Jane Blonde: Spies Trouble

by Jill Marshall

  It was a large, scrappy-looking star, and in it were the words:

  SCAT CAT!

  RAT PACK!

  Underneath Alfie had scrawled, ‘Can’t rub out, written from outside.’

  Janey’s eyes met Alfie’s. He raised his eyebrows hopelessly and turned back to his work. Janey had no idea what the words meant either, but all her spy instincts were tingling with anticipation.

  When the bell rang for mid-morning break Alfie turned around quickly. ‘Let’s go and ask Mum.’

  They were just about to run out of the room when a small voice said, ‘Please. What we do?’

  Paulette looked sorrowfully from Alfie to Janey like a lost puppy. Janey made her mind up quickly. ‘Alfie’s going to take you to the tuck shop. I have to go and see the headmistress.’

  Alfie winked and led Paulette down the corridor as Janey ran off in the other direction.

  ‘Janey!’ said Mrs Halliday as she opened the door to her office. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Janey closed the door carefully. ‘I’m not sure. This was written on the window – on the outside. I’ve got a funny feeling about it.’

  Mrs Halliday studied the note. ‘Well, that is a bit peculiar. Do you think it was one of the pupils, just messing about? ’

  ‘Can’t be. They’d need a ladder. It’s too far from the ground.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Mrs Halliday. ‘What on earth can it mean?’

  There was something familiar nagging at Janey. Reaching beneath her jumper, she pulled out a necklace with a chunky pendant hanging from it.

  ‘Janey! You know the rules – no jewellery in school!’ said Mrs Halliday sternly.

  ‘But it’s my SPIV!’ Surely Mrs Halliday, spy-name Halo, recognized a SPI Visualator when she saw one?

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is that the name for necklaces nowadays?’

  ‘But . . .’

  Suddenly Janey realized that another pupil was peering round the office door. Mrs Halliday nodded smartly. ‘All right, Julian. Just give me two seconds. Janey was just going. Keep me posted on progress, won’t you? It sounds like a very interesting project.’

  Janey’s heart pounded as she scurried down the corridor looking for somewhere quiet. Passing a narrow door, she stopped, pulled at the handle and slipped into the new caretaker’s cupboard. A tiny radio was playing to itself. Janey moved it, along with some fluorescent green rubber gloves, and overturned the bucket they’d been resting on. Only when she had sat down did she dare to pull out her SPI Visualator again and hold it close to her mouth. ‘G-Mamma! Are you there?’

  A beaming round face appeared in the stone dangling from the necklace chain. ‘Betcha boodles I’m here! What’s the skinny, Blonde?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve just picked up a weird message at school. Is everything all right there?’

  ‘It’s candy-dandy, Blondette. Although I did just stand in the cat’s food. Disgusting gloop between my toes. And I’d just painted them. It’s not a good look!’

  Janey frowned. ‘Why hasn’t Trouble eaten it? Did you give him cake last night?’

  ‘I didn’t see him last night. I thought he was with you. Oh, he’ll just have gone off on one of his little kitty walkabouts.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I wonder . . .’

  Trouble had been sent to G-Mamma for safe keeping by Janey’s dad when he had been forced into hiding. Scat Cat, the message had said. Was that a warning, or a threat? Whichever it was, Janey had a sudden urge to find her Spycat – quickly.

  ‘G-Mamma,’ she said softly, ‘start looking for Trouble. Now.’

  kittynapped

  ‘What is that lunatic doing now?’ asked Jean as they got out of the car after the school day had ended. Next door, a large body in satin pyjama bottoms and a sequinned poncho was wriggling around on the grass.

  ‘Don’t know.’ Janey shrugged. Jean Brown disliked G-Mamma rather intensely, even though she couldn’t exactly recall why. ‘Maybe she’s weeding?’

  ‘Hmmmph,’ sniffed her mother with her key in the door. ‘She’s the only weed round here. Sprouting up larger than life just where you don’t want her.’

  But right at that minute Janey did want her. Once inside, she took the stairs at a run. ‘Just getting changed, Mum!’

  ‘Fine, sweetheart. I’ll start tea.’

  Janey tapped on the wall to the top right of her fireplace and hopped around impatiently as the back panel of the fire slid upwards. As soon as there was a big enough gap she squatted down and wriggled through the short tunnel ahead of her.

  She emerged in G-Mamma’s gleaming Spylab. Her SPI:KE had run inside and was sorting through a pile of frog-suits. ‘Blonde, thank the stars you’re here! You’ll need one of these. Which do you fancy, aqua or fuchsia?’

  Janey shook her head, puzzled. ‘What do I need one of those for? Isn’t my SPIsuit waterproof?’

  ‘You need extra protection where you’re going,’ said G-Mamma darkly. ‘I did as you said and went to look for Trouble. Well, I’m sorry to say that cat has vamooshed! Evaporated into thin air. But I found this under the hedge.’

  G-Mamma pointed at a tiny piece of gauzy yellow rubber, split almost in two by what was quite clearly a claw mark.

  ‘I’ve just analysed the material,’ said G-Mamma, pointing at the computer screen. ‘It’s polypropylene, the type used in diving suits. Someone’s kittynapped our wickle Twoubble. And whoever it is must have come from somewhere underwater.’

  Janey thought hard. ‘There isn’t any water near here. Where would they have come from? It’s not like there’s a stream in the street. Even when it’s raining, the water just goes . . . No!’

  ‘What?’ G-Mamma looked as innocent as possible, her eyebrows peaking under her crown of curls. ‘What do you mean, no?’

  Janey shook her head. ‘I am not going down the drain.’

  ‘But that’s the only possibility! I checked!’ said G-Mamma. ‘There’s a manhole cover right outside, and drippy drip-drops leading all the way to it. And our poor little kitty . . .’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Janey knew there was no way out of it. She had a duty to try to find Trouble. ‘I’ll take the aqua frog-suit,’ said Janey, ‘and a very big helmet.’

  A minute or two later, Janey emerged from the Wower encased in glowing aqua rubber with her slick ponytail shimmering blonde. ‘Will my Ultra-gogs work in . . . down there?’

  ‘Think so!’ G-Mamma answered brightly. ‘Provided you don’t get anything too gungy on them. Anyway, we don’t have a helmet so they’ll have to do. Here, chew this if you need to.’

  Janey took hold of the rubbery creepy-crawly G-Mamma was offering her. ‘Euw. Isn’t it going to be bad enough down there?’

  ‘It’s gum.’

  ‘Oh.’ That was good. With pieces from Alfie’s endless supply of gum, Janey had discovered she was a master bubble-blower, although she still wasn’t allowed it at home.

  ‘It’s also a SPIder,’ said G-Mamma. ‘SPI Direct Energy Replenishment. In case you need some oxygen.’

  For if I’m drowning, thought Janey. Great. She slid the SPIder into a pocket on her frog-suit sleeve and turned grimly to G-Mamma. ‘I can’t be gone long. Mum’s making tea.’

  ‘Well, let’s get started then!’

  G-Mamma bounded across her front lawn in short spiky movements. ‘I know we haven’t covered this yet in training, but I’ve worked out the angle of vision from each house in the street. We can’t be seen if we follow this route exactly. Behind the bush, and . . . run! To the garden gnome, squat, CRAWL! OK.’ She half stood as they reached the gate. ‘Now, the manhole is just there. Go for it, Blondette! And take this torch.’

  The manhole cover had not been pulled across properly, and Janey could see the tiny droplets of water around it that G-Mamma had mentioned. She also spotted something else – a couple of amber hairs sticking to the top rung of the ladder that led down into the drain. ‘Trouble!’ she gasped.

  Ja
ney edged one foot down to the next rung, then another, then another, until she squelched on to the floor of the drain, ankle-deep in sludge. It wasn’t as bad as she’d suspected – hopefully it was just rainwater that came along this particular pipe.

  ‘Right, G-Mamma, I’m going in!’

  A sparkly taloned thumb appeared above the manhole in answer to Janey’s hiss. ‘Meet you back here.’

  ‘OK.’

  She set off resolutely. After she had sloshed along for a few minutes Janey came to a junction in the pipe. The single cylinder she’d been moving along forked, with equal-sized tunnels running off to the left and the right. There was nothing to indicate which one Trouble might have been taken along.

  ‘Left,’ said Janey instinctively. Her voice bounced back loudly from the tunnel walls. ‘Oops,’ she added more quietly, as she clambered into the left-hand pipe and set off along its length.

  Good – there was a sign! Along the wall was a series of long scratches. Claw marks. Trouble had been trying to get out, scrambling to be dropped to the floor. It wouldn’t have worried him in the slightest if he’d landed in water. Unusually for a cat, he loved it. Also unusually for a cat, he hated mice. When her father had learned how to transform one creature into another, he had turned a frog into a mouse right under Trouble’s nose and the cat had never quite recovered from the shock. Janey suspected, however, that the type of vermin who lived down here was much bigger than mice: ‘Rats!’ she thought. ‘Yuck.’

  The water around her ankles began to run more swiftly. It was also becoming a little deeper, and she was beginning to recognize a familiar odour.

  ‘What is that? Gas? No. Something . . .’

  The odour reminded her of holidays, the school holidays she’d just had . . . and playing in the sunshine, and . . . The smell intensified and as it did so Janey heard a huge squelching gurgle. ‘It’s chlorine!’ she realized. Was a swimming pool emptying? No . . .

  The gurgling suddenly multiplied into a roar. Janey took off back along the tunnel towards the junction she had left only a few minutes before. Behind her there was a thunderous noise of surging water. She ran on, stumbling as she glanced over her shoulder. The roar became deafening, and now she could see it – a torrent of chlorinated water rushing towards her. At last she spotted the junction ahead, but the water was upon her now. She screamed as the deluge lifted her off her feet and sent her hurtling down the tunnel. She bobbed like a cork towards the surface, then realized with horror that the water was going to fill up the tunnel completely. She would run out of air before she managed to reach the junction and make her way back to the manhole.

  The SPIder! As water gushed up over her ears, sloshing against her nose, her Ultra-gogs, her forehead, Janey delved in the pocket on her arm and seized the creepy-crawly gum. She pushed it towards her lips, fighting the pressure of the water as it closed in over her head.

  And there it was – a sweet rush of oxygen down her throat. Janey chewed again and again and felt a bubble form inside her mouth. Two of the SPIder’s legs poked through her lips and snaked up to her nose, forming a pincer on each nostril that pinched her nose shut. The body of the SPIder spread into a thin layer across her teeth, so that she could open her lips and breathe through her mouth. The other six legs anchored themselves to the inside of her mouth and shot air down into her lungs.

  Now that she could breathe, Janey relaxed a little. She peered through her Ultra-gogs, which had stayed fixed to her face as if they were moulded on. The junction was coming up, but the water was rushing on down the tunnel that led to the manhole. She tried to anchor her feet against the walls of the tunnel, but the slippery surface and the rushing water prevented her. Forcing her head around, Janey beamed her laser up the tunnel behind her. A large brown object was hurtling towards her, spinning wildly as if trapped in a whirlpool. Trouble!

  Janey noticed something glinting up ahead; it was a metal ring, probably used by workmen to hang a light on. It was the only thing to hang on to.

  She grabbed it, but the ring was really only big enough for two fingers. Janey gripped tight as the water dragged at her, but her fingers were starting to ache. Any moment now they’d be ripped away by the torrent. She needed something to loop through the ring, but she was in a skintight frog-suit with not a dangly bit in sight. There was only one thing that would do.

  Janey hauled herself up through the water by the tiny amount of grip she still had left in her numb fingers. Then, backing her head towards the ring and breathing steadily through the SPIder, she threaded her ponytail through the iron loop and took hold of the end. It worked. She was hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel by her hair.

  The only problem was that she was now hanging face forward and couldn’t see Trouble coming up behind her. She had to hope that he would see her and grab hold of her. She tried to make herself into as big a target as possible, stretching out into a star shape and trying to brace herself against the greasy sides of the pipe. Her feet slithered, and it took every scrap of effort she could muster to keep still. Just as she was thinking she would have to let go, she felt a small furry body whack into her shoulders and sink its talons in like crampons.

  ‘Trouble, owwww! Claws in, you furball!’ Unfortunately all that came out of her mouth was a string of bubbles. Blimey, how long does it take for a swimming pool to empty? Janey thought desperately. Trouble was hanging on, but he wouldn’t be able to breathe . . .

  Janey flexed her muscles against the pain. If the water didn’t disappear by the time she’d counted to five, she would have to let go. One, two, three, four . . .

  Just then the water dropped away to Janey’s shoulders, then to her elbows, and finally to her thighs. With no water to take her weight, Janey’s scalp howled in agony. She let go of her ponytail and managed to stand firm in the tumbling water. As she inhaled the air, the SPIder shrunk back into a normal-sized wad of gum, and Trouble jumped into the water beside her, bedraggled but otherwise none the worse for his adventure.

  ‘Where have you been, Trubs?’ Janey tousled his wet head. ‘We were worried about you.’ The cat blinked balefully at her. He didn’t look as though he’d been especially worried himself. Janey grinned. ‘Come on.’

  As they walked along the tunnel to the manhole Trouble gave Janey occasional little licks with his raspy tongue. ‘Nearly there, kitty.’

  Suddenly G-Mamma’s upside-down face blocked the light coming in through the manhole cover. ‘Did you find him?’

  ‘There you go,’ said Janey, as she passed the sopping-wet cat up the ladder. ‘I think he’s been in a swimming pool’

  ‘OK. I’ll take care of him, Blonde, but I gotta tell you, you’ve got trouble of your own. Your mum’s been calling you for five minutes. Any second now she’ll be up the stairs and in your room.’

  ‘I so don’t need this!’ puffed Janey, hauling herself out of the manhole and through G-Mamma’s garden. ‘No time to de-Wow. We’ll talk later about what’s going on!’

  Back in the Spylab, Janey shot through the fireplace tunnel into her bedroom and was just doing up the belt of her dressing gown when her mum opened the door.

  ‘Janey, I’ve been shouting and shouting. Your tea is on the table.’ Her mother eyed Janey suspiciously. ‘Why are you wet?’

  ‘I . . . I needed a shower,’ Janey stammered.

  Her mother sniffed. ‘In bleach?’

  Janey quickly trotted out yet another lie to her mother. Being an undercover agent demanded certain skills, and making up stories on the spot was one of them. ‘They gave us this stuff at school. For . . . for head lice.’

  Jean paused, then nodded sympathetically. ‘OK. Better save some for me too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. You can tell me anything, you know!’

  If only I could, thought Janey, peeling herself out of the aqua frog-suit a moment later. How much easier everything would be. As it was, she was going to have to endure a completely normal night of homework, bad cooking and reading in bed before sh
e could get on to what she really wanted to do . . .

  . . . spy.

  clean machines

  ‘Quickly, Janey, get in. I’ve got an appointment to keep,’ said Jean Brown. ‘You’ll have to eat that on the go.’

  ‘Can’t you drop me at school first?’ said Janey through a mouthful of toast. She was anxious to meet up with Alfie and tell him about last night.

  Her mum shook her head, crunching the van into gear. ‘Sorry, I’m due there at eight. Anyway, I want you to come with me – I’d like your opinion. I’m thinking of a new venture for the Clean Jean Company.’

  ‘But I really need . . . Oh, OK.’

  Janey stopped short. There was no point going on. Her mum had a plan and she was going to stick to it, whatever Janey said. She sat in silence as they drove to the other side of town.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Jean, pulling the van through a set of huge metal gates. ‘What do you think?’

  They were in an oval yard like a racing track, with a narrow road leading around the edge and off to a large shed-like structure. Across the side of the building was a flourish of bold bronze writing, declaring: ‘Rownigan’s Car Wash. Make your car a star!’

  ‘Great!’ said Janey as a dusty white car, piebald with rust, nosed through the plastic doors to the shed. ‘Car washes are fun.’

  Her mum looked at her sideways. ‘What has happened to you, Janey? You’ve always been terrified of car washes. The thing is . . . oh, that must be Mr Rownigan.’

  Janey followed her mum as she got out of the car and went to shake someone’s hand. The man was a full two heads taller than her mother and had a mop of sandy hair. When he smiled down at Jean, his soft brown eyes crinkling at the corners, Janey could have sworn she saw her mum sway a little.

  ‘Mr Rownigan, can I introduce my daughter, Janey? I’m just taking her to school. Hope you don’t mind her coming along.’