To my beautiful children, Annabelle and Harry.
My very own “DNA Detectives”.
Foreword
When I was at school I always loved science and I was interested in the biology of diseases. I decided to go to university so I could find out more. It was when I was there that something very magical happened; a lightbulb moment which mapped out my future career.
I was working in the laboratory on my final-year project. We were using DNA to try and identify what made mosquitoes resistant to pesticides to help reduce the number of cases of malaria. The first step in the process was to get DNA from the mosquitoes. I was on the very last stage which, in my opinion, is the most exciting. I had a tube of clear liquid which appeared to have nothing in it. Then, by adding alcohol, as if by magic, strands of DNA appeared. What was truly amazing is that the mosquito DNA was purple. I remember looking at that tube and realising the huge potential for working with DNA.
The procedures for working with DNA are the same whether you are working on plants, bacteria, humans or any other animal. So, if you have a favourite animal, the chances are that there is someone somewhere in the world using DNA to study that animal. DNA is used in so many different fields, by conservationists and naturalists to learn about different animals and plants, by forensic scientists to help solve crimes, by archaeologists to find out about the past, by clinical scientists to study inherited diseases and by scientists to identify how people are related – and that is to name but a few!
I realised in that moment when I saw the mosquito DNA in the laboratory that, if I chose to work in this particular field, I could go anywhere in the world and work on any animal or plant I wanted. There were so many different types of job available to me that, if I got bored doing one thing, I could easily transfer to something else! It really was a life-changing moment that has led to the most amazing and wonderful career. All thanks to DNA.
I have used DNA to try and help conserve stocks of haddock and sand eels in the North Sea. I have worked for the NHS using DNA to help people with breast cancer, neonatal diabetes, cystic fibrosis, haemophilia and kidney diseases. I helped set up the forensic laboratories now used by the Norfolk Constabulary and helped identify relationships for long-lost families. Now my great passion is teaching children about DNA.
I love watching children discover DNA for the first time. Much like I did in the laboratory at university. I never get tired of seeing DNA appear in a tube. Now watching children’s faces light up when they see that they have successfully extracted DNA from a piece of fruit is incredibly rewarding. For many children attending my workshops this is hopefully the moment they too decide to become scientists! My feeling is that children are never too young to learn about DNA.
I hope you enjoy reading this book, finding out about DNA and how the characters in the story use DNA to solve a crime. I hope it inspires you with a love of science just like me those many years ago when I was in the laboratory and saw DNA for the first time!
www.thelittlestorytellingcompany.co.uk/the-dna-detectives-to-catch-a-thief
rom the outside, Chapel Terrace was a very normal-looking street. In fact, some might have said, a very dull-looking street. (And up until recent events, they might have been right). A row of identical terraced houses faced yet another row of identical looking houses, all with a porch, cellar and a large garden to the rear. All with absolutely nothing to set them apart; except for one house, belonging to the Wallace family.
Their garden had all the usual features; grass, swings, trees, but at the back of it was something very unusual. A laboratory. And this laboratory would become the starting place for a series of unexpected adventures.
The lab belonged to Dr Wallace, Mum of Annabelle and Harry. “My mum is a scientist, who works with DNA,” Annabelle would proudly tell her friends. Her mum was so smart, and so passionate, that she loved to listen to her and learn.
“DNA is a very small particle, invisible to the naked eye. It contains the entire instructions to make a human being,” her mum would tell her, and Annabelle would nod, though she didn’t always fully understand.
One morning, Annabelle watched as her mother started up the computer to book in the latest DNA samples that had arrived. Her eyes were drawn to the main news piece on the homepage:
“ONE MORE MISSING DOG ON CHAPEL TERRACE,” read the headline on the local news site.
“Mum, Mum, look! Another dog’s gone missing!” Annabelle yelled.
“What? Oh, yes, that’s awful,” said her mum.
“What do you think is happening to them?” Annabelle asked, glancing in fright at her own beautiful dog, Milly, as she bounded past the window towards Harry.
“I imagine they strayed too far from home, and got lost. Hopefully they’ll find them soon.”
“Three dogs, in three weeks? Really?” asked Annabelle, suspiciously. “Dogs are smarter than that.” She took a breath, and declared, “I think someone’s taking them.”
Her mum laughed. Clearly she wasn’t going to take Annabelle seriously on the matter, so Annabelle went outside to join Harry and Milly, chasing a model plane.
Milly – a cockapoo – was a small black dog with curly fur, a very waggy tail and brown eyes that permanently said: “I’m hungry, feed me. If you don’t I shall consider you cruel and I’ll starve.” She considered Annabelle and Harry her puppies and took great care looking after them. Annabelle remembered the day they first brought her home. Milly kept licking her and Harry. She had felt a little unsure of the little black ball of curls until Mum had explained “puppies lick you to show affection. I think she must really like you both.” Then, when they had turned round, Harry had started licking Milly all over. “No Harry!” they had shouted together and then proceeded to laugh till their sides hurt!
Sometimes, Annabelle felt a little sad when Harry and Milly played together. She wasn’t as fast or as energetic as Harry, and she soon became out of breath. Sometimes when they went to the park, Harry would run off without her and Milly would follow, just to make sure he was safe. But then Annabelle would be left on her own.
Harry ran to the edge of the garden to jump at the model plane and Milly rounded him up, like a sheep dog.
“See, she loves me more than you, Annabelle,” said Harry, his cheeks flushing with pride and sweat.
“It’s not a competition, Harry. If I ran off she’d get me too,” Annabelle defended herself, feeling protective of her own bond with Milly. Almost as if in answer, Milly bounded back and nuzzled her leg.
“Come on, children,” called Mum from inside. “Or you’ll be late for school! Goodness, I got so carried away with these samples.”
“Please can we play with Milly just a little bit longer?” Harry pleaded, but Milly ran toward Mum, who stood tapping her watch.
* * *
Later that day, in the car on the way back from school, their arguments continued.
“I clearly care about Milly more, Harry, because I always take her for a walk. If you cared you wouldn’t make such a fuss.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Harry, flatly.
“If she could hear you it would make her sad,” announced Annabelle.
“I don’t make Milly sad!” yelled Harry, outraged. “When I’m sad she always licks my tears. She obviously loves me more, even if I don’t take her for a stupid walk.”
“That’s enough!” said Mum sternly, just as Annabelle had opened her mouth to reply. She poked her tongue out at Harry instead.
When they arrived home, Mum ushered the children out into the garden.
“Why don’t you both go outside and play?” she said, glancing at the stack of samples in the corner. Annabelle knew Mum only wanted five minutes of peace to get on with her work, an
d so, though it was a cold, March afternoon and she would really rather be inside reading her latest book, she followed Harry into the garden.
Harry, unaware of Mum’s need for quiet time, needed no persuasion to play outside at any time of year. Annabelle sat on the patio, pulling her woollen hat over her ears and watching Harry as he bounced a ball on his knee. He had crumbs on his cheek. There was always something on his face, or his clothes; a reminder of what he had done that day. Some mud from a puddle he had splashed in or some jam from the toast he had eaten earlier.
Annabelle wondered at his inexhaustible supplies of energy, and his powerful sense of adventure. He never seemed to get cold or tired. Had she been like that at eight years old? Annabelle thought not. Most of the time, Harry drove her mad. But she also admired his enthusiasm for everything, and how he could say things without overthinking them. Annabelle always thought before she spoke. Harry always made everybody laugh, and he made everything fun on his own. Annabelle needed Harry to make things feel fun.
Harry watched his sister, as she sat on the step, and wondered what she was thinking. She was tall for an eleven year old with beautiful brown curly hair, pale skin and blue eyes, like Mum. She was clever, too, thought Harry. She would always go to the science workshops with Mum, and understood things quickly. Sometimes Harry joined in, but after a few minutes went outside to play again. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he found it easier to kick a ball than to learn. Annabelle was much smarter than him, and he felt like he was asking too many questions and slowing them down. Annabelle would be a scientist like Mum, but he wouldn’t, Harry thought with a sigh.
He kicked the ball towards her, and she smiled. He came forward and playfully boxed Annabelle, to which she squealed. Delighted at her response, he decided to impress her. He ran to grab his model plane, so that he would have the first throw. His blond curls bounced as he climbed as dangerously high as he could on the climbing frame to launch the plane down at Annabelle.
“Catch it!” shouted Harry.
The little plane, painted to look like a World War II Spitfire, set off at great speed as Harry launched it. Milly heard the word “catch” and decided to grab the plane in her mouth before Annabelle had the chance. She went haring round the garden, and Harry climbed down to chase her.
“This is your fault, Harry! You threw it too low!”
“What? You should’ve caught it!”
The little black dog weaved between the children, her tail wagging so fast it looked like it might come off. Finally she got bored and dropped it.
“You threw it too low! I’ll fly it this time,” said Annabelle.
She snatched it and threw it into the air. The children watched as the little plane flew high into the sky, up, up and over the fence into the next-door neighbour’s garden.
“You did that on purpose!” said Harry, bursting into tears.
“I’m really sorry, Harry,” said Annabelle, feeling a rush of guilt. She knew it was his favourite plane. Just for once she had wanted to be fun and spontaneous, like Harry.
Just then there was a loud, clattering noise. A smiling face popped up from behind the fence, and peered over the top at Annabelle and Harry. It was their neighbour, Mr Baker, and he had the plane in his hand.
“Hello children, have you lost something?” he said, passing it over.
“Thank you,” said Annabelle quietly, as Milly growled.
“Not at all!” answered Mr Baker, running a hand over his dark, slicked back hair. His smile stretched from ear to ear.
Milly growled. The fur on her back stood up and her ears flattened.
“Quiet Milly!” whispered Annabelle.
“Quiet Milly!” parroted Harry.
“Sorry, Mr Baker,” said Annabelle, puzzled. “She’s usually very friendly.”
“Oh bless her,” said Mr Baker. “Maybe I scared her when I popped up like that. Or maybe she just wants her plane back! She’s gorgeous. How old is she?”
Harry was delighted to talk about Milly.
“She’s three. She loves eating tomatoes which she steals from the vegetable rack,” he said proudly.
Then Mum came out to fetch them for dinner as Dad was home. She saw Mr Baker standing by the fence. Annabelle and Harry explained what had happened, and she urged them to thank their neighbour.
“I already did! I’ve got manners,” said Annabelle, glancing at Harry.
It was getting dark as the family sat down to eat. Sausages, beans and chips – everyone’s favourite, including Milly! But, strangely uninterested in her food, Milly scratched at the back door to be let out.
“What’s wrong with her today?” asked Harry.
“She growled at Mr Baker, too!” added Annabelle. “She was probably surprised when he popped up over the fence,” said Dad, getting up to let her out. “And you know what she’s like. She’s convinced it’s her job to defend the house.”
They carried on eating as Milly barked outside. When they had finished their chocolate pudding and ice cream, Mum opened the back door and called Milly. Harry and Annabelle sat expectantly, waiting for their little dog to come bounding in, eager for leftovers from Annabelle to be slipped to her under the table. But she didn’t come.
Dad frowned, and got up to join his wife. They went outside, calling Milly’s name. Annabelle and Harry could hear their parents’ shouts, but no barking in return. They looked at each other, with a sense of unspoken panic. Eventually, they put on their shoes and coats and went outside, and found Mum and Dad standing looking at the garden gate. It was swinging open.
Back inside, they frantically grabbed their torches and ran together in different directions around the village, desperately shouting Milly’s name. Annabelle went with Dad, and Harry with Mum. At one point, Harry thought he saw Milly in the darkness.
“Look! Mum!” he exclaimed.
But it was just a big, black cat.
After an hour, they realised their search was in vain. When they finally returned to the house Harry, Annabelle and Mum were fighting back tears. Dad was just crying.
Milly was gone.
“Now do you believe me?” raged Annabelle.
Mum said nothing.
“Believe what?” sobbed Harry.
“There’s a pet thief on Chapel Terrace,” said Annabelle.
“And they’ve taken Milly.”
he next morning it was cold outside but the sun shone brightly into the kitchen at Chapel Terrace. Maybe the sun was trying to lift the very grey and sad mood that gripped the house. Breakfast in the Wallace household was unusually quiet, until Annabelle broke the silence.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” said Annabelle. She looked very pale and tired. The worry showed on her small face. “I kept thinking about Milly and that she was all alone. I think she’ll be missing us.”
“Me too,” whispered Harry softly. As he said it he looked out into the garden, his head full of thoughts of Milly. “I think she’ll be missing me most of all.”
Annabelle would usually have argued back. She would have told Harry in no uncertain terms that Milly would not be missing him the most. She stopped herself, looking at her brother’s face and catching his beautiful green eyes, normally so sparkly with fun. This morning they looked so sad. They were red and puffy just like hers. She knew exactly how he was feeling and, for once, she wanted to protect him.
“I really miss her, Mum,” he said, pushing away his cereal bowl full of Coco Pops. On a normal morning he would be tipping the bowl into his mouth when Mum wasn’t looking to drink the last scraps of milk. Today it had hardly been touched.
Annabelle watched Mum, watching them both. She could see that she was concerned.
“You poor things,” she comforted. “Look, I’m sure Milly will turn up. In the mean time I’ve put a message on a lost dogs page on the internet. All the local dog owners read it. If anyone sees her I’m sure they will get in touch.”
Annabelle knew that what her mum had said shou
ld reassure her. There was a chance that Milly had simply run out of the gate and got lost. But there was also the horrible possibility that Milly was the latest victim of the pet thief.
“Come on Annabelle, let’s go outside,” said Harry. He didn’t like the doom and gloom that was filling the kitchen. It made him feel trapped like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to tell anyone that he had cried into his pillow last night. He was trying to show everyone how brave he was. Maybe beating Annabelle at a game of football outside was what he needed. “Come on, let’s play football.”
Annabelle shrugged but followed him into the garden.
The grass was still wet with dew. It was one of those bright, sunny mornings when you can smell that spring is in the air. The daffodils were starting to flower and the birds tweeted away as the children went out to play. Harry, being his usual lazy self, waited for Annabelle to retrieve the ball from the flower bed for him. But as she went to pick the ball up she gasped.
“Harry! Come quickly.” Harry, startled by the urgency in her voice, ran over. They both stared at the large footprint deeply embedded into the soil by the fence. Next to it was the end of a cigarette. Just above the footprint on the fence was a clump of black, curly hair and, more worryingly, a red stain that looked like blood.
“D… d... do you think it might be Milly’s blood?” stammered Harry.
Thinking the worst, but wanting to reassure her frightened little brother, Annabelle said, “No. I think it’s more likely that if someone did come into our garden to take Milly they could’ve cut themselves on the fence.” Annabelle stood up straight and looked around her.
“There may other clues,” she said. “Let’s search the garden.”
Harry ran off and shortly shouted over to Annabelle. “Look! A hat and a glove! Right here, Annabelle. They were just lying on the grass by the playhouse.”
Annabelle ran over and could see there was a navy blue baseball cap lying upside down on the damp grass and a large brown leather glove. The glove had scratches all over it which you could see were deeply embedded into the surface of the leather. The glove was also heavily stained. Annabelle thought it was most likely to be the water from the wet grass that had caused it to be discoloured.
To Catch a Thief Page 1