‘Thank you.’ Boo threw his scrawny arms around her. ‘You really are the best sister in the world.’
‘Don’t thank me yet,’ India warned. ‘Because Mum is not going to like it one bit.’
The Wimples were ready. After weeks of planning, practising and packing, they buckled into the seats of the airplane and settled back for their journey to London.
Dad had helped Mum feel better by making sure they were fully prepared if Boo had a flare-up. He gave inhalers to each of the Wimples, who promised to carry them at all times. They recited Boo’s asthma plan over breakfast until they knew it by heart, and in the evenings Dad led spelling bees using asthma terms.
Symptoms.
Allergens.
Antihistamine.
In true Yungabilla style, the town had rallied to help India prepare for her big moment. Every day new words appeared on shopfronts and on Mrs Rahim’s front window at the Hub, while Mrs Wild held spelling bees every afternoon in class. The townsfolk gave them gifts they thought would be useful, like bum bags and homemade earmuffs in case it got cold. Mrs O’Donnell and Gracie Hubbard made India a white chiffon dress with three pearl buttons down the front so she could have something special to wear to the final. They even included a pocket for her lucky hanky.
But the Wimples’ favourite gift was from Daryl.
He’d secretly joined the Craft Society to learn how to knit so he could make the Wimples matching red scarves. ‘That way you can find each other in a crowd and think of me cheering you on.’
India threw her arms around his big, lanky body. ‘Thank you.’
Daryl blinked back tears. ‘You’re welcome.’
India was packed and ready to go, but just before they left she had one last thing to do.
She snuck into Dad’s shed with a small parcel.
‘What’s this?’ he asked. ‘My birthday’s months away.’
Dad tore off the paper and stared at a notebook with a purple velvet cover. ‘It’s to remind you that you’re a brilliant journalist, no matter what anyone says.’ He opened his mouth before closing it tight without a word.
‘You’re welcome,’ India said, ‘but I want to be first to hear what you write.’
‘How about this as a headline: Small-town Girl Becomes International Spelling Champion?’
‘And if I don’t win?’
‘Small-town Girl is Champion to Proud Dad.’
India laughed. ‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘Anything.’
India took a deep breath. ‘Boo wants Mum to calm down about his asthma.’
‘She just worries.’
‘We all worry,’ India said, ‘but Boo’s tired of being treated like a little kid.’
‘He said that?’
India nodded. ‘And he wants to go back to school.’
Dad sighed. ‘Oh boy, that’s serious.’
‘There’s something else.’ India bit her lip. ‘He wants a dog.’
‘It might be easier to get him to the moon.’
‘Please, Dad. Boo needs our help.’
‘He’s got it, but we have to take this slowly.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Don’t thank me yet – this is going to take some doing.’
The door of the shed creaked open and Nanna Flo poked her head inside. ‘Ready for the Wimple family adventure?’
‘Almost,’ India said, ‘but first we need your help with a tricky predicament.’
‘Anything.’
‘It’s about Boo.’
‘Boo! Is he all right? Did he have another flare-up?’
‘He’s fine, but he wants us to stop worrying about him – like just now.’
‘We care about him.’
‘I know,’ India said, ‘but he wants us to trust him to manage his asthma.’
‘I guess he is getting older.’
‘And he wants to go back to school.’
‘Holy cow’s udder, that’s serious.’
‘That’s not all.’ The worry crease on Dad’s forehead was back. ‘He wants a dog.’
‘It might be easier to get him to the moon.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Please, Nanna,’ India pleaded. ‘Boo needs our help.’
She nodded. ‘And he’ll have it. I might need a good strong cuppa before I do it, but count me in.’
When they had left, there was a big send-off, and the entire town lined the streets, cheering and holding placards:
We’ll Be Watching, India!
India – Our Hero!
As Dad drove slowly past in the Wimples’ battered, old van, they waved at every well-wisher until they saw Daryl, who stood at the very end of Main Street, wearing a red scarf. ‘You can do it, India!’
At that very moment, India thought, Maybe Daryl’s right – maybe I could even win!
The Wimples didn’t stop waving until Daryl was a small dot on the horizon and Yungabilla disappeared behind them in a haze of dust.
When they finally arrived in London, dishevelled and tired after the long flight, they stepped into the frantic, crowded airport. Walking in a daze, they managed to find their bags and were shuffled into queues, asked questions they blearily answered, before being spat out into the chaos of the arrivals hall.
The Wimples huddled together like penguins in a snowstorm, which often happened when they felt overwhelmed.
Nanna Flo groaned at the sight of so many people. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We need to find the driver.’ Dad’s worry crease was working overtime.
The crowd seemed to close in like a wave.
Nanna Flo was elbowed in the head by a passing stranger. ‘Can we do it before I get squashed like a bug?’
The Wimples huddled even closer until Boo saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black cap holding a sign with their name on it. ‘Over there!’
They waved their red scarves to get his attention, and when they did he waded through the crowd like a lifeguard in rough surf.
‘My name is Beecham, your driver.’ His ruddy face lit up with a wide, gleaming smile. ‘Welcome to Old Blighty. How are you finding England so far?’
‘Busier than flies at a picnic.’ Nanna Flo ducked to avoid another elbow. ‘Can you get us out of here?’
Beecham stood taller. ‘Certainly, madam.’
He pulled a Union Jack umbrella from his jacket and opened it in front of him. ‘Stay close, everyone. I’ve done this many times before but things can get hairy.’
With the Wimples scurrying in his wake, Beecham and his umbrella cut a path through the crowd like an icebreaker in the Arctic and led them outside, where he stopped beside a shiny black Mercedes.
Dad stared wide-eyed. ‘Is that for us?’
Beecham held open the door. ‘Nothing but the best for our special visitors.’
The Wimples climbed into the luxury car to find it lined with shelves of souvenirs and postcards.
‘While you enjoy the ride you may wish to purchase a small memento of your trip. A Tower of London snow dome, a wobbly-headed Prince Charles or a waving Queen … She’s my best seller. I’ve got Union Jack underwear and a Beefeater sitting on the toilet – you’d be surprised how many of those I sell.’
The Wimples each chose a souvenir, while India stared at the city as it whooshed past. Everything suddenly felt too big. Cars and trucks rushed by, giving her the feeling of being caught in a raging river.
Dad put on his best royal voice and held a miniature Queen in front of India. ‘My husband and I welcome you to England.’
She couldn’t help but smile. Dad could do that. Her anxiety sometimes made her feel like she was sinking, but Dad always knew how to bring her back.
He snuggled in beside her.
As they drove further into the centre of London, the streets brimmed with double-decker buses and black cabs, and boats and ferries drifted on the River Thames. The Wimples pointed out palaces and cathedrals and –
‘The London Eye
!’ Boo cried.
Their excitement lifted India even more. ‘I can’t believe I’m really here.’
‘You bet your sweet patootie you’re here,’ Nanna Flo said.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Beecham announced, ‘we have arrived.’ He turned into the driveway of the Royal Windsor Hotel. ‘One of London’s finest establishments, and home to the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee for fifty years.’
It looked more like a castle than a hotel, with its tall, arched windows and steep, peaked roof. Rising from the centre stood a regal clock tower, its face glowing like a full moon.
‘Holy sheep dip.’ Nanna Flo stared in awe. ‘I never knew hotels could be this fancy.’
Hotel porters in tall hats and long, buttoned coats swooped in and opened their doors. The Wimples craned their necks to look outside. When they didn’t move, Beecham poked his head between the seats and said, ‘This is the part where you go in.’
‘Thank you,’ India said as her stomach bubbled with nerves.
‘My pleasure.’ Beecham doffed his cap. ‘Good luck.’
Dad paid Beecham for the souvenirs and the Wimples slowly clambered out of the car, each of them feeling bedraggled and underdressed among the sea of elegant gowns and dinner suits of the other guests. They huddled even closer together.
‘Ready, Wimples?’ Dad asked, sounding a little unsure himself.
India picked at the hem of her skirt and tried to push away the feeling that she didn’t belong. A man in a tuxedo and shiny black top hat opened the door of the hotel, and they carefully stepped inside.
The foyer lifted high above them, like a cathedral. Guests laughed and chatted on elegant furniture or gathered in groups beneath shimmering chandeliers. A pianist at a grand piano played a lively tune.
The Wimples gazed at the splendour of it all, marvelling that they, a small family from Yungabilla, could even be here. All of them except Nanna Flo, who was emptying a bowl of chocolates into her handbag. ‘They’ll be lovely treats for later.’
Two banners hung from the roof. One said,
Welcome, Spellers, to the
Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee
while the other announced,
The Royal Windsor is proud to host
Crupps Annual Dog Show
Mum was horrified. ‘No-one said anything about a dog show. The hotel will be full of pet dander and allergens.’
Unfortunately, at that very moment, Boo sneezed.
Mum withdrew an inhaler from her bag in one quick motion. ‘Are you okay? Do you feel wheezy? Should we call the doctor?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Mum.’ Boo tried not to sound annoyed.
‘We should stay at a different hotel.’ She pulled out her phone. ‘One with no animals.’
India saw Boo’s face fall and knew she had to help. ‘Boo will be extra careful, won’t you?’
Boo nodded.
‘Still,’ Mum kept searching, ‘we can’t be too careful.’
Dad came to Boo’s aid next.
‘You’ll tell us if you feel wheezy. Right?’
‘Like always.’
‘It’s a deal then.’ Dad put his hand gently on Mum’s. She looked up from her search. ‘Boo’s got this.’
‘Okay,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but I want to know the second you feel unwell.’
Parents fussed over excited kids, and dogs were preened by their owners. Some pampered pooches were even pushed in prams.
Beside a giant pyramid of Crupps Gourmet Dog Food, a woman tied a yellow ribbon into a girl’s curly hair. ‘You’re going to outshine everyone on stage.’ Her body tensed as her mother gave the ribbon an extra-firm yank. ‘All that extra tutoring is going to win us that trophy.’
Beside them the owner of a poodle was adjusting a yellow ribbon in the dog’s curly hair. ‘Who’s Daddy’s little champion then?’
Nanna Flo frowned. ‘I can’t tell who’s the pet and who’s the kid.’
A young girl buried her head in a dictionary while a boy clung to his mother’s arm, looking as if he was about to cry. ‘Come on.’ The mother dragged him behind her. ‘This will be fun.’
In the middle of all the hubbub, India noticed something else – a boy stood beside an older man in a cardigan that was creased and buttoned incorrectly. They stood together looking lost and overwhelmed.
India knew that feeling and started to wave when a sprightly man in a royal blue suit and bright orange cravat appeared before them. ‘Welcome to the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee.’ He bowed ever so slightly. ‘You must be the Wimples from Australia.’
He was short and round with silvery black waves of hair, and everything about him seemed to sparkle, from his eyes all the way to his polished shoes.
‘I am Mr Elwood O’Malley – Queen Elizabeth’s representative.’ He pointed proudly to the embroidered royal crest on his jacket. ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ The posh way he spoke made Nanna Flo feel like curtseying. ‘I have had the privilege of working for Her Majesty for many years at the Palace, but this year I have been entrusted with making sure the Bee runs smoothly. Rest assured that I have personally double and triple checked every detail to ensure the next few days of your life will be nothing less than extraordinary.’
It was hard not to be swept up by Mr O’Malley’s exuberance, which created a ripple of excitement in each of the Wimples.
His eyes landed on India, as if Mr O’Malley was being reunited with a long-lost friend. ‘It is especially wonderful to meet you, India Wimple. It is a remarkable skill to master the Queen’s English, and you have my absolute admiration.’
Being with Mr O’Malley gave India the feeling of being in front of a warm, glowing fire.
He handed her a folder embossed with the Queen’s insignia.
‘In here, you will find my contact details, information about the next few days, your Spelling Bee number and,’ his eyes grew even wider, ‘a signed letter of welcome from the Queen herself.’
India had to make sure she’d heard right. ‘For me?’
Mr O’Malley beamed. ‘For you. There will be a special welcome for the spellers at four o’clock in the Imperial Dining Hall, followed by a sumptuous dinner for all. Dress code: white.’
And with that he bowed and moved away to greet more spellers.
‘A letter from the Queen,’ Dad said. ‘That’s never happened to any Wimple, ever!’
While they pored over the letter, India’s thoughts wandered elsewhere. She glanced around the foyer in a way she hoped wouldn’t be obvious to the others, but Nanna Flo noticed immediately.
‘Looking for anyone special?’ she asked.
‘No.’ India shook her head. ‘Why would I be looking for anyone special? I was admiring the hotel. Can’t a girl admire the hotel?’ India knew she was rambling.
‘Of course you can.’ Mum swapped a cheeky smile with Dad.
‘Especially,’ Nanna Flo smiled, ‘when someone behind you is doing the same thing.’
India spun around and her heart lurched as if it momentarily forgot how to work.
It was Rajish.
The same Rajish, with his thick, dark hair and smile that lifted right into the corners of his face. Rajish, who was kind and funny and almost blew his chances in the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee just for her.
‘He’s here.’ India barely breathed. ‘Who’s here?’ Dad pretended to have no idea what India was talking about.
‘Rajish.’
Boo joined in. ‘Rajish who?’
India would have answered but Rajish waved and her heart staggered a little more. She lifted her hand and clumsily waved back but stayed right where she was.
Nanna Flo nudged her. ‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’
‘Oh yeah, sure.’ India tried to appear as nonchalant as she could as she walked towards Rajish, and she was doing a very good job of it, too, until the toe of her shoe caught on the carpet and she stumbled straight into his arm
s.
The Wimples were doing a terrible job of staring while trying to look like they weren’t staring. They were not a family of natural actors.
‘Sorry.’ India pushed her hair out of her eyes.
‘It’s okay,’ Rajish said. ‘It happens a lot when I’m around girls.’
‘Does it now?’
‘All the time. I’m thinking of buying accident insurance.’
India laughed. Rajish could do this – just when she felt nervous, he would smile or make a joke, and she would instantly feel better.
He crossed his arms. ‘But now that you’re here, I have a complaint to make.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, a very serious one. It’s about them.’
India saw a portly man in a crisp suit and a woman wearing a flowing blue sari. They entered the hotel, arm in arm.
‘Because of you, my parents have been kissing –a lot – no matter where they are, which is really embarrassing.’
Right on cue, Rajish’s parents kissed. ‘You see? My life has become a series of smooching horrors, and it’s all your fault.’
‘My fault?’
‘Of course! If you hadn’t been so interesting last time we met, I would never have wanted to be your friend, and my mum wouldn’t have thrown my dad’s book of spelling bee words under a bus so we could enjoy the Bee and not be so focussed on winning. Which is when the kissing began.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’
‘If you find it embarrassing, you only have yourself to blame.’
‘Did your dad buy another book?’
‘No, he has a new plan.’ Rajish reached into his pocket and took out his phone. ‘He is still determined that I win, but he doesn’t want to upset Mum. So he has made a recording of the most difficult words of the last ten years. He says if I listen to it as I fall asleep, the words will embed themselves into my subconscious.’
‘India!’ Mrs Kapoor threw out her arms and smothered her in a hug. ‘It is so lovely to see you again.’
India enjoyed being swept up in the perfumed scent of Mrs Kapoor’s sari.
‘Yes, indeed.’ Mr Kapoor shook India’s hand. ‘We are looking forward to another great battle.’
Mrs Kapoor raised a stern eyebrow at her husband until he added, ‘But mostly we are looking forward to being with old friends again.’ He held a finger in the air. ‘I am only speaking the truth.’
The Most Marvellous Spelling Bee Mystery Page 5