The Top Secret Diary of Davina Dupree

by S. K. Sheridan

  ‘Wowzers!’ Moira shouted when she and Lynne came galloping in. The room was alive with brightly coloured canvases and finally looked how an art room should. I felt a stab of pride for my fellow first years, they’d done themselves proud.

  ‘These lot are brilliant, Davina. Which one is yours?’ Moira asked.

  ‘That one over there,’ I said, pointing to one in the corner and going red at the same time. Moira’s mouth fell open.

  ‘The one that looks like the inside of an art gallery, with the rows and rows of paintings in gold frames all over the walls?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, aware that Pike and Croaka had come to stand next to me, very close indeed.

  ‘But what’s that in the corner of it, is it a person?’ Moira asked, leaning forwards to see.

  ‘It’s an art thief.’ Her sister Lynne announced. ‘Look, he’s wearing a balaclava with just his eyes showing and Davina’s set the painting at night time because you can see the moon and stars through the window. Isn’t that right, Davina?’

  ‘Erm, yes.’ I was hardly able to get the words out now that Croaka and Pike were so close. I was finding it difficult to breath. To be honest, I was rather proud of my painting - it showed how I imagined Egmont’s art exhibition would look inside the National Gallery of Art and Design. I’d been to a few galleries before and they were all very grand, with enormous paintings in gold and silver frames hung round velvet curtained windows. In my painting, the gallery walls were a deep red colour which went together nicely with the gold frames. I’d copied the first years’ actual paintings inside the frames, so that Rochelle’s glittery flower was hung next to the secret garden picture, and Ashvini’s ocean painting hung next to Zoe’s bold pattern. And Lynne was right. I’d painted in a shifty looking art thief in the shadows, just about to steal a painting. You see, I thought if Pike and Croaka suspected that their plan was no longer a secret, it might just scare them in to calling off the whole thing. It was a bit of a risk, and one that had seemed like a better idea in the middle of the night when Pike and Croaka weren’t standing right next to me.

  ‘Look, the art thief’s bag is on the floor next to him,’ piped up Zoe, who was the nearest to my painting. ‘It’s full of the tools he’s going to take a painting off the wall with. It’s really good, Davina. I didn’t know you were so good at art.’

  ‘Urgh.’ I gurgled.

  ‘Yes Davina,’ mimicked Croaka. ‘I didn’t know you were so good at art either. Tell me,’ she said, bending down so that her giant slab of a face was level with mine, ‘what gave you the idea to paint that, very particular, piece of work?’

  ‘I-I-I wanted to see what you thought of it,’ I stammered.

  ‘You know something, don’t you Davina?’ Pike hissed in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Something that little girls have no business knowing.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about you,’ I said loudly, sounding braver than I felt. ‘I don’t know what you mean. What kind of thing d-d-do you think I know?’

  ‘It’s a very unusual painting that Davina has done, isn’t it Miss Croaka?’ Arabella asked, coming to my rescue. She hadn’t seen the finished painting until then, because she’d somehow been sleeping soundly on her desk when I’d finished it. I’d had to half guide, half carry her back to our room, just as the sun began to rise and the birds warmed up their voices. After staring at it with her mouth wide open after we first came in to the art room, then raising her eyebrows at me as though I was mad, I knew she got it. She understood that we had to try and crack Croaka and Pike’s plan in any possible way, even if it that way was a bit stupid and dangerous.

  ‘I mean, it clearly shows the Annual Egmont Art Show, but I’m wondering why Davina’s included a thief about to steal a painting…Do you think that sort of thing could ever really happen?’

  Croaka and Pike rounded on her, giving me a bit of breathing and thinking space. The rest of Sapphire class were all sitting up, looking interested and a bit worried. The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Even Cleo and Clarice were listening, hair brushes hanging from their hands.

  ‘You know something you shouldn’t too, don’t you girl?’ Pike squeaked loudly. ‘Right, that’s it. I’ve had just about enough of you meddling kids. Chris, it’s time for Plan B.’

  Arabella and I looked at each other in alarm. What was Plan B? We weren’t prepared for that one. But I noticed that the look on Croaka’s face had turned from anger to cunning. She turned back to me and stared with narrowed eyes, like a cat watching a mouse.

  ‘Hold your horses, Jacinta, dear. I rather think darlin’ Davina might have dealt us a new trick. Which I’ll explain to you after class,’ she said loudly before Pike could protest. Pike looked sulky but shut her mouth and stomped around the classroom in a bad mood for the rest of the lesson.

  As usual, they taught us nothing, so we just got on with what we liked, which in most cases was getting paintings ready for the Annual Egmont Art Show. Now that we’d found the helpful art books that Pike and Croaka had no doubt hidden, thinking them useless, we could teach ourselves.

  But I wasn’t having fun at all because Croaka stayed very close to me all lesson and I had a horrible feeling she wasn’t going to let me go at the end.

  I was right. After the rest of Sapphire class had filed out when the blast of Mozart played through the loud speaker (the sign that the lesson had ended), Croaka, who’d been guarding me like a Rottweiler with anger problems, slammed her fleshy hand on top of mine. I was thankful to see that Arabella was refusing to move, despite Pike trying to get her out of the door.

  ‘So, Dupree,’ Croaka growled. ‘It’s time to come clean. What’s your paintin’ about? You see, Miss Pike and I can’t help thinkin’ you might know about a little secret we have and if you do, it’s VERY important that you tell us. Because if you don’t… Well. Let’s just say, things could turn extremely unpleasant for you.’

  ‘Leave her alone, you big bully,’ Arabella was red in the face.

  ‘Stop her from talkin’, Jacinta.’ Croaka snarled. ‘It’s this one I want to hear from. Come on, don’t be shy Davina. We usually can’t shut you up. Why don’t you tell us why you painted a thief about to steal a painting. Talk us through what gave you that particular idea. Step by step, if you don’t mind.’

  I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to say anything as up until that point I hadn’t been sure what to say. I’d just wanted to shock the two of them a bit, give them a clue that we knew what they were up to just in case it scared them in to stopping. But that’s as far as my plan had ever got. But as I stared in to Croaka’s piggy little eyes, I felt an angry red mist arrive in my head.

  ‘Because,’ I said, ‘I don’t want YOU TWO stealing anything from the National Gallery of Art and Design when you’re supposed to be putting up OUR SCHOOL ART SHOW. I’m SICK of the rubbish art lessons you give, I’m sick of you being mean to everyone, but most of all I’m SICK of knowing that you two bullies are keeping the LOVELY art teachers who should be teaching us, Katie and Harriet, in a disgusting bunker near Little Pineham station, feeding them on old peelings. I wish you’d never come here because you’ve COMPLETELY RUINED MY FAVOURITE SUBJECT!’ I felt madder than I’d ever felt before and I couldn’t stop shaking. Pike, Croaka and Arabella were all staring at me with their mouths open. Arabella did not look happy.

  Croaka recovered herself quickly.

  ‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you a good, little detective, Davina Dupree. A proper superhero, in fact. You’ve even found yourself a trusty sidekick.’

  ‘Hey, who are you calling a sidekick?’ Arabella yelled. ‘We’re partners in solving crimes, aren’t we Davina?’

  ‘We certainly are,’ I said, giving my best friend a grin. Now that I’d had my say, my anger was beginning to flow away and in its place, I was sorry to find, was terror. ‘Anyway, it was great to have such an honest chat with you guys but if you’ll excuse us we have another lesson to go to. Mada
me De Guise gets mad if anyone is even a minute late.’

  ‘If you think you’re going anywhere after –‘ Pike began but Croaka laid a hand on her arm and said,

  ‘Of course Davina. You two run along to French and send our apologies to Madame De Guise. Just say you were helping us solve a little puzzle. We’ll be seeing a lot more of you later, I’m sure.’

  We got out of that classroom as fast as we possibly could, Diary, and I can tell you that I DEFINITELY did NOT like the crafty look in Croaka’s eyes as we left. We know she’s up to something but we can’t think what. Arabella says she’s surprised they let us out of that classroom at all after what I told them, (she’s not very pleased with me about that actually, says I’ve probably landed us both in a whole heap of trouble.)

  Anyway, Diary, I’ve got to go now because earlier Mrs Fairchild announced – over the school loud speaker system – that we were going to have a surprise assembly and it starts in fifteen minutes.

  Sunday, 29th September

  Help, Diary!

  It looks like Arabella was right, I have landed us both in a whole heap of trouble, as we found out during the surprise assembly…

  Basically, Mrs Fairchild told us – in between sit ups and squat jumps – that Pike and Croaka had gone to see her on Friday evening with a shocking announcement. They’d explained that the director of the National Gallery of Art and Design, Mr Cerise, had phoned them up straight after they’d taught Sapphire class and asked if the Annual Egmont Art Show could be moved from the 16th October to the 1st October, which is in two days time: this coming Tuesday.

  Arabella and I are both quite sure that Little and Large somehow managed to persuade Mr Cerise to change the date to the 1st October because of what I told them. They simply don’t want to be stopped from thieving loads of priceless paintings so they’re going to do whatever it takes to keep their plan going. I can’t help feeling surprised that so far they haven’t kidnapped Arabella and I and shoved us in Bunker 37 with Katie and Harriet. We are always looking over our shoulders to check they’re not behind us. Just in case. I have a nasty feeling about all this. Feelingverynervous.com.

  I’m walking around with you, Diary, tucked up my shirt, disguised with the optional school pink, glittery shawl. So far no one’s noticed. I’ve written information in you that I’m sure Pike and Croaka would love to read if they could get their hands on you. Also, I always have a pen stuck behind my ear, just in case I need to write anything.

  Things have got worse with the Clarice and Cleo situation. They’re so obsessed with dirtying our names that they’ve even gone to the trouble of forging some typed notes, apparently by us, that said rude things about our classmates. Hannah showed me one about her, looking very upset.

  ‘Did you really write this about me, Davina?’ She asked, handing me a bit of paper with typing on it. ‘Cleo said she saw it fall out of your bag and that she picked it up ready to give back to you, but when she read it she thought I had a right to know what you’re really like.’

  I read the note. It said, “Arabella, you were right about Hannah. She does have the biggest nose in the class, what a whopper! Love Davina.”

  ‘No I certainly did not write that.’ I said, very shocked. ‘I would never say anything horrible like that about you, Hannah. I think your nose is lovely. Cleo must have written it herself.’

  ‘Hmm, I can’t think of any reason she’d do that,’ Hannah said without smiling, before she walked away. Arabella said Moira and Lynne had showed her a similar note about them and said they weren’t going to vote for us after all because they’d realised we were two-faced. Things are going from bad to worse. I mean, how can people believe we would really write that kind of stuff?

  I have to go now Diary, I’m too jumpy to write any more and anyway, Arabella and I are holding a crisis meeting. Things are critical.com.

  Monday, 30th September

  OK, Diary, here’s the deal:

  This afternoon we were kidnapped and I’m not even joking. Arabella and I had just finished our SECOND crisis meeting under the hanging garden. No one was around which we’d expected as it was raining a bit and we’d just agreed that we needed to phone Carrie again, (she didn’t answer her home phone yesterday for some reason and she refuses to own a mobile one), and explain the new developments to her. We wanted to ask her to go straight to the police station, even if her friend Hugh Broderick was on holiday, and CONVINCE the police about the art robbery. If she didn’t answer again, we’d have to try and tell Arabella’s parents. Things had gone far enough.

  But we didn’t have time to do any of this. Just as we walked underneath a very long piece of ivy, two pairs of hands shot out from behind a pillar that holds part of the hanging garden in the air, and clamped themselves over both our mouths. We were then dragged backwards for what seemed like half an hour, our feet bumping over the wet grass, until we reached Croaka’s car. Pike opened one of the back doors and told us to climb in or there would be trouble. So we did, we honestly didn’t have much of a choice.

  I thought they’d take us to Bunker 37, but instead, Croaka drove for ages and ages with Pike next to her, while we rattled around in the back of her stinking car with no seat belts to protect us from her TERRIBLE driving. Around us, there was mouldy food stuck to the seats, old drink bottles rolling around on the floor and half a burger falling out of a plastic box between us that slopped on to me when she screamed round a corner. Honestly Diary, it smelt so disgusting I nearly threw up.

  Eventually we arrived somewhere – at first I didn’t have a clue where – in the dark. Croaka’s car clock said it was half eleven at night. They told us to get out, took Arabella’s iPhone out of her pocket and made sure I didn’t have one, then frog-marched us towards a large, modern looking building. (They didn’t find you, Diary, as no one thought of looking behind my shawl.) Most of its walls seemed to be made from shimmery glass and it was very wide.

  Anyway, with Croaka holding on to me and Pike clutching Arabella, we climbed up an enormous flight of steps at the front of the building towards a large, glassy door, lurching from side to side like a group of drunk old men.

  ‘I know what this place is,’ I whispered across to Arabella as I stared through the door. ‘I recognise it now, I’ve seen it in one of Carrie’s art books. It’s the National Gallery of Art and Design. They’ve got a painting of a field by Claude Monet, Carrie’s favourite artist, hanging in the entrance hall. Look.’

  ‘Well done, Detective Davina,’ Croaka sneered, grabbing my arm even tighter. ‘This is the National Gallery of Art and Design and for one night only, it belongs to me and Jacinta. It was easy to get the director, Mr Cerise, to move the date of the Annual Egmont Art Show. I just phoned him up and explained that Mrs Fairchild, the head at Egmont, was desperately ill with only a few weeks to live and really wanted to see one last art show before she died. Jacinta phoned him up separately, pretendin’ to be Mrs Fairchild’s doctor and confirmin’ everything I’d told him. He said, “Oh poor Mrs Fairchild, she’s always been such a great supporter of the arts,” and agreed at once. Easy as pie, when you know how.’

  ‘You’re not nice,’ Arabella said. ‘Fancy saying something like that about Mrs Fairchild. I hope she goes on living for one hundred more years at least.’

  ‘Quiet, you little worm,’ Pike snapped.

  ‘You do realise,’ I said. ‘That when Mrs Honeysuckle our housemistress comes round to check we’re all in bed, she’ll realise we’re not there and call the police.’

  ‘You do realise,’ mimicked Croaka. ‘That we’ve already told Mrs Fairchild you were both very keen to help us put up the art display at the National Gallery, bein’ such incredibly arty pupils. They’re not expectin’ you back at Egmont until late tomorrow evenin’ and by then it’ll be too late.’ I swear she let out a real cackle at that point.

  ‘Too late for what?’ Arabella asked.

  ‘Oh, you’ll find out.’ Pike jeered.

  By then we were a
ll soaked by the splattering rain. Croaka took a pearly white card with numbers all over it out of her pocket and slipped it through a device on the glassy door. Something inside the door clicked and it slid open.

  ‘Kind Mr Cerise gave it to me earlier,’ she said boastfully, flicking a load of light switches then pushing me forwards. ‘We had to drive all the bloomin’ rubbish over this morning that you kids have been painting – Mrs Fairchild was watchin’ us load it all in to my car or we wouldn’t ‘ave bothered – and he gave it to me then. Said all the gallery staff would be out of our way by this evening so we could get on with the time honoured tradition of putting up the Egmont Show. As if.’ Croaka and Pike looked at each other and sniggered.

  They marched us through the entrance hall, past the golden field of poppies by Monet, then down corridor after corridor, past a few famous paintings I recognised and loads that I didn’t, until we got to a door that had a yellow and blue sign on it.

  ‘Cleaning cupboard,’ Arabella whispered.

  Croaka used her pearly white magic card to unlock the cupboard door. Then they pushed us inside, a little bit harder than necessary in my opinion, then slammed the door shut. We heard their horrible laughter fade in to the distance as they went off to steal paintings.

  It was pitch black.

  ‘Right. Let’s get out of here,’ came Arabella’s strong voice. I could feel her stand up and stumble around.

  ‘Aha, I’ve found the light switch,’ she said, flicking it on. I looked around.

  We were squashed amongst vacuum cleaners, bottles of cleaning stuff and brooms. There were lots of shelves above our heads, piled with spray cans and dusters. There was an inside door handle and I tried it with all my strength, but as expected, it was firmly locked.

  ‘Now what are we supposed to do?’ Arabella said crossly. She kicked a pile of crumpled boxes that were in front of her and they tumbled over. Things spilled out everywhere and soon I was surrounded by old sponges, cloths and dusters. I noticed something shimmering under a cloth and leaned forward to pick it up.