Alice-Miranda Takes the Lead

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘It most certainly is. I warned you, Pluss, about all those weekly quizzes. I told you they weren’t necessary and that one day you might come unstuck. But you assured me. Your teaching methods were inscrutable. You were the best teacher this place had ever seen. Well, look what you’ve done.’ Professor Winterbottom’s head looked like a pressure cooker about to explode.

  There was a knock on the door. It opened and Miss Quigley entered.

  ‘Sir, may I interrupt?’ she asked. ‘I’ve found something.’

  ‘Well, unless it will save the school …’ Professor Winterbottom sighed so deeply it felt like a draught in the room.

  ‘Well, sir, I think you will be very happy to see this.’ Miss Quigley unfolded the original copy of the Fayle School Charter onto her boss’s football-pitch-sized desk. She produced the magnifying glass from her skirt pocket and pointed her manicured finger at the very bottom of the page.

  ‘There, sir.’ Wallace Winterbottom and Herman Pluss leaned in closely to look.

  ‘I can’t see a thing. It looks like a squiggly line,’ the headmaster complained.

  ‘That’s what I thought too. But sir, if you look closely –’ She held the magnifying glass over the end of the line and read aloud. ‘Clause thirty of the Fayle School Charter can be revoked at any time, at the discretion of the heir to the Fayle estate. In the event that there is no living heir, the school must close and be sold, with the proceeds going to the Queen’s Trust for Children.’

  ‘Heavens, that’s it!’ Professor Winterbottom grabbed Miss Quigley in a bear-like embrace. ‘Woman, you’re a genius!’ He then quickly let her go, embarrassed by his uncharacteristic outburst of affection. ‘But how did we miss this?’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s not on the charter in the foyer. I suspect that the edge of the page was cut off to fit in the frame,’ Miss Quigley remarked. ‘From the looks of this dusty old thing, it hasn’t been out of the safe in many years.’

  ‘But who is the heir?’ Wallace Winterbottom paced the floor. Not that it was an easy thing to do in his office, which was crammed full of furniture, books and other paraphernalia, including a rather large cabinet containing a bizarre collection of taxidermic birds. He began to think out loud. ‘Fayle was founded by Frederick Fayle and then the next headmaster was his only son George and then I think the next head was George’s son Erasmus.’

  ‘Sir, if I may say something?’ Professor Pluss asked.

  The headmaster was terse. ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t Erasmus, his wife and his daughter perish in some terrible accident? I seem to recall when I was a boy and lived in Downsfordvale, there was a story about the headmaster of Fayle and his family passing in tragic circumstances. I can’t remember much else.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read about that somewhere too. There was another man who came in then. The headmaster after Erasmus was Rigby Lloyd. You’d remember him. He employed me. And that’s how I became head master so early on. Rigby was working in here one night when the poor fellow dropped dead of a heart attack.’

  ‘So are there any Fayles left, sir?’ Miss Quigley asked.

  ‘I think there was another daughter who survived. But she’d be very old – if she’s still alive, that is.’ Professor Pluss tapped his right forefinger to his lip.

  ‘We’d better hope she’s alive and well, and find her quick smart,’ Professor Winterbottom announced.

  ‘Helloooo?’ a voice drifted in from the office outside. ‘Is anyone home?’

  Miss Quigley opened the study door.

  ‘Oh, there you are. I need to see the headmaster.’ September Sykes stood towering in the doorway on her six-inch red heels.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The professor had not yet had the pleasure of meeting Mrs Sykes, as it was Sep’s father who had taken the boy for his entrance test and interview. September had been busy that morning at the nail salon.

  ‘I’m September,’ she cooed.

  Professor Winterbottom had no idea what that meant at all, and responded with a blank look and a shake of his head.

  ‘September Sykes. Septimus’s mother,’ she smiled.

  ‘Oh, of course, Mrs Sykes,’ said Professor Winterbottom apologetically. ‘I’m afraid we’re a little bit busy at the moment, Mrs Sykes. Is it an urgent matter you’ve come about?’

  ‘You might think so,’ September nodded. ‘You see, I’ve really come to find out how much this is all worth.’ She waved her arms around.

  The headmaster looked confused. ‘Worth? Do you mean the school fees?’

  ‘No, no, no, silly headmaster.’ September was enjoying this. ‘I mean the school. Fayle. The whole place.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Professor Winterbottom was growing very uncomfortable.

  ‘It’s just that, well, I know what happens when more than twenty-five per cent of boys at this school fail a test. And I’ve heard that’s just happened. So I want to know what it’s worth?’

  ‘I can’t for a moment imagine that’s any of your business, Mrs Sykes.’ The headmaster was appalled.

  September Sykes entered the study. She walked over to the antique globe that stood under the window and gave it a spin. ‘Oh, isn’t that fun?’ she giggled.

  Professors Winterbottom and Pluss and Miss Quigley could not take their eyes off this woman with her long blonde curls and garish red dress which hugged every curve.

  ‘Mrs Sykes, I think it might be best if you left,’ the headmaster suggested.

  ‘Now, why would I do that?’ September walked towards the group, reached forward and grabbed Professor Winterbottom’s tie, pulling him closer. Her sickly perfume clouded his head and he soon felt quite faint. She let go and walked around the desk, where she sat in his green leather chair. ‘What do you think?’ She placed the professor’s reading glasses on the end of her nose. ‘Does the school look suit me? No, no. Not my thing at all, teaching. Really just for dull old bores, education.’

  ‘Mrs Sykes,’ Professor Winterbottom regained use of his vocal chords. ‘You need to leave immediately.’

  ‘No.’ September shook her head. ‘You need to sit down and have a look at this.’ She rummaged around in her oversized pewter-coloured handbag and produced what appeared to be a legal document. ‘You see, I heard you before, when I was out in the other room there. You can stop looking for the heir to the Fayle family. Because you’ve found her. And this –’ she waved the power of attorney under the professor’s nose – ‘is all the proof you need. Granny Henrietta Sykes – she’s the one you were talking about – well, she married my darling husband’s father just a few years back. She was a Fayle, you know. But she’s not well, and she’s very old, and she insisted I look after things for her. So there you are.’

  ‘Oh, thank heavens, Mrs Sykes. We were worried that we’d never find the heir in time and then the school would have no choice other than to close at the end of the term. But now …’

  ‘But now what?’ September sneered. ‘You’ll be closing all right. I’ve arranged for the estate agent to meet me here this morning. I can’t imagine how many millions this place is worth, but I’m going to have lots of fun spending them.’

  Professor Pluss burst into tears. Miss Quigley had to suppress the urge to strangle September on the spot. The headmaster gulped.

  ‘Professor Pluss – you need to go to class. Miss Quigley – some tea.’ He indicated towards the door. ‘Mrs Sykes and I have a lot to talk about.’

  ‘No, we don’t, unless you want to tell me how wonderful Septimus is. But if you think I’ll change my mind, you’re wrong, old man.’ September folded her arms in front of her.

  Word had spread quickly about the trouble at Fayle. Professor Winterbottom had spent an hour with September Sykes trying to change her view about enforcing the school’s closure, but he was no match for her when she had millions on her mind. He suggested that they ask Mr Sykes in to talk about things, but she said he was overseas working and couldn’t be contacted. September was deter
mined to show her husband a thing or two about making money.

  At Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale, Millie and Alice-Miranda were talking about the recent turn of events.

  ‘None of this makes any sense at all.’ Millie was lying face down on her bed with her arms tucked under her chin.

  ‘It’s strange, isn’t it, that in one test the boys all score full marks, and then only a couple of weeks later they fail. I have a very bad feeling about all this,’ Alice-Miranda decided. ‘Sep and Lucas must have been wrong about the cheating.’

  ‘And imagine the Sykeses being the heirs.’ Millie rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, Sep’s lovely but Sloane, urgh.’

  ‘Sep really loves it at school, too. Maybe he can talk his mother into keeping it open,’ Alice-Miranda suggested.

  At that moment, Sloane Sykes appeared in the open doorway. ‘I don’t think so. Mummy and I don’t care about that stupid school. Sep will just have to find somewhere else to go.’

  ‘Oh, hello Sloane,’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Would you like to come in?’

  ‘Why?’ Sloane retorted.

  ‘I thought you might like to work on your lines with us,’ said Alice-Miranda.

  ‘It’s all right, Sloane, I’m sure you’re way too busy working out how you’ll squander all those millions.’ The last thing Millie wanted was to spend any more time with Sloane than she had to.

  ‘I suppose our play next week will be Fayle’s last hurrah,’ Sloane laughed.

  ‘Well, perhaps not,’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Maybe your mother will think about the school and how important it is, and all that history. I mean, it’s a big thing to close down a place that has educated so many boys. It’s strange, too, how one week the boys all scored one hundred per cent on their test, and then the very next test they failed.’

  ‘Yes, I wonder how that could have happened?’ Sloane couldn’t help herself. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

  Millie sat up. She watched Sloane. There was something about the twitch around her mouth – Millie had taken to reading about body language and knew this could be a sign of lying. When Sloane scratched her neck (another dead giveaway), Millie couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

  ‘You did it, didn’t you?’ Millie leapt from her bed to confront the girl.

  ‘What?’ Sloane retorted. ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Sloane’s eyes darted around the room.

  ‘I remember, when we were at Fayle a couple of weeks ago, you went missing for ages and we were supposed to practise our scene. When you came back, you told Miss Reedy that you’d got lost. I bet you were changing the answers on the papers.’ Millie’s face was blood red.

  ‘You’ve got a very good imagination, little one,’ Sloane snapped. ‘And so what? Even if I did, you’ll never prove it.’

  ‘I’ll tell Miss Grimm,’ Millie threatened.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Sloane challenged her. ‘You can’t prove it, and then you’re just going to look like a little snitch.’ Sloane turned and stalked off.

  Millie fizzed with rage. ‘She’s foul. We have to find a way to prove that she cheated.’

  Alice-Miranda walked over and stood calmly beside her friend. She looked at the clock beside her bed. It was just after 2 pm on Sunday afternoon. ‘I think we should go and see Miss Hephzibah. A ride in the countryside will do us both the world of good.’

  ‘I agree. I don’t want to hang around here with that next door.’ Millie began to change into her riding gear.

  Not half an hour later, the girls were sitting in the kitchen at Caledonia Manor having tea and scones.

  ‘There’s a terrible disaster at Fayle,’ Alice-Miranda informed their friend.

  ‘Really?’ Hephzibah raised her veil slightly so she could sip her tea. She still hadn’t taken it off in front of Millie, although the child seemed much more comfortable in her presence now.

  ‘The boys in Professor Pluss’s Maths class failed a test and now the school is going to be closed,’ Alice-Miranda continued.

  ‘Yes, it’s to do with some silly old rule in the Fayle School Charter that if any more than twenty-five per cent of boys fail any test, then the school must close and be returned immediately to the eldest heir of Frederick Fayle’s,’ Millie added. ‘And you wouldn’t believe who that is …’

  Hephzibah nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s a family called the Sykes. Sloane Sykes started at our school just this term and she’s awful,’ said Millie. ‘And it’s more than likely that she took the papers and changed the answers, and the school’s going to close because of her cheating. It’s all so obvious, but there’s just no way to prove it.’

  Alice-Miranda chimed in. ‘Her brother Sep is such a lovely boy. He’s devastated about the school closing. But Mrs Sykes won’t reconsider. She wants it all sold straight away.’ Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘I telephoned Mummy and Daddy and asked if there was anything that could be done. Daddy even sent over to Fayle for a copy of the charter, and he said that there was a secret clause in the smallest of print saying that if the heir said the school could stay open then it would, and they could make sure the silly clause was revoked for good, but Mrs Sykes is determined that she and her husband want the money. They’re only in line anyway because Mr Sykes’s father married one of the Fayles. A lady called Henrietta –’

  Hephzibah clutched her chest.

  Alice-Miranda rose in alarm. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘What were you going to say?’ Hephzibah whispered. ‘About the Fayle woman?’

  ‘Well, she’s in a nursing home now and the Sykeses have her power of attorney, which means that they get to make all the decisions for her about money and things like that.’

  Hephzibah breathed freely at last. ‘It sounds like someone needs to do something.’ She stood and walked to the playroom and returned with a shoebox. She began to unpack its contents onto the table.

  ‘I think it’s time I told you girls a story,’ Hephzibah said.

  ‘Oh yes, I love stories.’ Alice-Miranda clapped her hands together. Millie looked up from buttering her scone.

  Hephzibah took a sip of tea, as if steeling herself for the task ahead. Then she began. ‘Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a little girl called Hephzibah Caledonia …’

  Alice-Miranda and Millie returned from Hephzibah’s in a flurry of excitement. Alice-Miranda telephoned her parents immediately.

  ‘Hello Mummy.’ The tiny child was buzzing like a bee in a jar.

  Cecelia Highton-Smith smiled to herself. ‘Oh, hello darling, how are you getting on?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you, Mummy. How is everyone at home?’

  ‘Wonderful, darling, although Granny Bert is getting rather forgetful. I popped in to see her the other morning and she kept calling me Charlotte. It’s sad to see her getting old,’ Cecelia mused. ‘And Mrs Oliver’s been making some excellent progress with her organic vegetables. Shilly’s got the place shining like a gold watch and I saw Lily and the children yesterday. They can’t wait for you to come home for the holidays. But everyone’s going to the play at the end of the week.’

  Alice-Miranda loved to hear all the news but that day she felt about ready to burst with her own. ‘Mummy,’ she interrupted, ‘I need to talk to you about something very important.’

  Cecelia was taken aback by her little daughter’s tone. ‘Are you all right, darling? Is everything okay there at school? Miss Grimm hasn’t had a relapse, has she?’

  ‘Oh Mummy, of course not. You are a funny one. Miss Grimm is very happy. Well, except about what’s happening at Fayle. But that’s why I’m calling. Millie and I need your help. You see …’ Alice-Miranda spent the next ten minutes telling her mother a story that seemed more like something from a fairytale.

  After some reassurances and promises from her mother, Alice-Miranda hung up the telephone. Perhaps there might be a way to save Fayle after all.

  Millie and Alice-Miranda decided to give Sloane another chance to confess. At
the final dress rehearsal, they told Jacinta, Sep and Lucas what they suspected. Lucas said that it all made sense. Sloane had made him take her for a walk around the school a few weeks ago, and she had particularly wanted to know about the classrooms and the teachers and where they kept their marking. He’d told her everything he knew, and left her alone after she made the excuse that she needed to go to the toilet and insisted he go back to the rehearsal.

  ‘If she admits it, then we can go to Professor Winterbottom and stop the school being closed,’ said Sep.

  ‘Have you talked to your father about any of this?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘No, he’s away overseas working. I’ve tried to get in touch with him but the phone just rings out,’ Sep replied. ‘Dad might try and put a stop to it all. But I don’t really know. Like I said, sometimes I think I was born on another planet and the aliens decided to leave me with the Sykeses as a bit of a sick joke.’

  Alice-Miranda smiled. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to feel as if you didn’t belong in your own family.

  ‘I say we confront her today,’ Millie decided.

  They all agreed.

  Right then, a scene with the dwarfs returning home from work was being rehearsed and Alice-Miranda, Millie, Sep and Lucas weren’t required. Jacinta had to stay back; being the narrator meant she didn’t really get a break the whole time. The others watched as Sloane walked away from where she had been sitting and wandered upstairs to the foyer. Seeing a perfect chance, the children followed her. As she emerged from the ladies’ toilet, they surrounded her.

  ‘What do you lot want?’ Sloane stared through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Sloane, you need to do the right thing about the tests,’ Sep told her.

  Sloane rolled her eyes and folded her arms in front of her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You stole the tests and changed the answers. I bet that the first time, you decided to use my paper to copy from because you’re always telling me how stupid I am. It must have upset you when everyone scored one hundred per cent.’