The Secret Five and the Stunt Nun Legacy

by John Lawrence

  ‘Okay,’ Betty said, clasping her palms firmly to her chest. She kept one eye on Ricky and, to be sure, the other eye on Ricky as well. Ricky shrugged, and they gathered closer, even closer than the even closer from before.

  ‘Right! I was saying . . .’ Daniel said, and paused, waiting for an interruption, looking around the close group one by one. After a couple of very quiet minutes looking at his friends, with no interruptions on the horizon, Daniel continued.

  ‘I was saying that I think that the man with a donkey might have escaped from the prison which is not far from here and from which people escape sometimes and are usually caught by a group of very clever children with their faithful dog but only after the local village policeman doesn’t believe them and they accidentally come across an old spooky house where the rogues are hiding in the hidden cellar with their stolen treasure. That’s what I think. Do you?’

  ‘No,’ the others said in unison, together.

  ‘Woof woof woof,’ agreed Whatshisname.

  Daniel looked at them all again. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said.

  They all stood up straight and continued to walk along the path.

  ‘You were looking more than a bit,’ Betty muttered to Ricky. Ricky tried his best to ignore her sharp words but, nevertheless, felt that love was beginning to blossom between himself and Betty, which was a crazy thought when you stop to think about it because he’s tremendously ugly and, after all, they are cousins, which might present difficulties in the form of a nursery full of drooling half-wits should they ever get it together and produce an offspring without the precaution of signing up for a course of genetic counselling.

  Shaking their heads at all the drivel about drooling half-wits, Betty and Ricky wondered what sort of adventure story they had got themselves into, both of them finding it far too far-fetched to associate half-wits with The Secret Five.

  ‘Er . . .’ erred Ricky, scratching the side of his forehead.

  ‘Erm . . .’ said Betty, doing the same, but to her own forehead, as scratching Ricky’s forehead and saying erm would have been downright silly. ‘It’s probably best to move on, eh? Come on everyone, we need to find this Stunning Bottom.’

  They all walked on for a while and then, all of a sudden, they found themselves on a long narrow lane that went somewhere one way and, they thought, somewhere else the other.

  Referring carefully to their world atlas, and after a rather heated discussion about which way they should go, they decided to take the direction that was signposted To Stunning Bottom. Eventually, after walking for what seemed like quite a long way (although, to be fair, it was nothing compared to the immense distance between Planet Earth and the Andromeda NGC224 Galaxy), Betty started complaining about her feet. To be fair, the others had started to complain about Betty’s feet a long time ago. Ricky also started complaining about feeling really hungry, so they stopped and sat down on a bench to eat their sandwiches. But, alas and alack, they found that Ricky had mislaid them somewhere! Clumsy Ricky! He still had the wrapper, though, and they all sat around sniffing it while Whatshisname sat at their feet, chewing the bone that had been thrust under his nose and that he felt under contractual pressure to chew with some fervour.

  They sat sniffing and chewing for a while before Daniel suddenly exclaimed, ‘What’s that?’ He pointed with his finger. They all looked at his finger and Amy told him that it was a bogey, but Whatshisname jumped up and licked it off before anyone else could.

  ‘No, that!’ said Daniel quite crossly. He was pointing at a hedge with a gap in it.

  ‘It’s a gap in a hedge,’ said Betty. ‘That’s a little bit strange.’

  They all went over to the gap in the hedge and looked through it. There, through the gap in the hedge, they could see another hedge!

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Amy, who obviously didn’t like it. ‘It’s too spooky. I want to join another story.’

  Then, without much warning, Whatshisname ran off through the gap in the hedge. ‘Woof woof woof,’ he barked as he ran, which was a jolly good trick. His ample backside disappeared from view.

  ‘Let’s leave him and go. Stupid dog. I never liked him anyway,’ said Amy, rather grumpily. ‘He was fat and smelled of pineapple and creosote.’

  ‘Look!’ said Daniel, ignoring her because he rather liked the heady combination of pineapple and creosote. ‘Through the gap in the hedge! If you look carefully through the gap and then through a handy gap in the other hedge, you can see a big spooky house with green tiles! Gosh, it must be Greentiles! What a bit of luck!’

  ‘Erm . . . those tiles aren’t green. They’re blue,’ said Betty, squinting at the blue tiles.

  ‘No, they’re green,’ said Ricky, staring at the green tiles.

  ‘I think they’re blue, too,’ said Amy. They all stood there arguing about it for a very long time. Eventually they agreed on a negotiated settlement – the tiles were greenish-blue, although Amy, deep down, preferred bluish-green. Then they secretly and stealthily crept on all fours alongside the hedge, followed by Whatshisname who, having mysteriously re-appeared without any satisfactory explanation and with total disregard for a structured plot progression, padded behind them and was now busy admiring Daniel’s firm young buttocks.

  Whatshisname had actually been listening from afar to the blue / green argument, and had pondered mournfully about humans and their perception of colour. Although he was a big fan of Galileo, whom he thought was one of the great non-canine thinkers, he had his doubts about the theory that colour and sound only exist in the mind of the observer. Take away the observer, dog or human, and colour and sound don’t exist. If a tree falls in a forest and there’s no dog there to hear it, does it make a sound? He thought not. And, here’s another thought, what if he were in the forest, beneath that tree, and the tree didn’t know he was there so it didn’t make a sound as it fell, he’d be in mortal danger! But then again, he thought, he’d have to not be there to not hear it, so perhaps his not being there had saved his life! Phew! That was a close one. But, hang on, if he wasn’t there, he wouldn’t hear it . . . hmmm, this was getting complicated. To be safe, he’d avoid not being in a forest in future, so that he wouldn’t not hear a tree falling on him. That seemed like a plan. This perception of the existence of sound and colour is worth more of a ponder, he thought.

  He stared up at the tiles. Definitely blue. Definitely. He sat down, looked away and closed his eyes. Of course, the tiles must no longer be blue. Dare he take a peek to check? He turned his head slightly and opened one eye just a fraction. Damn it, they’d turned blue again. He closed the eye and quickly reopened it. Blue again! Those tiles were far too smart for him, he decided. He noticed through the one eye that the children were now all standing and looking strangely at him. He opened the other eye. What’s up with them?

  ‘Is he all right?’ asked Amy, staring closely at Whatshisname.

  Betty frowned. ‘He goes like this sometimes. It’s as though he’s thinking, but that’s just not possible. He’s only a dog, after all.’

  Only a dog! Whatshisname stood and glared at Betty. Only a dog indeed. He’d show them. He lifted his tail and joyfully released a loud burst of hell-gas, adding another olfactory quality to accompany the pineapple and creosote.

  ‘Ugh!’ squealed Amy, wrinkling her nose and backing away. ‘What a nasty dog!’

  Oh yes, Whatshisname thought, they got that all right. That sound and smell obviously exists. Much more tangible results than the colour experiment. Yesss! He trotted away, wagging his tail in order to spread his joy more widely.

  After a bout of wafting and nose wrinkling, the children reached the gate to the house. They stood and read a nameplate on the gate. They gasped a silent yet meaningful gasp. The nameplate said Greenishbluetiles and, at the bottom, it said End of chapter alert.

  ‘That’s good,’ said Betty.

  ‘Yes, that’s good,’ agreed Amy, not really understanding whether it was or not.

  �
�Except it’s the wrong house,’ Ricky said.

  ‘Oh, bother,’ said Betty.

  ‘Oh, bother,’ said Daniel, a bit upset that Betty had thought to say it before he did. He was becoming quite grumpy because she was always stealing his best lines.

  ‘Let’s go on for a bit,’ Ricky suggested. ‘We might find a tea shop.’

  Unaided, they all started to walk down into the village. But, extremely suddenly, they heard a big roar and a big rumble that shook the very ground under their very feet! Wisely, their very feet stopped walking. Whatshisname ran up to them. He started to whine and whimper. And so did Daniel. Our pals were all terrified! Absolutely terrified!

  Chapter Four

  In which they discover Greentiles; they meet a weird and highly irritating old woman; they find that their cover has been blown and decide that they should reconsider the suitability of the name The Secret Five; they hear about Uncle Quagmire’s secret mission; great, the kettle’s boiling.

  To be honest, they weren’t absolutely terrified at all. In fact, they were quite happy that they had been well prepared for the chapter break. They did, however, whimper a bit when, out of a driveway ahead of them, a big red truck pulled out and drove slowly up the lane towards them. They squeezed themselves against a surprisingly damp dry stone wall as the truck roared and rumbled past them. It had big letters on the side which read Mysterious Red Truck with Very Suspicious and Evil-Looking Driver. On the back it read Am I being driven well? If not, telephone 029880 993123 or stop evil-looking driver and tell him personally.

  ‘Did you see the driver?’ asked Betty when it had disappeared out of sight. ‘He looked very suspicious and evil if you ask me.’

  ‘Right. What did the driver look like, Betty?’ asked Ricky, helpfully.

  ‘Very suspicious and evil,’ said Betty. ‘And thank you, Ricky.’

  ‘That was spooky, wasn’t it?’ said Daniel. ‘But look! The driveway that the truck came out of. The house at the end of it has green tiles and it also looks very spooky and it hasn’t got a white uPVC conservatory! You don’t think that’s where Uncle Quagmire is staying, do you?’

  ‘Good thinking, Daniel. You’re not as stupid as we all think you are! Let’s go and explore,’ said Betty, and they all scampered down the lane then stood in a line at the end of the driveway, looking intently at the house.

  ‘It has got green tiles,’ said Ricky. ‘Shall we go in?’

  ‘Yes, let’s,’ said Betty.

  Blow it, thought Daniel, she’s got to a good line first again. He was going to say yes let’s. This was really getting too much.

  Gingerly and secretly they walked backwards up the driveway, so that they wouldn’t see anyone who might see them. When they reached the house, they turned and saw a big sign on the door – NO Vegetarian Fundamentalists, NO Children Seeking An Adventure, NO Tupperware Salesmen (unless those handy cereal dispensers are on offer).

  They all gasped with intense disappointment, except Whatshisname whose interpretation of intense disappointment had dramatically changed during the surprise outing to the vet’s.

  ‘Bother!’ exclaimed Ricky. ‘Is that the end of our adventure, do you think?’

  Whatshisname perked up and willed Betty to say yes. Please say yes. Pretty please?

  ‘Why, no!’ said Betty quite enthusiastically. ‘Let’s all go round the back. There might not be a notice on the back door.’

  ‘Splendid idea!’ said Daniel, who sometimes felt quite proud of his sister’s quick thinking under pressure and her occasional attempts at making macramé plant holders.

  So, in single file, they went round the side of the house, as they had to do that to get to the back. Whatshisname trotted and pattered after them, eager to do some trotting and pattering at last, as he had been told that dogs in stories often trot and patter about and he did not want to be seen as a dog that couldn’t trot and patter when the situation called for it.

  They all reached the back door more or less at the same time. Betty pointed at it. ‘Look! There’s no notice here! Let’s explore! Go on, Ricky, open the door.’

  Ricky slowly turned the door knob with one of his free hands and carefully pushed the door open. It creaked and creaked. Then, astonishingly, it creaked some more! They waited patiently, glancing at their wrist watches, until it had stopped all the creaking and, gingerly, almost too gingerly, they crept inside. They found themselves in a big spooky hallway with big spooky stairs going up to somewhere or other.

  ‘Well, do you think that we were being too gingerly?’ Amy whispered to the others. They all nodded their own heads up and down in agreement, but then decided to be slightly less gingerly in future to avoid any more authorial accusations of overgingerliness.

  At that moment, or it might have been the moment immediately before, or even after, a figure suddenly appeared in the big spooky hallway! It was a ghostly apparition with a long white robe, ragged grey hair, and skin as grey as the grey of a reasonably grey thing. It seemed to float towards them, making a oooooh sound. They all stepped back warily, their faces quite pallid, except for Whatshisname who bravely trotted forward, his tail wagging and his face a fat spaniel colour.

  The figure ooooohed again. ‘Oooooh! Issa doggay!’ it said, and bent down to stroke Whatshisname, who wagged and wagged his tail at the back, and growled and growled at the front, proof positive that he was two written-off small dogs welded together to make one fat one.

  ‘Phew!’ said Ricky. ‘It’s only an old lady.’

  And it was indeed only an old lady, a haggish old lady, still with that ragged hair and skin as grey as the grey of the grey thing we mentioned before. But it seemed that she was not pleased at being called an old lady. Not pleased at all.

  ‘Ole lady?’ the old lady yelled. ‘Ha! I ay chuffed at bin called an ole lady1!’

  ‘I don’t think,’ muttered Daniel to the others, ‘that she’s pleased about being called an old lady.’

  ‘Any road up2, what am yow kids doin’ ‘ear?’ the old lady yelled in some strange Midlands dialect.

  The children cowered quite a lot.

  ‘Oy, yow!’ the old lady said, pointing at Betty’s chest. ‘Yes, yow! What am them? Them big boobies? Tek yer eye out, them ’ud. Them cor3 be real. Blimey, Bab4!’

  Betty looked down at her chest. In fact, everyone looked at Betty’s chest, even Whatshisname, who sat at Betty’s feet and looked up at one, then the other, then back again several times, as though he were at a Wimbledon final.

  ‘I can’t help it!’ Betty said, clutching her hands to her chest. ‘Stop looking, everybody!’

  ‘She can’t help it!’ said Ricky to the old lady. ‘Don’t look, you’re not a member! Leave them alone, she can’t help it. Anyway, what sort of silly dialect is that, you old hag?’

  ‘Ole ’ag?’ the old hag cried, taking up a position that conveyed minor indignation. ‘Oyl ’ave yow know, om fram Doodlay near Wullvramtunn, Black Countray born an’ bred, an’ oy bin at the Greentoiles Sunset ’ome for The Terminally Biwildered for sum toime, an’ no-wun, no-wun, ’as ever called me an ole ’ag!’

  ‘Really?’ said Ricky, frowning. ‘Are you sure? It seems so appropriate. Anyway, I don’t really think we can all keep up with your rather silly dialect for long.’

  ‘That’s true. Is there any chance you could tone it down a bit?’ asked Betty.

  The old hag looked pensive, scratching her haggish chin with her haggish finger. ‘Oy s’pose . . . I suppose I could drop it if it’s too much. I was finding it hard to follow myself. But I was quite looking forward to being mysteriously indecipherable as well.’ She looked disappointed. ‘All those hours listening to Noddy, wasted! Ha!’

  ‘Noddy?’ queried Betty. ‘ The Noddy? Toytown and Big Ears Noddy?’

  ‘Ha!’ harred the old hag. ‘No, silly big-chested girl. Noddy Holder! He’s the Noddy, stupid child. Remember Slade? Eh? The four piece glam rock combo?’ The old hag wiggled her haggish hips. ‘Cum on feel the noize!’<
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  The children looked at each other and seriously thought about frowning, or calling for a nurse or two.

  ‘Ha!’ the old hag said. ‘Wasted on you kids, ain’t it? But maybe I could use the dialect occasionally, for dramatic effect, to save wasting it altogether? I could say bostin! now and again. Is that all right?’

  The children reluctantly agreed, and the old hag once again took up a position that conveyed minor indignation, but this time it was bordering on major. ‘Ha!’ she said. ‘I’ve never been called an old hag! Never! Well, thinking about it, maybe a few times, but never ever by a bunch of no-hopers like you lot!’

  ‘No-hopers?’ exclaimed Daniel. ‘Cheek! I’ll have you know that we are the famous Secret Five!’

  The old lady, startled, looked at them through her very own haggish eyes, then shrieked a shriek that rang around the hallway, up the stairs, in and out of a handy broom cupboard and back down the stairs again. The children politely waited for it to return. When it did, Ricky was the first to speak.

  ‘What’s the matter with her now?’ he whispered to the others.

  ‘I think she’s mad,’ said Betty, a little too loudly.

  ‘Ha! I am not mad,’ the old hag said, approaching the children, a haggish finger pointing at them in a seriously haglike way. ‘I’m just IMPRESSED.’

  Betty nudged Daniel. ‘I wish she’d stop talking in capitals. It’s so INFURIATING,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you just did it,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Did I?’ Betty frowned.

  ‘Yes, you said INFURIATING,’ Daniel said.

  ‘Oh, SORRY,’ said Betty.

  ‘You just did it again,’ Daniel said. ‘Get a grip, Betty!’

  Betty furrowed and wrinkled her brow and looked really embarrassed. She thought it best to change the subject. ‘Then why are you . . .’ she asked the old hag, pausing to ensure that her voice was in lowercase, ‘impressed?’

  ‘Why? Because you’re The Secret Five,’ she replied. ‘I heard all about you from your dear Uncle Quagmire. What am yow . . . erm, what are you doing here? Are you having another great adventure? Bostin! But where’s your kangaroo? Eh?’