by Laura Wood
“It’s ‘dead as a dodo’, dear,” corrected Doris, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
With another bang, Luigi came tumbling in, towing Buttercup on a lead behind him. The inspector gasped and grabbed Miss Baxter’s arm, pulling her behind him at the sight of the lion. The poor police officer, only just recovering from being tossed around by Boris, turned completely white, gulped and fainted dead away.
“WHERE IS THE SCOUNDREL? THE VILLAIN?” yelled Luigi fiercely. “IF YOU HAVE TOUCHED ONE HAIR ON POPPY’S HEAD, PREPARE TO BE VICIOUSLY MAULED!” Unfortunately Luigi’s heroic appearance was rather ruined when Buttercup gave a big yawn and flopped comfortably on the carpet, turning on to her back so that Ingrid could rub her belly. Marmalade the cat slunk in and curled up next to Buttercup, rubbing his face on the lion’s side and purring loudly.
“It’s OK, Luigi, I’m fine. They arrested Gertrude.” I peeked around the shoulders of a still-weeping Fanella, who was getting my shirt very soggy.
“Oh, good-oh,” said Luigi, dropping down on the floor next to Buttercup and stretching out his long legs. “Not sure I’d have really been able to go through with the mauling, Pops. Terribly messy business, you know, makes a chap quite queasy.” He tickled Buttercup behind the ear. “And I’m not completely sure my little angel was really clear on the plan here. Look at that face! She’s just a kitten!”
Inspector Hartley looked as if he was about to strongly disagree, but then, realizing he still had his arm around Miss Baxter’s waist, he turned the colour of a sunburnt beetroot and started stuttering his apologies instead.
“Well, it’s been quite an evening,” said Miss Baxter, smiling around at all of us. “One that I think even Dougie Valentine himself would have found a bit stressful!” We all laughed. “So I suggest dinner and a nice cup of hot chocolate around the campfire while we all calm down.”
This suggestion was met with cheers, and everyone headed back to the campfire outside the big top tent. As we sat there, curious students and teachers who had heard the kerfuffle of police sirens drifted down to investigate. Soon there was a full-blown party taking place. Everyone was laughing and telling jokes and stories, singing and toasting marshmallows, and Miss Baxter made a speech about how me, Kip and Ingrid had recovered the stolen ruby and caught the criminal and everyone cheered. Nobody wanted the night to end, so when Miss Baxter said there was no curfew that night and lessons would resume tomorrow afternoon, everyone cheered even louder. Looking around me, I realized that this was exactly what I had hoped school was going to be like.
Without really knowing how it happened, or who suggested it, we all found ourselves squeezed into the big top for a real show. I smushed in with the others, enjoying being part of the crowd for once, just as excited as everyone else, even though I had seen the performances countless times before. I oohed and ahhed when the fearless Luigi managed to tame a ferocious-looking Buttercup – even though I regularly rubbed that lion’s belly and knew she was really a big softy. I laughed until my sides hurt as BoBo and Chuckles performed their slapstick routine, falling all over each other and juggling plates of wiggling jelly. I held my breath as The Magnificent Marvin sawed Doris in half and then put her back together the wrong way round before making her disappear completely in a puff of smoke, only for her to reappear on top of the high wire, where she performed a fantastic tightrope-walking routine. I clapped and clapped until my hands were sore as Tina and Tawna flipped and somersaulted on the backs of their beautiful white ponies. I peeked through my fingers as a blindfolded Sharp-Eye Sheila threw knives at a spinning target to which Luigi was tied – each knife missing him by a whisker. I stared wide-eyed as a snakey-hipped Fanella danced with flaming batons and swallowed massive fireballs. I shouted in disbelief when Boris Von Jurgen lifted a small car over his head. I gasped when Pym leapt from trapeze to trapeze, tumbling and spinning almost out of control. And in the end, when they all took their bows, I joined the crowd and cheered until I had no voice left in me.
The applause went on for ever. Looking at Ingrid and Kip’s faces in the glow from the stage lamps, I saw that they had been completely transported by the magic of the circus, just as I had seen happen to so many kids before. This time it was different, though, I thought with a warm glow spreading through me like a bowl of strawberry custard. This time the audience wasn’t made of strangers. They were my friends. I slipped my arms around Kip’s and Ingrid’s shoulders, grinning widely. “So,” I laughed, “What’s next?”
Acknowledgements
As with my Oscar acceptance speech (witty, gracious, self-deprecating) I have frequently written and rewritten the acknowledgements for my first book in my head over the years. Now that the moment is here I am overwhelmed with gratitude and by how lucky I am to be surrounded by wonderful, supportive people, but equally aware that these thank-yous need to be shorter than the rest of the book. While there is no band to play me out and tell me that my time is up, I will try my best to keep this brief.
This book really wouldn't exist without the Montegrappa Scholastic Prize for New Children's Writing. My thanks to Giuseppe and the team at Montegrappa for their dedication to the written word, and for the beautiful dream of a pen with which I will be writing the rest of Poppy's adventures. It is thanks to your passion that I am able to write these words. Big thanks also to everyone at the London Book Fair and The Independent, as well as the brilliant and beautiful Cerrie Burnell, for all your kindness and support. I am also grateful to my fellow shortlistees, Rohan, Nicola S, Nicola T and Kate - talented, funny, generous people. This is the start of big things for us! A big thank you (and a huge picture of Kenneth Branagh) to my agent, and Anne Shirley-esque kindred spirit, Louise, who was my champion from the very beginning. To the whole team at Scholastic, I can,t say enough about how great you are and how excited I am to work with you, thank you for helping to turn my idea into this beautiful book that I can hold in my hands - you really did make my dream come true. Special thanks go to my wonderful editor Lena who was clever and kind and patient and who transformed this book into something better than I could ever have imagined.
Boundless thanks to my mum, dad and my brilliant brother Harry. I love you all so much and I'm so lucky to be related to three of my favourite people in the whole world. Thank you for always believing that this would happen. To Nan and Paps for all the adventures, for feeding my greedy imagination and for peddling this book to every single person they know. Love and thanks to the rest of the Bailey/Wilson clan and especially to my fairy godmothers AJ and Lissy. Also, to my second family, the Grigsby/Wellers. Thank you for welcoming me into your family and for all your love and support in all things over the last seven years. Also, thank you for inviting me on a nice holiday and still being friends with me after I had to stay at home and write this book - I guess it was all worth it in the end! I have to say a special thank you to Imogen Weller, my beautiful niece and my inspiration. She is all the best bits of this book rolled into one. To Mary, my very first reader, and to Chris, I love you both and please know that there will always be room for you in my castle. To Becky and to Daisy, lovely, lovely friends I am lucky to have. To my dear friend Lynda, with champagne cocktails to follow.
To Kristen and her gorgeous family, who will single-handedly get this book into every home in America. I love y,all!
Finally, to Paul. You made this possible in every way. I love you and I like you. Best friends.
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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2015
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd, 2015
Text copyright © Laura Wood, 2015
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eISBN 978 1407 15961 4
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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