Jolly Foul Play: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery

by Stevens, Robin

  We went to see Beanie in San on Sunday afternoon. Kitty was there, by her bedside, and so were Binny, Lavinia and Martha. ‘I’m all right,’ said Beanie, blinking up at us from under a large white bandage wrapped around her head.

  ‘She’s got an awful bruise,’ said Binny gleefully. ‘It’s lovely. All I’ve got are scratches from the tunnel, it’s terribly dull. It was quite a boring kidnapping, really. Una brought me food and drink, and I had a blanket to sleep on. It was just like camping!’

  I remembered the apple in Una’s bag. She really had been trying to look after Binny.

  ‘You beast. Beanie nearly died!’ said Kitty, who was able to be cross with Binny again, now she was safe.

  ‘I didn’t!’ said Beanie.

  ‘Whatever were you thinking?’ Daisy said.

  ‘I didn’t think,’ said Beanie, hanging her head. ‘I’m sorry, Daisy. I only – I didn’t want any of you hurt. You’re my friends, and I couldn’t bear it if something happened to any of you.’

  ‘Beans!’ said Kitty, and she threw her arms around her. Daisy grinned at me, and then we hurled ourselves on top of Kitty. Lavinia followed, and then Beanie was buried under all of us, squealing. I knew then that we could not be like the Five, not for anything. We were real friends, and whatever happened we would never turn against each other.

  Enid was taken away to the police station, and from there on up to London, but of course it was all around the school by Monday morning. ‘Enid killed Elizabeth!’ went whispering all around the halls and corridors, and I heard some utterly awful stories about what exactly had happened, which were both less and more dreadful than the truth. I knew that Miss Barnard was tensed for the mothers and fathers to descend on her, and in fact a few girls were pulled out of the school that week. Deepdean seemed dangerous again, even more so now that girls had been bumping each other off, but the fact that Enid had already been caught saved us all, I think. The danger was gone before it was known, and so it was past, not present.

  Jones was back, with no fuss, a week later. He was merely there one day, raking the winter beds. He raised a hand to us, and smiled crookedly at Daisy, and went back to his weeding. Daisy sighed contentedly, and I knew what she meant – that the school was as it should be again.

  It was true that Deepdean felt different. The corridors were freer, I heard laughter again, and even the mistresses smiled. The remaining members of the Five were changed as well. I am not sure they were friends, even now, but they were together. What had happened had bent them into a new shape, and that mattered. They were not cruel to the younger years any more, they were careful, as though they knew what might happen to them. We still had the power as much as they did.

  Our dorm really was closer than ever. Solving the case together had changed something between us, too. Daisy and I did not have to hide the detective side of ourselves at all, and it felt wonderful. Daisy looked at Beanie, Kitty and Lavinia in a new way – they had all finally proved themselves, and could truly be trusted. Kitty, who is quite clever with her hands, made us all Detective Society badges, which we wore pinned to the underside of our ties, and the Inspector sent us the most enormous parcel. When we unwrapped it, it was filled with a delicious spread: cakes and biscuits and five different sorts of jam. We had the most marvellous midnight feast – there was so much that we could even invite Charlotte, Binny, Betsy, Emily and Martha to join in. If this was the new Deepdean, I thought, as Lavinia and Binny tried to outdo each other in the number of bits of cake they could eat at once, and Beanie and Martha fed biscuit crumbs to Chutney the dormouse (he had made his way back to Beanie’s tuck box a week after Elizabeth’s murder, and had been living there very happily ever since), I liked it very much.

  8

  The outcome of the mystery for the Five was more mixed. What exactly Una had done in the tunnel was slightly blurry, but it was understood that she had tried to protect Binny, and for that she became Head Girl. She stopped ordering the younger girls about, and instead spent most of her time hovering about near the pigeonholes in the House hallway. There was word that her family had decided to come to England – they were on their way, but the journey out of Germany was difficult. I crossed my fingers for them.

  Although Margaret knew that we had not been behind the spreading of her secret, she resigned as prefect. That was a nasty little after-effect of Elizabeth. For a while, in fact, we barely saw her. She kept herself to herself, and I knew that what had been discovered about her had damaged her. But one day, towards the end of term, I turned a corner at House quickly, and almost walked into her and Astrid together. My eye only caught the end of it, but I was sure I saw Margaret dropping Astrid’s hand, and both of them turning away with blushes in their cheeks. I was glad.

  ‘Margaret—’ I said to Daisy later, and she said, ‘Shush, Hazel! Ask no questions.’ So Daisy knew – of course she did. We did not speak about it after that.

  Florence did not come back to school. She was sent away to convalesce. Her dreams of the Games were quite over. Lettice, though, stayed. She withdrew, and became more quiet, but I saw that she had begun to eat a little more at meal times, and sometimes I even saw her smile. She would still be presented at Court in January, and her dress was nearly ready.

  I had sent Alexander an explanation of everything that had happened, and how we had solved the case, and a week before the end of term I got a letter back.

  Weston School, Thursday 28th November

  Dear Hazel,

  I am so glad you solved the case! I never guessed who it was. I thought it would be Florence. George says he did know it was Enid, but George sometimes doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Is Daisy happy now that it’s all over?

  Hazel, I’ve had an idea. George’s brother goes to John’s, in Cambridge, and he’s going to stay with him this Christmas hols. Father wants me to go with him, so I can see what it is like (he was at Trinity, and he wants me to do the same), and I thought – Daisy’s brother is at Maudlin, isn’t he? Well, could she (and you of course) manage to go visit him at the same time? Would her parents allow it? If so, we could all be in Cambridge for Christmas! Wouldn’t that be spiffing? Say you’ll at least try – will you?

  Write back as soon as you can,

  Alexander

  ‘Daisy,’ I said, trying to stop my heart galloping inside my chest and my cheeks blushing. ‘Alexander wants us to come to Cambridge this hols.’

  Daisy frowned. ‘He’s very forward,’ she said. ‘Of course, he wants to see me.’

  I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that my eyes stung.

  ‘Not that he doesn’t like you, Hazel,’ Daisy went on. ‘Of course he does! Well, let me think – oh! – I’ve got a great-aunt at St Lucy’s who we could stay with. We don’t talk about her much, she’s awfully dull.’

  ‘What about your parents?’ I asked, and Daisy got the awful look on her face she always has when I mention them.

  ‘I don’t see how they’d be in a position to mind,’ she said. ‘No, the problem is you.’

  ‘My father wouldn’t mind either!’ I said. ‘Cambridge is all about learning. He’d be pleased, if we were chaperoned.’

  ‘We could bring Hetty again,’ said Daisy. ‘Ooh, Hazel! This might be a rather good plan, now that I think of it!’

  I sent off a telegram to my father, and the response came back:

  YES STOP IF CHAPERONED STOP BE CAREFUL STOP NO MURDERS

  Daisy and I squealed when we saw it. We were going to Cambridge. We would see Alexander, and meet George, and have the most marvellous fun. It would be the perfect antidote to this term.

  And with all of us there together, who knew what might happen?

  This was a difficult book to get right. Enormous thanks, therefore, to the women who made it what it is: my editor Natalie Doherty and my agent Gemma Cooper. Your kindness and good sense have changed not only my words for the better, but somehow, along the way, myself as well.

  Thanks to the others who gav
e much-needed advice and support during the process, including (but not limited to) Charlie Morris, Non Pratt, Rebecca Waiting, Katie Webber, Katy Watson and the whole loving Team Cooper group.

  Thank you to Penguin Random House, my new publishing collective, for supporting my books so incredibly. I couldn’t hope for a better author experience! I am so grateful to everyone who has played a part in Jolly Foul Play, especially Harriet Venn (publicist extraordinaire), Tom Rawlinson, Annie Moore, Sue Cook, Francesca Dow, Laura Bird, Nina Tara and Annie Eaton.

  Thank you also to my wonderful colleagues at Egmont, who have been so supportive and understanding – Sarah, Stella, Hannah, Lins, Lucy, Ali and Lydia, I’ve loved being part of your team, and I wish it could have been for longer.

  There has been one person who has lived Jolly Foul Play without ever reading a word of it: thank you to David Maybury for listening to me, believing in me and giving this book its title. And breakfast. Thank you for breakfast.

  Daisy and Hazel have had four adventures now, quite a lot more than I was expecting when I first sat down to write Murder Most Unladylike four years ago. For that I owe everything to you, my readers. I can’t say enough how much I appreciate what you have done, and continue to do, for my series. By talking about my books, and sharing them with your friends, you have made Jolly Foul Play possible. I’m quite sure that I have the most intelligent, passionate and interesting fans in the world – talking to you, meeting you, reading your emails and writing you letters has been the most unexpectedly marvellous part of this strange new life of mine. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all worthy of being Detective Society members. Thank you.

  And finally, thank you to the two people at the beginning of this book: my parents, Kathie Booth Stevens and Robert Stevens. I really was born lucky. I love you.

  Robin Stevens

  Thanksgiving 2015

  About the Author

  Robin Stevens was born in California and grew up in an Oxford college, across the road from the house where Alice in Wonderland lived. She has been making up stories all her life.

  When she was twelve, her father handed her a copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and she realised that she wanted to be either Hercule Poirot or Agatha Christie when she grew up. When it occurred to her that she was never going to be able to grow her own spectacular walrus moustache, she decided that Agatha Christie was the more achievable option.

  She spent her teenage years at Cheltenham Ladies’ College, reading a lot of murder mysteries and hoping that she’d get the chance to do some detecting herself (she didn’t). She went to university, where she studied crime fiction, and then worked in children’s publishing. She is now a full-time writer.

  Robin now lives in London with her pet bearded dragon, Watson.

  Also by Robin Stevens:

  Murder Most Unladylike

  Arsenic For Tea

  First Class Murder

  Jolly Foul Play

  The Case of the Blue Violet

  (a tuck-box-sized mystery starring Daisy Wells and Hazel Wong)

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  First published by Puffin Books 2016

  This ebook published 2016

  Text copyright © Robin Stevens, 2016

  Cover, map and illustrations copyright © Nina Tara, 2016

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978–0–141–36970–9

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