‘No.’ Nanna Flo clutched her bag. ‘Why would I be looking for anyone? I was admiring the ballroom. Can’t a woman admire a ballroom?’
India frowned. Nanna Flo was rambling, which was something she never did.
India reached up and placed her hand on Nanna’s forehead. ‘You don’t seem to have a temperature.’
‘Of course I don’t. I’m perfectly fine.’
That was when Mr Eriksson and Peter wound their way through the crowd. ‘Florence.’ Mr Eriksson smiled. ‘Stood up to any bullies since I last saw you?’
‘No, I’ve been busy,’ Nanna Flo said. ‘Rescued anyone from falling banners?’
‘Nah, I’m leaving that to the young ones.’ Nanna Flo giggled. Again.
So did Mr Eriksson.
The Wimples swapped small, curious smiles.
‘Would you mind if I sat with you?’ Mr Eriksson asked.
‘Can’t see why not.’ Nanna held up her bulging bag. ‘I’ve brought enough treats for everyone.’
‘Good luck, kids.’ Grandpop Eriksson hugged Peter and followed Nanna Flo and the Wimples into the audience.
‘He’s brighter than he’s been in a while,’ Peter said to India. ‘He spent half an hour in front of the mirror deciding how to do his hair, and he doesn’t have that much.’
‘Nanna Flo’s been acting weird too.’ India watched as they made their way to their seats. ‘I’ve never heard her giggle until this trip, and now she can’t seem to stop.’
On cue, they heard her giggle once more.
‘All right, spellers.’ Esmerelda’s voice cut through the crowd. ‘If you’re not on stage in the next three minutes, you’re out.’
‘I guess we’d better go.’ India tried to pep herself up. ‘Ready?’
Peter nodded. ‘I think so.’
Something about his expression made India think about being caught in a storm. She knew that feeling from the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee – swamped and totally overwhelmed.
‘We’re going to be fine.’ She stuck her chin in the air, surprised that she actually meant it.
‘Even if I fall on my face?’
‘You won’t fall on your face,’ India said. ‘But we’ll pick you up if you do.’
Peter gave her a weak smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘All part of the service.’
They climbed the stage, which was filling with the last of the spellers. Rajish, Summer and Holly waved them over.
‘We saved you a seat,’ Rajish said, before turning to India. ‘I know there’s no hope of winning while you’re here, but I thought I’d come anyway.’
‘It was nice of you to make the effort.’
‘Will you let me hold the trophy when it’s yours?’
India laughed. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Holly fiddled with the ends of her plaits. ‘I’m so nervous I have to remind myself to keep breathing.’
‘I’m so nervous I forgot my name when Esmerelda asked.’ Peter squeezed his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ‘Grandpop had to say it for me.’
‘I’m not nervous at all,’ Summer announced, as if this was any old regular day and not an internationally televised competition.
‘Really?’ Peter gazed in admiration. ‘Not even a bit?’
‘Maybe a little,’ Summer admitted.
‘So you are human after all?’ Rajish asked.
‘Yes,’ Summer brushed down her skirt, ‘but a very stylish one.’
‘Ladies, gentlemen and spellers,’ Mr O’Malley enthused from the lectern. The audience settled into an anxious hush. ‘We’re only moments away from one of the most exciting events of your lives.’
India saw Esmerelda yawn from the wings of the stage.
‘To get us underway, it is time to meet your Spelling Bee pronouncer.’ There was an audible gasp in the room. ‘It is my tremendous pleasure to introduce the one and only Fozdrake Magnifico.’
Mr O’Malley withdrew into the wings as a flood of cheers filled the ballroom. A pencil-thin, debonair man in a bright yellow suit and pointy winklepicker shoes bounded onto the stage. His sleek, black hair was swept into a perfect wave above a glimmering, movie star smile.
‘It’s Fozdrake!’ Holly’s hands flew to her mouth, worried that she might actually scream.
‘Is it really him?’ Peter’s fears faded a little at the sight of the world-famous pronouncer.
‘It is.’ Even Summer was excited. ‘He’s even more stylish in person.’
Fozdrake blew a kiss to the audience, who went wild.
Mr O’Malley stared from the wings, equally awed by the pronouncer’s appearance. He stood beside an unenthused Esmerelda, who studied her clipboard and hadn’t noticed Fozdrake was even there.
Fozdrake Magnifico had been bathed in cheers for most of his life. As a child, he performed on a television show called Future Stars. He was a dancer, who was often compared to his hero, a man called Fred Astaire, who was so light on his feet that Fozdrake was sure his shoes were filled with helium.
Fozdrake was Future Stars’ main star. The dancers appeared at shopping centres, in theatres and even embarked on a world tour.
Then, on the day of Fozdrake’s sixteenth birthday, he was dropped from the show. That was part of the contract – you stayed until you turned sixteen, then you were on your own.
After that he appeared on home shopping channels and on Dancing Under the Stars with other forgotten childhood Future Stars, but it wasn’t until he became pronouncer of the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee that he rediscovered some of his former fame and glory.
‘Spellers, are … you … ready?’ He threw his arms into the air.
‘Yes … we … are!’ the children cried out in unison.
‘Good luck,’ Rajish whispered to India.
‘You too,’ India whispered back.
‘As you know,’ Fozdrake continued, ‘the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee will be watched all over the world. In a matter of moments, the lights will lower and the broadcast will begin. I will summon each speller to the stage, where millions of admiring fans will marvel at your magnificence. So banish those butterflies, dispel those doubts and –’
A great crackling hiss sounded from above and a shower of sparks rained down, followed by a large metal lighting box.
Fozdrake screeched and scurried out of the way, only just avoiding the box as it clattered to the stage. Twisted metal and broken glass fanned across the polished floor.
The lights flashed and the ballroom was plunged into darkness.
After a few moments, Mr O’Malley’s face could be seen on stage, illuminated by the light of his phone. ‘Please stay calm, everyone. We will sort out this problem in no time.’
‘What’s going on?’ Holly asked.
‘Some kind of power failure.’ India saw the silhouettes of stagehands comfort Fozdrake and lead him into the wings. ‘But I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
Hotel staff with torches and lanterns flittered into the room like fireflies, while Esmerelda gave directions to the cleaners to sweep away the broken glass. Maintenance people checked the fuse boxes and wiring, and spoke in hushed tones to Mr O’Malley. He took a hanky from his pocket and wiped his brow. He’d been doing his best to appear cheery, but as he turned away India saw that he looked utterly downhearted.
‘Do you think the Spelling Bee will still go on?’ Peter seemed stuck in that storm again.
‘Of course it will.’ India hoped she sounded convincing. ‘Mr O’Malley will make sure of it.’
‘But we haven’t been very lucky so far,’ Holly said. ‘First the falling banner in the foyer, then the escaped animals during dinner, and now this.’
‘It’s true.’ Rajish thought about it. ‘It’s as if someone doesn’t want the Spelling Bee to go ahead.’
‘Why would anyone want to stop the Bee?’ India asked.
‘Maybe they’re jealous of how very clever we are,’ Summer decided.
‘Or how humble we are?’ Rajish suggested.
‘Yes, that too.’ For Summer, this made perfect sense.
Prince Harry poked his head out of Peter’s jacket. ‘Are you nervous too, little fella?’ When Peter scooped him out, a photo fell from his pocket. It was creased, ragged around the edges and showed a man lifting a laughing toddler into the air.
India handed it back. ‘Is that you and your dad?’
Peter nodded. ‘Except I’m a little taller now,’ he joked. ‘I know this will sound silly, but I’m hoping that if he’s watching he might recognise me and see that I turned out okay.’
Prince Harry tickled Peter’s cheek with his soft spines.
‘You turned out more than okay,’ India said.
‘I agree.’ Holly’s face glowed from the lanterns now lining the stage. ‘You’re funny and smart.’
‘And a champion speller,’ Rajish added.
They all looked to Summer. India raised her eyebrows, making it clear it was her turn to say something nice.
‘And … you’re … kind to lizards.’
‘And that’s just four of your special qualities,’ India said. ‘Wait until he finds out all the others.’
Prince Harry jumped from Peter’s hand to his shoulder, where he snuggled into his neck.
Holly smiled. ‘And Prince Harry agrees.’
Peter felt his bottom lip quiver and a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t been called a namby-pamby in days, and the last of Bruiser’s bruise had almost disappeared. Apart from his family, he’d rarely been complimented in his life.
Before he could say anything, Mr O’Malley’s face was lit by torchlight, hollowing out his cheeks and eye sockets, giving him a strange, haunted look.
‘Could I have your attention?’ India knew from the tremble in his voice that he didn’t have good news. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a major power surge that will take some time to fix, so it is with a heavy heart that I announce tonight’s first round of the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee … postponed.’
Sighs of disappointment rose into the air like a thick fog – as well as a few disgruntled complaints.
Mr O’Malley deflated like an old party balloon, until he lifted himself higher and tried to sound more upbeat. ‘You have my solemn promise that this is merely a temporary setback. We will have the power restored in no time for one of the most marvellous days of your lives.’
As everyone in the room gathered their things and began to leave, India couldn’t stop thinking about what Holly and Rajish had said. The idea that someone would deliberately sabotage the Spelling Bee was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Why would someone want to ruin a competition for kids, one that was loved around the world, and by the Queen of England herself?
It didn’t make any sense.
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself it couldn’t be true, her suspicions wouldn’t budge.
‘Welcome to the fiftieth anniversary of the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee!’
It was the next day and Fozdrake had spruced himself up for the second attempt at round one. The theme music played, the cameras rolled and a single spotlight glimmered off the silver, sequined letters sewn onto his blue suit.
So far that morning everything had gone to plan. Mr O’Malley paced in the wings, pale as an old sport sock, desperate that nothing else go wrong.
India sat with the other spellers on stage and tried to shake off her tiredness. The night before, she had found it hard to sleep, so Dad snuggled into bed beside her and told her stories until his calming voice made her slowly drift off. But that didn’t stop the nightmares of misspelling words – and even of arriving at the Bee wearing only a towel.
You can do this, India Wimple, the voice in her head urged her on.
When the applause faded, Fozdrake continued.
‘And welcome to our wonderful viewers watching from around the world. Over two evenings you will behold a battle of bravery from superlative spellers. It will be demanding, it will be draining, but most of all it will reveal our supreme spelling superstar.’
Fozdrake basked in the applause, teeth sparkling, eyes twinkling.
‘And now it is time to welcome our spelling supremos.’ He flung out his hand and the stage lights snapped on, revealing rows of apprehensive children.
He waited for the applause to die down. ‘This is a knock-out competition, which means when the word is spelled incorrectly, the contestant, sadly, must leave the stage.’ He leaned towards the camera, and his voice grew serious. ‘By the end of tonight, only half our wondrous wordsmiths will remain.’
India felt as if a rock had fallen in her stomach. She worried that she might be sick, until Rajish flashed her a comforting smile.
Holly tugged at the end of her plaits, and Peter worried if he’d even be able to speak with his heart beating so fast. Summer’s gleaming smile, of course, never faltered. Not once.
‘The valorous victor will receive the tantalising total of …’ Fozdrake raised an eyebrow. ‘Ten thousand pounds.’ The audience oohed. ‘And that’s not all. They will be the proud proprietor of this!’
With a deft flick of his hand, Fozdrake removed a dark cloth from a stand beside him. Beneath it was the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee trophy.
The audience gasped.
Perched on a glass stand, it seemed to float above the stage. The lights gave it a golden glow that made it look more like one of the crown jewels than a mere trophy.
‘There it is.’ Peter gazed at the polished cup, which stood on the pages of an open brass book.
‘It’s beautiful.’ India thought it looked even more impressive in real life than on their TV in Yungabilla.
‘It’s so much bigger than I imagined,’ Holly marvelled.
‘But who will possess this prestigious prize?’ Fozdrake turned to the spellers, his eyes wide and searching. ‘Which one of you will walk away the winner?’
Peter sat on his hands to stop them from shaking. He knew the person who won that trophy would be splashed on millions of TVs and across the internet.
His dad would have to see him then.
Prince Harry wriggled inside his jacket. Peter glanced down to see his shiny nose poking out. ‘Thanks, fella.’
‘Spellers,’ Fozdrake’s melodious voice reverberated throughout the hall. ‘Are … you … ready?’
‘Yes … we … are!’ the children cried out in unison.
‘Then let the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee begin!’
Music played and searchlights beamed over the crowd as Fozdrake plucked the official word cards from his pocket.
Rajish leaned over. ‘Good luck, India Wimple.’
‘You too, Rajish Kapoor.’
India spotted Mr O’Malley in the wings, still pacing and brushing invisible fluff from his jacket. Esmerelda stood beside him, holding her clipboard. She wore a stony expression and seemed thoroughly unperturbed, if not a little bored.
‘I call the first contestant: Freya Rose.’
A girl with a mop of bouncy orange curls almost ran to the microphone.
‘Are you ready, Freya?’
She pushed a bunch of curls behind her ears, but they immediately bounced back. ‘Yes, Mr Magnifico.’
‘Your first word is, effervescent,’ Fozdrake read with perfect pronunciation. ‘This is an adjective meaning energetic or bubbly.’
Freya didn’t hesitate. ‘E-f-f-e-r-v-e-s-c-e-n-t. Effervescent.’
‘That is correct!’
Mr O’Malley and the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief and applauded as Freya and her curls bounced back to her seat.
‘Our next contestant is Barnaby Grey.’
No-one moved.
Fozdrake craned his head, searching through the rows of children.
‘Barnaby? Are you there?’
There was a long pause before a boy raised his head, a deep scowl wrinkling his forehead. He rose unsteadily to his feet and shuffle
d across the stage like he was carrying a heavy sack. He played with his tie that dangled from a tightly buttoned collar.
‘Barnaby, your word is lugubrious – an adjective meaning glum, gloomy or down in the dumps.’
The boy stared at the ground for so long that Fozdrake wondered if he should repeat the word.
‘Lugubrious,’ the boy began. ‘L-u-g-u- …’
He stopped and frowned.
‘b-r-i-u-s. Lugubrious.’
‘Oh dear,’ Fozdrake said. ‘I’m sorry, but that is … incorrect.’
The boy nodded. Then began to cry.
‘But what an excellent effort to have made it this far,’ Fozdrake said, trying to lift his mood.
Barnaby quietly whimpered and dragged his feet as he trudged off the stage.
Ever the professional, Fozdrake snapped back to his chirpier self. More contestants were called, more words were spelled.
Exertion.
Assiduous.
Industrious.
Some did a little dance when they were correct, while others stormed off or were coaxed from the stage by embarrassed parents.
The numbers of spellers dwindled.
‘Our next speller is Holly Trifle.’
Holly gripped the seat so hard that Peter thought she might not get up.
‘You have to leave the chair here,’ he whispered, ‘or Esmerelda will be furious.’ Holly released her grip but still didn’t get up. ‘Go get ’em, Holly Trifle.’
She stood slowly and focussed on every footstep so she didn’t trip on her way to the microphone.
‘Holly, your word is tenterhooks. This is a noun meaning hooks used to fix cloth to a drying frame. The phrase “on tenterhooks” means to be apprehensive or nervous.’
‘Tenterhooks.’ Holly toyed with her plaits. She could see the letters laid out in her mind. All she had to do was say them, just as she saw them. ‘T-e-n-t …’
But then she faltered. She knew ‘e’ came next, but what if she was wrong? What if it was an ‘a’ or an ‘o’? She felt her whole body heat up in a rush of dread.
‘You have fifteen seconds left, Holly.’ Even Fozdrake was on tenterhooks, no matter how you spelled it.
Not a sound could be heard in the ballroom – until Holly heard her mother’s voice in her head: ‘This time don’t blow it.’
The Most Marvellous Spelling Bee Mystery Page 10