by Laura Wood
While this exchange was taking place I had thrust my hand down into the gap, silently praying that there weren’t a family of spiders living down there, and emerged clutching a bundle of envelopes tied with a pink ribbon. “Look!” I exclaimed. “Secret letters!” With fumbling fingers I tugged at the ribbon, loosening it and pulling out the top envelope. The letter J was written on the front in slightly smudged ink. Pulling out the letter inside, I smoothed it on the floor in front of me so that we could all read.
“I think. I am going. To puke,” said Kip, his face decidedly green. He puffed out his cheeks and clapped his hands over his mouth for added effect.
“That poem is OFFENSIVE to the art of poetry,” hissed Ingrid. “What kind of idiot rhymes ‘love’ with ‘move’? There are GREAT words that rhyme with love. Above, glove…”
I cut her off here. “Yes, Ingrid, we get it. The poem is pretty shocking.” I frowned. “But I wonder who wrote it?”
“DOVE!” cried Ingrid. “My love is gentle as a dove! I mean, it’s not rocket science, is it?!”
I was still staring at the letter. A memory was stirring in my mind, but I couldn’t work out what exactly it was. “I wonder who they could be from?”
Unfortunately Ingrid was still muttering darkly – I just caught the words, “I mean, come on, read a little Shakespeare!” and Kip was still staring at the letter like he was a sailor with a severe case of seasickness. I pulled open some of the other envelopes but it was only more of the same mushy rubbish. None of the letters were signed so there was no clue about who they could be from. With a sigh I tucked the letters carefully in my pocket and gently lowered the board back in place. It was interesting that Jenny had a secret romance – but I couldn’t see how that helped us find her kidnappers.
“So, we’re no closer to finding out how the kidnapper managed to abduct Jenny from a locked room on the first floor,” I said, returning my focus to more pressing matters of mystery. Looking out of Jenny’s window I saw nothing but a sheer drop down to the ground below.
“Well, it would be a lot easier to search this room if Jenny put any of her clothes away,” Kip said with a sniff. “I mean, what’s even the point of having a wardrobe if you leave it totally empty?” He pointed over to the wardrobe, and I saw that he was right – there wasn’t a single item of clothing inside. Not even one.
That struck me as being slightly odd.
I went to the wardrobe and knocked on the sides. Nothing. I climbed inside and tapped on the back. Still nothing. With a sigh I clambered down. “Thought I was on to something there,” I muttered.
“Maybe you were,” said Ingrid, her big owl-like eyes blinking behind her glasses. “Maybe the wardrobe is hiding something – behind it.”
“Because having it full of clothes would make it too heavy to move,” I said slowly, snapping my fingers.
Without another word the three of us began to push the wardrobe to one side. It moved easily. We stood back, staring at the stone wall.
“Do you think…” Ingrid trailed off.
I stepped forward and began pushing gently at the stones. Finally, with a gentle click, one gave way beneath my hand, and the wall slid to one side.
“Well,” I said, “I think now we know how the kidnapper got into Jenny’s room.”
We had found a hidden staircase.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We walked down the first couple of steps, and the door slid closed behind us. We were frozen in total darkness. “Errr, did anyone bring their torch with them?” I squeaked, my hands feeling along the cool stone of the wall.
“No,” said Ingrid in a trembly voice. “Mine’s in the tent.”
“I brought mine,” Kip yelped, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. There was a fumbling sound and then a clicking noise and then … nothing. “Ah. Right,” Kip said, “I see the problem here. I forgot to change the batteries. So… My bad, you guys.”
The darkest darkness smothered us like the embrace of an over-enthusiastic auntie. “Right,” I said brightly. “That’s fine.”
Kip began to hum nervously. Then: “AGGGGGHHH!” he screeched. “What was that?”
“What?!” Ingrid and I cried in terror.
“THAT HUMMING NOISE!” Kip yelled, “IS IT A GHOST????”
“No, you idiot!” I huffed. “It’s you.”
There was a pause. “Oh right, yeah,” Kip mumbled. “Sorry.”
“Is it a ghost?” Ingrid repeated angrily. “You’ll be a ghost when I get my hands on you.”
“Rude!” Kip exclaimed. “It’s not my fault I hum when I’m being brave.”
By now my eyes had adjusted very slightly to the darkness. I could at least make out the two dark shapes that I knew were Kip and Ingrid, as well as the sides of the staircase. “OK” – I took a deep breath – “we can do this. I’m going to feel my way along. Kip, you put your hand on Ingrid’s arm. Ingrid, you hang on to me.” I began moving slowly forward, inching my feet along the ground as I clung to the rough stonework. Kip began to hum again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we reached the bottom of the stairs and what seemed to be a long tunnel. After a few more breath-holdingly tense minutes the tunnel started to get lighter.
“Can you hear that?” Ingrid asked, her head tilted to one side. “It sounds like—”
“The sea!” Kip and I finished, and we all began moving more quickly now towards the noise. And then there was literally a light at the end of the tunnel. Daylight, that is. We emerged, blinking, at some rough steps cut into the rock, which we climbed down, on to the sand below.
We were in another cave. This one was much smaller than the other we had found, and much further around to the side of the cove. The tide was just starting to come in and I realized that we had been really lucky – obviously the sea came right in at high tide, filling the cave with water.
“Well,” I said, looking around me with satisfaction. “I think we might have solved at least one mystery. Now we know how Horatio Muggins kidnapped Jenny from a locked room!”
We had to rush back to the castle as quickly and with as much stealth as we could muster or we were going to miss breakfast. One look at Kip’s face was enough to let me know that such an outcome was not going to be acceptable. Luckily, we just managed to slip in with the rest of the group making their way towards the dining hall. I plastered a look of total innocence on my face – one that I felt sure brought to mind the image of a pure and glowing angel.
“My goodness, Poppy. Are you all right?” Mr Grant exclaimed, catching sight of me. “Why are you grimacing like that? Are you in pain?” he asked, quickly reaching for the first-aid kit in his rucksack.
“Oh, no, I’m fine, thanks!” I said, trying to reassure him with the biggest million mega-watt smile I could manage.
Mr Grant blinked. “OK, if you’re sure…” he said, before turning to break up a fight between two boys who were shouting about ice cream flavours (I’ll let you have a guess who one of the boys was…).
I glanced around but saw no sign of Miss Susan. A wave of relief washed over me. I certainly wasn’t ready to face her yet. In fact, I didn’t want to see her until I could make her eat her words over my mystery-solving skills. Which reminded me, I had work to do. After scoffing down a bacon sandwich I excused myself to find Mrs Crockton and to ask very nicely if I could use the phone in her kitchen to ring the circus. Kip and Ingrid hung back in the dining room to give me some privacy as I lifted the handset and dialled the number. I needed to talk to Luigi and find out what this extra info he had about Moira Booth and the smugglers.
**Begin Transcript**
Cheery Baz: All right? Booming Badger ’ere.
Me: Hello, Cheery Baz! It’s me.
Cheery Baz: (big sigh) Oh. You. Again.
Me: Yes, listen. I need to talk to Luigi; it’s important.
Cheery Baz: Oi! Luigi! It’s What’s ’er name on the phone for you!
Luigi: (in the distance) Lord Wassername, did you say? Good
lord, haven’t heard from him since we were young pups. Rufus, old chum! Is that you?!
Me: No, Luigi, it’s me.
Luigi: Poppers? Good Gad, why are you impersonating Old Rufus Wassername?
Me: I’m not. But I need to talk to you. It’s about Moira Booth.
Luigi: Ahhhh! Of course. At Crumley Castle, aren’t you? Finally got a telephone installed, have they? I think we had to communicate by carrier pigeon last time we were there. (honking laugh) Ada Booth just hated anything new-fangled – great friends with Hortence, of course.
Me: Yes, they’ve had a phone installed, but I—
Luigi: Poppers, before I forget I must tell you about what Buttercup did yesterday—
Doris: (in background) Did you say Poppy’s on the phone?
**Scuffling noises**
Doris: Poppy! We got your postcard. Now, about this locked room mystery… I have some questions.
Me: Yes?
Doris: First of all: did the person who disappeared have access to high-powered lasers?
Me: No.
Doris: Any kind of nuclear facility?
Me: No.
Doris: Did he have the skills to construct a robot arm with seven moveable fingers?
Me: I don’t think so, DoDo. He was a smuggler in the seventeenth century.
Doris: Ah. (Pause) Tricky. Are you sure he went into the room? The easiest way to disappear someone is if they were never there in the first place.
Me: Lots of people saw him go into the room, and they heard him arguing with someone inside. There’s nowhere else he could have slipped away before locking himself in. It’s a real mystery!
Doris: Hmmmm. Sounds like the perfect disappearing act to me! I’ll have to put my thinking cap on…
**Scuffling noises**
Luigi: Yes, thank you, Doris. Poppy and I were actually having a very important conversation.
Me: That’s right. Luigi—
Luigi: So Buttercup did the most adorable thing—
Me: LUIGI! I need to talk to you about something important. Moira Booth! You said that Great-aunt Hortence told you all about her.
Luigi: Oh yes, the old dragon! She has a real soft spot for Moira Booth… Some great-great cousin twice-removed or some such. But I have to admit she sounds a fascinating woman. Very handy with a gun she was, and practically a pirate you know.
Me: A pirate?
Luigi: Oh yes, so the tale goes. You’ve probably heard the stories about the smugglers down there. Brothers, they were. I can’t remember the names now…
Me: The Redshank brothers!
Luigi: That’s it, yes. Kept getting away with all sorts of mischief, and no one knew how, but that’s because the magistrates didn’t suspect they had help from a wealthy benefactor.
Me: You don’t mean…
Luigi: Oh yes, she sent the customs officers on a merry dance – none of them suspected a rich young lady like her!
Me: Wait, Moira Booth was working with the smugglers?!
Luigi: Not with them, Pops. They were working for her. She was in charge of the whole operation by all accounts. The old dragon has simply heaps of stories about Moira Booth that I’m sure she’d love to share next time we visit Burnshire Hall. You know what she’s like when she gets the bit between her teeth, and a story going – can’t get her to stop waffling on and on and on and on. I remember when I was a youth—
Me: Yes, very interesting. I can’t believe that Moira was in on the smuggling! How does Great-aunt Hortence know this?
Luigi: Oh, stories getting passed down, you know. The legend of Moira Booth was one I heard as a tiny lad at the knee of my great-aunt, and she from her father before her, and so on and so on. One doesn’t actually have to go as far back as you may think given the colossal age of Hortence. Not actually sure I even know how old she is. What do you reckon? A hundred and fifty?
Buttercup: ROOOOOOOOAR!
Luigi: Oh, Poppers! My little Buttercup is here to say hello! (makes kissy baby face noises)
**Sound of Buttercup purring loudly**
**Sound of door banging**
Fanella: LUIGI! THAT PIG-LION OF YOURS IS CHEW ON MY HAIRBRUSH AGAIN!
Luigi: How DARE you besmirch Buttercup like that! She is VERY well behaved. She doesn’t chew on anything.
Fanella: YOU BONE HEAD! SHE CHEW ON THE PHONE CABLE RIGHT N—
**Phone goes dead**
**End of Transcript**
I put the phone down in a state of shock. The Redshank brothers were working for Moira Booth! I turned the story that we knew over in my mind. I thought about the events of that fateful night, which I now saw in a very different light. Moira must have helped Henry Redshank to escape somehow, I realized. This also meant that Henry could have used the tunnel from the beach to the library because it wouldn’t have mattered that Moira was in the room. But why had he come up to the castle at all? Perhaps it was to warn Moira that the customs officers were on the warpath? So why leave the library at all, then? After all, the cook said she bumped into Henry in the hallway. My head was spinning with questions.
At that moment Kip and Ingrid burst into the room, and I filled them in on Luigi’s revelations.
“Wow,” Kip blew out a big breath he’d been holding. “So Moira Booth was Henry Redshank’s accomplice all along. Do you think she hid him somewhere?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, “but I think we need to get another look around in Agatha’s study to see if it’s a possibility.”
“But the customs officers tore the room apart,” Ingrid pointed out. “Moira Booth may have been in on it, but we have no idea how she made a man disappear completely. Maybe she knew how to do magic tricks – just like your family, Poppy.”
Something was rattling alarm bells in my brilliant detective brain, but I had no time to grab on to the idea that was forming because just then Mr Grant stuck his head around the kitchen door.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Come on, it’s surfing time!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When we started our surfing lesson I was busy mulling over the new information about Moira Booth, but even these exciting matters of mystery were chased out of my head by the exhilaration of being on a surfboard. Running into the waves at full pelt and battling against the icy water was exhausting and great fun. I was definitely no pro, but I managed to get up on my board a couple of times, and in the end it didn’t really matter… What mattered was that, for a glorious hour, I was not thinking about Miss Susan, I wasn’t thinking about Jenny or the smugglers. My mind was as smooth and uncomplicated as a tub of vanilla ice cream.
Nearby, Kip was bouncing around in the water like an excited puppy, but Ingrid didn’t seem to be having the best time. For one thing, she couldn’t wear her thick glasses while she was in the water, so she was currently as blind as a bat. For another thing, Ingrid’s coordination wasn’t great at the best of times, but add in the blindness and there was a lot of tripping and bumping going on.
It was right at the end of the lesson that Annabelle decided to take advantage of this. Ingrid was wobbling about in the shallows, trying to keep hold of the bodyboard that was attached to her wrist by a Velcro strap, when I saw Annabelle sidle over.
“Having some trouble there, are we, Ingrid?” Annabelle asked in her sing-song voice. Ingrid scrunched her eyes up in Annabelle’s direction, clearly trying to make out the shape next to her.
“Leave me alone, Annabelle,” Ingrid said quietly, before turning to wrestle with her board once more.
Annabelle laughed her stupid flutey laugh. “You’re not exactly elegant, are you?” she said in a dangerously sweet voice that I knew meant she was going in for the kill. “You look like a sea lion in that wetsuit, flopping all over the place.”
Ingrid didn’t say anything, just seemed to concentrate more intensely on trying to lie down on the bodyboard. I was already making my way over to them when I saw Annabelle reach out and give Ingrid’s board a good tug. The board flipped ove
r with Ingrid beneath it, pushing her under the water. I watched in horror as Annabelle laughed while Ingrid kicked and splashed, until one of Ingrid’s long legs booted Annabelle in the backside, knocking her into the water as well. Annabelle immediately began shrieking like a banshee.
My heart was pounding but in the split second before I could pull Ingrid out of the water myself, I saw two strong, tanned arms lift her into the air. Jack Jenkins carried a coughing and sputtering Ingrid back to the sand where he set her gently on the ground. All of this was watched by a crimson-faced Annabelle, who had emerged from the water, her blonde hair hanging around her face in soggy rats’ tails. The look in her eyes was one of fury. Her pal Barbie appeared at her side making sympathetic clucking noises, but Annabelle angrily shook off her comforting hand.
“Thank you,” Ingrid wheezed up at her rescuer.
“No problem.” Jack smiled, his hair flopping into his eyes. Ingrid turned a bit pink and even I had to admit that Jack was pretty dreamy. I huddled in the sand next to Ingrid with my arm around her shoulder.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
She nodded. “I just feel like an idiot,” she mumbled.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said fiercely. “You were doing great. It was the terrible Annabelle, as usual. I wish Fanella was here… She’d want to put Otis the snake in Annabelle’s sleeping bag, and I would NOT stop her.”
Ingrid giggled weakly and leant against my shoulder. I felt something warm spreading through my chest. It felt like a long time since I had been this relaxed with my best friend. It was nice.
Unfortunately, the nice moment was cut short by the appearance of Jack’s girlfriend. She stared down at Ingrid and me with obvious disdain. “Jack, are you nearly finished with these kids?” she sulked, the word “kids” was spoken like a dirty word. “We were supposed to be spending the day together.”
Jack wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, my little Betsy-kins,” he murmured gently. “But we’re nearly done, and you know I can’t turn down the work.” He gave her a tiny wink. “And I can use the money to buy you something nice.”