by Laura Wood
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I said. “Where on earth are the others?”
Hortence waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder. “That ridiculous truck of theirs broke down about a mile away. I told them it would never make it through the snow, but no one would listen to me. They’re all on their way, but they sent me ahead with Buttercup. I think they thought I wasn’t up to the walk.” She huffed here, clearly deeply offended. “They think I’m old, you see.”
“You’ll never be old,” I said.
Great-Aunt Hortence’s mouth seemed to tug up just a little at the corners. “Quite right, dear,” she said. “Now, let’s get poor Buttercup inside. She needs a good drink and something to eat. She shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
Buttercup didn’t seem terribly distressed by the conditions, given that she was currently prancing around, chasing snowflakes and snapping at them with her big teeth, but I led them inside anyway.
The others had gathered to greet us. “And who, pray tell, is in charge here?” Hortence demanded regally, unpinning her large black shawl, and shaking it out briskly.
Miss Baxter stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Miss Baxter the headmistress. You must be Poppy’s aunt,” she said, holding her hand out.
Great-Aunt Hortence offered up the very tips of her fingers to shake. “I am her GREAT-aunt, actually,” she sniffed. “I see this place has gone downhill since we sent Lord Lucas here.” She was looking around the entrance hall, as though the big beautiful room was some dingy hovel.
“She means Luigi,” I said helpfully. “He used to go to school here.”
“Yes,” Hortence said. “And a lot of good it did him. Running away to join the circus! He nearly broke his mother’s heart.”
“Oh,” Miss Baxter said weakly, “well, as you probably know, Poppy is doing very well. She’s an excellent student.”
“Good,” Hortence barked. “She’s a very bright girl. Special.” I beamed, straightening up and basking in all this approval. “Nearly ruined, of course, by my silly nephew and that foolish circus. Still, at least she’s getting a halfway decent education now.”
Oh. I deflated a little.
“Mmm,” Miss Baxter said, seeming unsure as to how to proceed. “Well, hello, Buttercup!” she exclaimed, obviously pleased by the distraction the lion provided. Buttercup had been giving herself a good shake to get rid of all the snow, and now she padded towards the headmistress with a low purr thrumming through her. Everyone crowded around to pat and stroke her, including Mr Blammel who was trying to act nonchalant but who still looked slightly alarmed by the whole thing.
“And now,” Great-Aunt Hortence said, dismissing Miss Baxter with a wave of one bony hand. “Where are Kip and Ingrid, these friends of yours I’ve heard so much about?”
My two pals stepped gingerly forward, looking as though they were about to confront a particularly vicious alligator. Kip’s face was quite red, and his mouth hung open. He was, for once, speechless. (But then Great-Aunt Hortence did tend to have this effect on people.) Ingrid made a better effort, smiling weakly and murmuring hello. When Great-Aunt Hortence continued simply to stare at them both without saying anything, however, Ingrid cracked under the pressure. Her head bowed and her legs seemed almost to go from under her for a moment, resulting in a curious bobbing action.
“Did you just … curtsey?!” Kip hissed out of the side of his mouth.
A blush washed over Ingrid’s face. “Shut up,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
I stifled a giggle, but it came out as a sort of funny snorting noise.
“Hmmm.” Great-Aunt Hortence murmured, and it was unclear whether the curtsey had been well received or not. “Well,” she said, turning her blue eyes back to me once more. “It seems obvious we won’t be going anywhere for a while. Not with this infuriating snow continuing to come down like this. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of a good, hot cup of tea? Or possibly something a little stronger. It has been a trying morning.”
“Is that a … SNAKE?” Mr Blammel shrieked suddenly, pointing to the floor.
“Oh, hello, Otis,” I said.
And, with a thunk, Ingrid’s dad hit the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
By the time Mr Blammel came around the whole circus family had arrived. Buttercup was joyfully reunited with Luigi, despite the fact the two could only have been apart for a few minutes, and I was bundled into hugs with one person after another.
“I’m sure you’ve grown,” Pym said, looking me over beadily.
“Yes—” Tina said.
“Definitely,” Tawna finished.
“What about me?” Kip barged in. “Do you think I’ve grown? I really think my new dietary regime has been working wonders.”
“What dietary regime?” I snorted.
Kip looked offended. “Well, I’d have thought a detective like you would have noticed I’ve been bulking up my calorific intake,” he huffed.
“You mean you’ve been stuffing your face?” I asked. “That’s hardly new.”
Kip looked like he was about to say some very loud words at me, but Doris was on hand to smooth his ruffled feathers. “I think you’ve certainly grown, Kip,” she said, “and I’ve been looking into those blueprints for the stretching machine that you sent me. Some … um … very interesting science there.”
Kip beamed. “I thought so,” he said seriously. “The first thing is going to be figuring out how to make it work without killing people.”
All this talk of inventions reminded me that we had important gadget-related questions of our own for Doris. And they involved a robotic beetle currently locked inside my bedside drawer. I moved this close to the top of our list of mystery-related priorities. We needed to try and get Doris alone.
“Is he all right?” Bobo the clown was asking, peering closely at Mr Blammel’s face. His eyes fluttered gently open.
“Aggggggh!” he screamed into Bobo’s brightly painted face.
“Aggggggh!” Bobo shouted, jumping back and tripping over her own feet.
Mr Blammel leapt up, his fists raised as though he was about to start a fight. Then he caught sight of me. “Oh, Poppy,” he said a little groggily. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” I said helpfully. “When you saw Otis.” I pointed to the yellow snake, which was now coiled around Fanella’s shoulders. “Are you OK?”
An angry blush spread across Mr Blammel’s cheeks. “Of course, I’m fine,” he snapped. “I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss.” He eyed Otis nervously, and took a step further away from him.
“Oh, Poppy,” Mei breathed beside me, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe it… It’s your circus family – they’re here.”
“That’s right!” I grinned, because they were all here, in all their mad, noisy glory. Except, I realized, for one. “Where’s Boris?” I asked, just as the man himself burst through the front doors. He was laden down with bags and three ENORMOUS wicker hampers with the letters B & W stamped on them. Staggering behind him came another familiar face, carrying one much smaller hamper.
“Inspector Hartley!” I exclaimed.
“Hello, Poppy,” he puffed, releasing the hamper with a thump and rubbing his arms. “Sorry,” he groaned. “That thing was heavy and we’ve been walking for a while.”
“I did offer to carry it for you,” Boris said helpfully, while still holding all of the objects he had arrived with as though they weighed little more than a bin bag full of feathers.
“Yes,” the inspector sighed. “You did.”
“What are you doing here?” Kip asked suspiciously. “Has there been another crime?” His head whipped around and the blood drained from his face. “OH NO… HAS SOMEONE BEEN EATEN IN THE WOODS?”
Inspector Hartley looked VERY puzzled. “Eaten in the woods?” he repeated. “No, not to my knowledge.”
“Kip’s nervous about woodland creatures,” Letty put in here, rather helpfully. “He�
��s afraid of squirrels,” she whispered, very loudly.
“Ahhhh,” the inspector said, still looking rather bemused.
“I told you it was more like a wolf,” Kip muttered darkly, his arms folded across his chest.
“I notice you haven’t answered the boy’s question,” Great-Aunt Hortence’s voice cracked through the room. “Why is there a police officer here?”
Inspector Hartley turned quite pink and darted an awkward look at Miss Baxter. “I – er…” he began.
Whatever was going on with the inspector seemed to be contagious because Miss Baxter turned all pink and stuttery too.
“Inspector Hartley is here as my guest,” she managed, finally. “For Christmas.”
“I see,” Great-Aunt Hortence sniffed, looking from the inspector to Miss Baxter and back again.
“Well, I’m glad you made it, Arthur,” Miss Baxter’s voice was bright and a bit too loud, but her face crinkled into a pleased smile. “I thought there was no chance.”
“I think I’ll be the last person to make the attempt,” Inspector Hartley admitted. “It really is nasty outside. I just about managed to walk up from Brimwell but it was very hard going. It’s like a ghost town down there.” He gestured towards the circus crew. “I came across this lot in their broken-down van on my way.”
“Well, I’m sure this is all fascinating,” Great-Aunt Hortence’s icy voice rang out once more, “but are we going to stand about in this freezing hallway all day?”
“Hortence is right,” Fanella sniffed. “My nose, I feel it is very red and not becoming. Bah! I need to get away from this freeeeezing English weather.”
“I like your headscarf, Fanella,” I said, admiring the pretty silk turban she had wrapped around her hair.
This was soon revealed to be a mistake.
Marvin groaned and Fanella’s eyes snapped in his direction.
“YOU GROAN?” she demanded. “YOU who … who … DISFIGURE me. YOU who tell me, ‘Is just little magic trick, Fanella, your hair go back to normal in no time,’ BUT IT DOESN’T. Did YOU just GROAN AT ME?”
“I said I was sorry,” Marvin said sulkily. “I really don’t know what more there is to say. It was an accident.”
“Oh yes, an ACCIDENT,” Fanella screeched, making little air quotes with her fingers, “just like that time when you let that octopus stole my earrings…”
“I KNEW you were going to bring up the octopus,” Marvin said hotly. “That was one time and you’ll never let me live it down…”
“Tea, anyone?” Miss Baxter broke in, and we all nodded, relieved. “Why don’t you show our guests up to the common room, children? Much cosier, and I can bring the tea up.” Her eyes slid sideways towards Inspector Hartley.
“I’ll give you a hand,” he said promptly, and the two of them sped off towards the kitchen, deep in hushed conversation, their heads bent very close together.
“We’ll just go and settle into the rooms Miss Baxter has set aside first, if you don’t mind, Poppy,” Pym said with a smile. “It’s been quite a long morning.” She rolled her eyes towards Marvin and Fanella who were continuing their squabble in very loud and unsubtle whispers.
“Yes, my poor little Buttercup is positively falling asleep on her feet,” Luigi added as the lion in question pranced back and forth with someone’s shoe in her mouth. Whose shoe it was I had no idea.
“Of course,” I said, giving Pym another hug. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Well, I for one would like to go to this common room,” Great-Aunt Hortence said. “Poppy, if you would be so good as to lead the way…”
“It’s up here,” I said, making my way up the wide staircase. Kip and Ingrid fell into step beside me while Mei walked behind, chattering away to Great-Aunt Hortence. In the end Boris and Sharp-Eye Sheila decided to come with us as well.
“So, as I see it, there are two important jobs,” I whispered to Kip and Ingrid. “We need to find Professor Tweep and ask about the yetis, and we need to show Doris the beetle and see if she can recover any information from it. Perhaps that will help us to finally figure out who is behind all of this.”
“Right,” Ingrid agreed, and Kip nodded.
“We also need to get a better handle on the food situation,” Kip said. “What there is, how much, whether we should all be eating plenty of chocolate cake to protect us from the cold, et cetera et cetera.” He was waving his hand to demonstrate that there was actually an endless list of food-related questions.
“Fine,” I said. “But our detective questions take top priority.” I gave him a steely look.
“Of course.” Kip agreed quickly. “As long as we acknowledge the significance of the food-based questions, then I’m happy.”
When we entered the common room it was to find Professor Tweep already there, settled into a comfy armchair and chatting with Ingrid’s parents. Thankfully they had lit a roaring fire in the big old fireplace, and the room was lovely and toasty. As we had been allowed to decorate it ourselves it was also strewn so liberally with tinsel and strings of multi-coloured lights that it looked like there had been an explosion in a Christmas decoration factory.
There were lots of hellos and I introduced Great-Aunt Hortence, who dipped her head a fraction – as though she were the queen – and promptly settled into a large, wingback chair by the window around which everyone else gathered.
I was just wondering whether it was safe to broach the subject of yetis with Professor Tweep in front of everyone when Kip stood up, red faced.
“I think we need to talk about the food,” he blurted out, like a ketchup bottle that had come unstuck in one big glug. “Is there enough?” He caught my eye apologetically, but I didn’t really mind. After all, I knew Kip wouldn’t be able to concentrate until this issue was resolved.
“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” Great-Aunt Hortence said airily. “I’ve brought four hampers from Biddles and Watson’s and they’re absolutely heaving with food.”
And then, much to her surprise, Kip hurled himself at her, wrapping her in an enormous hug.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he choked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Now that the issue of the food was resolved, we could move on to more pressing matters. After Great-Aunt Hortence had drawn Ingrid’s parents down on the seats beside her and into a conversation about the inconvenience of snow, and Letty, Mei, Boris and Sharp-Eye Sheila had pulled out the old Monopoly board, settling in for a long and argumentative game, Kip, Ingrid and I sidled up to Professor Tweep.
“Everything all right, children?” he asked, presumably slightly alarmed by the angelic expressions we were all wearing.
“Yes, thank you, sir,” I said. “It’s just this weather, you know. We were talking about snow…” I trailed off uncertainly, looking over at Ingrid.
She jumped nobly into the breach. “Yes, snow,” she said. “And stories about snow and, you know … er, snowmen and snow … monsters.”
“Snow monsters?” Professor Tweep repeated, a confused frown on his face.
“I’m so glad you brought that up,” Kip said, smoothly. “Do you know a lot about those kind of things?” he said, leaning back casually in his chair. “You know, yetis and the like?” Kip examined his fingernails as if he didn’t really care about the answer one way or another, and I had to admire his coolness under pressure – it was actually very un-Kip-like.
A big smile spread across Professor Tweep’s face, sending his moustache trembling. “Ah, yetis!” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s the perfect weather to talk about them, eh? What exactly did you want to know?”
“Everything,” I said quickly.
Professor Tweep chuckled. “Well, that’s an awful lot of information, you see. There have been reports of yetis for hundreds of years. Several very old Himalayan societies apparently worshipped the creatures as gods who watched over the hunt.”
“Really?” Kip said. “Yetis as gods. Those big hairy
monster things?”
“Oh, yes.” Professor Tweep nodded. “According to some, the yeti is a very ancient being.”
“But what about the sort of creature we’re more familiar with, Professor?” Ingrid asked politely.
“Hmmmmph,” Professor Tweep wheezed, settling back into his chair. “Of course, the most important evidence of the existence of yetis came in 1951 when Eric Shipton discovered a trail of unusual footprints in the snow while attempting to scale Mount Everest.”
“Footprints!” I squeaked.
“Yes,” the professor nodded, steepling his fingers and looking at me over the top. “Dreadful things they were, certainly not human, but they didn’t belong to any obvious animal either. He took lots of photographs, but they were not really conclusive proof. There were some people who believed that the yeti was out there, and others who thought the tracks were just distorted animal prints. Of course then there is the story of the Pangboche hand…”
“The Pangboche hand?” I repeated, wrapping my mouth around the unfamiliar words.
“Oho!” Professor Tweep’s moustache quivered. “Don’t know about that one, eh? Well, supposedly there’s a yeti hand in a monastery in a village in Nepal called Pangboche. It’s some kind of ritual artefact by all accounts. But an American adventurer called Tom Slick heard about it in the 1950s and tried to get hold of the hand. The monks refused to let him take it, so Slick decided to trick them, replacing some of the bones with human bones so that he could smuggle the yeti bones home for testing. He even gave some of the bones to a famous Hollywood actor to bring back with him undetected.”
“What happened next?” Kip asked, his eyes round.
“Later on, when science had caught up a bit, they did proper tests on the bones,” the professor said, leaning forward, his voice low. “They determined that the bones were like human bones but not identical. No one knows quite what they came from.”