Danger Ahead

by R. A. Spratt

  About the Book

  School camp … what could possibly go wrong?

  Friday Barnes is forced to face her biggest fear – her own emotions! She must wave goodbye to Ian as he takes off to join his father in the Cayman Islands. But when your dad is a white-collar criminal, family reunions never go to plan. Ian is kidnapped en route and it’s up to Friday to rescue him.

  On her return to school, the Headmaster has a treat in store – a four-week camp for students to learn wilderness survival skills! ‘Camp Courage’ is even worse than Friday imagined. And all her book smarts aren’t much help when she’s got wood to chop, potatoes to peel and latrines to dig.

  Can Friday survive the great outdoors, debunk the legend of a camp ghost and make it back to Highcrest Academy alive? Only time (and a compass) will tell!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Parting

  Chapter 2: Terrible Mistake

  Chapter 3: Thin Air

  Chapter 4: Things Get Serious

  Chapter 5: Rescue

  Chapter 6: Newtonian Physics

  Chapter 7: Permission to Skive

  Chapter 8: The Wheels on the Bus Don’t Always Go Round and Round

  Chapter 9: Arrival

  Chapter 10: Sebastian

  Chapter 11: Fire Alarm

  Chapter 12: River Challenge

  Chapter 13: Petty Thief

  Chapter 14: Colour War

  Chapter 15: First Round

  Chapter 16: Melanie’s Secret

  Chapter 17: The Triumphant Return

  Chapter 18: What Happened?

  Chapter 19: The Final Frontier

  Chapter 20: Surviving

  Chapter 21: No Return

  Chapter 22: Something Nasty

  Chapter 23: In Conclusion

  Copyright Notice

  To James

  Chapter 1

  Parting

  ‘I guess this is goodbye,’ said Friday.

  She and her best friend, Melanie, were standing on the school driveway with Ian Wainscott. Ian had a fully packed backpack sitting at his feet. It wasn’t a large backpack because Ian was heading off to the Cayman Islands, where the average temperature was a balmy thirty degrees and he wouldn’t need an extensive wardrobe.

  ‘I guess,’ agreed Ian.

  ‘After nearly a whole year of romantic banter, that’s the best you two can come up with?’ asked Melanie.

  Ian rolled his eyes.

  Friday stared at her own feet. She was starting to feel emotions, which always made her uncomfortable. She looked up at Ian’s face.

  ‘Be careful,’ said Friday.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Melanie approvingly.

  ‘The Cayman Islands has its own species of alligator,’ continued Friday. ‘And while it isn’t large enough to cause fatal injuries, it has been known to amputate limbs of incautious swimmers.’

  Melanie shook her head sadly. ‘You may never see Ian again, and all you can think to say is to warn him not to get bitten by an obscure species of alligator?’

  ‘If I didn’t mention it and he did get bitten, who’d be foolish then?’ snapped Friday.

  ‘You,’ said Melanie. ‘Still you.’

  At the far end of the driveway, a black car turned in through the school gates.

  ‘This must be my ride,’ said Ian.

  ‘Look …’ said Friday, searching her enormous brain for some suitable words. Something that would encapsulate all that she felt and all that she had been through with this distractingly handsome boy. ‘I guess I should say …’

  Ian interrupted her. ‘Forget it, Barnes. You’re terrible at this stuff.’

  Friday then entirely forgot whatever thoughts she had, because Ian took her by surprise when he wrapped her in a big hug. For one long second she felt warm and squeezed. He smelled of boy, which wasn’t as repellent as she had thought. Then he let go.

  Melanie was crying. ‘This is better than any Mexican soap opera our housekeeper Marta ever forced me to watch.’

  The black car pulled up alongside them. It was so sleek and new, that they had barely heard the purring powerful motor as it approached. A dapper middle-aged driver got out and came around to pick up Ian’s bag.

  ‘Your father must be doing well to afford all this,’ said Friday.

  ‘Dad has a knack for landing on his feet,’ said Ian, ‘then rubbing everyone’s noses in it.’

  The driver held open the car door and Ian disappeared inside. The windows were tinted, so Friday couldn’t see Ian anymore as the driver efficiently shut the door, put the backpack in the boot and slid into the driver’s seat.

  The car pulled away and crackled over the gravel down to the main road. Friday and Melanie watched it disappear into the stream of traffic.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll see him again,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Friday.

  ‘He is extremely good-looking,’ remarked Melanie. ‘If nothing else, Ian will be all over the gossip magazines in a couple of years when he is old enough to be a jetsetting playboy.’

  Friday just nodded. She didn’t want to speak. There was a huge lump in her throat. And she suspected any attempt to move her face would cause her to burst into tears.

  ‘Things are going to be very different here at Highcrest without him,’ said Melanie. ‘Maybe it’s time for you to move on and start irritating other boys.’

  Chapter 2

  Terrible Mistake

  The rest of the day was fairly quiet. Melanie wasn’t much of a chatterbox at the best of times, largely because she was usually asleep. But Friday was quiet too, because she was lost in her own thoughts that were, for once, about something other than science. The two girls were wandering back across the sports fields after their last class of the day.

  Mr Fontana, the PE teacher, had been trying to force them to play hockey. In the end he had sent them to the sin bin for the duration of the lesson – Melanie, because she’d shrieked any time someone hit a ball near her, and Friday, because she’d been scaring the other players by telling them the exact force a hockey ball had as it shot through the air at sixty kilometres an hour, and how much damage that could do to the bones in your face.

  ‘Isn’t that your Uncle Bernie’s car?’ asked Melanie.

  Friday looked up. There was a dark plume of smoke progressing up the school driveway, with a beaten-up old brown jalopy at the centre of it.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ wondered Friday.

  ‘Perhaps he needs help with a case,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Let’s find out,’ said Friday as she changed course and started towards the visitors car park.

  ‘Friday!’ cried Uncle Bernie as he got out of the car. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you in a gym skirt.’

  ‘I almost didn’t recognise you,’ said Friday. ‘Are you wearing a new suit?’

  Uncle Bernie looked unusually smart in a well-cut suit, with a clean shirt and tie. Even his hair was neatly cut.

  Uncle Bernie blushed. Another car door slammed. Ian’s mother emerged from the passenger side of the car.

  ‘Mrs Wainscott!’ exclaimed Friday.

  ‘You look lovely too,’ noticed Melanie.

  Mrs Wainscott usually only wore filthy gardening clothes, and hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed for a week. But today she was wearing a lovely yellow dress and her hair was styled nicely. It even looked like she had used hairspray.

  ‘Are you two going somewhere?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Oh my gosh!’ exclaimed Melanie. ‘Rings!’

  ‘What?’ asked Friday. When Melanie said ‘rings’, her mind immediately thought of Wagner’s Ring Cycle of operas.


  ‘They’re wearing rings!’ exclaimed Melanie before turning to Uncle Bernie. ‘You’re married, aren’t you?!’ She leapt forward and gave him a big hug. He was blushing as red as a beetroot now.

  Melanie let go and ran around the car to hug Mrs Wainscott as well.

  ‘Is this true?’ asked Friday.

  Uncle Bernie nodded. ‘Helena and I have just been to the registry office, where she did me the honour of becoming my wife.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Friday, giving her uncle an awkward hug. ‘I’m so happy you’ve found someone.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Uncle Bernie.

  ‘You know, statistically, married men live longer,’ said Friday.

  ‘I’ve heard that,’ agreed Uncle Bernie.

  ‘Especially if they marry avid gardeners who force them to eat lots of vegetables,’ said Friday with a smile.

  Uncle Bernie grinned. ‘Not too many vegetables.’

  ‘You’ve got the pizza place on speed dial, haven’t you?’ said Friday.

  Uncle Bernie shook his head. He checked over his shoulder to see Melanie admiring Mrs Wainscott’s, or rather Mrs Barnes’, wedding ring. Uncle Bernie showed Friday his smartphone. ‘I’ve got the app. I just wait until she’s out in the backyard with her veggies and hit send on my order.’

  ‘So long as you’re happy,’ said Friday.

  ‘Are you here to take Friday to your reception?’ asked Melanie, calling over the car.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Uncle Bernie. ‘And Ian.’

  Uncle Bernie and Mrs Wainscott looked at each other and smiled.

  Friday looked at them and frowned. ‘But he’s not here,’ she said.

  ‘Is he away on some excursion or something?’ asked Uncle Bernie. ‘I know he’s not off on camp yet. That’s not for another two weeks.’

  Friday glanced at Melanie to see if she would be of any support. Melanie just looked amazed at the situation and was clearly not intending to volunteer any information.

  ‘Ian left this morning for the Cayman Islands,’ said Friday. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  ‘What?!’ cried Mrs Wainscott.

  ‘His father sent him a package with airline tickets, a passport and money so Ian could go and visit him,’ said Friday.

  ‘But he can’t just leave the country!’ exclaimed Mrs Wainscott. ‘I have custody of him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take offence,’ said Melanie. ‘Ian probably just forgot. When you’re away on your own at boarding school, you do forget that technically your parents are in charge of you.’

  ‘Are you saying I don’t adequately supervise my son?’ demanded Mrs Wainscott.

  Uncle Bernie stared at his feet. Friday watched Melanie, anxious to see what she might say.

  ‘I don’t want to be rude to you at this emotional time,’ said Melanie kindly, ‘so I’m going to smile and not say anything.’ Melanie smiled, which amazingly did seem to placate Mrs Wainscott infinitesimally.

  ‘We’d better speak to the Headmaster and get to the bottom of this,’ said Uncle Bernie.

  ‘Poor Headmaster,’ said Melanie. ‘He hates it when students abscond. Especially so early in the morning.’

  Chapter 3

  Thin Air

  ‘He did what?!’ exclaimed the Headmaster.

  ‘He went to the Cayman Islands,’ said Friday. Friday, Melanie, Uncle Bernie and Mrs Wainscott had all gathered in the Headmaster’s office and were trying to explain the situation.

  ‘And you didn’t think to mention it to me?’ demanded the Headmaster.

  ‘We assumed he told you himself,’ protested Friday.

  ‘Actually, I didn’t,’ volunteered Melanie, ‘but only because I didn’t think about it at all.’

  ‘Well, let me make it clear for you,’ said the Headmaster sarcastically. ‘Students are not allowed to take off to tropical resorts in the middle of an academic term.’

  ‘Is that a school rule?’ asked Friday.

  The Headmaster looked like he wanted to leap across his desk and strangle her. ‘Yes! Yes, it is!’ he said. ‘I’m going to write it into the rule book today and backdate it so that when Ian does come back I can throw him out again.’

  ‘He just went to visit his dad,’ argued Friday.

  ‘But his father doesn’t have custody!’ wailed Mrs Wainscott.

  ‘We’d better ring Roger and find out what’s going on,’ said Uncle Bernie.

  ‘Who?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Roger is Mr Wainscott’s name,’ said Friday.

  ‘Really?’ said Melanie. ‘How funny. I wish I’d known that before. I would have giggled more when I saw him.’

  ‘What’s his phone number?’ Uncle Bernie asked the Headmaster.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the Headmaster.

  ‘Don’t you have it on file?’ asked Uncle Bernie.

  ‘It’s the responsibility of the parent who has custody to keep the personal details we have on file updated,’ said the Headmaster.

  Everyone looked at Mrs Wainscott.

  ‘I don’t have his number,’ said Mrs Wainscott. ‘He never used to give me his phone number, even when we were married. He said he didn’t want to tie up the line in case an important business call came through. So he’s hardly going to start now.’

  ‘Then how do we get hold of the man?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘You could ring the Cayman Islands directory enquiries,’ said Friday. ‘But given that the entire country is a haven for tax exiles, I’m guessing the vast majority of the population don’t have listed phone numbers.’

  ‘My boy is lost!’ wept Mrs Wainscott. ‘Lost forever!’ She collapsed on Uncle Bernie, sobbing.

  ‘This isn’t turning out to be much of a wedding day for you, is it?’ said Melanie sympathetically.

  Suddenly the door burst open as Miss Priddock, the school secretary, ran in crying. She went straight to the Headmaster and collapsed, sobbing on him.

  The Headmaster looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the situation. ‘My dear, get a hold of yourself. This is no way to behave in the workplace.’

  ‘But there’s a dreadful man on the telephone,’ said Miss Priddock between sobs. ‘He’s yelling at me using the most abusive language.’

  ‘Is it one of your boyfriends?’ asked Melanie. Miss Priddock was very attractive. She had rather a lot of boyfriends or, to be fair, men who wanted to be her boyfriend.

  ‘It’s a parent,’ sniffed Miss Priddock. ‘I told him the Headmaster was busy in a meeting and he said things that were very rude, and I’m fairly sure anatomically impossible.’

  ‘Which parent is threatening us now?’ sighed the Headmaster.

  ‘Roger Wainscott,’ said Miss Priddock.

  ‘Then put him through immediately!’ yelled the Headmaster. ‘Have you no common sense?’

  Miss Priddock burst into even louder tears and ran out of the office back to her desk.

  ‘Do you think she’s going to put the call through?’ Uncle Bernie whispered to Friday.

  ‘If she knows how to,’ said Friday. ‘Miss Priddock is not the most wildly competent secretary.’

  They all flinched when the phone on the Headmaster’s desk started ringing. The Headmaster took a deep breath, braced himself and picked up the phone. ‘Mr Wainscott …?’ He then held the phone a foot away from his head because Mr Wainscott was yelling at him so loudly it could have given him long-term hearing damage. Mr Wainscott used very rude language, but the gist of what he had to say was that he was very angry and he thought the Headmaster was not good at his job.

  ‘Your wife, I mean, ex-wife, and her partner –’ began the Headmaster.

  ‘Husband,’ corrected Uncle Bernie proudly.

  ‘Congratulations!’ said the Headmaster, before remembering he was talking on the phone. ‘Where was I? Yes, they’re here along with two of Ian’s close friends. I’m putting you on speaker so we can discuss this as a group.’

  The Headmaster placed the handset on his desk and pressed the sp
eaker button. They could all hear the soft hiss of an open microphone.

  ‘I have just received a letter in the mail,’ said Mr Wainscott.

  ‘How old-fashioned,’ said Melanie.

  ‘The message was spelled out in letters cut from a newspaper,’ said Mr Wainscott. ‘It read: I have kidnapped your son. I want five million dollars in unmarked bills. Get them ready to deliver by tomorrow night. Do not call the police.’

  ‘My boy has been kidnapped!’ wailed Mrs Wainscott, weeping mascara stains onto Uncle Bernie’s clean shirt.

  The Headmaster slumped back in his chair. ‘Friday, you know Ian better than anyone else …’

  ‘What about me? I’m his mother!’ cried Mrs Wainscott.

  ‘I don’t mean to be offensive, Mrs Wainscott,’ said the Headmaster, ‘but children have a rat cunning and imagination for deceit that is inconceivable to ordinary adults, so Friday may have more insight into Ian’s mind than any of us right now.’

  ‘Plus, they’re in love with each other,’ said Melanie.

  ‘What?!’ exploded Mr Wainscott.

  ‘She’s just joking,’ said the Headmaster, rubbing his forehead.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ said Melanie, looking confused.

  Friday patted her reassuringly on the arm. ‘We’re focusing on the kidnapping now.’

  ‘Is it possible that this whole thing has been masterminded by Ian himself?’ asked the Head master.

  ‘My boy has been kidnapped and you’re blaming him?!’ exclaimed Mr Wainscott.

  ‘You have to understand, we have several faked kidnappings at this school every year,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Over-privileged children enjoy pretending to kidnap themselves. It gives them an excuse to bunk off school for a few days.’