Poppy Pym and the Beastly Blizzard

by Laura Wood

  Annabelle looked at the ground. “I felt bad,” she said in a small voice. “I knew it was wrong to take the stamp. Like I said, I didn’t exactly think about it before I took it. And when I realized what I’d done, I knew I had to return it. But I couldn’t exactly just give it back, and your dad never put the tin down again.”

  Ingrid nodded, and Annabelle seemed encouraged. “I managed to sneak down to the kitchen and hide out in the back of the pantry.” She turned to me. “I knew that your great-aunt was going to make these puddings to take home with her, she kept banging on about it. And I knew that Ingrid’s parents were staying with you for Christmas because you’d already rubbed that in my face.”

  For a second I thought about that moment from Annabelle’s perspective. We hadn’t meant to be mean, and she had been behaving like a brat, but that must have been salt in the wound. I felt bad. “Anyway,” Annabelle continued, “I thought that if I put it in the pudding then you would find it when you were all safely in Burnshire having a nice Christmas and then everyone would be happy. I didn’t mean to get anyone else in trouble,” she said, catching my eye. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s OK,” I said, and there was an awkward silence.

  “So now you know the whole story I suppose you’re going to tell everyone and finally get your revenge on me once and for all,” Annabelle spat bitterly. “You can really make me the laughing stock of the whole school, and probably send me to prison as well.”

  I looked at Kip and Ingrid, and then I looked at Annabelle. She looked so small and sad. She must have had a really horrible couple of days. And she was right about one thing – I really was surrounded by people who loved me a lot. I was lucky.

  “Actually,” I said, “I was going to ask you if you’d like to spend Christmas with us.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “What?” Annabelle exclaimed in shock.

  “Yeah, what?” Kip asked, looking almost as surprised.

  “I’d like you to come,” I said firmly. “But only if it’s OK with Ingrid.”

  Annabelle turned to look at Ingrid and so did I. I knew that of all of us Ingrid had suffered the most from Annabelle’s bullying. I also knew that she was the kindest and best person in the world.

  “Of course you should come,” Ingrid said. Not like it was a big deal, just like it was a fact.

  “But what … what about the stamp?” Annabelle said.

  “Yes, well, you’re going to have to come clean about that,” I said. “We have to clear Great-Aunt Hortence’s name. But don’t worry, we’ll back you up,” I added quickly at the horrified look on her face. “If you tell Miss Baxter what you told us then everything will be OK. You tried to make it right, Annabelle; that counts for something.”

  “And I can talk to my parents,” Ingrid said. “They have the stamp back now so I’m sure they’ll come around.”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said, looking up at Ingrid. “Really.”

  Ingrid held out her hand and helped Annabelle to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said.

  We were halfway to the door when I was suddenly struck by a thought. “But, Annabelle,” I exclaimed. “Why on earth were you following us about with those beetles?”

  “What beetles?” Annabelle asked, and her face was genuinely confused.

  “At the start of term. And when we chased you into the woods?” I said. “Yesterday, after school broke up.”

  “You just chased me through the woods two minutes ago,” Annabelle said tipping her head to one side. “Are you having some sort of episode?”

  “But your footprints…” I said, and for the first time I looked properly at Annabelle’s feet. She was wearing some really curious-looking snow boots that were white and quite bulky.

  “Oh yeah, these things…” Annabelle held out her leg and pointed her toes. “Weird, aren’t they? I found them hidden in the back of the pantry with this coat.”

  “You found them?” I said faintly.

  Annabelle nodded. “The funny thing is, they were really good for running in the snow,” she said. “I didn’t slip about at all.”

  The wheels in my brain were clacking around at a startling rate. “They’re not yours,” I murmured.

  “Is she all right?” Annabelle turned to Kip. He jumped a little – probably at being spoken to by Annabelle in a reasonable tone of voice.

  “She’s just thinking,” he said. “She always looks like that when she’s having detective ideas.”

  But my thinking had come to a dead end. It looked like we had caught the thief but not our yeti … although if the snow boots were the things that left the footprints and the fur coat was what the beetle had taken a picture of, it looked as though the yeti was actually a person, and someone who was most likely here at the school. I wasn’t sure that thought was very comforting.

  “Let’s go and talk to Miss Baxter,” I said, shaking my head as if to loosen up the ideas that weren’t cooperating in my mind. “I need to mull this one over some more.”

  About an hour later I was no further along in trying to crack who our mysterious spy could be. The only person who I couldn’t rule out was Mei. Was it possible that she was involved? There was something suspicious about her turning up at the library like that, but why on earth would she be running around in the woods dressed as a yeti? Every clue that we had seemed to lead to yet another dead end. I had left to have a moment to myself and sat, eating Turkish delight, on the kitchen table.

  All the power was still out – Miss Baxter said the snow ploughs must have hit some cables further down the road – and I had lit a couple of candles that created dancing shadows on the walls. I returned to my pondering. As far as I could tell our phone call had had absolutely no effect, although I supposed that as the real culprit had been found and Great-Aunt Hortence had been proven innocent, there wasn’t an emergency any more, so we probably wouldn’t see anyone again. Was I ever going to get the answers I was looking for about where I had come from? I pulled the article that I had stolen from the library from my pocket and stared at the picture of my mother.

  Just then Miss Susan stuck her head around the door.

  “There you are!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She came and perched on the edge of the table next to me. “It’s been quite a day,” she said, looking at her watch, “and it’s only ten o’clock.”

  “It’s certainly been busy,” I agreed. “How is Annabelle?”

  “She’s fine,” Miss Susan said. “Silly girl. What a situation to get herself into. But she’s explained everything to Miss Baxter and she’s apologized to Ingrid’s parents, which is the first step to putting it all behind her.”

  “Poor Great-Aunt Hortence,” I sighed.

  “Yes,” Miss Susan said, “I think Mr Blammel has gone up to grovel for forgiveness.”

  “Poor Mr Blammel!” I grinned.

  Miss Susan laughed. “Indeed,” she nudged me with her elbow. “She’s a fiery one – just like you.”

  That thought made me happy. Being like Great-Aunt Hortence seemed like a good compliment. I held out the article.

  “Am I like her?” I asked.

  Miss Susan took the piece of paper from my hand and looked at it. “Where did you get that?” she asked, the corners of her mouth tugged down as they often did when we talked about my mum.

  “From the library,” I said. I decided to leave out the part about breaking in. “So am I? Like her, I mean.”

  “I think so,” Miss Susan said, still looking at the picture. “Evangeline was so funny, and clever. She was this ball of energy, ready for any adventure.” My aunt smiled at me and reached out to tuck a strand of mousy hair behind my ear. “She was so brave, Poppy. Just like you.”

  I thought that over for a moment. “That’s nice,” I said, leaning against my aunt. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder.

  We sat like that for a moment. “Hey!” I remembered. “I’ve got a box of Turkish delight here. Do you want
a piece?”

  Miss Susan wrinkled her nose. “Oh no, thank you,” she said. “Can’t stand the stuff. Tastes like soap.”

  I was confused. What about when we had sat and eaten it together after we got back from Crumley Castle? Had she just been pretending to like it to make me happy? “But I thought you said it was your favourite?” I asked.

  “Oh no, I’d never say that,” Miss Susan exclaimed. “I can’t eat it without feeling sick. But there, you see, that’s another way that you’re like your mum. Turkish delight was always her favourite.”

  “W–what?” I said, weakly and it felt as though all the blood had left my body, like I was a limp rag doll slipping from the table.

  “I said, Turkish delight was your mum’s favourite sweet, not mine.” Miss Susan’s voice was far away. “Poppy, are you all right?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Poppy!” Miss Susan’s face hovered above mine and I realized I was lying on the kitchen floor. “Poppy! Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine,” I said groggily, sitting up. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know!” my aunt exclaimed. “One second we were talking and the next you’re swooning like something out of a rrrrrrrrrromance novel.”

  Miss Susan’s rs were rolling which meant her emotions were running high, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I leapt to my feet.

  “I have to go!” I yelled into Miss Susan’s bemused face.

  “Poppy! What arrrrrrre you doing?!” she shouted, “Come back herrrre this instant!”

  “Sorry!” I called over my shoulder. “I have to go. I’ll be back. I’ll explain later.” I was already running as fast as I could back out the door and towards the library. There was no way that Miss Susan could catch me. There was no way that anyone could catch me. Halfway there I remembered that the power was out and the phones were down. I came to a screeching halt. What should I do? What should I do? Adrenaline was pumping through my body and I felt like a lit firework, just about ready to explode.

  “Doris!” I exclaimed out loud into the darkness. And then I turned, haring back to the school, and headed straight for the science block. All was still and silent and I worried for a second that she wasn’t there, then, suddenly, the moving light of a torch through one of the windows told me that I was on the right track.

  Dorrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssss!” I wailed, running into the room so fast that when I tried to stop I skidded across the floor and crashed into the wall.

  “Oh my!” Doris exclaimed, jumping to her feet. She had been huddled over one of the benches with all her tools laid out in front of her. She was wearing a torch on her head just like Mei’s and she had some little magnifying glasses attached to the front of her normal glasses so that her eyes looked absolutely ginormous. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I babbled again, coming to stand on the other side of the table from her. “But I need to talk to you. It’s a real emergency.”

  “OK, what is it?” Doris asked, a worried look in her giant eyes.

  “Have you fixed the beetle?” My voice was desperate. “Is it working?”

  “Actually, I think so,” Doris said slowly. “I’ve just finished. I drew up these blueprints.” She pushed a piece of paper across the table towards me. They showed a cross section of the robot beetle full of wires and little cogs. “As you identified, here,” she pointed to one antenna, “is the camera, and in the other one here,” again she pointed to her drawing, “is the microphone which picks up and records sound.”

  I nodded. “OK, so it can record images and sound, that’s good. What about transmitting them? How does it do that?”

  Doris held up a finger. “Ah, a good question!” she said, clearly pleased, “and one that had me stumped for a while, I can tell you. This fantastically tiny device here emits radio waves that allow the sound and images to be transmitted. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most ingenious.”

  “And would that work now?” I asked, “Even though the power is out?”

  “It should do,” Doris frowned. “The beetle has its own power source that I charged up before the power went out.” She turned to the table behind her and picked up the beetle-bot, its smooth silver-blue shell miraculously intact once more. She placed it gently in my hand. It was heavier than I remembered.

  “How do I turn it on?” I asked.

  Doris looked alarmed. “Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked quickly. “We still don’t know who’s on the other end of this communication.”

  “I think I do,” I said quietly.

  Doris looked at me, and I held her gaze steadily. “There’s a button on the back,” she said finally, turning the beetle over and pointing to the tiny square button, barely visible to the naked eye. “It will begin transmitting immediately. You just have to press it again to turn it off.”

  “Good,” I said briskly. “I have to take this with me now.”

  “OK,” Doris replied. “Good luck. Let me know if you need me.”

  “I think I need to do this alone,” I said, giving her a very small smile. Then I walked out the door and back into the biting cold air.

  Very carefully I turned the beetle over and pressed the button. Then I held it up close to my face. “I know who you are,” I said clearly into the antenna. “I know the truth. I’ll meet you in the woods in thirty minutes. Alone.”

  And with that I turned and made my way, once more, down to the deep, dark woods. And this time I wasn’t coming back without answers.

  There was something comforting about the quiet now, as I sat trying to think warm thoughts on a sawn-off tree trunk. It was nice, peaceful. Instead of buzzing with ideas my brain felt as smooth and untroubled as a fresh tub of butter. A feeling of calm descended as I sat under the canopy of bony tree branches, listening to the rustle of wildlife, watching my breath appear in little clouds of mist. The time passed slowly and I wondered how long I had been out there. It felt like hours. Had it been thirty minutes yet? I stamped my feet, trying to wake up my frozen toes.

  Then there was a new sound. One that wasn’t made by any woodland creature. One that sounded like a very human footstep. I got up and crossed my arms protectively across my chest.

  There was another moment of silence and then finally, finally, a figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light of my torch. I looked up.

  “Hello, Mum,” I said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The woman in front of me could have been Miss Susan. Only she wasn’t.

  “Hello, Poppy,” she said, and her voice was careful, wary.

  I stood very still, keeping my distance, my spine straight.

  “It’s nice to meet you at last,” I said, and I sounded a bit like a robot. “Although I suppose we have met before.”

  A half smile tugged at Evangeline’s mouth and she eyed me cautiously. “Yes,” she said. “A couple of times.”

  I nodded, and reached behind me, picking up a small box from where it sat on the tree trunk. I threw it in the air and Evangeline caught it neatly.

  “Turkish delight,” she said quietly. “My favourite.”

  “Mine too,” I replied.

  Evangeline looked into my eyes. “You’re a very bright girl, you know,” she said after a moment.

  “Thank you,” I said stiffly.

  We stood for another moment. I didn’t know what to do. Half of me wanted to throw myself into my mother’s arms and half of me wanted to turn and run away. And actually there was a third half of me that wanted to shout at her a lot and at great volume.

  “So,” Evangeline said, breaking the silence. “What now?”

  “Now?” I said, my voice trembling. “I don’t know.”

  “Can we … talk?” she asked, and there was a little catch in her voice that made me think that maybe she was feeling a lot of feelings too.

  “OK,” I said and I sat back down on the tree trunk, my feet swinging against the bark. Evangeline came and
sat down gingerly beside me.

  “You must have a lot of questions,” she said.

  I nodded. “I don’t really know where to start,” I muttered, and I could feel tears smarting in my eyes.

  “I don’t have a lot of time.” Evangeline said, her tone gruff. “You rather forced my hand with the beetle. This is very dangerous.” She pulled the collar of her coat up around her throat a little tighter, and looked around, her eyes bright and observant. She seemed to reach a decision as she nodded her head a little. “Maybe…” she said, and her voice was ragged now, raw. “Maybe I could tell you a story?”

  Again I nodded, just one sharp jerk of my head.

  My mother took a deep breath. “Once there was a girl who loved having adventures. She travelled all over the world looking for stories, never staying in one place for long enough to call it home. One day she got a new job, doing something that really mattered, but that job was very dangerous and it brought with it a lot of enemies, enemies who would stop at nothing to hurt the girl and anyone she loved. For a while the girl managed to keep out of the way of her enemies. She started to think she was indestructible. Until the day she became a mother. That day she looked at her daughter and her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest because it was so full of love.

  “In her daughter’s eyes she could already see an amazing spirit, a girl in a million who would grow up to be brave and strong and funny and clever and beautiful. She had never loved anyone so much, or so completely, and that was a frightening thing, because suddenly she realized that all the enemies she had would be looking for her baby – that they would want to hurt her, and she would do anything to stop that from happening. She knew that the only way to keep her daughter safe was to stay away from her, even though it was the most difficult, terrible thing she ever had to do. So she found a family – an amazing family full of love and joy and laughter, and she trusted them with the thing that was the most precious to her.” Tears were running down Evangeline’s face, and I was also turning into a red-eyed snot monster. With a sniffle I reached out and took her hand.