‘Come on!’ urged Ricky. ‘Hurry up, I’m jolly hungry! Oh, nice spectacles Daniel. They almost suit you. You look, erm, what’s the word?’
‘Intelligent?’ Daniel suggested.
‘No, that’s not it,’ Ricky said, and turned on his very own heels.
They followed Ricky as he hurried away to find the nearest castle teashop. But, much sooner than anyone expected, they came across the right helpful Austrian guide, who was standing outside the castle gift shop with a swarming group of Italian tourists. They were having a lively informed discussion about the children’s secret mission.
‘Blow me down if it ain’t them Secret Five kids again!’ said one particularly swarthy non-English-speaking Italian tourist. ‘You’re all looking as bright as buttons!’
‘Ah,’ the right helpful Austrian guide said, turning to the children. ‘I wondered where you all were, childs and your spanner. We were just discussing your charming inaptitude. What is the current position of your missionary?’
‘Please sir,’ said Betty. ‘Our mission is going quite slowly, but thank you for asking. Right now, our friend here has a condition and needs a teashop, urgently.’
The right helpful Austrian smiled a medium-sized smile and shrugged both his shoulders. ‘Alas,’ he alassed. ‘Today the castle teashop is closed for training porpoises. I hope this does not upset your inconvenience too much.’
The children were all a little intrigued about the training but could wait until the appendix at the end to be enlightened. They didn’t want anything as trivial as the exploitation of endangered sea-life to ruin their adventure at this stage.
Betty decided to take charge once again. She thanked the right helpful Austrian and said a fond yet indifferent farewell. Then, quite carefully, she told Ricky that his hunger would just have to wait. ‘We have to find Clarissa the stunt nun, urgently and confidently!’
So the children strode urgently and confidently to the castle exit, Ricky’s breathable fabric swish-swishing as he walked. Whatshisname trotting alongside them almost as confidently. Indeed, if it had to be measured, for whatever reason, it was probably about ninety-two per cent as confidently, give or take a bit.
Much to their surprise, they were cheered out of the castle by the massed swarmed group of swarthy Italian tourists, who yelled, ‘Go get ‘em, Secret Five!’ and ‘Stop that bloomin’ conception and save the world, Secret Five!’ It was very encouraging, all this secret support.
But, as they left the castle, Betty stopped quite suddenly, as though she was thinking. Whatshisname stopped trotting, and sat down for a few sticks to wait to hear why she had stopped so suddenly.
‘Sorry to stop so suddenly, everyone, but what I don’t understand,’ Betty said, ‘amongst the millions of other things I don’t understand, is how Ricky knew we were in that cell. That’s quite a mystery, isn’t it? And how exactly did he follow us here to Salzburg? And why did he decide to return to the adventure?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Daniel, frowning behind his spectacles in Ricky’s general direction. ‘Now you mention it, it is strange.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Amy, frowning deeply and directly at Ricky. ‘Very strange indeed.’
‘Woof woof woof,’ said Whatshisname, trying unsuccessfully to frown deeply and directly at Ricky.
‘Well,’ Ricky said, ‘I decided that, in the spirit of everlasting friendship, and realising that I hadn’t actually had enough of Betty’s bossiness, etcetera, I had to find you and rescue you, so I found the time machine in the Very Very Secret Room, worked out how to work it, worked it, then somehow landed here in Salzburg, you see.’
Betty stood close to Ricky, which he didn’t mind at all. She stared hard at him. ‘How very convenient,’ she said in a strangely menacing voice.
Ricky looked quizzically at her. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘And why the strangely menacing voice?’
‘Because it’s extremely strange, and just as menacing, how you changed your mind and found us,’ said Betty. ‘How did you know we were at this very castle, eh? Isn’t it strange, Amy and Daniel?’
‘Woof woof woof?’ said Whatshisname, who also thought it particularly strange but was a bit miffed that no-one had asked him for his opinion.
‘Now you mention it,’ said Amy, copying Betty’s strange but menacing voice and staring at Ricky with her own strange and menacing eyes, ‘it is very strange, isn’t it?’
Daniel joined in all the mass menace. ‘Strange,’ he said. He removed his spectacles, sucked the curly bit that rests on the ear, leaned forwards and stared quite hard at Ricky. ‘You don’t think he’s switched sides, do you, everyone? Hmmm? Do you think he’s turned?’ Daniel put his spectacles back on and stared harder. ‘He looks a bit uncomfortable if you ask me. And he’s sweating a bit as well.’
Ricky’s face flushed. ‘Of course I look uncomfortable!’ he admitted. ‘You’re surrounding me and all staring at me! And I’m always sweating! I’m a really sweaty person. You should know that.’ He wiped his hand across his brow, causing a drop of sweat to fall onto the cobbled street and into a gutter. Eventually that same drop of sweat would draw the attention of, and cause further bewilderment to, the fascinated shoal of inquisitive fish in the sea.
‘He’s right,’ said Amy. ‘He has always been sweaty. I can vouch for his sweatiness. I remember when . . .’
‘Amy!’ snapped Ricky.
Amy frowned. ‘I was going to tell them about that time many years ago when all the sweat just . . .’
‘No! It’s not important!’ said Ricky. ‘What is important is that I’m on your side!’
‘We can’t be sure, though,’ said Betty. ‘How do we know?’
‘He might have been got at,’ suggested Daniel. ‘He’s a double agent, I reckon. What if he’s in the pay of The Shadowy Group, waiting to scuttle our daring plan in favour of his own secret daring plan. Perhaps we should interrogate him.’
‘Didn’t we once have a super training session on torture and interrogation techniques?’ said Amy. ‘Remember?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Betty. ‘Ricky missed that meeting, but I suppose that would be an advantage for us. Mind you, it was a real shame about Aunt Trinny’s favourite parrot, but it should have talked. Maybe we can practice the same techniques on Ricky but without the leg waxing kit. He does look uncomfortable, doesn’t he? Look at his eyes. They’re sweating as well.’
‘What do you expect?’ moaned Ricky, pathetically wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to edge away from the others. ‘I’m loyal to the cause, honestly! Don’t torture and interrogate me, please! I can’t stand pain or the sight of blood, especially my own. How can I prove that I’m still on your side?’
Amy looked at Betty, who looked at Daniel, who looked down at Whatshisname, who had by now lost interest in all this talk of interrogation and was now far too busy licking the desolate area of his undercarriage to waste a look on anyone.
‘I tell you what, let’s give this some thought,’ suggested Betty.
‘Yes let’s,’ agreed Amy.
Daniel nodded his head and scratched his chin in thought. Amy also scratched her chin in thought, although she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to think about at such short notice and why chin-scratching helped in any way at all. Whatshisname stopped all the licking and looked up at his chums as they stood silently in thought. There were times when they were way beyond his comprehension but, nevertheless, he scratched his chin in sympathy, knowing that a useful side effect would be to dislodge a few unwary fleas.
‘Maybe this is not the time or place,’ Betty suggested. ‘Should we each keep an eye on him? Watch out for unusual behaviour, secret coded signals being passed to secret contacts, that sort of thing?’
‘What?’ exclaimed Ricky in a startled squeaky voice.
‘Or shall we just believe him?’ suggested Daniel.
‘Yes, that sounds like a good option,’ said Amy who was, as ever, keen to give her support to any unworkable compromise.
‘Good,’ said Betty. ‘Then I declare this meeting closed.’
‘Er, can I just say,’ said Ricky, ‘that you never declared it open.’
‘He’s right, you didn’t,’ agreed Amy.
‘See, he’s already trying to divide us!’ said Daniel. ‘Typical agent provocateur behaviour, if you ask me. I now think we should re-consider the intensive interrogation option.’
‘But . . .’ butted Ricky, looking really panicky, ‘this is so silly! You’re always picking on me!’ He frowned and looked thoughtfully at his shoes. ‘Is it because I’m black?’
‘Huh?’ said Betty, wide-eyed, her brain trying hard to process this new piece of information.
‘I said is it because I’m black?’ he repeated, still shoe-gazing.
‘But . . .’ said Amy, staring at Ricky, her white brother.
‘Erm . . .’ said Daniel.
‘Woof woof woof?’ said Whatshisname.
‘Ricky,’ said Betty, ‘I’m not sure how to say this, but, um, you’re not actually black. Not in the black sense.’
‘You’re at it again! You’re mocking me!’ moaned Ricky. ‘You’re all so colour prejudiced! It’s institutionalised racism, that’s what it is! I’m going to write to The President!’
‘Ricky,’ said Betty. ‘Honestly, you aren’t black. At all.’
Ricky lifted his head and looked at the others one by one. He frowned again. ‘Aren’t I?’ he asked. ‘Are you sure? Not even metaphorically?’
‘Betty’s quite right,’ confirmed Daniel. ‘You’re white . . . well, pinkish. Sort of freckly pinkish white with a hint of waxen. Just like the rest of us. If anyone is black, by rights it should be me.’
‘That’s true,’ said Ricky. ‘I do understand and am in awe of your street-talk, after all. But, if you’re all right, and I’m not even slightly or metaphorically black, then I suppose I feel a bit disappointed.’
Betty was truly lost for words for a few moments, and kept on glancing at Ricky in case he suddenly started to turn black. Then she thought it best to take control again. ‘Ricky – and everyone, of whatever creed and colour – we really have no time for all this. Maybe we can talk about Ricky’s doubtful allegiance and his apparent colour problem later on? But for now, we have to find Clarissa!’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Ricky. ‘It’ll take my mind off the disappointment. But what I didn’t mention is why I’m dressed like this, in this green swirly patterned curtain material.’
‘I did wonder,’ said Amy. ‘It’s not exactly you, is it?’
‘I will tell you,’ said Ricky, ‘even though you’ve all been quite nasty to me. I met a kindly man – who, incidentally, doesn’t care about the colour of my skin – and he’s making a big film here about a nun who sings quite a lot and he asked me to be an extra in the film, so I had to . . .’
‘Never mind that,’ interrupted Betty. ‘It all sounds quite boring. I just want to know how you found us.’
‘Old Hag told me,’ Ricky blurted out.
‘Old Hag!’ exclaimed Betty. ‘She’s the one who locked us in that dungeon cell!’
‘I know,’ said Ricky. ‘She boasted about it. So I stole her West Brom bobble hat and made her tell me where you were, otherwise the hat would get relegated, again. She told me, then went off with the Bartle fellow on her own very secret mission.’
‘Went off with Mr Bartle?’ said Amy. ‘Is that good news for our adventure?’
‘Erm, I’m not sure,’ said Daniel uncertainly.
‘She said she was going to find Uncle Quagmire and Clarissa,’ said Ricky, ‘and that Clarissa must get together with Bartle. She said she would stop Uncle Quagmire stopping them from getting together!’
‘If Ricky is telling the truth, which we don’t know for sure because he’s a bit sulky and his loyalty is suspect,’ said Betty, ‘that means . . . erm . . .’
‘Absolutely right!’ agreed Daniel. ‘And so . . .’
‘I’m not sulky!’ said Ricky, sulkily.
‘Hang on,’ whimpered Amy, equally sulkily. ‘That means what, Betty?’
Betty was suddenly irritated by Amy’s whimpering and endless stupidity. ‘You can be so endlessly stupid and unbelievably silly sometimes. It means that, erm, um, it means that we now have to find Old Hag and stop her stopping Uncle Quagmire from stopping them getting together. So, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!’
Without any significant hesitation, the children and Whatshisname all scampered off into the distance towards the Hotel Bristol1.
Now, outside the castle, it all went very quiet. Very quiet indeed.
Very quiet.
Due to the fact that there were now no visible characters to provide an acceptable end-of-chapter cliffhanger, and there was no action whatsoever (apart, that is, from a rather cute and inquisitive tabby kitten which had wandered into view, and cliffhangers that involve wandering tabby kittens are never that enthralling) this left no option than to end the chapter right here.
Which would have been fine, had the cute little tabby kitten not inquisitively pawed a spring-loaded inhumane mouse trap that had been placed just outside the castle gate in order to capture inhumane mice. The trap snapped shut and the cute little kitten yowled and mewed, then scrabbled around desperately trying to shake it off. The yowling attracted the attention of a kindly old man across the street. The kindly old man, whose hundredth birthday was tomorrow, threw his precious shopping to one side and hobbled towards the kitten, but was accidentally and spectacularly killed by a speeding limousine. On the back seat of the limousine were a top government minister and his overly-attentive mistress, a lady who looked remarkably like the postman from chapter one, in a rather fetching cerise skirt and frilly pink blouse. They were both questioned by the ambitious and incorruptible policeman who suddenly appeared at the scene along with many curious and upstanding bystanders. This resulted in the beginning of a long period of government sleaze allegations and expenses scandals, denials and resignations, a dramatic fall in the sale of duck houses, and eventually the downfall of the government itself, which in turn prompted the exposure of corruption in many other European countries’ governments and, thereafter, the mass resignation of politicians the world over, in a global war on sleaze.
But apart from the rather cute and inquisitive tabby kitten wandering into view, it was all very quiet indeed.
Chapter Sixteen
In which they all get a bit motivated and do some crouching; Whatshisname gains a nice collar; they meet a kindly man called Bob who may or may not want to join The Secret Five; Ricky becomes aghast and slightly agog; they meet Clarissa the stunt nun; other stuff happens, but not all at once.
They were all very excited about this new phase of their adventure as they hurried towards the Hotel Bristol in Salzburg, near Austria. But, it has to be reported, Amy and Ricky were definitely still sulking beneath all the excitement.
‘I’m not sulking, you know,’ Amy whispered to Ricky.
‘Nor am I,’ whispered Ricky. ‘Actually, I’m both excited and, at the same time, rather fed up. Tell you what, shall you and I start another Secret Five? The New Improved Secret Five. With added zest, but without the others? We could recruit.’
Another Secret Five? Amy wasn’t sure. She did feel some comfort in belonging. Belonging mattered. And she hadn’t yet completed her training and certainly hadn’t achieved as much as the others. For instance, she’d never managed a stream of consciousness. Never. Isn’t it sad when you think about it never never ever have I had a stream of consciousness after all this time oh I do miss my hamster gordon and his little ways oh and my word they’re all looking at me strangely as though I’m not all there what’s that noise I wonder if I can sneak back to the dungeon I felt safe there oh why are they looking at me oh those lovely dark eyes of daniel’s I wonder if I’ll ever find a boy I like before I get all saggy oh oh is that a bit of girly wind oh oh oh that’s not very good maybe they’ll not notice oooh is this a st
ream oh how scrummy a stream of cons. . .
‘Amy?’ Betty said.
‘Yes?’ Amy squeaked.
‘Are you . . . were you . . .’ Betty said, frowning.
‘No, not ever, ever,’ Amy snapped. ‘Ever. Anyway, I can’t.’
‘Hmmm, yes, I can believe that,’ Betty agreed.
They hurried onwards. The hotel was in sight. Amy suddenly felt good. Really good. Another tick in the box. (Actually, the first tick in the box.) Maybe The Original Secret Five wasn’t all that bad. She’d try and persuade Ricky that a breakaway group wasn’t a good idea. She felt surprisingly confident and boldly led the others to the front of the big hotel.
‘Everyone!’ she boldly said, in an effort to motivate the restless troops. ‘Let’s crouch here, underneath the hotel restaurant window!’ This is it! The new Amy, full of motivation, confident, self-assured, cool, assertive.
And the others obeyed! They dutifully crouched under the hotel restaurant window, making full use of the well-practiced covert surveillance techniques which were a fundamental part of Secret Five basic training. Whatshisname also crouched, although to an untrained onlooker it might have looked as though he was napping for a few sticks.
‘Amy,’ said Betty, ‘you’re probably the most dispensable and minimally gifted of us all, so you peek in through the window.’
‘Why? Why me?’ Amy moaned, instantly losing her motivation, confidence, self-assuredness, coolness and assertiveness. In fact, the only discernable ness she now had left was mellowness, and Secret Five adventure tactics had no prerequisite for mellowness.
‘Why do we have to have all this why why why why why?’ Betty moaned. ‘It’s so irritating. Why do you do it? Hmmm? Why? Why?’
‘Just take a look, Amy,’ encouraged Daniel. ‘It’d be easier for us all to do as Betty says.’
Amy frowned in protest which, sadly, went unnoticed. She uncrouched a little, and took a discernibly mellow peek through the window.
‘I can see Mr Bartle,’ she said, ‘with Old Hag at a table, eating and talking. No, wait . . . they’re just eating now . . . no, now they’re just talking . . . they’re eating again . . . talking . . . eating. . . eating and talking . . .’
The Secret Five and the Stunt Nun Legacy Page 12