by Pat Hutchins
‘You’ll never get away with it,’ Mr Coatsworth muttered grimly. ‘Once the police realize their mistake and release Mr Jones –’
Miss Parker’s harsh laugh interrupted him. ‘By that time,’ she added softly, ‘I will be many, many miles away. And now,’ she continued, as they stepped out on to the pavement, ‘for our little bus ride.
‘Remember,’ Miss Parker hissed, ‘we are expected in one hour. One hour,’ she repeated, glancing round at the children who were trying to decide whether to make a run for it or not. ‘All of us. If we are not there in that time, it will be very, very unpleasant for your Miss Barker.’
The children, not liking the tone of her voice, gave up any thoughts of escape and reluctantly followed her and Mr Coatsworth to the car park.
‘Do you think she’s bluffing?’ Matthew whispered to Morgan. ‘Do you think she really has got Miss Barker prisoner?’
Morgan nodded. ‘Yes,’ he whispered back. ‘It was Miss Barker’s voice all right. And don’t forget Polly and Peter said they’d seen her in Paris. Anyway,’ he added, ‘Miss Parker has her passport.’
‘What if it was just a recording of Miss Barker’s voice?’ Matthew asked. ‘Polly and Peter could have been mistaken. And the passport could have been a forged one.’
‘What I can’t understand,’ said Sacha, as Morgan gasped, ‘is why she left the Mona Lisa for Mr Jones.’
‘Of course!’ Morgan cried. ‘That’s it!’ He lowered his voice as Miss Parker turned and looked at him. ‘She didn’t leave him the Mona Lisa!’ he hissed excitedly.
‘But you just accused her of it!’ Sacha protested as Miss Parker started pushing the children in front of them on to the bus.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Morgan slowly. ‘She left Mr Jones a Mona Lisa. Not the Mona Lisa!’
‘Crikey!’ said Matthew, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You mean she left Mr Jones a fake?’
Morgan nodded. ‘To put the police off the scent, I suppose. Until the real Mona Lisa was safely out of the way.’
Matthew and Sacha looked at each other. ‘Harry the Forger,’ whispered Sacha. ‘He did the fake! That’s why he was following her around!’
‘I’d like to know where the real one is,’ Morgan muttered, as Miss Parker, having grabbed Avril’s balloons, released them into the air and pushed her on to the bus, then turned and motioned to the three boys to get on.
‘Now,’ said Miss Parker, when everyone was on the bus. ‘Château St Germain! I will direct you,’ she added.
Mr Coatsworth sighed wearily and started the engine.
‘Château St Germain,’ Morgan whispered. ‘I wonder if that’s the same château the doctor visited?’
Matthew sighed too, as the bus started forward, and the silent children gazed miserably out of the windows. ‘I expect we’ll find out soon,’ he murmured.
18. The Journey
The children were much too miserable to enjoy the ride. The huge, stately buildings that they passed as they drove through the centre of Paris didn’t impress them at all. The pretty cobbled streets and the elegant houses with their grey slate roofs dotted with attic windows didn’t excite them, either, and in the fading afternoon light, the wide avenues lined with chestnut trees and pavement cafés seemed positively ominous to the children.
Soon they were on a main road passing tall concrete blocks of apartments. The blocks gradually gave way to scrubby-looking fields and then, quite suddenly, the bus turned and they were in a dark country lane. Miss Parker turned to face the children.
‘We are close now,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘Miss Barker will be most pleased that you will not be late. Left here,’ she added to Mr Coatsworth.
She faced the children again. ‘Remember,’ she said softly, as the children murmured amongst themselves, ‘you must act like good little English children who have invited been to stay the night at this beautiful château. Miss Barker will be sorry extremely if you misbehave.’ She felt in her handbag and held up a tiny gun. ‘And you might be, also,’ she threatened as the children stared at it in dismay.
Mr Coatsworth, who had opened his mouth to protest, closed it again when he saw the gun. Shrugging helplessly, he swung the bus into the turning. A gateway was in front of them and through the closed iron gates they could just see the shape of a big house at the end of the drive.
‘You will wait here,’ said Miss Parker as the bus stopped.
‘What shall we do?’ Morgan asked desperately. Miss Parker had dropped the gun back into her handbag, climbed out of the bus and rung the bell of the lodge house next to the gates.
‘There’s not much we can do,’ said Mr Coatsworth grimly, interrupting the children, who had all started talking at once.
‘Couldn’t we make a run for it,’ Sacha whispered, ‘and try and contact the police?’
Mr Coatsworth shook his head. ‘You heard what she said about Miss Barker. We can’t risk it.’
‘Maybe she wouldn’t miss one of us,’ Akbar said. ‘I could slip out now while she’s not looking.’
Mr Coatsworth shook his head again, watching Miss Parker, who seemed to be arguing with an old man who had emerged from the lodge house. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ he said. ‘She’s quite likely to use that gun!’
The iron gates creaked open, and Miss Parker nodded to Mr Coatsworth, who drove the bus forward along the gravelled drive.
‘Look!’ Morgan whispered, grabbing Matthew’s pen from his hand and nodding to the big American car parked in front of the château.
He quickly wrote the registration number on the back of his hand.
‘I thought we’d bump into him again,’ he murmured, as the doctor appeared in the doorway.
Miss Parker pulled the gun from her bag and jerked it towards the bus door. ‘Everybody out,’ she said. ‘And no tricks!’
She led them into an enormous room, where dust sheets covered the bulky furniture. They followed her through several smaller rooms, then through a passageway and down a flight of stone steps to a damp cellar. The doctor trailed behind them, holding a gun. She stopped by a door where two men were playing cards.
‘Oh!’ cried Jessica, as one of the men looked up. ‘It’s him! The man who stole the Mona Lisa! And me,’ she added, clutching Mr Coatsworth’s arm tightly.
The man grinned and pulled a key from his pocket.
‘And now,’ said Miss Parker, unlocking the door and indicating with the gun for Mr Coatsworth and the children to enter the room, ‘to meet your precious Miss Barker!’
And before their eyes could get accustomed to the dim light, they were pushed roughly into the cellar.
19. Prisoners!
The only light in the cellar came from a single naked bulb. Through the gloom they saw their headmistress. She jumped to her feet when she saw them.
‘Oh! My darlings!’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms round as many of the children as they would encompass.
‘Jessica! Luke! Avril! Akbar!’ she cried, lifting them up and tossing them in the air before catching them and pressing them to her ample bosom.
‘She didn’t harm you, my little lambs, did she?’ she asked anxiously, still clutching Akbar and glaring at Miss Parker, who stood in the doorway with a thin smile on her lips.
Suddenly Miss Barker screamed and dropped Akbar. ‘If that creature comes anywhere near me,’ she shrieked, stabbing a finger at the doctor, who was peeping behind the door, ‘I’ll flatten him!’
She grabbed Jessica and Avril, who were nearest to her, as Akbar, still trying to get his breath back, crawled over to join the rest of the children, who had backed out of reach of Miss Barker’s outstretched arms and were panting in a corner.
‘Never put your trust in a man,’ she said, gazing earnestly into Avril and Jessica’s eyes before hugging them again. ‘Promise me. Make them promise!’ she implored Mr Coatsworth.
Jessica and Avril tried to reply, but couldn’t, as Miss Barker had their faces pressed so firmly against her stom
ach that they were beginning to suffocate. (In fact if Avril hadn’t been a wrestling fan and thumped Miss Barker on the back the way she’d seen the Black Mombassa do it on TV, they probably would have.)
‘We promise!’ Avril and Jessica gasped, as Miss Barker loosened her grip of them. Mr Coatsworth cleared his throat.
‘Er, how did they get you here?’ he asked timidly.
‘Yes,’ drawled Miss Parker, ‘do tell them. It amuses me. But hurry.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I have a plane to catch. It was most thoughtful of you,’ she added, holding Miss Barker’s passport up, ‘to have an American visa in your passport.’ She laughed harshly, twirling the gun in her other hand, as Miss Barker, swearing softly to herself, leaped at her.
‘That woman!’ Miss Barker exploded, shaking her fist at Miss Parker as Mr Coatsworth pulled her back. ‘And, that, that snake in the grass!’ she shrieked, looking over Miss Parker’s shoulder, trying to spot the doctor, who had dodged behind the door again.
‘Fooled me! Deceived me! Took me for a ride. Oooh!’ she added, her arms flailing as she struggled to free herself from Mr Coatsworth’s restraining hold.
‘If only I could get my hands on them, I’d tear them limb from limb, I’d, I’d …’ Her voice faltered. Unable to find a description of what she’d do and overcome with emotion, she burst into tears.
‘It all happened,’ she sobbed, ‘when I went into that little bookshop off Charing Cross Road to buy a postcard of the Mona Lisa. They were there.’ She nodded at Miss Parker and the doctor, who was peeping over the French teacher’s shoulder again.
‘The rats! And little Harry.’
‘Who?’ asked Akbar, who had got his breath back.
‘Me,’ said a voice from the darkness.
‘Crikey!’ whispered Morgan, as a figure emerged from the shadows behind Miss Barker. ‘Harry the Forger!’
‘Look out, Miss!’ yelled Avril, rushing towards Miss Barker. ‘He’s behind you!’
‘It’s all right, Avril, precious,’ sniffed Miss Barker, and before Avril had time to move backwards, she was enveloped in Miss Barker’s arms again.
‘But he’s a forger!’ Avril’s muffled voice protested. ‘He’s in league with Miss Parker!’
The rest of Class 3 stared at Miss Barker in surprise, as she nodded.
‘He does do very nice copies,’ she admitted, ‘but I wouldn’t exactly call him a forger.’ She looked fondly at Harry, who blushed, and lowered his eyes. ‘But he’s not in league with that woman,’ she continued, still gazing at Harry. ‘Not any more. Although when I first met him he did have an occasional business deal with them,’ she added sternly, wagging a finger at Harry, who shook his head repentantly.
‘Anyway, as I was saying, I went into the bookshop to buy a postcard of the Mona Lisa to bring to school to show you. Then I saw Harry here with those two,’ she rolled her eyes in the direction of the door, ‘buying every book on Leonardo that they could lay their hands on. Harry then asked me if he could buy the postcard from me, as it was the only one left in the shop and he wanted to do a little copy of it. I, of course, said I couldn’t part with it, as I was taking Class 3 to Paris to see the original Mona Lisa, and wanted my children to see what they would be looking at. Well, Harry left it at that, but those two skunks over there suddenly became very interested in me and asked me if I travelled a lot and had I been to America.’
Miss Barker sighed and clutched Avril even tighter.
‘Of course I told them that I’d just had my American visa stamped in my passport as I was planning a holiday in Las Vegas in the summer.’
‘But how did she get your passport?’ Morgan asked, as Miss Barker stopped for breath.
‘And how did you get to France without it?’ Matthew added.
Miss Barker sighed again.
‘I’m afraid, darling hearts, that I have a confession to make. That overripe camembert over there,’ she jerked her head towards the doctor again, ‘invited me out for dinner, asked me what my interests were, and when I told him how passionately I loved musicals and how I was hoping to get to see the new Jess Conrad musical in Paris, he told me the show was fully booked up but he had two tickets for the opening night.’ She shook her head. ‘And like a fool I believed him.’
She glanced down at Avril and, noticing her threshing feet, gently detached her from her bosom.
‘But how did they get you here?’ Matthew insisted.
‘I bet they tied you up, and smuggled you into France in the boot of a car!’ Jessica whispered.
‘Oh, Jessica!’ Miss Barker wailed, reaching out to her. ‘It was first class Air France and champagne all the way! It’s all my fault,’ she added, as Jessica did a neat sidestep, pushing Matthew forward instead. ‘Everything is my fault,’ she cried, grabbing Matthew as he stumbled.
‘Poor Mr Jones is held by the police because of me. You’re held prisoner because of me. I’m a very foolish woman.’ She blew her nose loudly, pinning Matthew down with her free arm.
‘Doctor Jekyll over there, having buttered me up, suggested I go to the musical in Paris with him as his elderly mother, whom he’d planned to take, had twisted her ankle and wouldn’t be able to make it. Of course I told him that I couldn’t possibly as it would mean taking most of the day off on Thursday to get to Paris and most of Friday morning to get back, as the musical finished too late to catch a flight back on Thursday, and who would take my little angels for French? Then that viper over there, who had joined us for coffee, said she was a trained teacher and would be happy to take over my class for two days until I got back.
‘Oh!’ she cried, bursting into tears again. ‘What a fool I was! I fell for their little trick and as I was owed two days’ holiday, I rang the school secretary to tell her I’d arranged for a replacement teacher for two days but would be back at school in time for the school trip. Which, of course, I expected to be. Then that vixen arrived at the school, told the secretary that I had telephoned her to ask if she would take my place on the school trip to Paris as I’d been taken to hospital with suspected appendicitis and expected to be in quite a few days. And, of course, she told her that I’d forgotten to mention which hospital it was. So, like a lamb to the slaughter, I was brought to this place.’
‘There! There!’ said Mr Coatsworth soothingly as she burst into fresh floods of tears.
‘He was so charming on the journey.’ She sobbed. ‘I didn’t suspect a thing when he asked me if I’d like to pop in and see his aged mother at her château before going to the theatre. It wasn’t until he got me here, locked me up and took my passport that I realized I’d been tricked. And all he wanted was me out of the way so that creature could take my place on the school trip. It was the perfect situation for them. No one would suspect a teacher in charge of a class of schoolchildren of stealing the Mona Lisa!’
‘They suspected Mr Jones,’ Morgan murmured.
‘They planted the copy that Harry did on him,’ Miss Barker sobbed. ‘They realized that if the police thought they’d got the Mona Lisa back, they’d call off the manhunt, which would give them time to get out of the country with the real one. Harry told me. You see, poor Harry was double-crossed too.’
Harry nodded gloomily.
‘All Harry did was to sell paintings to them. I’m sure he wasn’t aware that they were selling them to galleries as the genuine thing,’ she added, glancing at Harry, who shook his head vigorously.
‘After all, he can’t help it if Leonardo and Rembrandt paint in the same style as he does.’
Miss Parker laughed sarcastically, but Miss Barker ignored her.
‘Of course when she made off with his beautiful likeness of the Mona Lisa without paying him for it, he was very upset. And when he heard that woman say she would replace me at school and discovered that she intended to come to Paris on the school trip, he put two and two together and followed the school bus to the ferry.’
‘But she wasn’t on the school bus,’ said Sacha.
Miss
Barker shook her head. ‘No. She had to meet that rat of a doctor to get my passport from him first.’
‘But why?’ asked Akbar.
‘Because she’s a crook!’ cried Miss Barker, glaring at Miss Parker.
‘She didn’t dare travel on her own passport in case the French police were on to her. That’s why she called herself Miss Parker, so anyone seeing the name Barker on the passport and hearing her addressed as Miss Parker would assume it was the same name! That’s why she dyed her hair, to fool the passport people! Anyway,’ she continued, ‘Harry, assuming they would be on the ferry, boarded it too. Of course he recognized her and went to ask her for his painting back!’
‘That’s why he was creeping up to them,’ said Jessica. ‘We thought he was trying to kidnap her!’
‘Of course, when they saw him,’ Miss Barker went on, ‘they lured him to a deserted spot on the boat. Then they tied him up, gagged him and dumped him into a lifeboat. Poor Harry didn’t free himself until the ferry had returned to Dover. But, still determined to find them, he took the next ferry to Calais, which wasn’t until the next morning, went to Paris and quite rightly guessed that the first place a group of English children would want to visit would be the Eiffel Tower. Where, as you know, he spotted you.’
Miss Barker stopped for breath again. ‘He didn’t want to alarm you by telling you that your new French teacher was a crook, so he pretended he wanted to deliver some flowers to her. But when he did eventually get to see her, old Ratface here,’ she indicated the doctor, who ducked behind Miss Parker, ‘was in the hotel room with her. No doubt looking for a suitable hiding place for the real Mona Lisa. Of course poor Harry didn’t have a chance, and Ratface brought him here with a gun in his back! Then Ratface tricked me into talking to you on the telephone,’ she finished, glancing at Morgan, before looking beseechingly at the rest of the children.