She’d been waiting to find one of these her whole life.
“A secret staircase,” she whispered, her eyes wide in amazement. “The very same one Eden Lockett wrote about.”
“So it wasn’t just make-believe,” Poppy said in awe.
They heard the sudden ping of the lift doors closing. The mystery celebrity was getting away!
“Come on,” Zaiba stepped boldly into the hidden corridor, pulling Poppy and Ali after her. When else would she get the chance to follow a secret staircase?
“This could allow us to explore the whole hotel…”
Poppy’s face lit up. “Secretly!”
“So we can track down our prey,” Ali said, grinning.
“She’s not our prey,” Zaiba corrected. “She’s our mission.”
Poppy’s eyes gleamed. “Mission! I like it.”
The three of them turned to peer up the gloomy stairs. Zaiba put her weight on the first step, testing it.
“Woah! I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,” said Ali, shaking his head in admiration. “Especially with all those cobwebs…”
“We’re going through with it. Come on!” Zaiba replied, excited.
Poppy smiled, switching on the torch from her phone too. She and Zaiba shone their beams on the dark narrow stairs, which wound upwards in a corkscrew and out of sight. “We’re going to catch a celebrity!”
“Quick, Poppy. Close the panel!” The last thing they needed was Mr Ainsley halting their mission.
Poppy located an old brass knob on the inside of the panel and slid it shut, before turning to peer up at the old wooden staircase. “This is so cool,” she said, clapping her hands together.
“Yeah … really cool. If you’re not afraid of spiders.” Ali didn’t seem so sure. Directly in front of him was a large spider’s web the size of a frying pan! Zaiba knew spiders were her brother’s biggest fear, so she took his hand.
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “They’re more frightened of you than you are of them.”
Ali didn’t look convinced. “That’s what people always say, but have you seen how big a Goliath birdeating tarantula can grow!”
“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any of those here.” At least she hoped there weren’t.
The stairs looked like no one had used them for years. There was a thick layer of dust covering each step and cobwebs laced the bannisters.
Zaiba opened the voice recorder again. “The time is 16:15 hours,” she said. “We are about to climb Eden Lockett’s secret staircase!” A thrill of excitement at the sound of those words made her heart beat faster. “Let’s go, team. Tread lightly!”
One by one, they climbed the twisting stairs, counting the steps as they went. Zaiba led the way, still squeezing Ali’s hand. Poppy followed behind them. They made their way up a flight of stairs, each holding their breath in anticipation of what they might find.
“I know I said this before,” Poppy started to say. “But this is so – a-a–a-ach-CHOO!”
“Oh my gosh!” Zaiba exclaimed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”
“No, look!” Zaiba shone her torch ahead. “It’s a door.”
She put her ear to the keyhole and heard muffled voices. Did any of them sound like a celebrity? It was hard to tell. She listened harder and heard something about “sink blocked” and “plunger”. She was pretty sure that celebrities didn’t unblock their own sinks. That sounded like cleaners.
Zaiba tried giving the door a push but it was jammed. Or locked. She spoke into her phone: “Time: 16:20 hours. A locked door on the first floor. We will continue up.”
She noticed a couple of sets of footprints in the dust – a zigzag print and a print that looked like snakeskin – but before she could inspect them further Ali gave a shudder. “Can we just get away from these spiders … quickly?”
Up the curling staircase they continued, following the light of Zaiba’s phone. She prayed that any creepy-crawlies – or ghosts or vampires! – stayed hidden. Every time they reached a door they’d try it, but the doors were always locked. On the second floor there was an extra-big door but again it was locked.
“This is the floor our room’s on,” Ali mumbled, getting his bearings by spinning round in a small circle. “The staircase runs up the centre of the building, so…” He glanced at the door again and snapped his fingers, “that door must lead to the west wing, same wing as us.”
Zaiba looked at her little brother in amazement, he was practically a human compass. “Great observations, Ali!”
“It might even be our room!” Poppy said. “We’re on the second floor too.”
“Hmmm.” Zaiba looked at the door – it was wide and had a big brass handle. “There definitely isn’t a door like this in our room.” She put her ear to the door and could hear noises on the other side of the panels – hotel staff talking to each other as they tidied.
Eventually, they reached the very top of the staircase, which led to a final door that also led out on to the west wing of the hotel. Zaiba leaned against it and it swung open with a squeak of rusty hinges.
“Result!” Zaiba stepped through. “But this is definitely not a celebrity’s suite.”
As they wandered around, the floorboards creaked and groaned. They were in a large dingy room with sloping eaves that met in a point, like a tent. Pushed up against the wall were six iron bed frames that seemed to have been abandoned a long time ago. Zaiba opened the drawer of a faded old dresser, but there were no clues inside as to where they were. She felt Ali’s hand grip hers tighter every time the floorboards squeaked and she squeezed it back gently.
“I think I’ve seen a place like this before…” Poppy strolled between the rows of small iron bed frames. She clicked her fingers. “I know! These must have been the servants’ sleeping quarters. Like on the TV show I love, Toffton Manor.”
“Great detective work, Poppy.” Zaiba gave her best friend a high five before she returned to make another voice recording. “We have located old servant’s quarters. Observations to follow.” She turned off the phone.
At the top of the stairs Zaiba had hoped to find the penthouse suite where a celebrity might stay, but this couldn’t be it. She certainly wouldn’t be staying in an old forgotten servant’s bedroom.
They could hear voices floating up from the room below and the bark of an … Italian greyhound? The friends looked at each other, eyes shining with excitement.
“How do we find out who’s down there?” Zaiba asked.
Ali glanced around the room, muttering to himself. He looked at the bare bulb that hung from the attic roof. “If there was a light fitting there, then there must be another one in the same place in the room below. Rooms are usually wired in the same way.”
Zaiba stared at her little brother. “How do you know how rooms are wired?”
He shrugged. “I watch a lot of video tutorials online.”
Sure enough, directly below the light fitting was a hole in the floorboards where another light fitting must have been once upon a time. Zaiba glanced up at Poppy and Ali.
“A spyhole!” Zaiba said in a whisper. She shoved her phone in a pocket and put a finger to her lips, warning the others to stay quiet. Then she lay down, lowered her face to the hole and peered through. Success! They were right above a room with a deep, luxurious carpet. She pressed her face closer to the hole and looked again. Standing directly beneath her was a young woman with shockingly bright red hair.
I recognize that colour! Oh my goodness, this could be big, she thought, not daring to make a sound.
In the celebrity’s arms a dog was nuzzling into her shoulder. It was the Italian greyhound! He really was a cute dog. A manicured hand stroked his glossy grey coat. He suddenly cocked an ear, listening to something. Zaiba’s breathing? She tried to stay very still against the floorboards.
The woman with red hair was lit from all sides by a circle of tall lights on stands. It looked like a photo
shoot. This was the celebrity all right! Who else would receive so much attention?
“Who IS it?” Poppy whispered.
“I still can’t see her face,” Zaiba replied.
The celebrity moved to sit in a chair opposite another person with a microphone. There was the sound of a pencil scribbling on paper. A journalist! The celebrity was being interviewed as well as being photographed. Snap, snap, snap!
“So what made you decide to move from TV to film?” the journalist asked in a low, smooth voice.
Zaiba wiggled around, trying to see the celebrity’s face. She’s here to promote a film? This was getting more exciting by the moment!
The celebrity was trying to answer but the Italian greyhound was getting restless, shuffling in her arms.
“Here, take Roberto, will you?” she asked an unseen assistant. “And don’t let him off his lead.”
That voice! It was instantly recognizable. Zaiba had been listening to it every week for the past year. That hair colour, that voice and the special way she rolled her ‘r’s… Zaiba started to sit back on her heels when – wait! Who else could she see? She pressed her other eye to the hole this time.
Zaiba saw a pair of hands reach out and Roberto was handed over. Roberto… A fancy name for a fancy dog! The celebrity crossed her legs. Zaiba’s curiosity set her heart beating. She switched her other eye to the tiny spyhole, hoping to get a different perspective, but now she could only see someone sitting by some French windows that opened out on to a balcony. Beyond, she could see Mr Ainsley and the waiter with floppy hair who Zaiba recognized from the Mehndi party. They were adjusting some teacups on a tray. Roberto had curled up by the French windows, basking in the sunshine. He shifted and something caught the sunlight, glinting even more brightly than his collar.
“Wow,” Zaiba exclaimed. “That charm on his collar – it’s a huge diamond.” She leaned back and rubbed her eyes. “The sparkle’s so bright!”
“I want to see.” Zaiba shuffled aside and Poppy put her eye to the spyhole. She gasped. “Wow, the glare is so bright that I can hardly see anything!”
As Poppy peered down, Zaiba noticed a sound coming from the stairwell. The creak of a floorboard and then the rusty wheeze of hinges as someone stepped into the room.
“Mariam!” Poppy gulped. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Mariam folded her arms and looked them up and down.
Poppy and Zaiba shared a panicked glance. The last time they’d been alone with Mariam with no adults nearby was a nightmare. Mariam had held Zaiba’s Eden Lockett pencil case for ransom unless Zaiba swapped her SuperSplasher 3.0 birthday present for Mariam’s SuperSplasher 2.0. Zaiba always seemed to end up with better birthday presents than Mariam, but that wasn’t her fault! No way did she want Mariam taking anything again. In fact, it was only because Sam had stepped in that Zaiba got her pencil case back in one piece.
Mariam gazed around the attic. “I’m waiting… Are you going to tell me what you’re doing up here? Or shall I go and get the hotel manager right now?”
Zaiba patted her little yellow bag to make sure Eden Lockett’s Detective Handbook was safely tucked away. “Nothing. Just…”
“It’s none of your business!” Ali burst out, his face red. He knew how unhappy Mariam had made Zaiba, but she wished he could be a little less obvious about how much they disliked their cousin. It would only make Mariam even more nasty.
“You’re doing one of your stupid Eden Lockett missions again, aren’t you?” Mariam laughed nastily. “I remember you getting grounded last time we were at Nana’s house for snooping!”
“Only because you told her to come outside exactly when we were climbing the neighbour’s fence!” Zaiba was losing her patience. No one called Eden Lockett stupid on her watch.
“Besides, we’re not snooping. You are.” Ali took a protective step in front of Zaiba.
“Ssh, Ali,” Zaiba whispered to him. “I can handle this.”
Mariam dropped her glance down to the hem of Zaiba’s dress. “Oh dear. Aunt Jessica won’t be happy.”
Zaiba looked down and saw – oh no! – she’d torn her dress. The dress that had been bought especially for the wedding. The dress that her mum had told her to take care of.
“Don’t—” She looked back up at Mariam but it was too late. She had already clattered away down the stairs.
“She followed us,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “She’s the snoop!”
“I know,” Zaiba said. “But we can’t let her get in the way of our mission.”
She dropped to the floor for one last look through the spyhole. Just as Zaiba put her eye to the hole, she saw a pair of hands reach down and unclip the lead from Roberto’s collar.
“The celebrity said not to do that,” Zaiba muttered to herself.
“Not to do what?” Ali asked impatiently, trying to budge Zaiba over.
“Take the dog off its lead, now SHH!” Zaiba pushed him away firmly.
The greyhound had settled back down by the French windows. As she watched, something hit Zaiba. The view from the balcony was of the back gardens. She could just make out a line of oak trees – the same oak trees she’d seen from the balcony in the room she was sharing with Poppy. Their shared balcony, on the floor below. Oh my goodness!
Zaiba quickly got up and dusted herself off. “Come on, guys,” she whispered. “We have to go to our room – now!”
“Thank goodness.” Ali shuddered. “I’ve counted thirteen spiders up here – and that’s not including the dead ones.”
“But what about our mission?” Poppy protested.
“It’s about to be completed with any luck.” Zaiba smiled, heading for the door. “Our celebrity might be staying right next door to us!”
Zaiba hurried out on to the dusty staircase with the others following close behind. Dark shadows gathered in the corners as the attic door creaked shut behind them. Zaiba lifted her hand before her face and could barely make out the outline of her fingers, before switching on her phone torch. She gave a shudder and thought that Mariam must have been quite brave, creeping up the secret staircase all on her own.
“But why would a celebrity be in a room next door to us?” Ali asked. “She’s a celebrity! And Mum and Dad got that room on special offer.”
Zaiba paused and looked at Poppy. “Can you think why?” she asked, letting her friend practise her detective skills. She was so proud of her own deductions, she could almost burst!
Poppy shrugged. “She likes roughing it?”
Ali’s eyes widened. “Don’t let Dad hear you say that. He’s super excited about the bidet in our bathroom.”
Zaiba rolled her eyes. “Where do celebrities normally stay?”
Poppy thrust her hand into the air, as though she was answering a question at school. “In luxury penthouse suites! I know that from my Kewl! magazine.”
“Oh yes!” cried Ali. “But a penthouse suite would be on the top floor and here there’s just an attic.” He stared down the stairs.
“So where else in the hotel could there be a luxury suite on the top floor?” Zaiba prompted him.
Ali snapped his fingers. “Mr Ainsley talked about the VIP suite on top of the function hall, remember!”
“That’s right. Well done, Ali. Your detective instincts are really coming on. I definitely heard some banging up there between the music. Sounded like repairs.”
Poppy gave a little jig of excitement. “The celebrity can’t stay in the VIP suite because it’s being repaired. She had to stay in the room next to ours because she had no choice! Because—”
“Because she was a last-minute guest in the hotel,” Zaiba finished. “The hotel asked Sam if she was all right with two important guests. Come on, this mission is hotting up!”
The three of them began to run back down the stairs.
“Do you think anyone will know that we’ve been up here?” Ali asked, a frown creasing his brow.
“Not
if we left everything as we found it,” Zaiba told him. “We did leave everything exactly as we found it, didn’t we?”
Ali and Poppy shared a glance. “Yes…?”
But it was too late to turn back now. “I don’t think anyone comes up here, not even the hotel staff. Look!” Zaiba stopped abruptly and ran a finger over the bannister, which ended up covered with grey fluff. The others stumbled into the back of her.
She looked down at their footprints in the dust, tracing a path up the stairs. Mariam must have followed the track up here. But now they’d been scuffed away by the other girl’s hasty exit.
Finally they reached the sliding-panel door. Zaiba dug her fingernails beneath a panel and gently eased it open, ushering Poppy and Ali through before herself. This was Eden Lockett’s golden rule number five: A good agent always ensures the safety of her friends. She took one last look at the secret staircase before easing the door shut. With an almost silent click! it locked back in place. She smoothed a hand over the polished wooden surface. No one would know the secret passage was there.
“Amazing,” her brother whispered.
“It is,” she agreed. “I’m almost sad to leave it—”
“Um, Earth to Zaiba,” Poppy interrupted. “We have a celebrity to track down, remember!”
Zaiba checked her watch. At about half past five the traditional part of the ceremony where Samirah’s female relatives fed her Pakistani sweets would begin. Zaiba realized she had better get back to the party before that happened. If they missed that part of the Mehndi party, they’d be in Aunt Fouzia’s bad books for a long time!
“I think we’d better go round the back of the hotel to our room,” she said. “We don’t want to meet anyone we know on the main stairs. But we need to be quick!”
Zaiba, Poppy and Ali ran across the polished marble floor and burst out of the hotel’s entrance into the fading sunlight, their feet crunching on the gravel as they skirted the side of the hotel. There was a narrow path lit by fairy lights that led the way round to the part of the hotel where their rooms were. There was a separate, smaller entrance on this side of the hotel – away from the annexe where some the guests might have moved outside.
The Missing Diamonds Page 3