Jane Blonde: Spies Trouble

by Jill Marshall

  ‘I’m suckered in here like a champagne cork, Blonde! I can hear the rats right behind.’ G-Mamma wriggled helplessly. ‘Go on without me!’

  There was nothing to get hold of apart from G-Mamma’s head. ‘I’m not leaving you here! You’ll have to push yourself through.’

  ‘My feet don’t touch the floor! And this wretched fire extinguisher is wedging me in! Go, Janey!’

  ‘Use it! Use the fire extinguisher,’ urged Janey, standing well back. ‘Now!’

  ‘OK, Blonde! I just hope you know what you’re doing!’

  G-Mamma wrapped her knees around the fire extinguisher and pressed the lever. Janey could hear the splash of the rats running through the pool.

  G-Mamma wobbled furiously and the whole gate shook. Then she shot out of the hole and along the ground as if jet-propelled, knocking Janey flat.

  ‘You’re out! Quick, they’re coming.’ Janey pointed the stun-gas finger at the first water rat to fling itself through the gate.

  ‘Use your ASPIC, Janey. I’ve got my wheels. I’ll meet you at the car.’

  Janey whizzed off while G-Mamma let loose with the fire extinguisher, blasting the rats off their feet with a cannon-load of white foam. When they were up and after her again, G-Mamma rolled the extinguisher at them. They stared at the great thunderous object hurtling towards them and tried to scarper. It was too late. The extinguisher ran straight over them as G-Mamma popped the little wheels out of her boots and speed-skated up to Janey.

  They reached the car together. G-Mamma swivelled to a spectacular halt that made the gravel fly. ‘Woolly pullies, I LOVE being a SPI! Wiped them out again!’

  ‘It’s not over yet, G-Mamma,’ said Janey, racing to the passenger door as she looked behind them. ‘Nine lives, remember?’

  G-Mamma blew a raspberry at the rats as she screeched away in the car.

  ‘Maybe they’d be easier to deal with if they were humans again,’ said Janey thoughtfully.

  ‘Good point, Blondette,’ said G-Mamma as they shot round the corner into the street.

  The trouble was, there was only one person in the world that knew how to turn the rats back into humans. And Janey had no idea where her dad was.

  mixed messages

  The next morning, Janey wrote a simple email to her dad.

  ‘Homework – help needed soon. Janey xxx’

  G-Mamma was grappling with some turquoise fake eyelashes. ‘I know it’s the least of our problems but it’s still getting to me: why is this Sun King so convinced that Trouble used to be a frog?’

  ‘It is weird,’ said Janey, shaking her head. ‘Oh, look, I’ve got a message back!’

  ‘Your father must have been sitting on that computer.’ G-Mamma scurried round to Janey’s side to read the email. ‘“Janey, to get to the point: that type of thing is BIG . . . Afraid can’t help. Busy right now. End of special project. In touch soon. Stay well, UNCLE SOLOMON.” Now what in the name of Brilliance does that mean?’

  ‘It’s not in code,’ said Janey, swallowing her disappointment. ‘This is just a straight message. He’s too busy to help.’

  ‘Better go and get your breakfast,’ said G-Mamma gently, nodding to the television-sized SPIV

  that showed the stairs in Janey’s house. ‘Before Clean Jean starts looking for you. Look, she’s on the phone.’

  Janey sneaked back through to her room and went down to the kitchen.

  ‘Abe’s a bit tied up,’ said her mum. ‘He can’t be at the car wash first thing as planned. We’ve got suppliers coming and all sorts, but I’ve got other cleaning jobs to do first – what am I going to do?’ Her mother put down her mobile phone and sighed.

  ‘Since when have you had one of those?’ Janey pointed to the mobile.

  ‘Abe gave it to me. For business. Good to keep in touch, he says.’

  Janey looked suspiciously at the little gadget. Might it be another SPI-Pod to keep constant tracks on her mother’s whereabouts? She would have liked to wrestle it out of her mother’s hand and bash it to bits, but decided that would look a bit suspicious.

  Jean Brown frowned. ‘Where am I going to find a cleaner at this short notice?’

  At that moment the doorbell rang. Janey and her mother got to the door at the same time. On the doorstep stood a large woman wearing a knotted headscarf, a hygiene mask, a vast flowery overall and white Wellington boots.

  ‘Can I help you?’ said Jean, stunned.

  ‘Can I help you? is the question,’ said the woman. ‘Fleur from Short-Cuts Cleaning Temps here. Wondered if you might be needing any work today? I’ve hit a bit of a lull.’

  Jean Brown stared long and hard at the woman. ‘You’ve done cleaning before?’

  Fleur gave a short laugh. ‘Show me a woman who hasn’t, eh, my dear! I’ve done the lot. Cleaning, steaming, gleaming. In all sorts of places. That’s why I keep the mask on. I could start now if you like. Here are my references.’ She handed Jean a pile of papers.

  ‘Well, that’s . . . that’s great. Amazing references. Cleaning at Buckingham Palace? Wow. Well, you’ve come at the perfect time. I’ve just got the supermarket contract, over on Besford Drive. You’ll probably need my van for the equipment.’

  ‘Smashing,’ said Fleur.

  ‘I’ll just get the keys.’ Jean raised her brows at Janey and flitted down the hall.

  Janey took hold of Fleur’s arm. ‘G-Mamma, what are you doing?’

  G-Mamma tapped the side of her nose. ‘Going undercover to suss out this Rownigan guy. Get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘But you’re useless at cleaning!’ said Janey, thinking of the endless trails of crumbs and jam on the Spylab floor.

  ‘True,’ said G-Mamma proudly. ‘But I’m very good at spying. And lying!’ Her eyes crinkled in a fake beam as Jean returned to the door. ‘Drop you somewhere, Mrs Brawn?’

  ‘It’s Brown. No, that’s fine, I’ll get a cab.’

  ‘Righto. I’ll be off,’ she said, grabbing the keys from Jean’s hand.

  Janey could hardly stop herself laughing at the sight of G-Mamma trying to squeeze herself into the Clean Jean minivan. At the same moment all three of them spotted Abe Rownigan’s Daimler coming around the corner. G-Mamma dived into the depths of the van and pretended to be sorting the buckets, peeking out from behind a dishcloth.

  ‘Abe, you made it!’ said Jean when she could finally tear her eyes away from the new cleaner.

  ‘Yes, everything sorted. Shall we drop you at school, Janey?’ He gave her a funny look. ‘Oh, you’re not wearing your little kite badge today.’

  ‘No,’ said Janey hesitantly. ‘It’s too pretty to wear for school.’ Plus it’s probably another of your SPI-Pods, she thought darkly.

  Abe was watching G-Mamma’s behind wobbling around as she tried to right herself in the van. ‘Is that a new cleaner?’

  ‘Er, yep,’ said Janey quickly. ‘Can we go? I don’t want to be late.’

  She was actually early. When she got out at school, both Abe and her mum turned to wave at her, and for a moment Janey experienced a strange, sudden pang. She was still standing staring after the car as Alfie came up to her.

  ‘Is your mum still playing happy families?’ he said, offering her a piece of bubblegum.

  Janey nodded. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Alfie. But the whole thing is getting really scary. Last night the Sun King tried to freeze me and G-Mamma and take out our brains. We only just escaped. I can’t help thinking Abe Rownigan is in on it all somehow.’

  ‘Why else would he plant a SPI-Pod on you? Anyway, right now that’s the least of our problems,’ said Alfie. ‘Have you thought of an interesting and original way to do our presentation today?’

  Janey groaned. She’d forgotten all about the water project.

  ‘Paulette!’ she called to the small figure ahead of her. ‘It’s the project presentations today. We’re not ready!’

  Paulette turned to greet them with a knowing smile. ‘Ah, don’t worry. I ’ave done lots of work
.’

  Mr Saunders, looking rather tired, called the groups up one by one. When it was their turn, Alfie and Janey hung back while Paulette walked over to the teacher’s desk. On it she rigged up a contraption with a large jug, and a plastic bowl with a ruler shoved through it. ‘So this is ’ow we save our water and generate electricity ’ere in our town. ’Ere is our reservoir,’ she said, lifting the jug and pouring water slowly into the half of the plastic bowl behind the ruler. ‘And when ze dam is opened we create ze power.’

  With a little flourish, Paulette whipped the ruler out of its holes and water gushed into the other half of the plastic bowl. She ignored the rivulets of water oozing across Mr Saunders’s desk from the ruler-holes.

  ‘Top marks, Paulette’s team,’ said Mr Saunders, getting out a tissue and mopping up. ‘You see, class? An original presentation at last. Although, Alfie and Janey, it was meant to be a group effort, you know? You owe a big thank-you to Miss Solay.’

  ‘It is Soleil, going up at ze end, Monsieur Saunders. French for “sun”. And it was a group effort, monsieur,’ said Paulette. ‘We were like family wiz our project. Alfie did . . . Alfie and Janey did all ze background work.’

  ‘Good. Let’s move on then.’

  Paulette winked at them as she sat down, but Janey was lost in her own thoughts. Paulette’s surname meant ‘sun’. And hadn’t the original Sun King been French too? Maybe she was right to be suspicious of Paulette after all.

  reeling abe

  Janey’s mum collected her after school and brought fish and chips home for supper, along with Abe Rownigan. All through the meal Janey was itching to excuse herself and go for an immediate catch-up with G-Mamma. If Paulette was involved in some way, Janey needed a plan.

  ‘Can I go and do my homework upstairs?’ she asked as soon as the plates were cleared. ‘Leave you in peace.’

  Her mum and Abe looked exceptionally happy at this suggestion, it seemed to Janey. She wasn’t even sure they’d noticed her leave, but just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, a hand clamped down on her shoulder. It was such a shock that she let out a small scream.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Janey, didn’t mean to scare you,’ said Abe Rownigan, looking down at her from his great height. ‘I just . . . I just wondered if I might have a word.’

  Janey perched awkwardly on one stair while Abe squatted at the bottom. ‘I . . . I don’t know how to say this really, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m not playing games or anything. I’m deadly serious. You’re a smart girl, Janey, I’m sure you’ll get the message very soon. Please, you see, I mean to get your mother—’

  ‘Just leave her alone!’ Janey leaped up, her heart banging against her ribs. He was deadly serious. He was going to get her mother! ‘Leave us both alone!’ she hissed. ‘I’ve worked you out. I’ve told you everything already. I can’t tell you what you need to know!’

  Terrified, she hurled herself past him down the stairs and ran to her mother. ‘Make him go, Mum,’ she cried, flinging herself across her mother. ‘Get him out of the house!’

  ‘Janey!’ Jean Brown didn’t know whether to calm down her daughter or placate the man in the doorway.

  ‘I think I’d better go,’ said Abe. ‘Sorry, Jean, I must have said the wrong thing. Janey, I’m so sorry, I thought perhaps you’d understand . . .’

  Jean Brown cuddled her shaking daughter. ‘Yes, perhaps you had better go. I think Janey and I need a talk on our own. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

  Janey sat down at the kitchen table, hardly daring to look at her mum’s face. There was so little she could explain without going into all the details of her spy life, but she knew she had to say something. ‘Mum, I know you think I’m a brat, shouting like that. But there’s something not right about Abraham Rownigan. I think he might be out to harm you. Us!’

  Her mother put a hand over Janey’s. ‘Darling, I know what this is really about. And I understand. We’ve been as close as can be, just the two of us, battling against everything together. I haven’t even thought about looking for anyone else since your father died. But Abe Rownigan has suddenly turned up, and you don’t like the disruption to our normal lives.’

  ‘But we don’t have normal lives, Mum,’ said Janey. ‘We’re not normal at all! And what if . . . what if Dad didn’t really die? What would he think of you liking somebody else?’

  ‘That’s completely ridiculous, Janey,’ her mum said sharply. ‘Of course he died. Just calm down. I’ve only known Abe a few days! But I’d like to know him for a few more. And if nothing else comes of it, I am quite determined that our business will go ahead. It could be the making of us, Janey. Promise me you will never, ever have an outburst like that again.’

  ‘I was just trying to save you, Mum,’ whispered Janey miserably.

  ‘Let me do the saving round here. I’ve got years of experience. Just . . . just go and do your homework.’

  Janey struggled to fight back a flood of tears as she trod heavily up the stairs. If Abe Rownigan was trying to destroy their family, he was going about it the right way. Barely managing to close the door behind her, Janey wriggled straight through to the Spylab and collapsed in G-Mamma’s aproned lap.

  ‘My mum hates me,’ she sobbed, relating what had happened with Abe Rownigan.

  ‘She doesn’t hate you, Blondette,’ said G-Mamma. ‘She hates me, and look what that’s like. She loves you. But this Abe Rownigan is a worry. Couldn’t catch him out on a single thing today, even though I sneaked up on him as many times as I could. Although I suppose . . . well, I suppose there might have been one little thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, there were a couple of times, like when I was vacuuming his car roof, looking busy, that I heard a funny noise. And when I swizzled round I could have sworn he was . . . he was . . . laughing at me.’ She blew her nose loudly on her apron pocket.

  G-Mamma looked so hurt that Janey didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sight of her hoovering a car roof probably would have looked pretty funny to anyone. She dried her eyes and checked the super-sized SPIV. Her mother was still in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea with a sad, faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘Time for a Wower,’ she said decisively. ‘Abe’s a menace. I’m going to find him.’

  G-Mamma nodded, more like her usual self. ‘Well, it should be easy. I planted a SPI-Pod under his car. What’s the plan?’

  ‘Jane Blonde’s going to reel Abe Rownigan in,’ said Janey. ‘That’s the plan.’

  dam rats

  As Janey neared the point indicated by the SPI-Pod, she slowed her ASPIC by skewing it hard left, then pulled out her SPIV.

  ‘G-Mamma!’

  ‘Here, Blonde. OK?’

  ‘Fine. I can see the car. It’s parked on Quarry Road, under the trees opposite a big house. And guess what the name is on the gatepost . . . Soleil.’

  ‘Very interesting! You thought they might be connected, didn’t you? Don’t go in the house, Blondette; it could be a trap. You’re wearing the bait?’

  Janey glanced down at the small kite brooch pinned to her silver SPIsuit. The tiny diamonds winked at her in the moonlight. ‘Yes. If it’s a SPI-Pod, like I think it is, he’ll know exactly where I am. And I’ve got Mum’s mobile, just in case. I’ll check in later.’

  Janey slid past the car. There was nobody inside but she could still hear the faint sound of voices singing. Abe had left the radio on. ‘Hmm. Your voice intercom, no doubt,’ said Janey under her breath. It didn’t worry her. This time she wanted the Sun King to find her so she could prove it was Abe.

  ‘Map,’ she said to her Ultra-gogs. Instantly a small 3D image popped up before her eyes. ‘OK. The Sun King seems to like water. Let’s head down there.’

  At the bottom of the road was the old quarry, which had been transformed into the reservoir and dam that Paulette had demonstrated for their project piece. The trees became more sparse as Janey sprinted along.

  There ahead of her was the rese
rvoir. The inky surface stretched for several hundred metres; in the far distance Janey could just make out the glint of the narrow rail that ran along the top of the dam. She checked her pocket – there was the SPIder in case she got into difficulties in the water, and the ASPIC weighed comfortably against her thigh.

  Janey sat for a few moments hunched under a bush, wondering what someone would think if they found her there talking to a tiny kite. It felt mad, but there had to be some way to activate the SPI-Pod. Just to be sure, she fished her mum’s mobile out of her pocket. ‘Hello! I am in trouble. Come and find me!’ she said loudly.

  At last. In the distance Janey could hear the screech of tyres on the shingled road. She crouched into a tight ball and peeked out through the prickly branches. Headlights from the road were brightening the gloom – not just one set, but two, and much further away Janey could make out yet another set.

  ‘Not good,’ she said to herself. Janey had really expected that Rownigan would come on his own. Now there were three carloads of the enemy heading in her direction.

  She flattened herself into the ground, the silver-grey of her SPIsuit perfect camouflage, as the first car shot into the car park. It was Abraham Rownigan’s Daimler. Janey tried not to breathe as he leaped out of the driver’s seat, looked around speedily and ran towards the dam.

  The second car – a large black people-carrier – skidded to a halt behind Abe’s. A small figure climbed down from the passenger door, quickly followed by the five slinking water rats that Janey had come to know so well and dread even more.