by R. A. Spratt
Friday took the bag carefully by the corner and inspected it closely.
‘As you can see, the handwriting is barely legible,’ said Detective Summers. ‘She was clearly extremely distressed when she wrote it. Perhaps she had to do it hurriedly while her kidnappers weren’t looking.’
Friday peered closer. The letters barely looked like the standard Roman alphabet. It was as if they’d been furtively stabbed into the page, literally tearing up the paper fibres and blotting ink as she wrote.
‘Can you make out what it says?’ asked Detective Summers. ‘Our cryptographers have been working on it but they haven’t had much luck yet.’
‘Yes,’ said Friday. ‘It reads, They are taking me away now. I tried to argue. They leave me no choice. I am being forced. Farewell.’
‘The poor woman,’ said Detective Summers.
‘Hmm,’ said Friday. ‘May I have a look around to see if anything is missing?’
‘Of course,’ said Detective Summers. She followed Friday into the bedroom. The bed was unmade. The drawers were hanging open and clothes were strewn about.
‘You’ll never be able to tell what’s missing in all this mess,’ said Detective Summers.
Friday opened the wardrobe. There were very few clothes hanging inside there. Just a couple of shirts. The wardrobe was mainly full of old scientific periodicals, which had been untidily stacked on the floor up to waist-height.
‘That’s interesting,’ said Friday.
‘What?’ asked Detective Summers.
‘Her dress is missing,’ said Friday.
‘Which dress?’ asked Detective Summers.
‘Her only dress,’ said Friday. ‘Mother has no interest in clothes or fashion. She owns one navy blue dress. For weddings, formal dinners and things like that. And that one dress isn’t here.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Detective Summers.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Friday. ‘Let’s have a look in the kitchen.’
Friday led Detective Summers to the kitchen, where she opened a cupboard and took down a canister that said ‘sugar’ in blue print.
‘What’s sugar got to do with this?’ asked Detective Summers.
‘My mother doesn’t believe in processed sugar,’ said Friday. ‘She never has it in the house.’ Friday opened the canister and looked inside.
It was empty. ‘This is where she keeps her passport,’ said Friday.
‘So the kidnapper took her passport?’ said the detective. ‘This is serious. If she’s been missing since yesterday, she could be anywhere in the world by now.’
Friday was staring into the canister. ‘I’ve got a suspicion where my mother might be.’
‘Where?’ asked Detective Summers.
What’s the date?’ asked Friday.
‘Sixteenth of October. Why?’ asked Detective Summers.
Friday sighed. ‘Because the tenth of December is Alfred Nobel’s birthday and the traditional pre-ceremony lecture tour of Europe takes about six weeks.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Detective Summers, looking baffled.
Chapter 3
Sweden
Friday strode across the front yard to confront her father. He was still waiting on the other side of the tape with Melanie.
‘Dad, can you remember Mum mentioning something about her winning the Nobel Prize?’ asked Friday.
‘The Nobel Prize?’ asked Dr Barnes. ‘It doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘She hasn’t been planning a trip to Sweden, has she?’ asked Friday.
‘Sweden? Why would she go there?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘Because the Nobel Prizes are presented each year in Sweden on the tenth of December, the anniversary of Alfred Nobel’s birth,’ said Friday. ‘But the winners are announced much earlier, in mid-October. Is there any chance Mum has not been kidnapped but has, in fact, simply flown out to Europe for a lecture tour ahead of her acceptance of the Nobel Prize for Physics? And that Quantum, Quasar, Halley and Orion have gone with her?’
‘Now that you mention it,’ said Dr Barnes, ‘your mother did say something about wanting me to go with her to some awards night. I must have missed the taxi when they all left.’
‘Was the taxi due to pick you up at 7.45 last night?’ asked Melanie.
‘Yes!’ said Dr Barnes. ‘That’s right, I remember now. How did you know?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’ asked Friday.
‘It says 7.45 on the back of Dr Barnes’ hand,’ said Melanie.
Dr Barnes looked at his hand. ‘Oh yes! My secretary must have written it on there to help me to remember. She writes down all my important scheduling on my hand in permanent marker.’
‘But what about the note?’ asked Detective Summers. ‘Your mother obviously wrote it in desperation. The handwriting alone showed that.’
‘No, actually that’s Mum’s regular handwriting,’ said Friday. ‘The clichés about “mad scientists” don’t just come from nowhere. And you’ve got to realise that my mother is very clinical and ordered in the way she thinks and speaks. So her words They are taking me away now. I tried to argue. They leave me no choice. I am being forced. Farewell could simply mean the taxi is here, she had an argument with my brothers and sisters about sending the taxi away and waiting for Dad, she lost the argument and they are setting out for the airport.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Detective Summers. ‘All the time and resources wasted because some crazy academic is too vague to notice that his wife has gone to collect a Nobel Prize. This can’t be happening to me. Are there hidden cameras somewhere? Is this a prank show?’ Detective Summers looked about as if expecting a camera person to jump out of a bush.
‘No, I’m afraid it’s just regular day-to-day life in the Barnes household,’ said Friday.
‘I ought to have you both arrested for wasting police time,’ said Detective Summers.
‘Hey, I’m the one who sorted it out for you,’ said Friday. ‘And shouldn’t you be relieved that my mother hasn’t been kidnapped?’
‘I have real crimes I’m supposed to be investigating,’ said Detective Summers, ‘and I’ve just wasted four hours and goodness knows how much of our department’s crime scene investigation budget on this.’
‘Those shower caps and paper booties are expensive, are they?’ asked Melanie.
Detective Summers took out her phone and started dialling. ‘My boss is going to looove this,’ she muttered sarcastically as she walked away.
‘I suppose we had better be getting back to school,’ said Friday.
‘But what about me?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘What do you mean, “what about you”?’ said Friday. ‘We’ve established that Mother is all right, Quantum, Quasar, Halley and Orion will look after her. She’s only going to be gone six weeks.’
‘But who’s going to look after me for six weeks?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘What do you expect?’ said Friday. ‘Do you want me to hire a babysitter to look after you?’
‘Do you know anyone who would be interested?’ asked Dr Barnes optimistically.
‘I was being sarcastic,’ said Friday. ‘You’re a grown man. You should be able to look after yourself.’
‘But I never have before,’ said Dr Barnes. ‘You can’t expect me to take on a new role without a discussion, written instructions and a training program.’ Dr Barnes was starting to get very agitated. He looked like he might start crying.
‘I think you might have to find a babysitter after all,’ said Melanie.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Friday. ‘I’m eleven years old. I can’t be responsible for your wellbeing. I’ve got to get back to school.’
‘What about your Uncle Bernie?’ suggested Melanie.
‘That buffoon!’ exclaimed Dr Barnes. ‘He’s not staying here.’
‘They can’t stand each other,’ explained Friday.
‘But aren’t they brothers?’ asked Melanie.
‘Exactly, that’s why t
hey can’t stand each other,’ said Friday.
‘We could take your dad with us,’ said Melanie. ‘If he was at Highcrest Academy, he’d get his meals and accommodation taken care of.’
‘I think Dad is a little bit too old to enrol as a student,’ said Friday.
‘Of course,’ agreed Melanie. ‘But I’m sure the Headmaster would be happy to give Dr Barnes a job. You know how much he hates the head of the science department. And it would really irritate Mr Breznev if the Headmaster hired someone much more qualified to come and be a guest teacher.’
‘I suppose that might work,’ conceded Friday. ‘But frankly, I’d rather not have my father hanging about at school.’
‘Why?’ asked Melanie.
‘Because, you know …’ said Friday awkwardly, ‘he’ll cramp my style.’
‘Friday, I hate to break it to you,’ said Melanie, ‘but you have no style.’
‘True,’ conceded Friday.
‘Besides,’ continued Melanie, ‘you’ve never been close with your parents. This could be an opportunity for you to get to know your father better.’
‘That’s a nice thought,’ said Friday. ‘But I think I know him just well enough already.’
‘The only other alternative is that you take six weeks off school and come and live with him here,’ said Melanie.
Friday looked at her father. He was staring at his own shoes, no doubt lost in his own thoughts about physics.
‘Me and Dad together in the house for six weeks?!’ Friday shuddered at the mental image this generated. ‘I’ll call the Headmaster.’
Chapter 4
Dad in Tow
Half an hour later, Dr Barnes was driving the two girls back to school. The Headmaster had been delighted to offer Dr Barnes a short-term teaching position. The Parents Association would be impressed to have a man with two doctorates on staff, the teachers would be terrified that the new substitute teacher was wildly more qualified than any of them, and the students would be given an insight into just how much they didn’t know about physics.
It was always good for teenagers to be reminded of the depths of their ignorance. The Highcrest Academy student body had, in the Headmaster’s opinion, an unhealthily high level of self-esteem. Teenagers were meant to be awkward and self-conscious. It wasn’t good for them to be allowed to think they knew everything. Convincing his students that they didn’t know everything was usually an impossible task. You needed a jackhammer and wrecking bar to try to make the tiniest crack in their egos. The Headmaster hoped that Dr Barnes would be that jackhammer.
‘I’ve never been away from your mother for so long,’ worried Dr Barnes.
‘It’s only six weeks,’ said Friday.
‘But what if she meets somebody?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘You’re worried she’ll fall in love with someone else?’ asked Friday.
‘Love?!’ exclaimed Dr Barnes. ‘Goodness, no. I hadn’t thought of that. But I doubt she would. Doesn’t sound like her.’
‘Then what are you worried about?’ asked Melanie.
‘What if she meets another physicist?’ worried Dr Barnes. ‘Someone with different insights, fresh theories. What if she starts collaborating on research papers with them, behind my back?’
‘There are lots of fish in the sea,’ said Melanie. ‘Or, in this case, physicists in the sea. You could collaborate with someone else too.’
Dr Barnes shook his head. ‘I couldn’t do it. There’s only one scientist I want checking my algorithms – and that’s Dr Barnes.’
Melanie looked to Friday. ‘Your father refers to his wife by her job title?’
‘They think it’s important to maintain formality,’ said Friday.
‘I take everything back,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s amazing you’re as normal as you are.’
‘I know,’ agreed Friday. She patted her father on the hand. ‘Everything is going to be all right. You’ll come and stay at the school for a few weeks while Mum finishes her lecture tour. The school will give you three square meals a day. It’ll do you good.’ Friday turned to Melanie to explain. ‘Mum and Dad got scurvy last year from only eating two-minute noodles.’
As they turned into the school’s driveway Friday’s heart warmed. It felt good to be coming home. Her actual childhood home, which they’d just come from, had always felt cold and empty to her. Here at Highcrest Academy she had a place, a function, plus she had access to hot meals. She felt safer just being inside the gates again.
‘Why are there so many people standing on the front steps?’ asked Melanie.
Friday’s eyesight was not as good as Melanie’s, but as they drew closer she could see the entire student body was assembled on and around the front steps of the school.
‘Could it be some sort of evacuation drill?’ asked Friday.
‘We had a real fire yesterday,’ Melanie reminded her, ‘so we won’t be needing a fire drill again for ages.’
‘There’s a sign hanging from the roof,’ said Friday. ‘Can you read it?’
‘It says …’ Melanie strained to see, the lettering getting larger as they grew nearer. ‘Welcome.’
‘Do you think they’ve got the whole school out to welcome us back?’ asked Friday. ‘We’ve only been gone for one afternoon.’
‘Also, we irritate people,’ added Melanie. ‘If they were going to put their feelings towards us in banner form it would be more likely to read, Oh, it’s you.’
‘Wait, there’s some smaller writing underneath,’ said Friday. ‘It says, Welcome … Princess Ingrid.’
Dr Barnes pulled up in front of the main building.
‘Dad, you can’t stop here,’ said Friday. ‘You need to park in the staff car park.’
‘I do?’ said Dr Barnes. ‘But there are so many people here. It would be rude not to say hello.’
‘Since when have you ever worried about being rude?’ asked Friday.
There was a rap at the window. The Vice Principal was glaring in. ‘Kindly move your vehicle. We are waiting for a VIP!’
‘A VIP?’ asked Dr Barnes. ‘Is that some sort of astronomical event, like an asteroid shower?’
‘He means a Very Important Person,’ explained Friday. ‘Come on, Dad, if you turn around the side of the building, the staff car park will be just ahead.’
‘Don’t they have valet parking?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘Our school is posh, but it’s not that posh,’ said Melanie.
‘Oh, very well.’ Dr Barnes stamped on the accelerator and turned the key but nothing happened. He kept stamping on the accelerator. ‘It won’t go!’
‘That’s because you’ve flooded the engine,’ said Friday. ‘Have you even had this car serviced since I left home?’
‘You have to service a car?’ asked Dr Barnes.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ said Friday. ‘Stop stamping on the accelerator. Give it a moment and try again.’
The Vice Principal was tapping on the window again. ‘You must move this car, now!’ he ordered.
‘We’re trying,’ said Friday, ‘but the engine is flooded. If you want us to move, you’ll have to push us.’
Dr Barnes was stamping on the accelerator again.
‘Dad, stop doing that, you’re making it worse,’ said Friday.
In the distance they could hear police sirens.
‘They’ve called the police?’ said Melanie. ‘The Vice Principal is getting very strict these days.’
The car suddenly lunged forward. Friday looked around to see the entire rugby team locked in a scrum pushing the car. Although they probably should have told Dr Barnes what they were doing first because, being a deeply silly man, he panicked. He lifted his hands off the steering wheel and the car slowly veered in an arc crashing into the marble statue of Socrates, which stood alongside the driveway. The sound of the elderly car making contact with the hard marble made a loud crunch.
The police sirens were growing louder the whole time, which was a good thing because it dr
owned out the Vice Principal yelling at Dr Barnes as they all got out of the wrecked car. Suddenly two police motorcycles swooped over the crest in the driveway and sped round the circular route to the front of the building. A long black limousine followed close behind.
The limousine parked right in front of the steps. The door opened and a large muscular man in a grey suit stepped out. He touched his ear as though listening on an earpiece, and looked all around before stepping back to hold the rear door open.
For a moment nothing happened. Then a beautiful blonde girl emerged from the car. She wore jeans, a short-sleeved blouse, a pink crystal necklace and pink sneakers – much the same as any other student at the school (except for Friday, who preferred ugly brown cardigans and a green pork-pie hat). But even such ordinary clothes could not diminish the fact that this girl was stunningly gorgeous.
The Headmaster stepped forward and bowed to the blonde girl. Friday had never seen a grown man who wasn’t Japanese bow before.
‘Welcome to Highcrest Academy, Your Highness,’ said the Headmaster.
‘Your Highness?’ Friday whispered to Melanie.
‘She must be the princess,’ said Melanie.
‘But this isn’t a Disney movie,’ whispered Friday. ‘Princesses don’t just pop up out of nowhere.’
‘No,’ agreed Melanie. ‘It would be alarming if they did.’
Friday peered closer. ‘She must be … Princess Ingrid of Norway.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Melanie.
‘The necklace she’s wearing. I’ve read that the Norwegian heir to the throne wears the Haakon Stone around their neck at all times,’ said Friday. ‘It’s a tradition that dates back to the fourteenth century. The pink crystal would be a diamond.’
‘I didn’t know diamonds were crystals,’ said Melanie.
‘They’re a type of crystal,’ said Friday. ‘Carbon so tightly compressed it forms a crystalline structure.’
‘On behalf of everyone here at Highcrest Academy, welcome to our school,’ the Headmaster formally announced.
The princess nodded her acknowledgement.
