Jane Blonde: Sensational Spylet

by Jill Marshall

  And so they’d dreamed up a ball, knowing that snobby Uncle James wouldn’t be able to resist bringing her. They’d hired actors and filled an enormous stately home with party glitz – all just to get to Janey? They must be getting desperate, Janey thought, to go this far.

  But no. It wasn’t that. Janey was in a room surrounded by the Sinerlesse Group. She was under threat. But what they were really hoping was that another uncle would come to her rescue. Then they could pounce.

  And they were right. She had heard him. Solomon was here, somewhere, somehow.

  ‘Oh, Uncle Sol, I’m sorry!’ Janey was horrified.

  She’d led him straight into the Sinerlesse Group’s lair.

  Now she needed help, and fast. ‘G-Mamma!’ she muttered into the SPIV.

  But just then she spotted Billy making his way across the room towards her with a tall companion at his side. ‘Come on, Barry, let’s get her. You stay there, young lady!’ he growled menacingly. Suddenly it came to her.

  ‘It was Billy who tied up my mum! And the other one – Barry – he was the postman who was trying to take my letter! But I didn’t let him,’ said Janey into the SPIV, not sure if G-Mamma was even able to hear.

  Billy and Barry separated and moved in on her in a pincer movement that would leave Janey swatted against the seating plan like a butterfly specimen. She looked behind her, but Edna had deliberately piled some wooden crates across the exit and was now standing in front of them, shaking her head sorrowfully. Miss Rale had abandoned Uncle James and was gliding towards Janey, a silent predator. And next to her, in a shimmering dress, with long, blonde tresses curling over her shoulders like Goldilocks, was another woman. Or rather a girl. Was this the sister Miss Rale had mentioned earlier?

  All this rattled through Janey’s mind like machine-gun fire as she scanned the room for an escape. Should she try the Fleet-feet jump? The group was moving stealthily through the crowds, and crawling along on its long flat belly was Ariel’s dog. Any moment now he’d be able to leap under the table and pounce on Janey’s ankles. She was trapped, surrounded.

  ‘Bratwurst!’ shouted the Goldilocks girl, her hair flying back to reveal small, ice-white teeth as vicious as her dog’s. ‘Get her!’

  ‘No!’ began Janey, jumping desperately left, then right, trying to think, to get out. Her jumps activated the Fleet-feet pads: there was a small thud against the floor and she bounced up towards the ceiling.

  As she left the ground a small furry bomb with fluorescent go-faster stripes and a beacon for a tail belted out from under the buffet table, quiff quivering. Trouble the kitten skimmed across the floor like an Exocet missile, bounding low and fast through the space beneath Janey’s feet. Fixing on his target, Trouble extended his legs and sank his claws deep into the neat round bottom of Bratwurst. The dog skittered, yelping, across the floor towards Goldilocks, but Trouble hung on to the dog’s behind and they rocketed across the floor together, scattering guests in all directions. Leaping again towards Goldilocks, Bratwurst spun his back end around like an articulated lorry taking a sharp bend. Trouble had no option but to let go. The girl tripped over the dog, and Trouble flew through the air, crashing into Billy and Barry. Spinning, they banged into each other and fell to the floor, yowling even more loudly than the cat. The pile of spies snarled and spat as each animal struggled to be back at the other’s throat.

  In the confusion, Janey frantically considered her options. The unwitting guests were now picking up the Sinerlesse members and brushing them down. They would be after her again any minute, maddened now to a state of vicious fury. It was hopeless. Janey had no Girl-gauntlet, no G-Mamma, no Satispy, not even Uncle James to help her focus. All she had was her innate Spylet wit. And a kitten who looked like a zebra crossing.

  Then Janey gasped. Uncle James might not be able to help. But there was another uncle who might be able to do something.

  Racing back down the length of the table, Janey skidded to a halt where she had heard the voice before. She pretended to bury her head in her hands in despair, then whispered frantically through her fingers. ‘Uncle Sol! If you can hear me, help! Help me, please!’

  And this time, Janey knew exactly where the voice was coming from. ‘Sing for your supper, Janey, Sing!’

  Janey couldn’t stop to take in the fact that she had just had a conversation with a frozen swan. She leaped on to the table and clapped her hands.

  tutu terrors

  It was Janey Brown’s worst nightmare come true.

  She wasn’t in her pink tutu, so that was something. But she was back-lit, wearing a transparent shower curtain, standing on a table in front of a huge, very confused audience. And now she was going to have to sing. She was going to have to entertain all these people with a voice even more unpleasant than Bratwurst’s with Trouble’s claws in his bum.

  I can’t! she thought. She couldn’t see how singing was going to save her now, but she had to trust Uncle Solomon. Maybe he had a plan.

  Two hundred pairs of eyes had swivelled in Janey’s direction. Even the Sinerlesse crew froze on the spot.

  Janey wanted to jump off the table and run away as fast as her Fleet-feet would carry her. But that wouldn’t save her skin. And it certainly wouldn’t save Uncle Solomon. And it wasn’t something that Jane Blonde would ever do. Squaring her shoulders and standing as straight as she possibly could, Janey smiled nervously at the crowd in front of her.

  ‘Um, hello!’ she began lamely. Across the dance floor she spotted Uncle James, eyes bulging. She cleared her throat and started again.

  ‘Hello, everyone! Erm, you won’t know me, but my name is Janey, and I’m a very, very good friend of . . . of Bratwurst’s.’ Good friends with a dog? Oh well done, Janey, she thought. But a ripple of applause clattered around the ballroom; clearly most people here had no idea that Bratwurst was a small and evil canine.

  ‘Well, as you all know, tonight is a very special night for Bratwurst, the St Earl’s dog. That’s why we’re all here! Yes, it’s a very special night for Bratwurst and his lovely owner, umm . . . Goldilocks! And Billy, there, and his Barry next to him. Miss R— I mean, Susan, in that lovely red dress. And Edna, who deserves a round of applause for all this fantastic food.’

  As she spoke, Janey put her hands together. The audience applauded on cue as if they’d rehearsed it. ‘And, so,’ Janey shouted over the noise, ‘I think we should sing that special celebration song that we all love so much!’

  Everyone looked on expectantly. Janey wished she had G-Mamma here to make up a rap for her. But she didn’t. So she smiled bravely, took a deep breath and sang.

  ‘Happy birthday to you . . .’ To her immense relief, nearly the whole room joined in immediately. ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Bratwurst. Happy birthday to you!’

  Applause thundered into the roof of the ballroom. The Sinerlesse members looked furious and started to move towards her, arms outstretched.

  ‘Again!’ Janey shouted. ‘And . . . and let’s give all of them the bumps!’

  The Sinerlesse were helpless to retaliate as dozens of hands lifted them off their feet and started to bounce their horizontal bodies in time to the music. Janey could see that even Edna had been grabbed by the waiting staff and was now displaying her grey and red striped bloomers to the guests. She didn’t have long. With a quick appraisal of the room, into the roof and up and down the trestle tables, she identified her means of escape.

  ‘Oh, Uncle Sol, I really hope I haven’t gone completely loopy,’ she muttered, leaning over the ice swan. A thin laugh like wind chimes echoed around her head. Where had she heard that sound before?

  The singing and bumping was coming to a halt and Goldilocks-girl was back on her feet. Quick as a flash, Janey leaned into the swan’s hollowed-out wings and started pulling out the fizzing pineapples. Though the sparklers grazed against her body, her SPI-suit stopped her from feeling any pain, and she managed to clutch a dozen to her.

  ‘Well done, everyone!�
� she shouted. ‘And here’s the finale!’

  And with that, Janey started lobbing pineapples into the audience and all around her. Sparks arced through the air and sizzled against the food. One or two caught the tasselled edges of the tablecloths, where they began to smoulder. A bunch of people, whose instant concentration would have impressed Uncle James, leaped for the fire extinguishers and started squirting furiously. As smoke, flames, foam and glittering sparks exploded around the room, Janey ran a few steps back along the table top towards the seating plan, still clutching one of the sparkling pineapples.

  Suddenly Goldilocks, her golden hair now tousled and matted, elbowed her way out of the crowd and lunged forward to grab Janey’s dress.

  Janey saw the shower curtain pull away from her headscarf belt. She was now standing there in just her Jane Blonde outfit. And it felt fantastic. It couldn’t have been further from the agony of her tutu nightmare. Her assailant looked up with furious, narrowed eyes and grabbed for Janey’s foot with her hands – very familiar, slender, neat little hands . . .

  ‘You won’t escape from me, you know,’ screamed the girl, her voice shrill. ‘Don’t you now know who I am?’

  ‘Ariel!’ cried Janey, stunned. ‘You’re Ariel.’

  ‘That’s right. And you’re pathetic and sad. Just like my sister said in one of her many notes about you: “If Janey Brown was any more boring . . .”’

  ‘Nooo!’ Swelling with fury, Janey jumped and planted a kick firmly in Ariel’s ribs, sending her enemy sprawling to the floor.

  Ariel struggled to her feet. She now looked very peculiar indeed, as her lustrous golden locks had slid forward on to her face. Angrily she reached up and pulled the wig off to reveal a small, razor-haired, delicate-featured young person.

  ‘Freddie?’ squeaked Janey in shock. ‘You’re Ariel?’

  The familiar face looked back at her furiously. And it all made sense. Freddie’s strange, gruff voice that always sounded so forced, the way he’d reacted when he’d snagged his fingernail . . . the silver locket. Freddie was a girl!

  ‘My name’s Freda, not Freddie, you idiot, but now I’m Ariel. And you know what else? I’m your worst nightmare.’

  But Janey just grinned and twirled the sparkler she was holding. ‘No, you’re not. I’ve just experienced the real live version of my worst nightmare. And actually, I feel fine. So now watch me be . . . what did the note say? So boring I’m invisible!’

  Leaping beyond Ariel’s clutches, Janey sprinted back down the table towards the ice swan.

  ‘Hold on, Uncle Sol! I just hope these SPI-buys do what I think they do!’

  Janey touched the glowing end of the sparkler first to one rocket-shaped hairslide, then to the other. As a riotous fizzing erupted next to her ears, she lowered her head and grabbed the wing-feathers of the swan. The hairslides blasted into action, whooshing deafeningly, and Janey felt her feet lift from the table with the rush of an aeroplane engine. Sparks and fire rushed over her shoulders as Janey and the swan flew along the tabletop, propelled by the two tiny rockets. Food flew into the audience as Janey steamed along like an express train, then launched into open space as the table ended, before crashing out in an explosion of glass and ice, through the ballroom window and into the open air.

  As she clung to the ice swan, Janey sailed though the night sky, shaking her ponytail and whooping with joy. ‘Yessss!’ she shouted to the stars, ignoring the cries from the ballroom far below.

  ‘Janey! Janey Brown! Get back here at once. What on earth am I going to tell your mother? Janeeeeeeey!’

  ice-capades

  Janey rode the ice swan like a toboggan, leaning into the curves and hurtling over the tightly packed snow. They had been racing across hillsides for several minutes before she spotted some buildings a couple of miles ahead. Janey jammed a foot into the snow, then, wrenching the swan round with all the strength she could muster, she turned its beak to face back up the hillside. To her great relief, the ice swan first slowed, then faltered, then stopped.

  They were just above the buildings, which looked like barns or sheds. Pulling the swan along behind her, Janey used the Ultra-gogs as sensors. One building contained some horses and a cow; another straw. The smallest hummed as they approached it.

  ‘It’s a generator,’ Janey read aloud from her Ultra-gogs.

  ‘In there!’ chimed the icy voice.

  Janey pushed and heaved the swan through the large doors, then leaned against them, breathing heavily from the exertion.

  ‘Closer!’ whispered the voice. ‘Closer, and leave me!’

  Grunting and straining with all her might, Janey pushed the enormous ice sculpture to the rear of the barn, next to the generator, then headed back into the shadows outside. The wait was endless. She could hear strange creaks, groans and squelching sounds, and in the corner of her Ultra-gogs the heat sensor was pulsing with ever-increasing intensity.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she called out.

  There was no answer. Clasping her knees to her chest, more in apprehension than with cold, she took deep breaths and waited, imagining the uproar back at the mansion. How long would it be before the Sinerlesse were back on their tail? Finally the barn door opened and a deep voice spoke into the darkness.

  ‘Come in, Janey.’

  Janey was shaking as she rose slowly to her feet and walked into the generator-building. A man was sitting on a bale of straw, dressed in some overalls that had been hanging in the shed. A shaft of moonlight fell through the crack in the open doorway on to his chiselled, handsome face.

  Janey gasped. ‘You’re not Uncle Sol!’

  The man looked confused. ‘Aren’t I? I should be – unless something has gone hideously wrong in the thaw-out. One can never be quite sure . . .’

  ‘You don’t look like Uncle Sol,’ said Janey, confused. ‘Uncle Sol has a round red face, with sticky-out ears and a bald head.’ Not at all like you, thought Janey, taking in the man’s tall, broad frame, and the strong face with its sharp blue eyes and thick dark hair.

  ‘Oh, that Uncle Sol.’ The man laughed, his weary face lighting up. ‘The Sol’s Lols picture. Well, I could hardly use a real picture of myself for the Sol’s Lols logo, could I?’

  ‘So,’ Janey stammered, edging a little nearer, ‘are you really my uncle Solomon?’

  The man smiled at her, and a little piece of Janey’s heart melted. ‘Dear Janey,’ he said, ‘I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment, after all you’ve done for me in the last few weeks. I’ve put you into all sorts of danger. Unforgivable really. But I needed you to get involved—’

  ‘No!’ interrupted Janey. ‘I don’t mind! I mean, I’m glad you came to me. It’s been incredible. But I don’t really see how I’ve helped at all.’

  Patting the bale next to him, Uncle Sol motioned to her to sit down. Even through her SPI-suit she could feel how cold he was, and there was a visible blue tinge to his skin. ‘Where to start, Janey? Where to start?’

  Janey thought for a moment. ‘Well, for me it all started with G-Mamma.’

  ‘G-Mamma? Who the . . . Oh, your godmother! Rosie! That’s just the kind of name she would give herself.’ Uncle Solomon chuckled and his blue eyes sparkled with laughter. ‘Well, as you know, she is your SPI:KE. I started Solomon Polificational Investigations . . . oh, about the time you were born, I suppose. I wanted to carry on your father’s good work. I’ve recruited SPIs from all over the world. Only the best, mind you. We are a small and select organization. I only recruit people who were recommended to me by your dad, Janey. Or, of course,’ he added, nudging Janey’s arm, ‘their children. Spylets.’

  ‘So what G-Mamma said about Mum being Gina Bellarina, and Dad being a SPI too – that really is all true?’

  Uncle Solomon waved a hand at Janey’s outfit. ‘Don’t you feel it, Janey? Wasn’t it perfectly evident the moment you were asked to do something that drew on your hidden resources, on the strengths you didn’t even know you had?’

  Ja
ney knew it was true. She had felt it almost from the moment that she met G-Mamma. It was she, Janey, who had come up with a plan to save her mum. It was she who had solved her uncle Solomon’s clues. It was she who had worked out the Sinerlesse Group’s cover. And hadn’t she just rescued herself and her uncle from their clutches?

  Janey gazed up at her uncle and nodded.

  ‘Good,’ he continued. ‘Well, some time ago I discovered something.’

  ‘It’s to do with the way the frog freezes, isn’t it?’ asked Janey, eyes wide.

  ‘Yes, and more besides. Copernicus – your godmother told you about him? – he asked me to take on a special project on behalf of the government. Project Crystal Clear. Basically, it was a study of how to preserve people by freezing them and then bringing them back to life. It’s called cryogenics. As part of it, I started looking at the North American wood frog.’ He paused for breath, panting slightly. ‘Amazing creatures. Of course, there’s been work on cryogenics before, lots of it. But from those frogs I learned something that would take it to a stage more advanced than ever before. And during my investigations I discovered something truly miraculous. Something frighteningly, catastrophically dangerous, if it fell into the wrong hands.’

  A terrifying secret was about to be handed to her. Janey could feel it. ‘I’m not sure I want to know, Uncle Sol!’

  ‘I know, Janey. I understand how that feels. But I’m in danger. I won’t let the secret be discovered by the Sinerlesse. So you have to destroy the files if I’m caught or killed. You’re the one person in the world I would trust completely, Janey. You’re family. And now you’re a SPI. You’re one of us.’