‘J-Jed, you haven’t,’ spluttered Bryony. ‘Your gramps didn’t bring . . . thingy?!’
‘Gnawsy! Yep, sure did!’ beamed Jed. ‘I knew Henry would bail so Gnawsy’s all set to save the play!’
Jed plunged his hand into his jacket pocket and scooped out the massive grey rat. It was gnawing at, what looked like, a giant chocolate button.
Piggy, who was standing beside Bryony, luckily hadn’t seen the rat. Bryony needed to keep it that way too. Who knew what Piggy would do if he actually did!
‘Jed – no!’ whispered Bryony. ‘You absolutely cannot put that rat on stage.’
Jed grinned. ‘You worry too much, you do. He’s a cute pet rat, not a dinosaur.’ And placing Gnawsy down on the floor, ‘Go find Cinderella!’ he said.
Bryony so wanted to do something, but it was like she was in a trance. The actor rat had chickenpox, so the real rat (who ate chocolate buttons?) was about to make his stage debut. Really! This could only happen in Brook Dale!
She swallowed hard. ‘Jed, no,’ she pleaded. But the rat was already away! Bryony could see his fat pink tail whipping the floor as he scurried out into the spotlight.
The rest was a blur. A horrible blur. Fairy Godmother screamed. The audience gasped. And Bryony bolted onto the stage.
‘Gnawsy – come back here!’ she cried. But Gnawsy was not inclined to listen. He was running about left, right and centre – loving it!
Fairy Godmother promptly scarpered, as did all the white mice. Georgina, furious that Bryony had appeared, now marched away to strop in the pumpkin patch as Will bounded over to try and help Bryony catch Gnawsy.
Bryony looked around.
‘But where IS the rat?’ she cried. She couldn’t see him anywhere.
‘Left!’ roared the audience.
‘Left . . . left . . . right!’
‘HE’S BEHIND YOU!!’
Suddenly there was an ear-splitting shriek and Bryony looked behind her. Gnawsy was dangling from the hem of Georgina’s dress.
‘Argghhhhh!!’
Georgina was properly pink in the face. She peered through the spotlights seeking out her parents, who were sitting in the front row (naturally).
‘Daddy!’ shrieked Georgina. ‘It’s chewing my dress!’
‘We’re coming, Georgie darling!’ Her parents leaped off their seats and hurried towards the stage.
In a whim Georgina started spinning around, trying to whoosh off the rat. Bryony and Will began dashing round after her.
‘Stop!’ yelled Bryony.
‘Yeah, Cinders.’ Jed marched up. ‘You’ll make him sick with all that spinning!’
‘Never mind him!’ Georgina shrieked back. ‘This is meant to be my moment! How dare he muscle in! I’m meant to be getting my ball gown!’
Georgina’s parents were now up on stage too and getting in the way. Then Bryony suddenly saw a spinning grey hairball fly through the air into the audience. Georgina had done it. She’d managed to fling Gnawsy off!
‘But look, Bry!’ cried Will. The cat had seen it too and had sprung off the stage in pursuit.
‘He’d better not eat Gnawsy!’ Jed glowered at Bryony.
‘Well, catch your rat then,’ Bryony hissed back, ‘before Berry does!’
The audience had now turned decidedly twitchy.
‘Eeeekkkk!’ shrieked a teenager in the front row. She leaped up and her popcorn flew everywhere.
Bryony jumped off the stage, Jed hot on her heels, while Georgina fumed to her parents.
‘Daddy! Make them start that scene again!’
‘Pettifour! Where are you?!’ Mr Brook bellowed. ‘This play is turning into a JOKE!’
But it would be no joke, Bryony thought, if Berry did catch Gnawsy. Although she didn’t exactly like Jed’s ‘pet’, she couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to anything.
People were flapping and fidgeting now. A group of small children had started to scream and one couple were even standing on their chairs! This, thought Bryony, was all getting way out of hand.
Blueberry wasn’t giving up either. As Bryony searched for the rat, on hands and knees, she occasionally caught sight of a fluffy grey tail as her cat did exactly the same!
And then she saw it: a fat pink tail whipping about like a great monster worm! Bryony froze mid-crawl.
‘Gnawsy . . .’ she gulped under her breath. He was three rows from the front, and a couple of seats in, sitting on a hat on the floor. There were several pairs of feet around him but he was definitely within diving-for distance. If Bryony dared . . .
She swallowed hard. Catch Gnawsy now and it wasn’t too late to finish the play. The play the entire town had worked so hard on. But she didn’t like rats. She’d never liked rats. They made her go all wobbly.
Gnawsy’s back was to her and he was panting for breath. He hadn’t seen her, which was good. She had to keep it like that or he’d be off again.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Bryony knew it was all down to her. So, counting to three in her head – she dived for him!
As she flew through the air Bryony really hoped that the rat wouldn’t gnaw her when caught. But he was called ‘Gnawsy’ after all, so the clue – very probably – was in the name.
Suddenly she was there. There was no going back. And her fingers closed around his body. She had him. Gnawsy was firmly in her grip. She’d done it!
Then it dawned on her that she did have him. ‘Ewww!’ Bryony shuddered. He was plump, and very hairy. And that tail!
She waited for the nip. But it didn’t come. Then Gnawsy turned and gazed up at her with big round twinkly eyes. He looked petrified and quite worn out. His whiskers were rippling, his small nose twitching nervously, and she could feel the pump, pump, pump of his little beating heart.
Bryony realised now that she’d judged him too soon. Everyone deserved a fair chance after all. Even rats.
Gnawsy blinked and took a small shuddering breath.
‘It’s okay,’ whispered Bryony. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ Actually he was quite all right, she thought. Even cute.
She now realised that she was still on the floor. Still flat on her tummy across several pairs of feet. She glanced up, to see the owners of the feet looking down at her.
‘Hi, Bry,’ muttered Jasmine Stepney. And Amber and their brother, Callum, gave her a little nod.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Bryony nodded back. ‘Err . . . hi.’
She quickly shuffled backwards out of the row, carefully holding Gnawsy, who seemed content. It was like he, sort of, knew she’d saved him from Berry.
‘Sorry about that,’ Bryony said to the Stepneys.
‘No worries!’ Jasmine now grinned back. ‘But maybe return the massive rat to its owner?’
‘Yeah – right!’
Bryony went to head off. But as she did, the hat on the floor that Gnawsy had been sitting on suddenly caught her eye again.
It was a beanie hat.
Bryony stopped.
Then her gaze slowly drifted to its owner . . . Jasmine’s brother.
‘You okay, Bry?’ asked Jasmine.
‘Ginger hair,’ mumbled Bryony. ‘Beanie hat and . . . bright ginger hair.’
She pointed at Callum Stepney.
‘Um, yeah,’ Jasmine nodded. ‘The whole family have ginger hair, what’s wrong with that?’
‘No, n-nothing!’ Bryony heard herself say as her brain began whirring again.
There was something very important about what she’d just discovered. But Bryony wasn’t sure what – yet . . .
When the audience had settled, the play resumed. But Bryony couldn’t stop thinking about ginger hair.
Ginger hair, ginger hair – all through the Ball.
Ginger hair, as the clock struck midnight.
Cinderella ran. The Prince found her glass slipper . . .
Ginger hair, ginger hair, ginger hair.
And then, in the wedding scene, as Piggy pulled the carriage away, ‘Ginger hair!’ cried B
ryony, pointing from the stage to Callum Stepney.
Suddenly she felt her cheeks go hot. She so wasn’t one for sudden outbursts like this but she had to go along with it now.
Besides, she’d done it! She had finally solved ‘The Mystery of the Silver’. (At least she hoped she had, or this was going to be embarrassing.)
‘Um, Callum,’ called Bryony, waving a ball-gowned arm and making her way downstage. She stopped at the front, finding herself in the spotlight, and heard a tutting Georgina behind.
‘So, Callum,’ continued Bryony, shielding her eyes with her hand, ‘you’re a plumber, aren’t you? I mean – outside,’ she said, ‘I just saw the office van with the tap on?’
Callum nodded uncertainly. ‘Yeah,’ he called back. ‘But I am allowed to borrow the van. My boss don’t mind if I’m careful.’
‘No, what I was getting at,’ Bryony went on, ‘was . . . did your plumbing company fix the Brooks’ toilets?’
‘Excuse me!’ cried Mr Brook. He jumped up from his seat and the audience started tittering. A frenzied Mr Pettifour then hurried out on stage. He snapped his twinkly clapperboard.
‘CUT!’
‘No! Let her speak – and ’im as well!’ snapped Miss Pigeon, pointing from the stage to Callum.
Callum swallowed hard, then looked back at Bryony. ‘Well, um . . . yeah,’ he replied. ‘We did fix the Brooks’ toilets. Why?’
‘So . . .’ But Bryony stopped, feeling every pair of eyes in the entire room on her face.
‘You can do it,’ Emma whispered. All her friends had gathered round.
‘Just trust your instinct,’ whispered Finn.
‘Yeah,’ nodded Josh. ‘You’re so smart.’
Bryony cleared her throat.
‘S-so, Callum,’ she said. ‘If it’s okay, would you mind putting on your beanie hat, please?’
‘Err . . .’ said Callum. He gave a puzzled shrug. ‘Um, I suppose.’
As he did, Bryony walked down the steps to the gap between the stage and the front row.
‘And would you mind coming to the front?’ she asked Callum.
‘What for?’ He looked nervous.
‘It’s really important,’ Bryony answered. ‘Please?’
Jasmine nudged him and Callum made his way down. He stopped near Bryony, and Mr Brook on the front row shot her a warning look. He was clearly still rattled about the mention of his toilets, and hated not being in control.
‘Thanks, Callum,’ Bryony whispered as Callum shuffled awkwardly. ‘And don’t worry.’
Bryony now went off to find Mr Thimblefold, sitting halfway back with Grandpa. She persuaded him down to the front too, and Grandpa went along for moral support.
The audience were spellbound. You could have heard a pin drop.
‘Mr Thimblefold,’ said Bryony, ‘do you recognise this man?’ She pointed at Callum Stepney.
Mr Thimblefold looked. He shook his head. ‘Err, no. I don’t thi—’ But suddenly he stopped, almost as if a street light had just flickered on in his brain.
‘Oh, wait!’ gasped Mr Thimblefold, peering through his small round spectacles. ‘Why I do believe . . . yes – well, goodness me! This is the man I saw in the street – last Monday afternoon – through my window!’
‘At what time?’ asked Bryony.
‘A few minutes after five. Just after the Brooks’ silver was left in my shop.’
And at this the audience gave an audible gasp. ‘Oooooo!’
‘Callum,’ continued Bryony, ‘last Monday afternoon, did you take a box of silver from Brook Dale Manor and leave it in Mr Thimblefold’s shop?’
‘Sure,’ Callum nodded. ‘I left it there for him to clean.’
Bryony started to pace like Ebony Swann – minus the tightrope, but you couldn’t have everything.
‘Ah, yes you did!’ Bryony nodded. ‘You knew they wanted it cleaned because you’d heard the Brooks talking about cleaning their silver, hadn’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ Callum nodded. ‘We all did. Me and Joe and Pete. We all heard them when we was over there fixing them loos – which took days.’
‘Hold on!’ Mr Brook jumped up and marched over. ‘I didn’t ask him to take my silver to be cleaned!’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Bryony replied. ‘You’d made your own plans instead, hadn’t you? You were going to get that posh place in Pudding Lane to clean it for you. Those people – Cuthbert and Fig.’
‘Yes! Yes! Quite so!’ Mr Brook nodded. ‘But how do you know about them?!’
‘I . . . just . . . do,’ Bryony answered, glossing over the fact that she’d snooped around his study just seconds before she’d got herself locked in his loo!
The audience were open-mouthed. They were listening more intently than they’d actually done during the play!
‘But the point is,’ continued Bryony, ‘– um, Mr Cooper, where are you?’
Mr Cooper raised a hand. He was close to the back with his family, all sitting together.
‘The point,’ repeated Bryony, now raising her voice to make sure that no one missed this, ‘is that Mr Cooper didn’t steal the silver, and Mr Thimblefold didn’t take it from anyone – because Callum was asked to take the silver to Thimblefold’s Trinkets and Treasures by the Brooks.’
‘No!’ yelled Mr Brook. ‘I just told you I didn’t ask him!’
‘Um, nor me,’ called Mrs Brook from the front row with a shrug.
‘No – you didn’t,’ replied Bryony. ‘Neither of you. But just like in Cinderella, if the shoe doesn’t fit one – or even two – it doesn’t mean that there’s not another. For the Brook who asked Callum to take the box of silver . . .’
Bryony paused like Miss Swann for dramatic effect.
‘. . . was Georgina.’
Up on stage, Georgina now flew out of her sidecar. ‘Daddy! I demand to go home right now! How dare she say things about me!’
‘Quite right!’ called Mr Brook, looking up at his daughter. ‘This is all utter nonsense. Come, darling!’
‘No – wait.’
Mrs Brook now stood up from her seat and walked up to Callum Stepney very calmly.
‘Did Georgie ask you, Callum?’ she asked.
The audience were entranced, missing their open mouths with fistfuls of popcorn and dropping it down their Christmas jumpers instead.
‘Err, yeah,’ Callum nodded. ‘Georgina did ask and I took it for the trinket man to clean.’
‘But you were meant to ask for money!’ Georgina suddenly snapped, glaring down from the stage at Callum. ‘I thought when I told you to take the silver, you’d realise I wanted you to sell it!’
The crowd gasped.
‘Eh?’ said Callum. He looked genuinely confused. ‘I thought I was helping – just taking it to clean, not selling it.’
‘And that,’ said Bryony, turning to Georgina, ‘is why you were so cross on Monday night at the stables. Amber had no idea where her brother was, did she? Or why you wanted him either. But you wanted him because you thought he’d run off with your money . . . for the silver.’
Georgina clapped a hand over her mouth, realising her angry outburst just now had landed her in heaps of trouble.
‘Georgina!’ cried Mr Brook.
‘Why?’ gasped her mother. ‘Why ask him to take the silver, Georgina?’
But Georgina just folded her arms and stuck her nose in the air.
‘The school ski trip, I’m guessing?’ Bryony chipped in, her gaze not leaving Georgina.
Being locked in the Brooks’ loo the day before yesterday had served its purpose after all. For there Bryony had heard with her own ears how desperate Georgina had been to go on the trip.
‘But everyone was going,’ Georgina hissed at Bryony. ‘Not that you’d ever understand. Huh! I bet you’ve never been skiing in your life, whereas I,’ cried Georgina, ‘am really good at it! So I thought, okay – why—’ But suddenly she stopped.
‘. . . Why not sell the family silver and pay for the ski trip yourse
lf?’ Bryony finished Georgina’s sentence for her.
‘So what anyway?!’ Georgina snapped. ‘If you think about it, I did nothing wrong! It’s the Brooks’ family silver and I am a Brook, so I should get a say too. And I didn’t want it cleaned – but sold, so there!’
‘Georgina!’ gasped Mrs Brook and even Mr Brook looked furious.
‘It wasn’t yours to do anything with!’ he said.
He snapped his fingers. ‘Home, young lady! And you can forget ski trips for a very long time, and any other treats come to that!’
Georgina looked outraged but stomped down the stage steps, her princess gown twinkling like crazy. She marched out of the door and her mother followed. Then, gathering up his coat, Mr Brook turned to leave too.
‘Um, before you do . . .’ Grandpa stepped forward. ‘I think some folk deserve an apology from you.’
Grandpa invited the Coopers to come down and join him. They were reluctant, but the audience began calling for them too, kindly and warmly, until they came.
Meredith ran straight to hold Bryony’s hand as Grandpa looked back at Mr Brook.
‘These people,’ said Grandpa, ‘did nothing wrong. But you . . . you said that they did.’
‘I . . .’ Mr Brook swallowed hard as if he had a nasty taste in his mouth.
He turned to the Coopers. ‘I . . . shouldn’t have assumed that you . . . took my silver. So . . . well . . . I apologise.’
He went to leave again.
‘Not so fast,’ said Grandpa, and Mr Brook stopped.
‘What now?!’
Grandpa gestured toward Mr Thimblefold.
‘Him?’ scowled Mr Brook.
Grandpa didn’t answer.
‘What am I apologising to him for?’
Mr Brook tilted his head to the side as if jiggling his thoughts might help him – momentarily – see things from another’s perspective.
‘Oh – fine!’ he snarled, now turning to Mr Thimblefold.
‘I am sorry,’ said Mr Brook through gritted teeth, ‘that your customers thought you an old fraud!’
‘Because . . .’ added Bryony bravely as Meredith watched her in awe.
‘Because . . .’ Mr Brook now clenched his fists, ‘. . . you’re not.’
As if a play had finally finished, the hall was now filled with resounding applause.
Snowflakes, Silver and Secrets Page 13
