Verity Sparks, Lost and Found

by Susan Green

  “You’re n-n-not angry?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re sure?” Her eyes were red and swollen from weeping, and her voice was hoarse.

  “I’m sure.” I kissed her cheek. “Would you like me to sit here with you for a while?”

  “Yes, please,” she whispered. “And will you hold my hand?”

  A couple of minutes later she was fast asleep.

  When I got back to the sitting room, I found it in an absolute hubbub. Everyone, Miss Deane included, was poking in corners, banging and thumping the furniture around, looking under chairs, lifting and shaking the mats and cushions. Emily was even taking the logs out of the woodbox. Jessie and Alice were looking in the sewing baskets. They were all talking at once.

  “When did you have it last?”

  “Are you sure you put it on?”

  “Did you do up the clasp?”

  “Perhaps it fell under here …”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Laura’s gold bracelet is missing,” said Miss Deane. “It can’t have gone far. I’m sure we’ll find it.”

  But we didn’t. After a thorough search, it was still missing. With my hands behind my back, I flexed my fingers hopefully, then placed them in front of me and concentrated hard. A gold chain bracelet, with L.P.F. on the clasp. Surely, I thought … But no. Still nothing.

  “We’ll all look for it tomorrow,” said Miss Deane. “It will be easier in daylight.”

  “Never mind, Laura,” said Jessie, patting Laura on the arm. “It’ll turn up, you’ll see.”

  As soon as Jessie left the room, I went up to Emily.

  “Thank you,” I said in a low voice, “for what you said earlier.”

  Emily blushed and shook her head. “Jessie McGryll is a terrible snob. Going on and on about her royal connections! Queen Jessie, I call her to myself. If you ask me, she’s a right royal pain in the you-know-what.”

  We both giggled, and then Emily said seriously, “Be careful of Jessie. She can make your life miserable if she wants to. What she said tonight may be only the beginning.”

  9

  WHAT NEXT?

  I was in that swirling mist again. Hunting, searching. Desperate.

  “It’s useless!” I spoke out loud. “What’s the point?”

  I blundered on, but this time, instead of stumbling and falling, I stubbed my toe on something. I stopped. I picked up the object in front of my foot. It was that book again. The Young Ladies’ Treasure Book and Complete Companion. The pages opened, as if by invisible hands, at the section on cross-stitch.

  I woke up. Early light was stealing under the blind. Soon there would be bells ringing and voices chattering, but for now, I could lie and think. The dream had changed. It was no longer frightening. After all – cross-stitch! How comical. And yet … I wondered. It was the second time I’d dreamed about The Young Ladies’ Treasure Book and Complete Companion. Was there some meaning to this silly dream after all?

  Connie had a slight cold. Nothing serious, but during French with Madame de la Tour, her poor nose was red and running like a tap.

  “Votre mouchoir, Connie,” said Madame severely, and when Connie looked blank. “Your handkerchief.”

  Jessie and Alice smirked, and Connie blushed scarlet. She searched first in one pocket, and then the other.

  “Borrow mine,” I whispered. “It’s clean.”

  But she had a hanky. She blew her nose and then felt in her pockets again. She looked under the desk. She stood up and looked at her seat. Her cheeks were now white, not red, and with a worried look on her face, she put her hand up. Madame, who was in the middle of conjugating a verb, ignored her.

  We weren’t meant to utter a word of English in French class, so Connie tried, with her terrible accent, to get Madame’s attention.

  “Excusez-moi,” she began.

  Madame started to scold her for interrupting, but then she took a proper look at her. “Oui, oui,” she cried. “Allez … oh, for goodness sake, girl – go!”

  I volunteered to go after her. Like Madame, I thought she was going to be sick, but instead of going to the lavatory, Connie bolted upstairs.

  I found her in her bedroom, on her knees, surrounded by a muddle of clothes and books. She was crying as if her heart was broken.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My locket,” she sobbed. “It’s gone!”

  Connie says that the ribbon was getting rather frayed and so yesterday she took it off and put it in her pocket. She remembers that she had the locket at lunch, because Grace asked her where it was. Grace remembers it too, for she kindly promised to give Connie some velvet ribbon after lessons. After that, Connie went to her room to get her French homework, and then back down to the classroom. Now the locket is nowhere to be seen. It can’t have disappeared into thin air, but it still hasn’t been found. I do so want to help Connie find her locket. Now, more than ever, I need my gift.

  I had come to the end of my page, so I blotted it and turned to a new one. But what more was there to say? And then suddenly, The Young Ladies’ Treasure Book and Complete Companion popped into my head. What was so important about it? Why did that silly book keep recurring in my dreams? My copy was at Alhambra, but I knew there was one in Mrs Enderby-Smarke’s study. I wondered if I could slip down and take a look. Was I being silly? I couldn’t shake the notion that it could hold the answer, not just to Laura’s bracelet and Connie’s locket, but to the missing money as well. I heard the bell ringing downstairs. I slipped my notebook under my pillow. It was time for tea.

  I made sure I sat next to Connie. All the other girls chattered and laughed as they ate, but she just sat there silently, pushing her slice of bread and butter around on her plate. Cheering her up was beyond my powers, but I thought that at least I might be able to distract her. She always liked hearing about Papa, so I started to tell her about his latest letter.

  But before I’d got very far, she put her hand on mine, and with tears in her eyes, said, “Don’t. I miss my own father so much. I want to go home.”

  “I’m sorry, Connie.” I squeezed her hand. “What can I do to help?”

  She shook her head. “I just want to go home,” she repeated.

  When we went upstairs, she went straight to her room. I followed her.

  “Connie,” I said. “Mrs Enderby-Smarke is giving us one of her lectures tonight. You’ll be missed.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on,” I coaxed. “Or you won’t have any supper.”

  “I don’t care.” She flung herself face down on her bed.

  There wasn’t much more I could do, so I left her. As I approached our sitting room, I heard Mrs Enderby-Smarke’s voice. I listened for a few seconds. Hats. Well, since I knew more about millinery than she ever could, I thought I’d just give her lecture a miss. She was only warming up, and I knew she was good for another ten minutes at least. Now was my chance to go into her study and take a quick look at that book.

  I ran downstairs. The study door was ajar, so I cautiously pushed it open. The fire was lit, a lamp was burning, but no one was there. I crept in. There it was, on the bookshelf. The Young Ladies’ Treasure Book and Complete Companion: A Cyclopaedia of Occupations and Amusements Suitable to Ladies. I stared at its familiar red and gold spine. I picked it up …

  There was a bang and then a thump right outside. I knew that sound. It was the Colonel. He always dropped his walking stick when he tried to open a door. I bobbed down, crawled under Mrs Enderby-Smarke’s desk and crouched there while he picked up his cane and entered the room.

  I held my breath.

  Humming softly, the Colonel limped up to the desk and began to open various drawers.

  “Aha!” he said quietly, and I heard the sound of coins clinking. Then shuffling paper. I guessed it was banknotes.

  “Well what do you know?” he said to himself. “Ha ha! Two pounds on Battleaxe, and the old girl will be none the wiser.” What o
n earth did he mean? He banged his stick for emphasis and nearly whacked me on the knee. I tried to think what I could say to him if he discovered me. The best I could think of was that I was playing hide-and-seek. I prayed he wouldn’t drop his cane again, because if he bent down to pick it up, I was done for.

  But after a little more prying in his wife’s desk, he limped back out again. The door clicked shut, and I let out a deep shuddering breath. I stood up. Perhaps I should just get out while the going was good, I thought. But no. The book was right there, on the shelf. It must hold some kind of answer to the mystery.

  I opened it and flipped through the pages. Perhaps I half-expected a few ten pound notes to come fluttering out, or to find the missing jewellery in a secret compartment cut from the pages. But it was just the same huge volume that I had at home, full of handicrafts and other ladylike pursuits.

  Disappointed, I put the book back and looked over at the desk. I’d told SP I thought there was something odd going on at Hightop House, and here was my chance to investigate. Did I dare risk it? In for a penny, in for a pound, I decided, and opened the top drawer.

  It held accounts books, ledgers, a sheaf of bills and a cloth bag which – as I found when I peeked inside – contained some coins and a couple of banknotes. The second drawer held stationery, pencils, pen nibs, blotting paper and several bags of peppermints. The third drawer … Ah, this was more interesting. I leafed through the pile of papers. Certificates, bank documents, property deeds, letters … Should I take some? But which ones? I had no idea what I was looking for. I wished I could have discussed this with SP.

  Time was ticking away. By now, Mrs Enderby-Smarke may well be winding up her lecture. Was I pushing my luck here in her study?

  I flicked through a few of the papers. Minerva Eudora Smith … the Reverend Aurelius Smith … The Teachers’ and Governesses’ Pension Fund … Basil Cropper & Sons of Williams Road, South Yarra … I could remember a few names and that would have to do.

  I shut the drawer and tiptoed away.

  Back upstairs, I muttered an apology and slipped to my seat. Looking around the room, I was surprised to see Connie. Was she was feeling a little better? I gave her a smile, but she didn’t smile back. Perhaps it was because our headmistress had moved off the subject of hats and onto the subject of Connie.

  “So,” she said severely. “I will not have any of you girls giving way to your feelings and sulking in your chambers. You must exercise self-control. Do you hear me, Consolata? Now, about the soiree on Friday evening. Best dresses, of course – and not that old yellow thing please, Consolata. Bring your sewing baskets with you; I wish to demonstrate the refined yet homelike atmosphere of our school. We will have the musical interlude before supper. Grace, on the harp, will go first. Then Emily, you are to play the violin. And last, Jessie will sing. She has been practising her lovely Scottish songs and Consolata will accompany her. Consolata? What’s got into the girl?”

  For Connie, pushing roughly past Jemima and Louisa, had rushed from the room.

  “I told you, Mrs Enderby-Smarke. She’s terribly upset,” said Miss Deane. “She’s lost that locket she always wears.”

  “That does not excuse her rudeness.”

  “Yes, but it contained the only picture she had of her mother,” said Jessie. “Poor Connie. She’s devastated.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. I could have smacked her.

  “Your soft heart does you credit, Jessie,” said Mrs Enderby-Smarke, shooting an approving glance at her favourite.

  “May I go after her now?” asked Jessie. “I may be able to comfort her.”

  My jaw dropped. Miss Deane was so surprised she jabbed her needle right into her thumb. But Mrs Enderby-Smarke just purred.

  “Yes, Jessie, you may go.”

  Jessie carefully replaced her sewing basket in the cupboard before leaving the room, and Mrs Enderby-Smarke went on. “Girls, Jessie has just given you an example of truly kind sisterly behaviour. This is why she is Head Girl. After all, it’s not as if Connie was … Well, never mind that. Back to the soiree. Alice, you and Louisa are to pour the tea …”

  Mrs Enderby-Smarke droned on about sugar tongs, sandwich plates and teaspoons for another fifteen minutes. When at last she finished, Emily and I hurried to Connie’s room and found her lying on her bed, sobbing. Jessie was nowhere to be seen. I sat down and gently patted her back, and after a little while her shoulders stopped heaving. It was the second time this week I’d had to calm a crying friend. Lottie had been easy to comfort, but Connie? There was nothing anyone could do to cheer her up except find the locket. Or take her home to Riverbend Station.

  “Verity,” Emily whispered. “May I suggest something?”

  “What is it?”

  “You have a spare bed in your room. Do you think Connie could sleep in with you?”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? Emily was not only good-hearted, she was smart as well.

  “What a good idea,” I said. “Connie, would you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on then.” Emily and I helped her up, wrapped her in a shawl and between the two of us, got her to my room and tucked her up in my bed.

  “Emily, could you ask Miss Deane to come here?”

  I thought that Miss Deane should be told about the change, and besides, I’d need a set of sheets for the other bed. While I waited, holding Connie’s hand, I looked around the room. Suddenly, I had the strangest feeling. Something was not right, and yet as far as I could see by the flickering candlelight, everything was in its place – the pictures of Papa and the Plush family, my hairbrush and hand mirror, the little wooden jewellery box on my chest of drawers … No. My jewellery box had been moved.

  Gently withdrawing my hand from Connie’s, I got up and walked over to the chest. I opened the box.

  My lucky piece was gone.

  10

  TO CATCH A THIEF

  I’m afraid I swore, but I won’t tell you what I said. The thief at Hightop House had to be stopped! Surely now my gift would return to me. After all, the lucky piece was precious – not because it was worth a lot of money, but because of what it meant to me. I concentrated. I tried to picture Mrs Vic and my mother. I tried to see the piece itself, with the seven stars …

  I was interrupted by a soft tap at the door. For a couple of seconds, I’d thought that maybe my gift was about to return … But no.

  “How are you, dear?” Miss Deane asked Connie as she approached the bed.

  “Oh, please can’t I stay?” whimpered Connie.

  Miss Deane stroked her tear-stained face. “Don’t fret, Connie.”

  “But what if Mrs–”

  “You have my permission to change bedrooms.” Miss Deane reassured her. “Don’t worry. I will speak to Mrs Enderby-Smarke about it tomorrow.” She turned to Emily and me. “This is a very good idea, girls. Connie shouldn’t be alone. Verity, will you come with me to the linen room?”

  “Yes, Miss Deane.”

  “Follow me.”

  Walking as quickly as she could without extinguishing her candle, Miss Deane led me downstairs and to the back of the ground floor. This area was out of bounds to us girls. Here was the boiler room, the sick bay where infectious pupils could be isolated, and a couple of storerooms. Selecting a key from the chatelaine at her belt, Miss Deane opened the linen room door. In the dim light I could see the walls were lined with open shelves containing piles of sheets, towels and blankets. The whole room smelled of lavender and cloves.

  “We won’t be disturbed in here,” said Miss Deane, shutting the door behind us. “Now, Verity …” She reached into the front of her bodice and pulled out an envelope. “I received a very interesting letter this morning. It’s from a Mr Saddington Plush.”

  “Oh,” I said. Why had SP written to Miss Deane and not me? And what had he discovered?

  “Hold the candle, will you?” she said. She unfolded the letter and began to read.

  “Dear Miss Deane,


  For your eyes only:

  Investigations via a contact at the Army and Navy Club reveal that Reginald Enderby-Smarke has never been a member of either the British or Indian armies. Though he has spent some time in India, he was engaged in selling horses. He is not a colonel, and there was no battle at Borabadur. In fact, I don’t think there is a place called Borabadur – not in India at any rate. He smashed his leg falling off an elephant, which he was riding as a bet.

  I hope this information will help you in your present difficulty.

  Yours faithfully,

  Saddington Plush.

  PS I’ve enclosed a note for Verity.”

  Miss Deane handed me a small piece of paper.

  I looked at it quickly.

  I will be out of town for a couple of days, so if you need anything, contact Daniel.

  “Tell me, Verity, what’s this all about?”

  I took a deep breath. “We have a thief at Hightop House.”

  “I know we do,” she said. “Because, so far, someone has stolen Connie’s locket and Laura’s bracelet.”

  “I can add to your list,” I said. “I’ve just discovered that my new silver chain and lucky piece have been stolen.”

  “Oh no.”

  “And hasn’t a large sum of money gone missing as well? Fifty pounds, to be exact.”

  “How do you know about that?” she asked sharply.

  “I heard you and the Colonel talking while I was waiting for SP to take me out for my birthday. Besides, you’ve been searching high and low for the money. I didn’t believe what you said about moths,” I added.

  Miss Deane shook her head. “It wasn’t a very good excuse, was it?”

  “SP – that is, Mr Saddington Plush, is a confidential inquiry agent, Miss Deane. I told him that I heard the Colonel threaten to kill someone if the money was not returned. I’ve been so very worried.”

  “You’re a dear girl!” said Miss Deane, giving me a quick hug. “It’s not as bad as all that. The Colonel was threatening to kill Lucifer.”