‘What is it, Dad?’
‘I keep thinking that if he was all right, surely he would have called us. He would always call, wouldn’t he? Especially if he knew that we were worried.’
‘Of course. But aren’t the power lines still down in a lot of Peru?’ I asked.
‘Actually I think mostly the power’s back to normal, apart from some parts of Lima which were badly affected.’
‘Maybe he’s somewhere far out though, where there’s no signal.’ I could hear the desperation in my voice.
‘We need to be patient, as painful as it is. I just hope that Jack has enough medication to last him. How are you feeling about going to school? I can’t believe it’s already Monday.’
‘I’ll be fine. It’s distracting at least.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Dad, we’ll be OK. We will,’ I said, putting my arms around his neck. I don’t know what made me say that.
‘I keep thinking there must be something I haven’t thought of, you know? Another person who might be able to help.’
‘You’ve honestly done everything you can. And people know about Jack from the news. If they thought they could help, they’d let you know, wouldn’t they?’
‘You’re right, Flick. Thank you for saying that.’
I poured myself a glass of orange juice and went upstairs to get changed. I couldn’t resist checking in Jack’s room. I knew instinctively that nobody had been there since I’d visited with Keira. I drew a new branch for Grandma Sylvie, to add to Sutty’s and Manfy’s. I added smaller branches for the photograph of her and Grandpa, the trick that Jack had played on her, and the story the market-seller had told about the key.
I took the key out of my pocket, carefully hanging it around my neck, and shut my eyes. I knew it probably wouldn’t work, because the key didn’t belong to me, but I still held it tightly in the palm of my hand and wished as hard as I possibly could that Jack would be found and that he’d come home safe. I knew how silly it sounded, but Grandma’s wish had come true, so there was a tiny smidgen of hope that mine would too. I chose to keep the necklace on under my shirt collar for good luck.
On the way into school, Keira linked elbows with me.
‘I did some more investigating of my own. I went to see Grandma Sylvie.’
‘Seriously?’
I filled Keira in on last night’s visit.
‘Aha, so it’s not her,’ she said, disappointed.
‘No. She’s not S.F. At least not the S.F. that Jack was thinking of.’
‘You’ve made progress, though,’ she observed.
‘How?’
‘Well, we know from two different sources how much Jack loved playing the guitar. We also know that he enjoyed matchmaking. And most importantly, you know where the key originally came from. That could be crucial.’
‘True. We’ve gathered lots of information, now we need to sift through it to see which bits are useful and to try to somehow fit them all together – that’s the hard part. But we can do it. I know we can.’ I thought of mine and Jack’s detective partnership and how positive he always was about us finding a solution to every riddle.
‘Hey, I was right about Finny, or should I say, Mr Shane Finnegan – another S.F. Shall we speak to him today? I found out on the school website that he teaches orchestra until 5 p.m. I can message my mum and say we’re going to After School Club and get her to pick us up at 5.30 p.m. That way we can catch him before he leaves. What d’you reckon?’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ I didn’t feel hugely hopeful about speaking to him, but Keira was so enthusiastic that I couldn’t say no.
Later that morning we had English and I was relieved that we were continuing our detective crime fiction. When I was writing Lady Abigail and Margot’s story, I forgot about everything else. It was as though the rest of the world didn’t exist. Mrs Emmett caught my eye and gave me a reassuring smile, but she said nothing and I was grateful to her.
I was glad to dive back into my writing.
Lady Abigail sat in the corner of the dark sitting room. One of the maids scuttled in every half hour or so to ask whether she would like the fire lighted, but she told them firmly that she did not. She felt that she no longer deserved the comfort of light and warmth. She should have held Margot’s hand in the crowd. She should have kept a better eye on her.
Margot had always been such a badly behaved girl, not like her friends’ daughters. She would get into trouble by playing tricks on some of the other children, she’d rip her best Sunday clothes when climbing trees and would get lost in public places because some curiosity had taken her fancy. But this time was different. The disappearance wasn’t Margot’s fault. It was clearly the fault of her abductor, who had only left the bell symbol as a clue.
When she saw it there, pinned to the inside of the beret, Lady Abigail’s first thoughts flew to Edwin and Louisa Bell – old friends of her husband’s who lived off Thames Street. They’d been nearly as wealthy as the Jacksons themselves a few years ago, but had lost their fortune when Edwin’s brewery went under and were now almost bankrupt.
They had been extremely kind to her when her husband died, and Lady Abigail refused to believe that they could have anything to do with her daughter going missing. But after getting the police on the case, she felt utterly useless, and she thought that the Bells were worth a visit, if only as friends to confide in. Although they were younger than her, Margot had always enjoyed playing with the Bell girls, Georgina and Stephanie.
As she pulled her coat around her and made her way slowly in the direction of Thames Street, she realised guiltily that she hadn’t even visited Louisa since the family had fallen on hard times, six months ago now. How easy it was to forget people when they no longer made an appearance at your dinner parties.
When her old friend opened the door, Lady Abigail almost didn’t recognise her. Louisa looked so much thinner, the colour drained from her cheeks. The house was in the process of being packed up – there were crates, trunks and bags everywhere.
‘Oh Abigail, how good of you to visit. I apologise for the mess. We’re moving to Welwyn, you see. It’s a country cottage and all that we can afford at the moment. What brings you here?’
When Abigail told her the news about Margot, Louisa’s eyes narrowed with concern.
‘Margot’s gone?’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without her these past few months.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Bringing her old clothes for my girls to wear, helping me do the laundry and carry the groceries home when we let Mary go. She even packed some of these crates for us.’
‘Margot did this?’ asked Lady Abigail. ‘You mean, my Margot?’
‘Yes, you didn’t know? Please let me know if you hear any news. I will be worried sick.’
Before she could stop herself, Lady Abigail pulled out the red beret from her handbag and pointed to the tiny drawing of a bell pinned to its inside.
‘It must be a message from whoever’s captured her,’ she said. ‘But the bobbies haven’t found any clues.’ She could feel hot tears stinging her eyes.
‘The bell is on the Elliott coat of arms, is it not?’ asked Louisa. ‘Though I can’t see how they would have anything to do with this.’
‘Maybe they know something? Anything is worth a try.’ She jotted down the address in the notebook she always carried around in her purse and set off once more into the snowy streets.
‘Right. Your writing time is now up,’ said Mrs Emmett. ‘You can continue at home. I’ve had a quick look at our intranet and can see that one story is a favourite – the story of the lost girl, Margot. Felicity, do you want to carry on reading? I think a lot of us are keen to hear what happens next.’
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear standing in front of the class. ‘I’m sorry – not today, if that’s OK. Maybe next lesson?’ I mumbled. ‘I need to tidy up a few bits of the story.’
‘No problem,’ said Mrs Em
mett quickly. ‘Who would like to volunteer?’
A girl called Vera, who was new, raised her hand and we listened to her murder mystery set in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
‘Come on, read your story,’ said a quiet voice behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know that it belonged to Duncan. I felt his gaze again, and this time I stared right back at him. His cheeks reddened and I felt a strange satisfaction at having caught him in the act.
After lunch we had geography, and were starting a new project about building a school in a remote part of the developing world. We had to choose a country and a region, and then research its people, politics and natural resources. We were asked to think about the challenges that we might come up against when planning our new school.
I decided to choose Peru, even though I worried that the tiny drummer might raise his sticks. I typed ‘Arequipa’ into the search bar and zoomed in on the area of the Peruvian Andes that appeared on the map. I discovered that it was a city with beautiful white buildings made of volcanic stone and framed by three volcanoes. I imagined Jack exploring with his new friends, struggling under the weight of his rucksack. He was never good at packing light. He always thought of things that might be useful, like a big ball of rubber bands, or an old wind-up film camera, which he insisted on bringing on holiday to France.
On the national tourist board website, I found that the area was close to the picturesque Salinas National Park and had plenty of fertile land for growing crops. Education was compulsory and free up to secondary school, but apparently there were many remote regions where it was not known if children actually attended school. There were some schools being built in these areas by charity organisations, but it seemed as if there was more demand than schools being built.
I flicked through the images of Peru that came up in the online gallery, and saw photos of the Inca ruins, the Nazca lines (huge patterns in the rock made by ancient civilisations), and backpackers trekking through the rainforest. In one image of a traveller, I thought I saw Jack’s grinning face and quickly moved on to another website.
‘For your homework,’ Mr Bemowski said, ‘I’d like you to prepare the first part of your PowerPoint, which will give an overview of the country you’ve selected. Next week, I’ll select five of you to present, and then I’ll give you individual feedback through the usual online homework system, so please be sure to submit everything by 7 p.m. on Sunday.’
I found myself strangely looking forward to this project. I couldn’t wait to go home and get stuck into the research. I could even use the photo album that Grandma had given me as one of my sources. I had such a connection to Peru, and yet I knew so little about it. And I needed to change that fast – because somewhere on its vast sand dunes, among the rainforest rivers and valleys of lush greenery, or maybe in one of the bustling cities with their unusual buildings and architecture, was my brother. And wherever he was, I was determined to find him.
Ten
When the final bell went that day, we headed for the library to wait until the end of orchestra practice.
‘Why don’t we go to Sutty’s to see if Simon is there?’ Keira asked.
But I couldn’t face seeing both him and Finny in one day, so I persuaded Keira to do some geography homework with me instead.
I could tell the entire time that her mind was drifting and as five o’clock struck she pulled me in the direction of the school hall.
‘Where are we going? Aren’t we supposed to be waiting outside the staffroom for Mr Finnegan?’
‘What would you do without me, Flick?’ she asked, winking. ‘He’s obviously not going to be in the staffroom. In fact, he’s hardly ever there. Mostly he’s in one of the music rooms or the school hall, doing band practice.’
Keira was proving to be an excellent detective herself. I was so glad to have her working with me on this.
I’d seen Mr Finnegan, a.k.a. Finny, many times before, but I’d never actually spoken to him. Finny had long, dark hair tied in a ponytail, and a wispy beard that seemed in urgent need of grooming. He was extremely tall and thin, so that whenever he sat down he looked as if he was folding himself into quarters.
He had a reputation for being adored by his students and I’d heard how he would high-five his class when they’d played a piece particularly well. We waited for ages at the back of the hall as he finished talking to members of the orchestra, giving them tips on different aspects of their performance.
It was only when he picked his bag up to leave that Keira pulled me towards him.
‘Hi,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’m Keira and this is Felicity, Jack Chesterford’s sister.’
Finny’s face immediately fell. ‘I’m so sorry about what’s happened,’ he said gently.
I wasn’t expecting such sympathy, so I awkwardly stood there, not knowing what to say. Luckily Keira came to my rescue, as she always did.
‘Do you mind having a quick chat with us? Obviously Flick is missing Jack a lot, and we thought… that it would help to talk with you about his music. She doesn’t have any of his recordings at home, do you, Flick?’
‘Erm… no.’ I wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but Finny seemed to take the bait.
‘Absolutely, have a seat,’ he said, motioning to two vacant orchestra chairs.
I sat down where one of the violin players had been sitting, and Keira perched on a piano stool.
‘Where to start? I mean, the guy really loves his guitar. Seriously, he has an ear for music. When he came to me for the first time, I was sure that he’d been playing for years. He did “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica and I was completely speechless. Do you know it?’
We both shook our heads, but if Finny’s opinion of us went down a notch, he didn’t show it.
‘Well, anyway, he played it and it Totally. Blew. Me. Away. And then when he said that he was mainly self-taught and had only bought his first guitar a couple of months before, I didn’t believe him to begin with. I’m not normally one for complimenting people, you know. I say things as I see them. But with him, I knew that he had talent. I asked whether he wanted to be a session musician.’
‘You mean like someone who tours with a band, playing guitar?’ I asked. Maybe Grandma Sylvie had been wrong?
‘Exactly.’
‘And what did he say?’ The faint drumming was starting at the base of my skull. I recalled sitting under Jack’s skylight and him showing me a heavy magnifying glass that he’d found in an antique shop. I remember distinctly that he said, ‘I want to be a detective. Loads of people are doctors, lawyers, bankers. But when did you last meet a real, excellent detective?’ It struck me that Dad wouldn’t like this career choice, but I didn’t say anything at the time.
‘He said that it wasn’t for him,’ said Finny.
‘He wants to be a detective,’ I surprised myself by saying it out loud. Jack’s secret, released into the open, suddenly sounded ridiculous.
‘Really?’ Finny raised an eyebrow. ‘He told me he wanted to be a teacher.’
‘Like you?’ asked Keira. I noticed that she’d been looking at Finny with admiration and swooping her braids behind her back every time she spoke to him.
‘Well, not so much like me. I teach sixth-form music and university students in the evenings. He wanted to teach younger kids. Before he left, he signed up to do a course in Music Therapy next year.’
‘Music Therapy?’
‘Yeah, you know, teaching young children with various difficulties to overcome them through music.’
I was dumbstruck. I wondered if Dad had any idea that Jack didn’t intend to take up his uni place to study Law, as planned. Dad had even arranged extra work experience at his chambers before Jack was due to start.
‘Jack worked with a young lad called Will at Little Angels which I think inspired him.’
This part I’d heard. Jack had talked about the lunchtime reading sessions in Year Thirteen that they’d been doing with kids at the nursery down the road
. He’d particularly taken to Will, who was four and was delayed with speaking. Jack would tell me over dinner how it took him several weeks to persuade Will to say his name.
‘I honestly thought he couldn’t speak,’ Jack said, showing me a picture that Will had drawn him, which had pride of place on his noticeboard. ‘But it turned out that he was just nervous. He couldn’t bear to talk to anyone he didn’t know, and all the lights and sounds overwhelmed him. As soon as I got him to chill out, he got much better.’
I realised now that I’d never asked Jack how he’d managed that, but I had a feeling his guitar had been involved.
‘Did he sing to him?’ I asked, not quite able to picture Jack keeping a straight face while singing to a room full of little terrors.
‘I think he took him out of the classroom into a one-to-one room and played to him. Eventually Will was intrigued and started asking questions about his guitar. Then he opened up a bit and eventually Jack encouraged him to read aloud. Everyone was amazed, most of all Will’s teacher.’
‘So he definitely said that he wanted to teach?’ Keira asked. She’d stopped twisting her hair and was slowly tapping her foot on the floor, which she always did when she was thinking hard about something.
‘I think that was his plan, yeah.’
‘And did he say what age group?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure if he’d thought that far ahead. I suppose he loved working with younger kids, so my bet would be on that,’ said Finny. I could see that, like me, he was confused by the way the conversation was going. He started packing away his own guitar and I sensed that he was itching to leave. My gaze fell on the tiny key-shaped hole in his guitar case and I remembered the final question I needed to ask him.
‘Do you know anything about a key? One that Jack wore on a chain around his neck?’
For the first time, I saw a glimmer of recognition.
The Key to Finding Jack Page 7