by Pat Hutchins
Class 3 (apart from Morgan, who was sitting with a puzzled frown on his face) were still convinced that there was a kidnapper on board the boat, and were too excited to eat very much.
When it was obvious that the children didn’t want to finish their lunch, Mr Jones said they could go and look round the boat while he and Mr Coatsworth went to see how Miss Parker was, but they were to meet on the main deck when the ferry arrived at Calais.
Some of the children had heard there was a fruit machine in the bar, and decided that was as good as any place to keep an eye open for the bearded stranger, and perhaps to win a bit of extra pocket money at the same time.
Akbar, Avril and Jessica decided to look in the restaurant, in case he was lurking in there, and Morgan, Matthew and Sacha thought they’d try the top deck and work their way down.
‘What are we going to do if we see him?’ Sacha asked, as they climbed up the stairs. ‘We can’t just go up to him and ask him if he’s a kidnapper.’ He paused. ‘And he’s not likely to say yes, even if he is.’
‘I’m not sure he is a kidnapper,’ said Morgan, as he made his way with Sacha and Matthew through the crowds of people who had gone up to the top deck to see the shores of France, which were now in view.
‘Then what do you think he’s up to?’ Matthew asked.
Morgan shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.
They circled the top deck, carefully studying everyone that came up the steps, but they could see no sign of the stranger.
‘I suppose we’d better go back to the main deck,’ said Matthew, as the ferry approached Calais Docks. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’
‘Well, he’s certainly not up here,’ said Morgan, taking a final look at the passengers. ‘I’d recognize that beard anywhere.’
‘Maybe one of the others has spotted him,’ said Sacha as they made their way down the steps.
‘They’re not there yet,’ said Matthew, leaning over the side of the steps and looking down at the main deck where Miss Parker (having suggested that Mr Jones and Mr Coatsworth should go and find the children, as everyone was preparing to leave the boat) was still sitting, looking at a French newspaper with the doctor.
‘Crumbs!’ exclaimed Matthew, beckoning furiously to Morgan and Sacha. ‘Look!’ Beneath them, shuffling slowly along the almost deserted deck, was a bearded figure, and creeping stealthily behind it were Jessica, Avril and Akbar.
‘Wait!’ Morgan cried, as Sacha and Matthew darted forward.
‘Too late,’ he murmured, as Avril threw herself at the man’s legs, and with a resounding crash brought him down full length on the deck in front of the doctor and Miss Parker.
5. Mistaken Identity
Miss Parker and the doctor glanced at each other in alarm as Jessica and Akbar, joined by Matthew and Sacha, started tugging furiously at the man’s beard.
Morgan, who had been watching in dismay, ran down the steps calling to them, but the man’s shrieks drowned his words.
‘What on earth is going on?’ shouted Mr Jones, who was running towards them, followed by Mr Coatsworth and the rest of Class 3, all yelling and adding to the uproar.
‘We’ve caught the kidnapper!’ Jessica shouted, yanking at the beard again. Morgan, who still couldn’t be heard as everyone was shouting at once, put his fingers to his lips and blew. Everyone fell silent at the piercing whistle. ‘Jessica,’ he said, ‘you’ve got the wrong man. That’s not the man who was following us.’
The man sat up as the children loosened their grip on him. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Miss Parker and the doctor.
‘Did you put these kids up to this?’ he demanded.
‘No!’ snapped Miss Parker. ‘It was a most terrible mistake. Everything,’ she added quickly.
‘It had better be,’ he muttered, rubbing his chin as Mr Jones and Mr Coatsworth, apologizing profusely, helped him up.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Mr Jones, as the man straightened his tie, his eyes darting nervously from the children to Miss Parker and then to the doctor. ‘I can’t think what came over the children.’
‘We thought we was helping,’ said Avril stoutly. ‘We thought he was a kidnapper.’
‘That’s why we tried to pull his beard off,’ said Akbar meekly. ‘We thought it was a false one.’
‘So Miss Parker wouldn’t recognize him,’ Jessica added.
‘What’s all this nonsense and stuff about kidnappers?’ Miss Parker demanded. ‘Why should I not recognize him?’ She turned to the bearded man. ‘I told you it was all a terrible mistake!’ she hissed.
The doctor, who had been silent throughout the commotion, was opening his phrase book again. ‘I-am-a-doc-tor,’ he said. The bearded man snorted as the doctor’s eyes travelled down the book.
‘I-will-take-you-for-a-glass-of-bran-dy.’
‘And I will come also,’ said Miss Parker softly, ‘and explain to you everything.’ She glanced at Mr Jones. ‘This poor man is shocked. I will try to calm him down.’
The bearded man scowled. ‘You won’t calm me down very easily,’ he muttered. ‘But there’s a lot of explaining you can do.’
The children, having been made to apologize, gazed after them forlornly as Miss Parker and the doctor led the complaining man to the bar.
‘Let that,’ said Mr Jones sternly, ‘be a lesson to you. I don’t want to hear any more about bearded strangers, kidnappers or disguises. Nothing! Nothing!’ he repeated, raising his voice above Jessica’s, who kept interrupting.
‘But, Sir!’ cried Jessica again, shaking his arm. ‘Look!’
Creeping towards the bar was another bearded man.
‘Crikey!’ exclaimed Morgan. ‘That’s the one who was following us!’
‘After him!’ screamed Avril, but the man, having heard Avril’s cry, turned, and seeing the crowd of children preparing to follow him, slipped into a doorway and disappeared.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ Mr Jones thundered.
‘But he’s getting away,’ protested Avril.
‘If I had a beard,’ said Mr Jones grimly, ‘I’d want to get away from you lot too. The poor fellow obviously saw what you did to the other unfortunate chap. Now, I want no more of this nonsense, no more attacks on innocent passengers, and no more arguments,’ he added, as Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but, thinking better of it, closed it again.
Class 3 huddled together, gloomily watching the crew preparing the ferry for landing.
Mr Jones and Mr Coatsworth talked quietly together, frowning occasionally as they glanced towards the children.
‘It’s funny,’ Morgan murmured. ‘A second bearded stranger turning up, and the first one disappearing.’
A loudspeaker announcement, informing all passengers to return to their vehicles, interrupted him.
Mr Jones and Mr Coatsworth joined the group of children.
‘When Miss Parker gets back,’ said Mr Jones, ‘we’ll get you lot onto the bus where I can keep my eye on you.’ He paused, looking around for the French teacher, but couldn’t see her among the people making their way to the vehicles.
‘Perhaps she’s waiting for us at the bus,’ said Mr Coatsworth, as the few remaining passengers left the main deck.
‘I bet she’s been kidnapped!’ Jessica hissed. ‘I knew he was the kidnapper all along. I bet he’s tied her up and thrown her overboard.’
‘What about the doctor?’ said Morgan. ‘He couldn’t have thrown him overboard, he’s twice his size.’
‘Oh!’ shrieked Jessica, ignoring Morgan and digging her elbow into Avril. ‘Sharks!’ She pointed to the grey sea. ‘They must have got the scent of blood when he dumped their battered bodies into the sea!’ She darted to the side of the ferry and peered into the murky water.
‘I don’t see no bodies,’ said Avril.
‘Perhaps they’ve eaten them already,’ Jessica whispered in awe.
‘They’re not sharks,’ said Matthew. ‘They’re porpoises.’
Mr Jones sighed
wearily.
‘Jessica,’ he said, ‘I don’t think poor Miss Parker’s body is floating in the sea. I don’t think she’s been eaten by sharks either. I think it’s more likely she’ll be waiting at the bus, as Mr Coatsworth suggested. So why don’t we go and see?’
The children followed Mr Jones and Mr Coatsworth down to the car deck. They passed the French car on the way to the bus, but it was empty.
Morgan and Sacha would have liked to have a good look at it, but didn’t dare with Mr Jones right in front of them.
‘She’s not here,’ said Jessica with satisfaction as they reached the bus. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be.’
‘I hope she hasn’t got lost,’ said Mr Coatsworth, ushering the children on to the bus as the lorry at the front of the line started up its engine.
Mr Jones leaned out of the door, glancing anxiously up and down the rows of vehicles. ‘Here she comes!’ he cried, waving a map at the dishevelled figure that was running towards them.
‘Oh my!’ the French teacher murmured breathlessly as Mr Jones helped her on to the bus. ‘I am so sorry to keep you waiting, but that poor old gentleman was so very upset. It took many glasses of cognac to calm down his nerves. It was fortunate that nice doctor was there to help,’ she added softly, smiling into a mirror and sticking one of her eyelashes back on.
Mr Coatsworth’s nostrils quivered expectantly when she took a huge bottle of perfume from her bag and sprayed it vigorously behind her ears.
‘And how are you feeling?’ he murmured, putting the bus into first gear, and edging it forward.
A driver in the car lane next to them hooted his horn, drowning Miss Parker’s reply. Another car hooted, then another. Then all the drivers in the lane were pressing their horns.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Mr Jones shouted above the noise. ‘Why aren’t they moving?’
The children crowded to the back window for a better view.
‘There’s a car without a driver holding them up,’ Matthew yelled. Morgan craned his neck to look. ‘It’s that French car,’ he shouted, just as the bearded man who had been following them ran into view. He climbed into the car, shrugging his shoulders at the shaking fists of the other drivers, and started up the engine.
‘Strange,’ Morgan murmured, as the children returned to their own seats. But what was much stranger was the figure of the other bearded man, lying bound and gagged in a lifeboat.
6. The Arrival
Mr Jones let Miss Parker handle the passports as her French was so much better than his, but the French official, seeing a bus full of English schoolchildren, merely glanced at the passports, handed them back to Miss Parker, and waved the bus through.
Morgan, Matthew and Sacha looked for the French car, but couldn’t see it in the heavy stream of traffic leaving the port.
Mr Jones directed Mr Coatsworth through the streets of Calais towards the autoroute for Paris, while Miss Parker, frowning, read an article in the French newspaper that the doctor had given her.
‘Do you think we’ll recognize the car again?’ Sacha asked as the bus turned on to the autoroute. ‘There must be hundreds of black Citroëns in France.’
‘16 90 75,’ Morgan said, producing a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘I wrote the number down.’
Matthew, who was gazing out at the road, blinked. ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Isn’t that the doctor?’
Morgan and Sacha turned to look out of the back window.
‘Yes,’ said Morgan, watching the big American car pull out and overtake them. ‘I expect he’s going to Paris too.’
‘M-Morgan,’ stuttered Sacha.
‘Crikey!’ shouted Morgan.
Roaring up behind them was a black Citroën.
‘16 90 75!’ Matthew yelled. ‘He’s following us again! Oh!’ he added, perplexed, as the car overtook them, and raced up the autoroute. They watched it until it was only a speck in the distance. Matthew and Sacha sank back in their seats, disappointed.
‘So he wasn’t following us after all,’ muttered Sacha.
‘I could have sworn he was,’ said Matthew, ‘the way he came tearing up behind us.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Morgan thoughtfully, ‘he wasn’t following us in the first place.
‘Perhaps,’ Morgan said again, ‘he was following someone else, and we just thought he was following us.’ He frowned. ‘Sacha!’ he added excitedly. ‘Do you remember in Hampstead when I said it was a coincidence that a car with Paris number plates was behind us? Well, there was a taxi in front of it.’
Sacha nodded.
‘And on the motorway,’ Morgan continued, ‘before the French car overtook us, do you remember the taxi overtaking us?’
Sacha nodded again.
‘Don’t you see?’ cried Morgan. ‘The Citroën wasn’t following us, it was following the taxi. It was the taxi,’ he added breathlessly, ‘that was following us!’
‘But why?’ asked Matthew.
‘I don’t know,’ Morgan admitted.
Sacha thought for a moment. ‘But the taxi didn’t follow us all the way to the ferry,’ he said. ‘How did he know we’d be on it?’
‘When the bus pulled into the ferry lane,’ said Morgan, ‘it must have been obvious.’
‘So whoever was in the taxi was probably on the ferry too,’ murmured Matthew, ‘but then why was the man from the Citroën watching us through binoculars?’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t us he was watching,’ said Morgan. ‘Perhaps he was looking for the person that was in the taxi.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I knew who it was.’ Suddenly he whistled. ‘On the boat!’ he cried. ‘When Miss Parker and the doctor took the other bearded man to the bar, he started to follow them.’
‘Of course,’ said Matthew, ‘but he ran away when he realized we’d seen him.’
‘In that case,’ said Morgan, ‘he must have been after the other bearded man, Miss Parker, or –’ he paused – ‘the doctor.’ He whistled again. ‘The doctor. It must have been the doctor!’ He glanced out of the window. ‘And he’s following him right now!’
‘Yes,’ said Sacha. ‘That must be it.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder why?’
‘What I’m trying to work out,’ said Morgan, ‘is not why he’s following the doctor, but why the doctor was following us.’
The three boys sat silent in the back seat with puzzled expressions on their faces as the bus left the autoroute and drove through the sprawling outskirts of Paris. It wasn’t until the bus entered the wide avenue leading to the Boulevard Madeleine that they jumped up and joined the rest of Class 3, who were shouting and waving at the people sitting in the pavement cafés.
7. The Doctor Turns Up
Miss Parker pushed open the glass door and the children streamed into the hotel, while Mr Coatsworth and Mr Jones unloaded the luggage from the bus.
‘Cor!’ said Avril, gazing round the lobby in awe, not noticing the threadbare patches on the richly patterned carpets or the tarnish on the huge gilt mirrors or the chipped plaster on the decorative moulding that ran round the ceiling. Her eyes widened when she saw the ornate black metal cage next to the stairs.
‘Golly!’ she whispered. ‘What’s that?’
Class 3 stared at the cage in alarm. A dreadful noise, like the wail of a banshee, poured from the darkness above it.
The chandeliers tinkled, rattles and groans filled the lobby as the children gazed spellbound, their hands pressed against their ears, first at a pair of feet, then at a body, and finally at an anxious face that was peering at them through the panels, as the swaying lift descended slowly into the metal cage.
‘What on earth is that terrible noise?’ shouted Mr Jones, rushing into the lobby, past the woman who was sitting, unconcerned, behind the reception desk.
‘Oh,’ said Jessica in relief, ‘it’s only the lift.’
The metal gates clanged open and the manager of the hotel darted towards them, his arms outstretched. ‘Bonjour, bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur, mes enfants,’ he cried, nodding
at Miss Parker, Mr Jones and the children. ‘Welcome,’ he added proudly. ‘My English is good, no? I work in London six months ago for five years.’
The woman at the desk spoke sharply to him in French.
‘Ah!’ he corrected himself. ‘I work five years ago in London for six months. In a very posh hotel,’ he added, glancing forlornly at the exotic but shabby furniture in the lobby. ‘Five-star,’ he murmured sadly.
The woman sniffed and said quite clearly, ‘One.’
The children, fascinated by the lift, had gone over to study it. Miss Parker tapped her foot impatiently, as the manager leaped over to where the woman sat and started shouting.
Miss Parker took a deep breath. ‘Pourrais-je voir la chambre?’ she interrupted. ‘S’il vous plaît.’
‘Pardon, pardon, Mademoiselle!’ The manager mopped his face with a handkerchief and trotted back to Miss Parker and Mr Jones.
‘My wife,’ he whispered, as the woman glared at him, ‘is a very excitable woman.’ He took a box of pills from his pocket and swallowed one. ‘And now to show you to your rooms. Henri!’ he called. A small boy appeared, and helped the children with their bags.
By the time the children had taken turns going up and down in the lift, and decided which rooms they would have, it was nearly time for supper.
Mr Jones told everyone to meet in the restaurant at seven o’clock, which gave them half an hour to unpack and tidy themselves up a bit.
Matthew, Morgan and Sacha, having decided to have the double room with an extra bed in it, heard the crash when Avril (who was sharing the room next door with Jessica) slammed the door behind her and, clutching her bottle of tomato ketchup, made her way down to the restaurant.
‘Seven o’clock,’ said Matthew, ‘time for supper.’
The boys left their room and pressed the button for the lift. They heard the noise of the lift coming down from the floor above, then six pairs of legs came into view.
