‘But . . . but . . .’ stammered Mrs Brown. ‘But that’s impossible! You can’t have! And even if you did buy the house, you couldn’t possibly have exchanged contracts and signed everything and moved in within twenty-four hours!’
‘Have you really moved in next door?’ asked Janey incredulously.
G-Mamma polished her nails against her bosom with a pleased smile. ‘Yep. My very influential friends in the government sorted it out for me.’
‘Just like that?’ scoffed Janey’s mum.
‘Yep, just like that. And if you could remember anything about your past, Gina Bellarina, you could be sorted out just like that as well.’
As Mrs Brown started to snarl like a slavering bulldog, Janey hissed at G-Mamma, ‘Perhaps you’d better go now. Maybe we could talk tomorrow.’
Grinning secretively, G-Mamma inclined her head into her layered neck, turtle-like, and stepped back into the hall. ‘We’ll see about that, Janey baby. Bye, Gina.’ And she stalked proudly from the house, turned right directly past the front window and stepped through a gate in the fence to her new home.
Mrs Brown slumped into a chair. ‘What have we done to deserve all this, Janey?’
‘I . . . I think perhaps she’s just lonely, Mum.’
‘Hmm. Well, she shouldn’t just inflict herself on the first people she comes across.’ But Janey could tell from the softer tone of her mother’s voice that she felt a slight twinge of sympathy.
Janey kissed her mother’s cheek. She couldn’t help wondering why her mum was so quick to dismiss everything that G-Mamma had told them. But she knew it would be a whole lot easier if she pretended to go along with her. Right now she needed some time alone to think about what was happening.
Janey forced out a yawn. ‘Well, she’ll probably get bored and leave us alone soon, Mum. Let’s just ignore her.’ She yawned again. ‘Oh, is that the time? I’m exhausted. Feel a bit bashed and bruised after the last couple of days. Bedtime for me!’
More than a little shocked that Janey was rushing to bed of her own accord, Mrs Brown blew her daughter a kiss. ‘OK then. Goodnight, darling.’
Janey twisted herself awkwardly under the duvet, trying to avoid scraping her sore knees or leaning on her bruised wrist. She really was exhausted. Clutching the frog picture she had rescued from beneath her mattress, she started to fall asleep. But moments later she was sitting up, trying to work out where a loud, insistent tapping was coming from. It had a metallic ring to it, like the sound of a horseshoe being hammered out on a blacksmith’s anvil. Reluctantly, Janey eased herself out of bed and made her way towards the source of the sound.
It was coming from her fireplace. She flicked on her bedside light and approached the black iron grate where she knelt down on her sore knees. Suddenly the tapping stopped and a familiar voice bounced into the room.
‘Turn off the light, Spylet!’
Janey ignored how silly she was feeling and spoke into the grate. ‘G-Mamma? What are you doing in my fireplace?’
‘I’m not in your fireplace, Blonde-girl! I’m in my fireplace! You’ll have to turn off the light – don’t want your mum checking to see you’re in Noddy Bye-bye Land and finding you gone. Then you can come through.’
‘Come through?’ Janey switched the lamp off and stumbled back to the fireplace. ‘Right. What do I do now?’
‘Just come on down, child! Bring it on!’
A sliver of light appeared at the very bottom of the iron panel that lined the back of the fireplace. Janey watched as the glimmer broadened until it was ten, then twenty, then thirty centimetres high. Now she could make out G-Mamma’s fluffy scarlet mules on the other side. Noiselessly the panel continued to rise, until Janey could see up to G-Mamma’s waist. It stopped abruptly and G-Mamma’s rosy cheeks suddenly popped into view.
‘Well, come on, zany Janey. What are you waiting for?’
Still holding the curled-up frog picture, Janey shuffled on hands and knees through the short tunnel between her room and G-Mamma’s.
From out of nowhere a streak of fur shot past her face.
‘Aaaaaaargh! What was that?’ yelled Janey.
‘Whatty-what?’
‘Some animal! A furry snake-thing!’
G-Mamma tutted impatiently and dragged Janey through the fireplace. ‘It’s a kitten, Blonde. Calm down. Can’t have our ace Spylet frightened by a widdle puddy cat, can we?’ She helped Janey to her feet, then pressed her palm flat against the wall. The iron panel slid shut.
‘Welcome to my SPI-lab. You’ve got the same control panel on your side. I think I’ll get them to widen it though, so you can just step through instead of scrabbling around like a chimney sweep.’
Janey didn’t reply. She was too busy gawping at the room that lay before her. The kitten had disappeared, but there was still plenty to look at.
Every single wall on the top floor of G-Mamma’s house had been knocked through. The surfaces were either white enamel or surgical steel, as gleaming and clinical as an operating theatre. Enormous floor-to-ceiling cupboards lined the walls, and nearly every one had a glass front, through which Janey could see a vast array of equipment, from scissors and nail files to jet skis and backpack propeller sets. One cupboard had a shining steel door and another boasted a curved white front with magnetic pictures and letters stuck on it – Janey guessed that this was G-Mamma’s fridge. In the middle of the huge expanse of floor were three sleek stainless-steel islands. One had nothing on it at all; one was covered in an array of test tubes, Bunsen burners and bubbling bottles, like something out of a Frankenstein movie; and the third was home to G-Mamma’s massive collection of make-up and a series of mirrors with which to view her face from any angle.
‘Amazing!’ was all Janey could say. How had G-Mamma got all this done so quickly?
G-Mamma opened the cupboard with the metal door. ‘Wish I could say the same for you, honey-mine.
You are the most bumped and filthy Spylet I have seen in
a long, long time. Into the Wower with you.’
‘Er, do you mean the shower?’
‘No, I said exactly what I mean. A SPI shower is called a Wower.’ G-Mamma grinned. ‘You’ll see why in a moment. Go on, you need all the help you can get.’
Looking down at herself, Janey could see that G-Mamma was right. And before she could hesitate, she was shoved into the shower room, fully clothed. The steel door slammed shut.
Janey looked around. ‘Where’s the shower then?’
She was enclosed in a small cubicle made up entirely of shimmering surfaces. She caught sight of her reflection in one and giggled. No longer lean and gangly, the girl peering back at her was no bigger than a toddler, with babyish creases in her chubby knees and elbows. In the next mirror she looked fantastically tall, stretching to the very top of the glass with a worm-wide, spaghetti body. To her right, her reflection was wide and soft, with pudgy arms that would have made a teddy bear proud.
‘G-Mamma!’ she shouted again. ‘What do I do? There’s no shower in here!’
‘No shower?’ G-Mamma’s voice boomed into the cubicle. There was clearly some kind of public-address system. ‘Course there is. Just say, “Wow me,” and get on out here, will you? Zippety split, Janey!’
‘Er, OK.’ Feeling very silly, Janey closed her eyes. ‘Um, please, er, Wow me!’
There was a tiny click, like a camera shutter. Suddenly the whole cubicle began to fill with steam. Damp, glistening air surrounded her, heavy with pearly moisture. Miraculously, it seemed to Janey that the tiny droplets of water were soothing her cuts and bruises so she no longer felt any pain, and instead of her nightclothes feeling sodden and heavy, she was encased in silk, or something even lighter, like gossamer. It was like being enclosed inside a snow-globe, with glittering flakes swirling and whirling around her.
Janey’s head spun slightly as a pair of robot hands reached from the back of the cubicle and moved towards her. A moment later all the nerve-endings in her scalp tingled
as her whole head was pummelled and cleaned by the metal fingers, and her hair was massaged with a sweet-smelling potion. Next she felt the hands at work on her fingers and toes, polishing her nails to perfection. Then suddenly she was being blasted with warm air while a third hand reached for her face.
‘Right! That’s enough! Come on out now!’
Stepping from the cubicle, Janey was immediately swept up in a huge embrace by G-Mamma.
‘Oh, look at you!’ crowed G-Mamma. ‘What a Spylet! Second rule of SPI work, Blonde-girl: be sensational!’ G-Mamma swung Janey round and pushed her towards the polished steel of the Wower door.
Janey gasped at her reflection. She could no longer see her savaged, scrawny joints or her bruised and bloodied fingers. In fact, she couldn’t see any of her skin below her neck, as she was now encased in a silver Lycra catsuit that seemed to iron out her angular bones and give her smooth curves instead. She looked like an Olympic gymnast from the twenty-second century. And now Janey could see what those robotic hands had been doing to her – in place of her limp, mousy hair was a high, sleek ponytail of platinum blonde. Suddenly her cheekbones sprang to attention and her lips looked plump and rosy. And her vision was definitely sharper. Janey wondered if that had anything to do with the slender black glasses from behind which her grey, long-lashed eyes now sparkled.
‘Wow!’ she said. ‘I look like a pop star!’
G-Mamma grinned back proudly, as though the transformation had been entirely her work. ‘For the first time in your life you look like what you are meant to be: Jane Blonde, Sensational Spylet.’
Swelling with joy, Janey looked herself up and down. She nodded. ‘I do. I feel different, G-Mamma. I really think I could be something . . . something special!’
But G-Mamma was pulling at the stretchy silver catsuit and pinging it back against Janey’s skin. ‘OK. It’s not all about looking good. SPI-suit: heat and fire resistant, aerodynamic, waterproof (obviously), withstands certain pressures and weights but not all. You could be crushed but not melted. Fleet-feet pads on your soles – you can run at speeds of up to thirty miles an hour and also be propelled off the floor to a maximum height of three metres if you bring both feet down together. Ponytail: can be used as a whip for self-defence, a dagger if frozen solid and, you know, it keeps your hair out of your eyes. Which brings me to the Ultra-gogs, for extra-sharp day vision, night vision, heat detection and information. They may look like specs, but actually they’re a voice-activated satellite-sourced search engine. Did you get all that?’
Janey gulped. ‘Are you joking?’
‘Nope, it’s no joke. You’ve been getting ready for this moment your whole life. You just didn’t know it. There’s only one Jane Blonde in the world. Only one girl who can wear this outfit – and it’s you.’
Janey nodded while G-Mamma continued, looking more than a little stern. ‘I am deadly serious, Blonde. And you had better start treating this as deadly serious, because you are in some deadly serious trouble yourself. Understand me, Spylet?’
‘Y-yes, G-Mamma. I understand you,’ said Janey, even though her mind was whirling in confusion.
‘Good.’ G-Mamma moved to a computer screen that had risen from the desk and tapped away at it, her long nails clicking on the keyboard.
‘Now. I think I ought to get on with briefing you about your uncle, Spylet. Solomon Brown, scientist and SPI. As I said, just before he went underground he sent me instructions – along with his kitty-cat, whom you’ve already met – to make sure you’re well versed in everything Solomon’s Polificational Investigations – that’s SPI – can do. And why they do it! So here we go: your uncle Solomon’s organization is employed by the government to come up with new inventions to assist them in their secret operations. All the gadgets and whatnots you’ll come into contact with – no doubt including those presents Solomon sent you – have been invented and used by your wonderful uncle, or indeed by your father before him. Other covert groups have to beg, steal, even kill to get hold of stuff that isn’t half as good. Solomon is the master of SPI technology.
‘The gadgetry arm gets its commissions from someone in MI5 – we know him only as Copper Knickers. I mean, Copernicus. (Have to be sooooo careful how you say that!) Anyway, the last thing your father was working on was really big. When he died, Solomon said he would take over the project. He’s been working on it ever since, and the only person he reports to is old Knickers himself. I mean, Copernicus. We know it’s called Project Crystal Clear, but beyond that we don’t know much else. We also know the Sinerlesse Group have got a whiff of the secret – so someone close to Solomon has spilled a few beans.’
‘So, the Sinerlesse Group. I mean, they know where I live – are they going to come and kill me or something?’ asked Janey, turning pale ‘What do they want, exactly?’
‘Calm down, Blondey. They’re not going to kill you. You’re too valuable. Now listen. Sinerlesse is another spy organization,’ said G-Mamma, typing frantically. ‘At one time we were all on the same side. They were the field-operations team who tested our inventions – although at that time they didn’t call themselves Sinerlesse. They were just a band of outdoor specialists. But then they broke away, turned rogue – and gave themselves a snaky old name. Anyway, they moved abroad and spied for money, selling secrets to the highest bidder. But now they’re back. And they’ve got a new leader: Ariel. Information has leaked through that this Ariel character is ruthless. That he’s motivated by more than money. He wants power. And he thinks that whatever Sol has discovered will give the Sinerlesse Group just that. They’ve done a really good job of keeping themselves hidden, so we don’t know who Ariel is. They’ve always been clever spies, Blondette. Don’t ever underestimate them. They’re tricky. And, most of all, they’re dangerous.’ G-Mamma finished her speech with a deep breath.
‘Right.’ Janey didn’t know what else to say.
‘So – be careful.’
‘I will.’
G-Mamma looked at her for a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied that Janey was taking everything in. ‘Righty almighty. Now we need to analyse the message Solomon sent you. When did you last hear from him?’
So much had happened that Janey had lost track of what day it was. She struggled hard to think when the letter had arrived. ‘Um, Wednesday.’
G-Mamma swivelled back to face her. ‘And what did he say?’
‘He didn’t say anything. He never does. I think you might have the wrong idea about how close we are, G-Mamma. I don’t even know him really. I’ve never even met him. He just sent me a drawing, that’s all.’
‘OK,’ said G-Mamma slowly and with deliberate patience. ‘So get the drawing, Spylet!’
Janey positioned herself in front of G-Mamma’s shimmering marble fireplace. She was just about to fetch the drawing from her room when something dreadful occurred to her.
‘Oh no! I took it in the Wower!’
‘What?’
‘It was in my hand! I took it into the Wower by accident.’
G-Mamma rolled her eyes, then stepped smartly up to the steel door and rapped on it. A slot appeared, and from it shot a soggy wad of paper. Janey and G-Mamma looked down at it. Only a few traces of the drawing remained, like an impossible dot-to-dot.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll scan it,’ muttered G-Mamma, skewering a corner with a fingernail and returning to the computer bench. Janey followed, and watched a glass panel set into the enamel surface flash as it scanned what little information it could find into its processors.
‘Ah, look. Something’s happening. Yes . . . Yes . . .’ G-Mamma pointed to the computer screen. ‘The original picture can’t be reproduced, but the computer can tell us something about it. Here it comes. Wait for it . . . wait for it.’
‘Is that it?’ Janey asked after a while. ‘I could have told you that.’
And in large, distinct red letters, up popped the word ‘FROG’.
‘Is that it?’ Janey asked after a while. ‘I could have to
ld you that.’
‘You could?’ G-Mamma rubbed a hand across her round, peacock-blue-painted eyes. ‘So, Blonde, we have wasted valuable time. We could have been well on the way to tracking down your uncle already. Now, what’s the significance of a frog?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Janey a little sulkily.
‘Was it a frog-man? A diver?’
‘No. It was just a frog.’
‘Does your family eat French food? You know, like frogs’ legs?’
‘Euugh. No way.’
‘Well, have any of you got webbed feet like a froggy?’
‘No! I don’t know! Uncle Sol might have, I’ve never seen him, but my feet and Mum’s are completely normal, thank you very much.’
‘Think, Blonde! Solomon’s using this to get a message to you. It must be important. You have to work it out!’
Janey’s head felt as if it was full of smoke. ‘I just don’t know what the frog means. If it was a puzzle or a dingbat I could work it out – I’m good at that sort of thing. But this picture doesn’t make any sense!’ Something ticked in her mind as she spoke. She knew she was missing something – some vital bit of information that would make things clear. But what?
‘No, I don’t get it at all. I’m too tired, G-Mamma. I have to go to bed.’
‘Not like that, you don’t!’
G-Mamma grabbed Janey before she could get to the fireplace and propelled her into the Wower. ‘Third rule of SPI work, Janey: decode, debrief, de-Wow.’
‘But I like it—’
Janey’s protests were cut short as she was flung once more into the glimmering Wower cubicle. G-Mamma had forgotten to turn the microphone off and could now be heard prancing around the SPI-lab, practising her rapping.
‘Decode, debrief, de-Wow, oh yeah,
And do it all right now, oh yeah,
Decode, debrief, de-Wow, oh yeah,
G-Mamma will show you how. OH YEAH!’
Janey grinned and danced along a little as the Wower did its work. The reverse transformation was far less soothing and actually slightly uncomfortable as the robot hands put new snags into Janey’s hair, scrubbed her face and whipped her Ultra-gogs away. At least her injuries weren’t returned to her, as the Wower transformed Jane Blonde back into Janey-Brown-in-PJs and spat her out into the SPI-lab.
Jane Blonde: Sensational Spylet Page 5