‘That’s strange,’ said Georgina. ‘I don’t give Beau Polos. But maybe the staff do when they groom him? Anyway, Daddy, like I was saying, I’m so very sorry for the way I’ve been behaving. And I’m totally going to be nicer in the future.’
Mr Brook grunted.
‘I really am!’ said Georgina. ‘And I now completely understand why you said before I couldn’t go skiing. Although they do still have a few places left (according to Camilla) if you did believe I’m sorry for the tantrums and . . . little accident with the roses.’
Huh! thought Bryony. Little accident? Every single rose had lost its head!
‘No pressure though, Daddy,’ continued Georgina in her super-understanding voice. ‘Whatever you decide about the ski trip (which still has places on) is absolutely fine by me. I mean, I’m sure the school won’t think I’m not going because, say . . . we couldn’t afford it. And Camilla is bound to take tons of photos that her daddy can show you and Mummy at your next lovely dinner party!’
There was silence. Checkmate! Bryony thought. Georgina, very cleverly, had just gone and pressed all of her father’s biggest worry-buttons . . .
People thinking they couldn’t afford something.
Others having news at his parties.
And Camilla having something that his daughter did not: a fancy holiday – with photographic evidence!
Sure enough, a second later . . .
‘Um, well,’ said Mr Brook in a much softer tone. ‘Now that I come to think of it, I might have been a tad hasty before – about the ski trip, I mean. If your friends are all going . . . and you are truly sorry, then I suppose you really should go too. A-and I’m sure Great-aunt Agatha will completely understand when you’re not here.’
‘Oh, but no!’ cried Georgina in the tone of I couldn’t possibly!
‘Yes, yes!’ insisted Mr Brook. ‘I’ll phone the school now. Get it paid today. And I’ll get you a new phone with a much better camera on. Take lots of photos, won’t you?’
‘Of course!’ cried Georgina. ‘I totally will! Thank you, Daddy!’
Well that was that, Bryony thought. No clues here. Just Georgina being Georgina and getting everything she wanted.
Bryony waited for them to go. But suddenly – to her horror – the loo doorknob started to turn. Then the whole toilet door started rattling!
‘Daddy!’ yelled Georgina. ‘The silly door! It’s jammed!’
‘Let me see,’ said Mr Brook. ‘Step aside.’
Bryony stepped back too as the door rattled even louder. Not only were they going to tear it off its hinges, but then they’d discover her inside!
‘Oh, no!’ she gasped frantically. What to do?
Then suddenly Miss Pigeon’s loo roll delivery flashed into her mind yet again.
‘Bad tummy!’ hissed Bryony under her breath.
Yes! When she was discovered by Georgina and her dad, she’d pretend she’d had a very bad tummy. So bad it had kept her in the loo for ages. Mrs Brook would probably even back her up after earlier!
Grabbing the end of the toilet paper, Bryony pulled off a great long ream. Metres and metres of it! But she had to. She had to make it look like her tummy had been so bad that she’d used up nearly all of their paper!
‘But whoa!’ Bryony stopped and her eyes grew wide. She hadn’t thought this through. Where was she going to put the loo paper now? It was far too much to flush away. ‘Uh-oh . . .’
‘Wait, Georgie! I’ll get a screwdriver,’ she heard Mr Brook say. He really was going to take the door off! Bryony had to get out of there – fast!
Panicking, she quickly unzipped her jacket and bunged the mountain of loo roll inside. When she finally managed to prise the zip back up, she looked like a giant Christmas pudding!
She shuffled towards the toilet, leaned over and flushed so the Brooks could hear someone was in there. Now she just needed to step out and deploy her best acting skills.
Bryony tried to turn the key in the lock, but it was stiff and refused to move. ‘Oh, you are kidding!’ she groaned at it. ‘Why now?’
‘Daddy!’ she heard Georgina shriek. ‘Someone flushed – and then rattled the key!’
Bryony tried the key again, more forcefully, but still it would not budge.
‘Who’s in there?!’ shrieked Georgina.
‘It’s, um . . . me,’ gulped Bryony.
‘Who’s me?’
This was not going well. Mr Brook then returned and, seconds later, the lock was in bits and the toilet door finally open.
Mr Brook and Georgina were – for once in their lives – completely lost for words. They just stood there, mouths gaping, staring at Bryony, who squeezed herself out of the door, red-faced and massive . . .
‘Do not,’ she said, rolling her eyes, ‘eat a single sprout for Christmas! Last night, sprout pie for supper – bad move.’
And turning, she waddled off down the passage as fast as her legs could carry her!
*
When Josh had quite finished laughing, they went to see Mr Thimblefold. Bryony was desperate to check on him after yesterday.
It was snowing again, but only very lightly. The fishermen’s cottages along by the harbour were looking as pretty as ever. They were all painted different colours and Bryony’s favourite often changed. In the olden days, so the rumour went, the colours helped fishermen to find their own cottage when returning home in the dark. Bryony didn’t know if this was true. But Mr Thimblefold’s was Santa-red so you could certainly pick out that one!
‘How kind of you to come,’ the old man said, seeing Bryony on his doorstep. He was still in his dressing gown and slippers, even though it was almost mid-morning. And his long white beard didn’t look as neatly combed as usual.
‘Are you feeling better?’ Bryony asked.
‘Oh, yes, much better,’ he quickly replied. But Bryony wasn’t so sure. She often tried to put a brave face on things too.
‘Hi!’ called Josh, holding Red in the lane.
‘Oh, hello, Joshua.’ Mr Thimblefold waved back. ‘And let me come and see Red.’
He followed Bryony back and patted Red’s side.
‘Aren’t you lovely, eh?’ he said, and seemed delighted when Red nuzzled his shoulder.
‘He likes you,’ said Josh. But despite his smiles, Bryony didn’t think that Mr Thimblefold looked himself.
‘Mr Thimblefold,’ she said, ‘I was just wondering, are you opening your shop today? I expect lots of people still want presents.’
She was about to tell him about little George who’d adore the train clock for his birthday, but that would be unfair pressure, she decided, and stopped herself.
Mr Thimblefold shook his head. ‘I’m a little tired today. And . . . it’s chilly. I’d best get back inside.’
He turned back towards the house.
‘Um!’ blurted Bryony, and Mr Thimblefold stopped.
‘Yes, my dear?’
Bryony didn’t want to push, but the sooner she could help, the sooner things could get back to normal.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve remembered anything more, have you? About Monday afternoon?’ she asked gently.
Mr Thimblefold shook his head again. ‘I just remember the bell tinkling and walking into the front room. The box of silver was there. And through the shop window the street lamp was on, and . . .’
He paused for a moment, stroking his beard and thinking very hard.
‘. . . And I saw a few people pass by in the street. A lady in a headband – it was furry, I think. And a man in a beanie hat with ginger hair. Oh! And a big group of penguins went waddling by.’
‘Penguins?’ Josh frowned, and Mr Thimblefold nodded.
‘Not real ones,’ he added. ‘Just children dressed up. Hurrying home after their school play, I’d imagine.’
With a nod he wandered back to his cheery red house and stepped in through the front door. Bryony went to wave but then she paused. ‘What’s that?’
A low distant rumble,
like the sound of angry bees, had suddenly filled the air. Mr Thimblefold had heard it too. So had Red, whose head jerked back so fast he might have bolted had Bryony not been there.
‘It’s all right, boy,’ she said, keeping hold of his reins. ‘Nice and steady.’
As Red settled again Bryony looked down the lane. The angry rumble was growing in volume. But then she saw it was just Farmer Jenkins on his tractor, which he stopped outside Grandpa’s.
Gritting again, was Bryony’s first thought. But hooked to the back of the tractor, Bryony then saw a trailer. And in it was what looked like a giant tin shoebox on wheels!
‘Why!’ gasped Mr Thimblefold, peering through his small round spectacles. ‘If I’m not mistaken that’s an old sidecar. A vintage one too, I believe.’
‘Morning, Sam!’ nodded Farmer Jenkins, jumping down from his tractor.
‘Oh, yes! Good morning, Jasper.’ Mr Thimblefold waved.
Farmer Jenkins thumped up to Grandpa’s door like a big gentle giant, two trails of grit spilling out of his trouser pockets behind him.
Bryony swiftly mounted Red to get a better view. This sidecar, she thought, had to be the one that Grandpa had been on about yesterday. The one he was borrowing off his friend Bob – for Cinderella.
Poor Alice! She’d be going to the Ball in a shoebox. But it was so kind of Grandpa to ask Bob, and for Bob to lend it to them too.
Maybe Alice would think it ‘charming’ in a quirky kind of way, Bryony hoped to herself. But actually, how would they attach it to Piggy? He wasn’t a motorbike!
Suddenly Grandpa came out. ‘How marvellous!’ he cried, and Farmer Jenkins nodded back brightly.
‘And Sam!’ Grandpa called to Mr Thimblefold, seeing him peeping from his doorstep. ‘I shall certainly need your help with this.’
‘How so?’ Mr Thimblefold called back.
‘Well,’ said Grandpa, ‘Bob said it needs repairing. And we’ve hardly got any time. So what with all the stuff you’ve fixed in your shop, I’ll need to pick your brains. Then I’ve got this good wax when it’s back in one piece, to shine it up.’
‘Oh,’ said Mr Thimblefold, a small twinkle in his eyes. ‘Yes. Well, I do like repairing.’
‘Of course you do!’ Grandpa smiled. ‘So how about we start now as you’re at home today? Better than doing nothing, eh?’
Mr Thimblefold hesitated. ‘I . . . could help,’ he said slowly.
‘Perfect!’ beamed Grandpa. ‘Get washed and dressed and come round then!’
Grandpa winked at Bryony who winked back. That was such a kind thing he’d just done! Grandpa could easily fix the sidecar himself but knew that, right now, Mr Thimblefold needed something to help him through his sadness.
But Bryony needed to help him too by solving ‘The Mystery of the Silver’. Then his wonderful shop could open again and Mr T could wear his jolly bow ties – and sell brooches, and skeletons, and tigers in top hats. And clocks with little trains, just right for birthdays . . .
‘Come on, Josh!’ called Bryony at two minutes to five as they hurried through the Lavender Lighthouse Tearoom to the dark blue door behind the counter. This door was only used by the Super Six as it led the way up to their mystery-solving den in Lookout Towers.
There were lots of stairs to the room at the top, and like everything here, they were circular. Bryony went first and Josh followed behind as the stairs were steep, dark and narrow. As she climbed, Bryony imagined all the boots that must have trodden these stone steps before hers. Old lighthouse keepers! What a thrill they must have felt, climbing up on black stormy nights to the beacon of safety – the dazzling light at the top!
She imagined them peering through windows in the sky as waves hammered the rocks far below. Brave. Selfless. Watching for others, as charcoal-grey clouds snuffed out the moon’s silver rays . . .
‘Ha! I’m dizzy!’ Bryony gasped as she took the final steps at a run. She didn’t want to waste a single second. Mr Thimblefold and the Coopers – they all needed her. They might not have boats being buffeted in storms, but still they were sinking in sadness.
‘Not so fast!’ Josh called from behind, his voice apprehensive. Although he loved the idea of a den in the sky, he was really nervous of heights.
The stairs led to a hatch up into the top room. This was the room where the light had shone when the place had been a working lighthouse. It still had the light and, although now not used, Bryony still found it captivating.
She climbed up through the hatch, followed by Josh. The rest of the Super Six were already there, sitting on cushions and beanbags, chatting.
‘Hi!’ said Bryony.
‘Here, Bry,’ called Emma. She’d saved Bryony’s usual cushion beside her, near the circular window. Josh’s favourite beanbag was waiting for him too, but further into the room as he preferred to keep his distance from the windows!
Bryony sat down. It was starting to get dark and this made Lookout Towers feel extra snug. Snowflakes were swirling past the windows and Bryony could hear the waves pounding the craggy headland on which the lighthouse stood.
As well as cosy cushions and big squashy beanbags, Lavender had looped bunting around the walls and dotted lanterns about the floor. They were battery ones for safety, but looked just like the real thing.
As Bryony gently broke the news to Alice that she was going to the Ball in a sidecar, the hatch at the top of the stairs opened and Lavender’s head appeared.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ she called, coming up with a tray. She always brought them treats for free.
‘Milkshakes!’ cried Josh. There were cakes too, and sandwiches.
‘Thanks!’ came a chorus of voices.
Smiling back, Lavender put down the tray. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said. ‘Mystery-solving on an empty stomach never works!’
She left, and everyone grabbed a cake and opened their mystery-solving notebooks.
‘Okay, Case 7,’ Bryony began. ‘The Mystery of the Silver. Has anyone had any more thoughts?’
She waited, pencil poised. But no one said anything.
‘Well, earlier,’ continued Bryony, determined to crack on with whatever they had, however small, ‘I thought Mr Thimblefold had remembered something. But it turned out he hadn’t.’
‘Nothing?’ said Hari.
‘Nope,’ sighed Josh. He sipped his chocolate milkshake and shook his head. ‘The only thing Mr T added is that he saw some random people passing by.’
‘When?’ asked Alice.
‘Monday night,’ replied Josh. ‘Just after the silver had been dumped.’
Finn nodded. ‘Okay, let’s go with that for a sec. Like who?’
Josh screwed up his eyes. ‘Oh, no! I forgot.’
‘A woman in a big furry headband,’ said Bryony. ‘A man in a beanie hat with ginger hair. Oh – and some penguins,’ she added quickly.
‘Penguins?’ repeated Alice.
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Josh. ‘He said he thought they were kids dressed up. So that’s all we have to go on.’
Everyone quickly jotted down these things.
‘What about the Manor though, Bry?’ asked Alice. ‘Get any clues there? What happened?’
‘She got locked in the loo, that’s what!’ snorted Josh and there followed a flurry of muffled sniggers.
‘Thanks, Josh,’ tutted Bryony. He’d never let her live that down!
‘And as a matter of fact I did get a clue.’
‘Spill the beans, then!’ smiled Hari, pencil at the ready.
‘I saw a box,’ continued Bryony. ‘On Mr Brook’s desk. I think it had the family silver in it.’
At this the others suddenly looked serious.
‘Did you see the silver?’ Emma asked.
‘Not exactly,’ said Bryony. ‘The box was sealed but I’m pretty sure it was inside.’
‘Ooo! Well, give us some box facts!’ Alice piped up. ‘Its size?’
‘Big.’
‘Its shape?’
‘Rect
angular.’
‘So, box-shaped!’ nodded Alice, now looking at Bryony as if they’d just made a major discovery.
‘Well . . . yeah,’ replied Bryony. But she couldn’t help but feel they weren’t actually getting very far.
But at least, she quickly told herself, everyone was taking it seriously now, all drawing a picture of a box-shaped box in their notebooks.
‘And I’m putting a bow on mine,’ Alice beamed.
‘Irrelevant!’ Hari cried.
‘Yes, I know,’ smiled back Alice. ‘But it does look really pretty!’
When everyone had finished (and Alice had coloured hers in), Emma raised a hand.
‘Did the box have an address on, Bry?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Bryony nodded. ‘I memorised it too. It was being sent to some people called Cuthbert and Fig, and they live in a street in London called Pudding Lane.’
Everyone scribbled down the names and address. Though Josh, Bryony saw, was now drawing a massive trifle.
‘Are you taking this seriously, Josh?’ asked Bryony.
‘Sure!’ Josh looked a bit crushed.
‘But . . . you’re drawing a trifle?’
‘I know,’ nodded Josh. ‘ ’Cos trifle’s my favourite pudding. It’s like . . . code.’
‘So anyway,’ said Hari. ‘Was there anything else on Mr Brook’s desk?’
‘Yes – a clock,’ replied Bryony, ‘a desk lamp, a pen – and a notepad with a word on it in capital letters: LAPADA.’
Everyone noted down the word, Bryony carefully spelling it out.
‘I wonder what that means?’ Emma scratched her head.
‘Hmm,’ Finn nodded. ‘Me too. I once read a book on ciphers and acronyms, and—’
‘Whoa!’ cried Josh. ‘What are those?’
‘Well, ciphers are codes,’ Finn explained.
‘Like my trifle?’ asked Josh.
‘I suppose,’ nodded Finn. ‘And an acronym,’ he went on, ‘is a word whose letters stand for something else, each letter being a word of its own.’
‘So you think LAPADA stands for something else?’ asked Hari.
Finn nodded back. ‘It might.’
‘Oh!’ said Josh, and he silently mouthed something, counting on his fingers as he did. ‘Like – Lions Always Pounce After Doughnuts . . . um . . . Actually. Is that an acro-thing, Finn?’
Snowflakes, Silver and Secrets Page 9