by Laura Wood
“We’d better go then,” I said.
“Yes.” Doris was already moving towards the door, “I have some tools with me in my room and I’d like to get cracking on this straight away. I will make the most of that nice science block Elaine was telling me about.” Despite her attempts to stay cool she seemed agitated and distracted. Something had her spooked, and my detective senses were tingling. I was sure there was something that she wasn’t telling us.
There wasn’t much to do but wait for Doris’s results. I tried to keep busy, and squish the worry that I felt down somewhere deep inside me. By the time dinner rolled around we had all been hard at work. Thanks to the dream team of Letty and Great-Aunt Hortence, the dining room had been transformed into a festive wonderland. We had cut out hundreds of snowflakes from white paper, which Letty had suspended from the ceiling, we had strung lights, we had lit candles. Pym was directing Tina and Tawna, who were leaping up the walls, hanging streamers on the highest bits of the roof that no one else could reach. Once the ends of the streamers were in position, Sharp-Eye Sheila was at the ready below, waiting to send knives whooshing through the air with amazing precision, pinning them firmly in place. Professor Tweep, Marvin and Luigi had been sent out to collect firewood to fill the enormous fireplace, and now they were bickering over the best way to get the fire started. Buttercup was “helping” by trotting back and forth with a large branch in her mouth. Someone had tied some felt reindeer antlers to her head so that she looked extra festive. Doris still hadn’t reappeared from her room where she had whisked the beetle off to for further investigation, and I was positively itching with anticipation, wanting to find out what was going on.
Letty had sourced a Father Christmas costume and forced Boris to squeeze into it, despite Fanella’s noisy protestations that she would make a far superior Santa, and that she would very much enjoy wearing the fluffy white beard. However, even Fanella had been no match for Letty, deputized by the iron fist of Great-Aunt Hortence. As a result, Boris sat in a makeshift grotto, with Bobo and Chuckles kitted out in elf costumes, while Fanella sulked nearby, refusing to take part in anything.
“Ho ho ho!” Boris said.
“Almost,” Letty said encouragingly. “Like that, but jollier. And louder.”
“Rubbish!” Fanella heckled. “Should be more like ‘Hee! Hee! Hee!’”
Luigi snorted from his position by the fireplace. “Father Christmas doesn’t say ‘Hee! Hee! Hee!’ You sound like a cackling witch or something.”
“A weetch?” Fanella narrowed her eyes dangerously. “If I WAS a weetch, I would put a curse on you.” She pointed at him, threateningly. “And your mooostache would fall off.”
“I say, steady on,” Luigi mumbled, a frightened look in his eye as he stroked the moustache in question as though to reassure himself it was still there.
Letty had asked me to source some gifts to go in Boris’s Santa sack and make the whole thing look more authentic, and I had returned triumphant, clutching the bag of presents from Penny Farthing.
“Yes, these will do,” Letty said, slipping the parcels into the hessian bag, and having Boris throw it over his shoulder. “That’s better.”
At that point Kip tore into the room, his legs moving so fast that they were practically going in circles. “It’s time!” he hollered. “She says we can open the hampers!!!!!!!!! IT’S HAPPENING!!!!”
Kip flung himself on to the biggest of the three hampers that Boris had helpfully lined up at the side of the room. He tugged desperately at the tiny buckles that held it shut, flinging back the lid and revealing a heap of packing material. Kip flung his whole body into the hamper, just his head reappearing, followed by an arm thrust upward in triumph, clutching a box of mince pies. “There’s a feast in here!” he exclaimed. And he was right. Great-Aunt Hortence must have single-handedly cleaned out Biddles and Watson’s.
There were three different kinds of Christmas cake, jars of jam, and long tin tubes full of biscuits. There were sugarplums and boxes of Turkish delight in every flavour, Christmas crackers, and tins of tea and jars of brandy butter. There were marzipan fruits and treacle fudge, boxes of delicate-looking chocolates, bags of pretty pastel sugared almonds and a big glass jar of peppermint creams. In one hamper that Boris dragged in from the cool pantry there was an entire ham, a selection of potted meats and five golden and prettily crimped pies. As Kip emerged with each delicious new addition, we piled up the long table that Letty’s crew had laid for dinner. It didn’t take long before we had constructed a mouth-watering feast. Suddenly being snowed in didn’t seem so bad after all.
Great-Aunt Hortence emerged from the kitchen on a wave of delicious Christmas pudding smells. She surveyed the room approvingly. “Letty!” Her voice cracked through the room like a whip and Letty appeared instantly at her side. “Status report,” Hortence said briskly.
“Everything is under control and on schedule for dinner,” Letty said. “Although,” she continued in a lower voice, “between you and me, the skills of our Father Christmas leave much to be desired.” Her eyes darted towards the corner of the room where poor Boris was pacing back and forth booming “Ho! Ho! Ho!” in an increasingly hysterical fashion.
“I am on hand to save the days!” Fanella sprang forward. “Hee! Hee! Hee!” she cried.
Great-Aunt Hortence chose to ignore this. “Excellent work,” she said to Letty. “With any luck we’ll be able to settle down to a quiet evening and a civilized meal. We’ve all had quite enough excitement for one day.”
Just then a terrible wailing noise filled the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
We ran towards the source of the noise. In the entrance hall we found Ingrid’s mum lying senseless on the ground, her husband standing beside her, frozen and ashen.
“What is it?” Ingrid exclaimed, rushing forward and kneeling down beside her mum, whose eyes were starting to flutter open.
“What’s happened? What’s the matter?” Inspector Hartley hurried in from the other direction, quickly followed by Miss Baxter, Miss Susan and Mr Grant.
Mr Blammel still stood as if he had been turned to stone. He blinked as though registering we were all there. It was then that I noticed the tin in his hand.
“What’s that, Mr Blammel?” I asked gently, pointing to the tin. “Is it your stamp?”
“Stamp,” Mr Blammel repeated in a daze. “Yes. Stamp.”
Ingrid was helping her mum to sit up, and Letty appeared with a glass of water.
Mr Blammel seemed suddenly to wake up; he looked around, wild-eyed. “Which one of you did it?” he yelled. “Which one of you took it?”
“Took what?” Inspector Hartley asked, his grey eyes flashing.
“The stamp!” Mr Blammel whispered. “Our Penny Black … it’s … gone.” And the tin slipped from his fingers where it fell to the floor with a clatter, the open lid revealing that it was, in fact, completely empty.
I gasped. Was it possible? Had someone really stolen the Blammels’ stamp? I looked over to Inspector Hartley and he was already scanning the room for any kind of clue. What a professional, I thought admiringly, and then scolded myself for not doing the same. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be much to see. All the faces gathered around looked equally astonished. No one was evilly twirling a moustache or obviously trying to conceal their glee.
“We went to read our books in our room,” said Mr Blammel in a faraway voice.
“It’s been a long couple of days,” said Mrs Blammel. “We were both tired.”
“The tin hasn’t been out of my pocket,” Mr Blammel said now, rousing. “Not since I showed the stamp to you!” He turned and glared at Great-Aunt Hortence as though it was all somehow her fault. “But when I opened it just now … just to look at it, to enjoy it for a moment, it was … it was … gone!”
Who would do such a thing? I wondered as I looked at the distraught faces of Ingrid’s parents and knew that even with the mystery already hanging over us we had no choice �
� we had to solve this case. From the laser-beam look of determination Ingrid was throwing me, she had reached the same conclusion. I nodded quickly.
“It’s all right, Mum,” Ingrid said patting her mum’s arm. “We’ll find it, don’t worry.”
“Of course, darling,” Mrs Blammel said vaguely, her voice trembling.
“I think you could both do with a nice cup of tea,” Miss Baxter said firmly, with the certainty of someone who believes that a good cup of tea is the answer to any emergency.
“Forget the tea,” Great-Aunt Hortence said dismissively. “I’ve got a bottle of brandy in my suitcase.” She hustled off up the stairs to collect it as Ingrid released her mother and the Blammels were gently guided to the dining hall and a more comfortable seat.
“Tomato!” Fanella hissed, beckoning me towards her. “I do not understand. These Blammelses have lost a stamp. Like on a letter? Why they are so upset?”
“It’s a special stamp,” I explained. “Very rare and worth a lot of money.”
“A stamp that is worth a lot of money?” Fanella looked unimpressed. She turned to follow the Blammels. “DON’T WORRY, BLAMMELSES!” she shouted reassuringly. “THE POST WILL ARRIVE IN COUPLE OF DAYS AND YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE STAMPS YOU LIKE.” She swung back to me. “You see, I know always what to say to be a comfort. I am a little bit like angel in this way.”
“Mmmm,” I murmured in agreement. “Yes, you’re very … kind.”
Fanella beamed and swept into the dining hall, intent on providing more comfort.
Kip and Ingrid had lingered behind in the hallway with me.
“What do you think?” I asked quietly, turning to Ingrid. “Do you really believe someone here would take your mum and dad’s stamp?”
Ingrid bit her lip. “It looks that way,” she said heavily. “I can’t see what else could have happened. There’s no way Mum and Dad would just misplace it. It’s never out of their sight – they’re so careful about it.”
“So how would someone even steal it in the first place?” Kip scratched his head.
“That’s a good question,” I said. “And who would steal it? We’re all snowed in here. It must be someone in the group.” My heart was sinking. “Someone we know.”
Kip and Ingrid were both silent, turning over this thought.
“I can’t believe it,” Kip said. “We know everyone here. Why would any of them take the stamp?”
“Poppy,” Ingrid turned pleading eyes towards me, “I know we already have a mystery to solve … and I know that it’s connected to you and your mum, but…” She trailed off unhappily.
“We’re taking the case, Ing,” I said firmly. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your mum and dad’s stamp.”
Ingrid slumped against me gratefully and I squeezed her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said. “I know that they’re a bit silly about their Penny Black, and they do drive me mad … but I can’t stand seeing them so upset.” Ingrid gnawed her lip. “That stamp is so rare it’s not like they can just replace it… If we can’t find it they’ll be devastated.”
“They won’t be upset for long,” Kip said quickly. “We’ve solved loads of mysteries and this one won’t defeat us!”
“Kip’s right,” I nodded. “And,” I lifted my finger, “there’s no way out of the school at the moment, which means that the stamp is DEFINITELY still here somewhere. There’s no way we’re going to let it slip through our fingers.”
“Thanks, guys,” Ingrid said, though a frown still scrunched up her face.
“What’s all this then?” Great-Aunt Hortence appeared on the staircase. She glided down the remaining stairs with a bottle of brandy in one hand. With the other she took Ingrid’s hand, surprisingly gently. “Don’t worry now, pet,” she said, and her voice had lost all its usual corners and edges. “Your mum and dad will be right as rain soon and I’m sure that we’ll have this whole mix-up sorted out in no time.”
Ingrid gave a weak smile. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sure it will all work out.”
“That’s the spirit,” Great-Aunt Hortence said, moving towards the dining hall. “You’ll see, these things always seem like the end of the world at the time, but everyone’s probably already feeling better, and we’ll soon be well on our way to solving this problem.”
Hortence’s pep talk was doing the trick. Ingrid was looking much more cheerful, and I felt a sense of certainty and purpose rushing through me.
Then we pushed open the door to the dining room to find that all traces of festive cheer had well and truly disappeared.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mrs Blammel was sitting silently in the corner, staring vaguely into space, and Pym was speaking to her in low, soothing tones. Meanwhile, the rest of the room was in chaos. Everyone was squabbling, chairs had been overturned and people were on their feet shouting at each other.
Inspector Hartley was standing between Fanella and Luigi, clearly trying to keep Fanella from throttling the lion tamer.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU THINK I AM CRIMINAL?!” Fanella’s voice screeched.
“I didn’t say that.” Luigi was rapidly backing away from her, his hands stretched in front of him. “I was simply pointing out that we could all have had access to the stamp.”
“Well, I for one don’t like the implication that one of us might have had anything to do with it,” Professor Tweep huffed.
“Well, someone took it!” Mr Blammel blazed, slamming the empty tin down on the dining table.
“I think we should all just stay calm, and we can work this out,” Miss Baxter said, stepping forward. “It’s hard to believe that anyone here could have taken the stamp, but if someone has … borrowed it, then now is the time to come clean. I’m sure there will be no hard feelings.”
Everyone’s heads swivelled back and forth. I held my breath as a tense, heavy silence filled the room.
“Well, one of you has it!” Mr Blammel shouted. “You all saw that I had it in the common room earlier and the tin has been in my pocket ever since. One of you must have taken it when we were in that room. You must have used some of your … your … circus trickery!” He turned to the inspector. “You’re a police officer, you find it. And when you do, I want to press the maximum charges, I want whoever did this in prison!”
“I assure you, Mr Blammel, I will do everything that I can to restore your property.” Inspector Hartley’s voice was firm, his gaze steely like a particularly determined kestrel. “Beginning with interviewing everyone here.”
“And in the meantime, perhaps we could retrace your steps to see if you set it down somewhere,” Miss Baxter suggested. “Just in case,” she added quickly when Mr Blammel turned his furious gaze on her.
“If it would help, perhaps we could all submit to a search of our belongings,” Great-Aunt Hortence suggested. “I’m sure the inspector could oversee something like that.”
“Now, hang on a minute,” Professor Tweep said. “I’m not sure I want someone poking around in all my things.”
“My dear professor,” Hortence sighed, “I don’t relish the prospect myself, but I certainly don’t have anything to hide.”
“Well neither do I!” Professor Tweep exclaimed hotly. “Not wanting someone disturbing all my personal papers is a very reasonable concern!”
“Those who wish to can, of course, submit to a search,” the inspector said. “Although without a warrant or any official procedures in place you are under no obligation to do so.”
Professor Tweep made some grumbling noises at this, and Miss Baxter left with Ingrid’s dad to go back over all the places that the stamp could have been lost, although not before Mr Blammel produced a photograph from his wallet and handed it to Inspector Hartley. “For evidence,” he said in a voice choked with emotion.
The photograph in question was of the Blammels, beaming into the camera and holding the stamp out in front of them, closer to the camera so that you could really see it. Half of Ingrid’s face had been cut out of the frame.
>
When I looked over at her sympathetically she just rolled her eyes.
“Right,” Inspector Hartley said, glancing down at the photograph, “why don’t I start those interviews?”
“I would be very much happy to be asked the questions first, Inspector.” Fanella batted her eyelashes, then she darted a poisonous look at Luigi and Marvin. “Plus, I have MANY things to tell you about some certain characters and their suspicious behaviours.”
“Now hang on a minute,” Marvin protested weakly. “If she says anything about the octopus then you really have to hear both sides of that story. It was an accident.”
Inspector Hartley was such a professional that he didn’t even show a flicker of annoyance.
“I would be happy to begin with you, Fanella,” Inspector Hartley said. “Perhaps we can use the common room as a place to conduct the interviews.” He held out his arm, gesturing towards the door, and Fanella swept out, smirking over her shoulder at Marvin, who wrung his hands nervously.
“I need to talk to you two,” Kip hissed then, tugging me and Ingrid across to the side of the room.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing the fury in his eyes.
“The stamp’s not the only thing that’s gone missing,” he said, checking carefully over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking. “Someone’s pinching food as well.”
“What?” Ingrid scrunched her nose up.
Kip nodded. “Earlier I thought some of the cake off the tea tray had disappeared and now some of the hamper food is missing.”
“How can you even tell?” I asked, eyeing up the huge heaps of goodies that still lay scattered across the long dining table.
Kip snorted dismissively. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have taken a thorough inventory?” he asked. “There’s a packet of biscuits missing, and a box of mince pies and some chocolate.”
“So our thief has a sweet tooth,” I mused.
“If it’s the same person,” Ingrid pointed out.
“There’s something else,” Kip said. “The food was all there before we ran out to the entrance hall, but it was gone when we came back. No one here could have taken it.”