by R. A. Spratt
‘HELP!’ Friday cried. She paused and listened. She couldn’t hear anything except the wind. ‘HEEELLP!’ she yelled again. She listened. Still nothing. Friday drew a deep breath. She had to keep trying. Being found in the next hour was her only hope. ‘HEEEELLLLL …’
‘Friday?’ a voice called back. It was a long way away. But Friday could have sworn she heard her name.
‘Gosh, I hope I’m not hallucinating from all the pain,’ Friday said to herself. She sucked in a deep breath. ‘HEEEEEEEELLLLLLP!!!’
‘Friday!’ the voice was closer now.
‘Over here,’ called Friday. ‘I need help. I’ve hurt my ankle.’
Friday could hear someone running through the scrub above her. Her pain-addled brain processed this information much slower than it normally would.
‘Don’t worry, I’m coming!’ cried Ian.
‘Ian?’ said Friday. His voice was too close. ‘Ian, watch out for the cliff …’
‘Waaahhh!’ cried Ian.
Dirt and gravel fell on Friday’s head. She looked up. Ian had fallen over the side and was dangling from the branch she had been dangling from half an hour earlier. His wrist strength must be better than hers.
‘Can you climb back up?’ asked Friday.
‘I think so,’ said Ian straining. His feet scrambled for traction as he pulled himself up, hand over hand.
‘You’re going to make it!’ said Friday enthusiastically.
Suddenly the whole bush gave way. Ian’s weight pulled it out of the ground by the roots, and he slid straight down the cliff face. Friday made an effort to catch him, but Ian weighed twice as much as she did, so he crashed down on her, squashing her into the ledge.
‘Eurgh,’ said Friday, gasping for breath. She felt like she had taken most of Ian’s weight on her solar plexus.
‘That didn’t hurt as much as I expected falling off a cliff would,’ said Ian. He scooted forward so his legs dangled over the ledge and he wasn’t sitting on Friday anymore. ‘Are you all right?’
‘No,’ Friday managed to weakly gasp between struggling for breath.
Ian looked at Friday. She was clearly in a lot of pain. And even in the last of the late afternoon light he could see that her lips were turning blue from cold.
‘We need to warm you up,’ said Ian. He pulled Friday up into a sitting position.
‘Ow!’ wailed Friday. Now her ribs hurt almost as much as her ankle. Suddenly something was being jammed over her head. Friday opened her eyes to find herself inside Ian’s jumper. Her face was pressed against his neck as her head stuck out the head hole. ‘Let me out, you’re being ridiculous,’ said Friday.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ said Ian. ‘You’re seriously injured. You’re very cold and there is a good chance we are going to be stuck here all night. You need to warm up. You need to survive this so you can tell everyone how I heroically saved you.’
Friday wanted to argue but it was just too cosy and warm inside Ian’s jumper. ‘Mmm,’ was all she managed. Ian wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.
‘This is where you are lucky to be such a midget,’ said Ian. ‘If you were normal-sized you wouldn’t fit in here, and there is no way I would take my jumper off for someone as annoying as you.’
‘I don’t understand how I managed to fall off a cliff,’ mumbled Friday. ‘I know I’m clumsy, but I followed the signs.’
‘That was the problem,’ said Ian. ‘Someone rearranged the signs so that they pointed in all different directions. Most of the school got lost. They muddled their way back eventually, but you were the only one who didn’t turn up at all.’
‘So you came looking for me?’ said Friday.
‘Of course,’ said Ian. ‘I’d hired you to find out who framed me. I couldn’t let you off finishing the job.’
‘Mmmm,’ said Friday. She looked up at Ian. His eye was red and swollen.
‘Has something happened to your eye?’ asked Friday.
Ian laughed. ‘It’s just a bump.’
As the warmth from Ian seeped back into her body, she started to feel safe again, the adrenalin was easing away, and she began to drift to sleep.
‘That’s a good idea,’ said Ian. ‘You rest. I’m going to need you to give me a leg up so I can climb out of here in the morning, so you’ll need your strength.’
Friday weakly snorted a laugh just as she drifted off.
Friday was lying in a field full of wildflowers. The sun was shining so brightly she had to keep her eyes closed. Someone was with her. Someone she liked. It was Ian. But she felt cold, very cold, and there was a loud noise that was getting louder. It was making a WHOP WHOP WHOP sound as the cold wind gusted stronger.
‘Friday! Wake up!’
Friday wrenched her eyes open. She wasn’t in a field. She was on a cliff ledge. It was night, but there was a bright light shining in her face. The noise and the gusty wind suddenly made sense. It was a rescue helicopter hovering above them.
Friday shielded her eyes to see what they were doing. A shape blocked out the spotlight for a moment. It was getting closer. Friday realised it was a paramedic being lowered down to the ledge they were on. The large man in a bright red jumpsuit and oversized helmet slowly descended towards them. The helicopter was buffeted by a gust of wind, and the paramedic slammed into the cliff face and fell the last metre onto the ledge, landing on Friday’s sore leg.
‘Oooww!’ yelled Friday before losing consciousness again.
Chapter 24
What Happened?
When Friday awoke she was in the sick bay. She looked across at the next bed. The paramedic in the red jumpsuit was lying there. He appeared to be in a great deal more pain than she was.
‘You’re awake,’ said Melanie.
Friday turned the other way to see her best friend sitting in the chair alongside her.
‘It makes a change for me to be the one awake and you to be taking a nap,’ said Melanie.
‘I didn’t take a nap,’ said Friday. ‘I passed out from pain.’
‘Ahuh,’ said Melanie. ‘I’ll have to remember that excuse.’
‘Is he all right?’ asked Friday, indicating the paramedic.
‘I should think so,’ said Melanie. ‘Dr Paviour gave him so much pain medication he won’t know if he’s Arthur or Martha. He’s worse off than you. You’ve just got a severely sprained ankle. He’s got a broken knee.’
‘I feel partly to blame,’ said Friday. ‘If I hadn’t been silly enough to fall off the cliff in the first place …’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s the person who altered the signs that caused the trouble. Besides, the paramedic would have been worse off if you hadn’t been there to break his fall.’
‘I seem to remember breaking Ian’s fall as well,’ said Friday.
‘Oh yes,’ said Melanie. ‘He’s completely unscathed. You’d never guess he’d spent four hours on a freezing cold ledge to look at him.’
‘Is that how long we were out there?’ asked Friday.
‘It took a long time for the Headmaster to realise you were missing, not just running really slowly,’ explained Melanie. ‘Then he was naturally reluctant to call the emergency services while there was so much press around. Then Ian appeared, which was shocking in itself because technically he’s expelled. Anyway, he yelled at the Headmaster that he was an incompetent old buffoon, in front of everyone. It was really very dramatic. Then Binky punched Ian …’
‘Why?’ asked Friday.
‘He misses Debbie,’ said Melanie. ‘He still thinks Ian pulled the prank of firing all the teachers, which resulted in her getting airlifted back to Norway.’
‘Poor Binky,’ said Friday. ‘We’ll have to try to solve his problems next.’
‘Then he took off running into the forest,’ added Melanie
‘Who? Binky?’ asked Friday, rubbing her sore head.
‘No, Ian,’ said Melanie. ‘He went off to look for you himself. He obviously foun
d you.’
‘I’ve got to see the Headmaster,’ said Friday, throwing back her blanket and sitting up.
‘But you’re not well,’ protested Melanie.
‘Something serious is going on here,’ said Friday. ‘I’ve got to put a stop to it.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Melanie. ‘You could just be suffering concussion and the swelling in your brain is causing you to have delusions.’
‘There’s no time to waste,’ said Friday, standing up. ‘Oww!’ Friday collapsed back on the bed. Her leg really hurt.
‘There are some crutches in the closet, Would you like to try using those?’ suggested Melanie.
‘Why didn’t you mention that earlier?’ asked Friday as she gritted her teeth trying to suppress the pain.
‘Well, everyone’s always saying how super clever you are,’ said Melanie. ‘So it never occurred to me that you’d be stupid enough to try standing on that leg.’
Pretty soon Friday was hobbling towards the Headmaster’s office with the aid of a pair of crutches. She was still in her cross country gear, but she was wearing a dressing gown from the sick bay over the top. Melanie came along too.
‘What is the meaning of this?!’ demanded the Headmaster as she barged into his office.
Friday hobbled over to the armchair and collapsed in it before looking around. She hadn’t expected to find VP Pete, the Headmaster, Mr Abercrombie, Ian and an Asian man in golf knickerbockers crowded into the office drinking cups of tea. There was a tea tray set up on the Headmaster’s desk.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ asked Friday, her head still fuzzy from pain and pain medication.
‘Yes, you are!’ yelled the Headmaster. ‘Dr Paviour informs me that you are suffering from hypothermia and a sprained ankle. You should be in sick bay.’
‘What are all these people doing here?’ asked Friday.
‘That is none of your business,’ snapped VP Pete.
‘I just had a near-death experience,’ said Friday. ‘Social niceties don’t matter to me at the moment.’
‘Did they ever?’ asked Melanie.
‘I know who you are,’ said Friday indicating the Headmaster, VP Pete, Ian and Mr Abercrombie. ‘But who is this? And why is he wearing such silly trousers?’ She nodded towards the gentleman dressed for golf.
‘How insufferably rude,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘This is Mr Musa,’ said Ian. ‘He’s a businessman from Malaysia who is negotiating to buy the school to turn it into a golf resort. He flew in on his private plane to sign the papers.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Friday.
‘Yes, I can. I have the full authority of the school council. I’m closing Highcrest Academy down,’ said Mr Abercrombie. ‘It is out of control. Highcrest has lurched from one disaster to the next. It is starting to endanger the lives of students.’
‘Friday doesn’t mind having her life endangered,’ said Melanie. ‘She does it all the time.’
‘The trustees have decided to sell the buildings and grounds to Mr Musa,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘Can they do that?’ Friday asked the Headmaster. ‘It doesn’t sound legal.’
‘According to Sebastian Dowell’s will, the school could be disbanded if ever the management of the school decides it to be dangerously undis ciplined,’ said the Headmaster.
‘Which it has,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘But what happens to the money?’ said Friday. ‘Who gets that?’
‘The Cat Protection Society,’ said VP Pete. ‘Apparently Mr Dowell liked kitties.’
‘But selling the school would make millions,’ said Friday. ‘What are they going to do? Feed the cats caviar and put them up in luxury penthouses?’
‘The terms of Sebastian Dowell’s will are none of your business,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘Yes, they are,’ said Friday. ‘Because this entire thing is a set-up. It’s a conspiracy to push through this development deal.’
‘She’s delusional from pain,’ said VP Pete, shaking his head sadly.
‘I am not,’ said Friday. ‘And I can prove it.’
‘If you can, please do,’ said the Headmaster.
‘Someone has been playing a series of nasty pranks, trying to cause chaos at the school and discredit the Headmaster,’ said Friday.
‘Poppycock!’ said Mr Abercrombie. ‘High-spirited students are just taking advantage of a leadership vacuum and total lack of discipline.’
‘The poisoned stroganoff, the forged termination letters, the broken balustrade – they were all pranks to destabilise the Headmaster’s position,’ said Friday. ‘The debacle of today’s cross country was the final straw. If we find out who changed the signs around, we will know who has been committing all the pranks, and if we know who did it we’ll soon be able to work out why.’
‘How can we know who changed the signs?’ asked Ian. ‘The entire student body was in the forest at once. Anyone could have done it.’
‘How many people got through the course and how many people got lost?’ asked Friday.
‘Of the 360 students at the school, 43 got through the course in good time,’ said the Headmaster. ‘The other 317 all got lost.’
‘That’s it, then,’ said Friday. ‘We know who did it.’
‘When you say “we”, you don’t mean “me”, do you?’ said Melanie. ‘Because I haven’t been following what you’ve been saying at all.’
‘The culprit is the person who came 43rd,’ said Friday. ‘Everyone who was ahead of them got through before the signs were changed. Everyone behind them got lost. So whoever it was must be the one who changed the signs.’
‘That actually makes sense,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Does anyone know who came 43rd?’
‘I do,’ said Melanie. ‘It was Lizzie Abercrombie.’
‘How dare you!’ said Mr Abercrombie.
VP Pete rolled his eyes. ‘We can’t possibly rely on the evidence of Melanie Pelly.’
‘I remember quite clearly,’ said Melanie. ‘I woke up as Lizzie and Max ran out of the forest. I remember the announcer saying that the brother and sister came 42nd and 43rd.’
‘They ran out of the forest together?’ asked Ian.
‘Of course, they were in on it together,’ said Friday. ‘It fits. When the stroganoff was poisoned, Lizzie was the one to cast doubt on Mr Pilcher. And Max set up the balustrade fiasco. They must have been behind all the mishaps that have been happening.’
‘This is outrageous,’ said Mr Abercrombie. ‘I’m calling my lawyer to begin proceedings for slander.’ He took out his mobile and started dialling.
‘Then there is the way in which you made your fortune, Mr Abercrombie,’ said Friday. ‘You’re the son of a stationery magnate, aren’t you?’
‘Every time you say that I imagine a man being showered with money while he stands really still,’ said Melanie.
‘And what is stationery? It’s paper,’ said Friday. ‘A man with a family background in paper would know how to get pink stationery printed up with a watermark featuring the face of his rival’s son.’
‘You did that? You set me up to take the blame, just because you don’t like my dad?!’ accused Ian. ‘You ruined my life!’
‘It explains why the forgery of your signature on the termination letters was so good,’ said Friday. ‘It wasn’t forgery.’
‘These are ridiculous allegations,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘Really?’ said Friday. ‘How much do you person ally stand to gain from the deal to turn Highcrest into a golf resort?’
‘I’m doing it for the good of the economy,’ said Mr Abercrombie. ‘It will create local jobs. And, of course, the cats get the lion’s share of the money.’
‘Ahem,’ Mr Musa cleared his throat. ‘He will have a ten per cent share. It’s a standard fee for putting the deal together.’
‘That’s just compensation for my time and effort,’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘I’m not good at maths, but even I kn
ow ten per cent of squillions is a lot,’ said Melanie.
‘Then there is the question of – why did you force the Headmaster to hire your brother to be vice principal?’ asked Friday.
‘What?!’ demanded the Headmaster.
‘His brother!’ exclaimed Ian.
‘If I’m not mistaken, VP Pete is Mr Abercrombie’s identical twin brother,’ said Friday.
‘No way!’ exclaimed Ian.
‘I saw the Abercrombie family tree in the genealogy classroom,’ continued Friday. ‘Twins run in their family. Mr Abercrombie has a brother who was convicted of committing welfare fraud. That sounds like a brother with nothing better to do than take a break from watching daytime TV to spend a few months impersonating a vice principal.’
‘But Mr Abercrombie and VP Pete look nothing alike,’ said Ian.
‘No, but they would if VP Pete got a haircut, shaved his beard and lost thirty kilos,’ said Friday. ‘They are the same height and have the same hair colour.’
‘These are outrageous accusations! No one will believe any of this!’ said Mr Abercrombie.
‘Plus, there is the lactose intolerance,’ said Friday. ‘Max and Lizzie are lactose-intolerant. They used that as their cover for not eating the beef stroganoff. And when I first met VP Pete, he told me that dairy did not agree with him, either.’
‘I don’t understand the relevance of this observation,’ said the Headmaster.
‘Lactase deficiency, more commonly known as “lactose intolerance”, is a heritable disease,’ said Friday. ‘It runs in families. Max and Lizzie have it, and their uncle VP Pete has it as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Abercrombie does, too.’
Friday lurched across the room to the Headmaster’s desk and snatched up Mr Abercrombie’s teacup. ‘Let’s see how you take your tea.’ She looked into the cup. ‘No milk.’ She showed the cup to the room.
‘You can’t accuse a man on the basis that he drinks black tea!’ snapped Mr Abercrombie.
‘But it’s the only explanation that makes complete sense of the facts,’ said Friday. ‘You hire your brother to destabilise the Headmaster, and you get your children to play dangerous pranks so you can make a percentage facilitating a major land deal.’