

### The

### GALLANT THREE

By

LIA GINNO

And illustrated by Carole Daniel

# .

Smashwords Edition

Copyright (c) Lia Ginno, 2011

All rights reserved

www.liaginno.com

Lia Ginno is herby identified as author of this text in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Cover and inside illustrations copyright (c) 2011 Carol Daniel www.caroldaniel.co.uk

This book is published by Wise Owl UK Publishing

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-0-9560917-3-4

# Other titles by LIA GINNO

For 10 years PLUS:

The LEGENDS and the Inca Crystals

The LEGENDS Saving the Rainforest Orchid

The LEGENDS and the Bible Code Quest

For early readers:

Nanny's babysitting Adventures

_Lia is always interested in talking to her readers. For further information go to:_ www.liaginno.com

# .

To George my best friend, with love always.

# Table of Contents

One: Weird goings on

Two: My birthday party

Three: Ghost hunt

Four: M' lady

Five: The alien

Six: A burglar

Seven: A secret passage

Eight: The blackmailer

Nine: Interrogation

Ten: Case solved

Eleven: The capture

Twelve: Super heroes

About the Author

#

\- 1 -

### WEIRD GOINGS ON

"Ohmygosh!" I cried. My jaw dropped open as a worm of fear slithered into my tummy. There was Sam's grandad hunched in an armchair, his head was bent and he was holding his hands over his face. It looked like he was crying.

For a second, Sam and I stood fixed to the spot. The daffodils I held sagged and their sweet honey scent drifted, lost in the air. We had only ever seen Sam's grandad being a tease and making us laugh. What was wrong?

Suddenly, Sam came back to life: he slammed the door bang and rushed over to the armchair, putting his arm about the old man's wide shoulders.

"Grandad! Don't you feel well? What's the matter?"

Mr Brady lowered his hands and looked up at us, surprise in his eyes. He hadn't even heard us come in! He gave a weak smile. "I'm not sure... I think... someone is trying to get me sacked."

"Sacked?" I said, puzzled. An image of Mr Brady in a smelly, rough brown sack, like the ones we used in our sack race on sports day, crept into my brain. "Why would anyone want you in a sack?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "No, silly, he means being dismissed from his job."

_"_ Oh... _NO WAY"_ \- we wouldn't let them," I said, jutting out my chin. " _I_ won't let them. You are SO the best ever school caretaker. Everyone loves you."

"Yeah right," echoed Sam.

"Well," Mr. Brady said, his eyes watery, "there is something very strange going on. I'm not sure what is happening, but that young Headmaster of yours asked me if I thought the job was too much for me to cope with! He said that maybe I needed a holiday! The bookshelves I put up in the hall had come down, the hall door handle was off again and he couldn't get into the hall." He gazed up at Sam, shaking his head, mystified.

"You mean your work is being _sabotaged,_ " I whispered.

Mr Brady nodded, "Well maybe... or I'm going mad."

"Course you're not," I said, "but why would someone sabotage your work?"

"What did Mr Spitewell say to you exactly?" Sam asked, rubbing his grandfather's arm through the sleeve of his woolly jumper.

"He said the shelves could have caused a serious accident. But I told him I fixed those shelves properly; a heavy gorilla could have swung on them and they wouldn't have come off the wall, so I don't understand how it could have happened."

"Amy and I put lots of big heavy books on the shelves when you'd finished," said Sam "They didn't wobble, bend, or even creak, they were fixed too good. They _couldn't_ have come down by themselves."

"Well," Mr Brady's face creased into a frown, "that's not all. Mr Spitewell also said I had forgotten to put the toilet paper out in the toilets. I hadn't forgotten, but they'd all gone."

"Gone where?" I asked.

Mr Brady shrugged. "The window in the toilet was stuck wide open, but who opened it? It's too high for you children to open, but like Mr Spitewell said, who would come in and steal just toilet rolls? As for the hall door handle, you both saw me fix it didn't you? He said it hadn't been done. I have just been over to the hall to check and the door handle is off again, which means no one can open the door. The weird thing is even the special screws I bought were missing. I just don't understand it."

We all stayed quiet, thinking for a moment. The fresh spring perfume of the daffodils floated up to me. I held them out, "These are for you. I'll go and get a vase."

"Thanks," said Mr Brady, a faint smile on his lips.

"It could be..." I said, coming back into the room. They both looked at me expectantly. "It could be that someone in the school has a friend who wants your job."

"Mmm," Mr Brady sounded unconvinced. "It is a great job and this school house is a good home. I've had this job for nearly twenty years. I thought I would have it until I retired." His warm, brown eyes filled with tears and I wanted to cry too.

Sam didn't know what to do; he sat on the arm of the chair hugging his grandad. Their faces looked very alike: both round with large smiles, and always smiling... normally. Mr Brady is tall and broad - though today he looked frail - while Sam is podgy and wobbles all over like a jelly when he moves.

Sam is one of my best friends and I bash the boys who call him 'Fatty'. As my nana says, it's the person inside that is important, and he is one of the kindest, sweetest people on this planet and he is funny and always makes me laugh. Right now, I was wishing he could make his grandad laugh.

Sighing, Mr Brady stood up, his chair screeching as he scraped it on the floor when he pushed it back. "Well it's all very odd. I don't know what to think."

And neither did Sam or I.

"Anyhow we are going to have a new security system put in next week and Mr. Spitewell and I will be the only two with the new code. Stealing toilet rolls or not, that should stop it." Suddenly Mr. Brady gave us a grin, "Want some chocolate cake, while we think about all this?"

Whiffs of chocolate made my mouth water as Mr Brady pinged open the cake tin. Sam's grandad has the best, gooiest chocolate cake on this planet. I have often tried to find out where he gets it from, but it was a secret he said, and it was certainly that; it was the best-kept secret ever! However, I was a detective, well sort of: I was in training to be one, taking every opportunity... which there weren't too many of, but one day I would find out about the cake. It is one of my quests in life _and_ my only case at the moment - or at least it was until now!

"Thought I would bring you one of these cakes for your birthday on Sunday, Amy, what do you say?" Mr Brady winked at me.

"Oh wicked, you're SO totally cool," I said taking a large bite of the softest melting cake ever tasted and Mr Brady looked so pleased that I didn't like to tell him I was having a pink party with a pink cake.

Hmm, I thought: s'pose I could eat it all to myself when everyone had gone - or the next day, if I felt sick... or full.... or got told by Mum I couldn't have chocolate cake too... which was kinda probably what was gonna happen.

The problem of Mr Brady's job could be my second case!

I SO fancied myself as a great detective, just like in the stories I read. That is _if_ I didn't work for a magazine like my mum, except I'd work for the biggest worldwide newspaper as their _star_ journalist or write the most fantastic mystery detective stories ever. Mmm, this could help me decide. I could learn some detective skills with this mystery that might come in handy if I become a _real_ detective... or storywriter. Mmm. The case of the missing toilet rolls... No, case no 2: the mystery of Mr Brady's job. Ha, that sounds best. I can see the headlines.

"I think..." I mumbled through a mouthful of cake, Sam and his grandad gazed up at me while I chewed. "We should keep an eye on _all_ the jobs you do, like detectives would," I finished and took another mouthful.

"How do we do that?" Sam asked.

I sighed; Sam just had _NO_ imagination.

"We just need a plan," and they nodded waiting for my answer. "What would detectives do? Gather evidence," I said, half to myself. "First... we will keep an eye on the hall door handle, we can see it from our classroom. You fix it again, Mr Brady, early on Monday morning so we can watch it all day. And we will also keep an eye on who goes in the toilet and comes out carrying anything large or heavy that looks like toilet rolls. We will get Charlie to help, and her being in a wheelchair she will be our greatest and best ally because she doesn't have to go out into the playground if she doesn't want to, one of us can stay with her... it'd better be me. Whoever it is might not come near if they see you, Sam, knowing you are Mr Brady's grandson."

"But..." Sam whined.

"You can keep watch outside at break time, sit on the seat near the toilet window.... like a spy."

Charlie - her real name is Chadna but she hates it - is my best friend along with Sam, today she had to go to physiotherapy otherwise she would have been with us at our 'after school chocolate club.' That's what we call staying with Mr Brady until our parents turn up; he is also my nan's... erm, 'friend.' ... If you know what I mean!

Mr Brady chuckled and grinned at me. My positive attitude was SO totally what he needed. "Mmm, OK Captain," he got up, banged the table, making our cake crumbs bounce on our plates, and gave me a salute.

I giggled; he was always messing about, that's why he was SO totally cool. But he seemed to think being a detective was just a game. I straightened my face, and squinting through slit eyelids glared at them both. "W- ell," I drawled, "have either of you got a better idea?"

They stared at each other and shook their heads.

"Good. That's settled then."

"Have another piece of cake," Mr Brady said, "then you can both help me put out the tables and chairs in the hall ready for the refreshments for the rugby tournament tomorrow."

"I might go to that," I said.

Sam nearly dropped his half-finished cake. "But you _hate_ rugby!"

"Yes, but detectives can't choose what they do just because it's bor-ing. We need to snoop about; someone might be nosing around on Saturday. It might be an ideal time to take more toilet rolls."

Mr Brady snorted, smothering a laugh when I shot him a deadly look.

"Then first thing Monday morning we will put our plan into action," I mumbled, the sweet scrumptious cake oozing in my mouth, "unless something happens tomorrow at the tournament."

I licked my sticky chocolaty fingers slowly, one at a time, musing over the clues so far. Not much to go on. But I had no doubt that the three of us would find out who wanted Mr Brady's job. I didn't read all those mystery stories for nothing.

"Don't worry; we shall get to the bottom of it," I told Mr. Brady confidently.

#

\- 2 -

### MY BIRTHDAY PARTY

"Wow wicked!" I shrieked, jumping up from my chair and grabbing my nan's neck. "It's just what I wanted and pink too."

"I'm glad you like it," Nan beamed at me. "The camera is digital and can take about 100 photos, and it has an anti-shake system so if you move when you take the photos they will not be out of focus."

"Cool."

I had wanted a camera ever since I borrowed Mum's when we went to the zoo on a school outing. I love photographs: they're a moment frozen in time that will never come again. They are still and silent like my world when I don't put my hearing aid in. Well maybe not always still! Except when I lie on my bed, slip into my own world and have magical moments thinking about the handsome prince I'm going to marry, who is so totally _no way_ like either of my brothers.

"Coo, a camera!" Charlie sat opposite me at the table, the paper rustling as I unwrapped my presents. Charlie has a bedroom, sitting room, plus a playroom _all_ to herself and Charlie has lots of toys and gadgets. She has a racing car bike too, because one day, when she is grown up, she's going to be a racing driver.

But Charlie hasn't got a camera.

An idea came spinning into my mind. Now I could take photos of the crime scene, like all detectives do, and to prove that Mr Brady had done the work. Mmm, I could do with a fingerprint kit too, I thought. I shall just have to buy one with my birthday money.

"Amy, shall I take a photo of you blowing out your birthday candles?" my mum asked, touching my shoulder and breaking into my thoughts.

"Not yet thanks, I'll take all my friends' pictures first. It will show who came to my party, so I can keep them forever."

Immediately my six friends shot up and started posing. CLICK, CLICK.

My brother, Oliver, gave a big sigh, "Girls are such actresses," and he sank into the doughy sofa to watch.

Drama queens, Mum called us, but it wasn't our fault we were all SO made for the stage. When we're together, CLICK, we do giggle a lot, which I know gets on Oliver's nerves, but he gets on my nerves too; so does our older brother, Josh.

My brothers always sulk when they don't get their own way. Me, I find that crying usually gets better results; preferably with _real_ tears, which I am getting quite cool at, even without drama lessons!

Josh raised his eyebrows at Oliver in mock despair. Neither of them had wanted to be at my party. "A nine-year-olds' party; _must_ we?" my brothers had argued. Not that it did them any good.

"End of discussion," our mum said.

"What discussion?" Josh asked.

"The one I'm not going to have."

"What food is she having?" Oliver growled; he was always thinking about his stomach. "If the food's decent it might be just bearable, I s'pose."

Oliver was mystified about Sam and he often tried to gang up with him against me. "How can you bear to always hang out with two girls? They do nothing but boss you around."

"I think your sister and Charlie are just great," Sam said.

"You must be a little light upstairs."

"Yeah! Well we like Sam;" I had interrupted them, all innocence. "What girls like you?" That had shut him up. Oliver never had any girls; nor did my spotty brother Josh... but they like a lot!

If I say so myself, CLICK, my pictures were good and my friends looked totally cool in their, CLICK, pink clothes and Charlie had sprayed her, CLICK, dark hair pink to go with her clothes. A wicked idea; I wish I'd thought of it.

"I could have made you wear pink too," I told my brothers. They stared at me miserably as I came towards them with my camera, CLICK. That would have given them something to look so unhappy about. After all, I wasn't miserable yesterday at their rugby tournament, was I? It was the most _boring_ day of my life, I won't bother with the details, but nothing mysterious happened - apart from my brother's team winning the cup!

I suddenly realised I was not in any of the photos. "Dad, will you take some photos of me with my friends?" He smiled at me and held out his hand for the camera.

CLICK, we all hugged in a long line. CLICK, I posed with my hands on my hips just like pop stars do. CLICK, one with just Charlie and me. 'Positive' and 'Negative,' Charlie's mum calls us, she's an Indian princess, well if she's not, she looks like one. Our hair is long and reaches nearly to our waists, but Charlie's is sort of black and mine is sort of blonde and we are having a competition to see who can grow theirs the fastest and be first to sit on it. CLICK _. And_ Charlie has the darkest brown eyes ever. They remind me of a velvety puppy dog, mine are blue and according to Mum, sometimes look lilac if I wear shades of mauve - my next best colour after pink.

CLICK. We all changed poses.

"What are you two laughing at?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at my brothers.

"Nothing," they smirked.

So I looked behind me to see what was making them laugh. It was Sam, standing with his arms outstretched and making a funny face, with boss-eyes, and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Honestly, he looked demented. Sam usually has more sense than most boys; how _could_ he? I frowned at him.

"Do you _have_ to be like my loser brothers?" I asked, scowling at Oliver and Josh as they tried to stifle their giggles that soon turned into laughter.

"You two are in the next photo!" It was my turn to laugh.

The boys went to dart out of the room. "Mu-um," I wailed, "they're not joining in properly."

"Just hold it you two," Mum's icy voice cried. "I expect you both to behave. It is your sister's birthday. Just _try_ today to let her have her own way."

As _IF_ they needed reminding it was _my_ birthday and they had to do what I wanted! Yes! I loved birthdays. CLICK.

"She always gets what she wants. Even when it's not her birthday," Josh protested.

_Yep,_ I thought, trying not to look smug.

"Especially with Dad," Oliver pouted.

_Yep,_ true, he is such a pushover my dad, ever since I had meningitis just after I started school and went deaf. I only have to smile and he seems to melt and then he says, 'OK Poppet.' I just purr.

"Now be nice," Nan said in a low voice to my brothers. All my friends were staring. "You had a lovely birthday didn't you? Now it's Amy's turn."

Good old Nan. I can wheedle anything out of her too, like my camera. Looking at their faces, I smirked; they were real glad Nan had bought me the camera. Ha, ha Not! CLICK. Could the party get any worse for them?

"It's time for pass-the-parcel," Mum said giving me the parcel while Nan organized the circle. I looked pointedly at Oliver, who was sulking on the settee.

"I don't have to play... do I?" he glanced pleadingly at Nan, who nodded.

I turned my attention to Josh, "And Josh," I syrupy said and looked up at Nan. Pass-the-parcel at their age! Huh, sweet!

Grimacing they both joined in the circle, but they soon started to cheat and muck about. "You're messing up the game. Why don't you both grow up?" I spat.

"Yes, do try acting your age," Mum echoed.

As _IF,_ such a thing was possible.

Dad laughed; he was standing with Mr Brady and they both found the two boys' pranks funny. Mum stared at Dad with one of her looks. Mum could still your actions at forty paces with a look. I am nearly getting the hang of 'the look,' except the boys take no notice of me, _yet_... but Mum.... well, she's perfected it.

The next game was pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and Josh started arguing with me, saying he was the winner.

"No, Sara was," I said, because she was.

Even Dad told him this time, that at fifteen he should grow up.

That really did it for Josh; flinging his arms wide he shrugged and stamped noisily out of the room, followed by my wails that he was spoiling my party.

Mum, I think, had had enough at this point because her lips went tight... not a good sign. She wiped the perspiration on her brow with the back of her hand and through gritted teeth said, "Just _leave_ him, Amy."

We heard Josh thump up the stairs as if he was an enormous dinosaur and I knew Oliver wished he could cause an argument too so he could be excused. I gave him a cold stare as if I could read his thoughts.

Oliver shivered.

Sitting on the sofa I picked up my camera, CLICK, Oliver was laughing with Sam and Mr Brady. He tried too late to scuttle towards me and stop me; he just hates having his picture taken - that was three times today!

"You pesky alien gismo," he said and went to grab my camera, knocking over a small table sending it headlong. It skidded to a shattering stop with a crashing boooom.

Will he never learn?

Dad grabbed him; 'Pack that in!' Then he told Oliver he could not watch _Star Trek_ later... that is his favourite programme.

I grinned, what a bonus! I was really having a great party.

I went over to talk to Mr Brady. "My camera," I whispered, "will be good for taking photos of the evidence."

"Mmm, what evidence is that then?" he said.

"That you _have_ done the jobs properly."

"Oh, of course. Don't forget it on tomorrow then, will you?" he grinned, winked and tapped his nose with his finger.

#

\- 3 -

### GHOST HUNT

"Cool thinking," I said to Charlie as on Monday morning we arrived at school to put my detective plan into action.

Charlie, always full of bright ideas, had suggested Sam's grandad fix something new as, in her opinion - and she was often right - whoever had destroyed Mr Brady's work would not mess with the same things again.

Mr Brady agreed, "Good idea; I will fix the wall panel in the corridor opposite your classroom instead."

I nodded. Our inner door and the sidewall had a large expanse of glass in it. We waved goodbye to Mr Brady and wandered towards our classroom.

I had been troubled all night about who might want the caretaker's job and I was beginning to wonder if I had got it wrong. I had watched a programme on telly that night about ghosts and I got to thinking that half the school building was really old. Could it possibly be a ghost doing these things?

"A ghost!" Sam laughed, when I mentioned it. "I don't think so."

"Well, the hall and two of the classrooms were built in 1890; it used to be the manor house," I insisted. "We should find out about the people who lived here. There could have been a grisly murder and the person who was murdered has come back to take their revenge."

Now it was Charlie's turn to laugh. "You've been reading too many of those books you've always got your nose in. And anyway, don't you think they would have taken their revenge a bit earlier than this?"

"S'pose so." Mmm, she did have a point, but I was still determined all the same to find out about the history of the school building. I'd look on the Internet when I got home. "Now I've got my camera, after school I will take photos of Mr Brady's work; _then_ I shall be ready to take pictures of some ghosts," I said.

Charlie, sounding all hoity-toity, said, "Ghosts wouldn't be seen on a photo; you can't capture them, they don't come out."

"Yes they do," I argued. "There was a programme on telly last night about some photos that had pictures of ghosts in the background. That's what started me wondering if we could have one at school."

Charlie rolled her eyes at me, "I expect the photos had been messed about with."

"You sound just like some of the people on the programme, but _I_ believe in ghosts; pooor tooormented sooouls," I wailed in a ghost-like voice. "And anyway, _my_ nan, has seen a real one."

"I'm not sure you can call a ghost real," Sam grinned.

"That's because they're not," said Charlie.

"Well I'm with Amy on this, I think we should start with asking Grandad about the history of the school building. He has been here a very long time."

I nodded in agreement, glaring at Charlie.

"Not since 1890 though," suddenly she shrugged. "Oh, ok."

We had now reached the classroom just as our teacher, Miss Happeton, came into the room. Sam manpowered Charlie's wheelchair to the front of the class and I scrambled to sit on the carpet in front of Miss Happeton so I had a clear view of her lips when she spoke. I love to lip read and I sometimes turn my hearing aid off to do it. I am getting SO totally cool at it - and it could come in handy in my detective work one day.

As I watched Miss Happeton say, "Good morning class," I saw out of the corner of my eye that outside in the corridor Mr Brady was putting up his stepladder.

* *

Charlie and I stayed in at break, but nothing peculiar happened.

"Anyone outside who looks suspicious?" we asked Sam hopefully when he came in. But he sighed and shook his head.

It was raining at dinnertime; large, glistening, glass droplets that plopped, burst and smashed as they hit the ground, so no one went outside, which pleased Sam as he felt he might miss out on catching the culprit.... if only.

School eventually finished for the day; it had seemed such a very long day! All three of us - much to Miss Happeton's amazement - offered to help tidy the classroom.

"We are waiting for Mr Brady to finish his rounds and then we will be going over to the lodge for tea," I explained. It was really to continue to keep an eye on Mr Brady's work, but of course, I didn't mention that.

Nobody had done anything to it so far, but there were several children's clubs going on and some teachers still around. So there was still hope.

Miss Happeton eyed us suspiciously, but said nothing; she liked Mr. Brady, but then, who didn't? And he was SO totally cool with Charlie and me. Sam's two sidekicks, he called us.

"It's time I left; thank you for your help," Miss Happeton said after about half an hour.

"Yes, s'pose we had better go over to Mr Brady's lodge house now, or he will wonder what's happened to us," Charlie said.

We made our way out of the classroom slowly as if we were heading for the lodge. Luckily, Charlie had the good sense to get her wheelchair stuck.

"Oh, do you need help?" Miss Happeton asked, nearly dropping her files and laptop as she bent towards Charlie.

" _No_ ," all three of us chimed together in alarm.

Miss Happeton hesitated and then gave a smirk, and with a wave continued to her car. As soon as she disappeared, we turned and raced back to the corridor. Mr Brady came towards us and winked. He was back to his usual cheery self.

"What are you doing now?" Sam asked him.

"I've just come to see you three and see what you want to do," he replied. "No one seems to have touched anything today."

"I'll just take some photos of the work you've done to prove you did it then," I said.

Mr Brady nodded.

"We thought we would go and take some photos in the old part of the school after. Amy thinks there could be a ghost doing stuff for revenge," Sam said excitedly; the idea was growing on him.

I saw Mr Brady's lips twitch and I wrinkled my nose and screwed my eyes up, gazing at him with my hands on my hips. Was he going to laugh at me too? "Ahem," I said.

"Mmm, an interesting thought," he chuckled, but his eyes when he looked down at me seemed serious. "Well you go and do that then and I will start checking the rooms and locking up. Soon everybody should have left and then we can go to the lodge and have some cake."

I'm not sure if he was humouring us, but that was Mr Brady all over.

First I took photos of the work he had done in the corridor, about five, from all different angles... after all we wanted to make sure _and_ with Charlie giving me instructions as if I didn't know what I was doing. Then we went and did the same to the hall door handle before we went into the great, gloomy hall.

The hall had dark wood panelling on all four walls, with high small windows that made it dim, unless the lights were on. Even with the lights on the room was creepy when it was empty, you could imagine all sorts of blood curdling things. Today, I imagined a body, withering away into grimy dust behind the wood panels, entombed forever as if it was in a coffin.

"Well, start taking the photos then," Charlie prompted.

I tiptoed towards the panels and Charlie raised her eyebrows at me and shook her head. Ignoring her, I pressed the button. The flash bounced against the shine of the wood with a spine-chilling glare and I'm sure a burst of cold air spun into the hall. I half expected the white light to twist into a ghost. I shivered; sometimes my imagination scared me.

Charlie laughed at me; so I told myself to stop being silly and with trembling fingers I started clicking my camera from one corner of the room to the other, up and down until I had covered it all.

We all peered into the LCD screen.

No ghosts; not even a _trace_ of something you could possibly imagine might be a ghost. Not even in the white glare of the flash frozen on the wood in the picture. Even Charlie seemed disappointed.

"Ghosts only come out at night, usually at midnight, or in the dark," I said. "We should really come back tonight." _As if we would be allowed to._ "Or we could turn the lights off."

Sam went over to the light switch. "Ready?"

Charlie and I nodded. I held my breath and I could hear my heart beating in my head. Darkness grappled with the shadows the small high windows threw across the hall floor. Wind came rippling through the hall doors, whispering round the room. I could just see the darkening sky through the windows and caught the smell of...

"Well are you going to take some more photos or what?" Charlie burst into my thoughts making me jump.

This time when we looked into the LCD screen, I saw haunting dark shapes and blaring white light. "Ghosts can turn themselves into bright light like angels."

Charlie snorted at me, "Nothing; so much for the dark idea then."

"But," I began.

"There's not one ghost there Amy," Charlie said, all hoity-toity again.

"Let's try the other old rooms," Sam suggested optimistically.

I went dismally into the next room, swung my camera about, and took shot after shot... just like a real professional.

"Let's have a go," Charlie said suddenly, holding out her hand for the camera.

"Do you think we could have a ghost then?" I asked smugly.

"Maybe," she mused and took the camera from me, knowing if she had said 'no', I probably wouldn't have let her have it. I started telling her how to use it. I didn't want her to break it.

"Honestly, Amy, it's not rocket science, it's an automatic camera," she said in her hoity-toity voice... she was using that a lot lately.

Gritting my teeth I steeled myself to ignore her and I saw Sam glance at her in a weird way too. So I stood back with a grim look on my face, muttering horrible things to myself about Charlie's attitude. She had been too long in her wheelchair I expect. She hated it because it was SO totally slow; preferring her racing motorized bike car. But it was not my fault it needed to be serviced or oiled or whatever it was they did to it. Anyway, it would be back tomorrow, so it would be ready for her to use again after school.

Charlie lives just round the corner from school, so she always comes in her bike car. She calls it 'Sputnik' after some space thingy. Her dad had it made for her specially; he loves racing cars and so does Charlie. That's why she is going to be a racing driver one day.

Her mum leaves Sputnik in the staff car park alongside the bikes because Charlie is not allowed to take it into the school building during the day and she is even banned from using it in the playground, now. All because, according to Mr Spitewell, she acted as if the playground was a racetrack. And to be fair, she did nearly mow down Peter Hodges.

Peter Hodges is a hateful bully who usually picks on Sam but had picked on Charlie that day. Big mistake! She rammed him against the wall, but he managed to wriggle out, scraping his knees, still calling her names. Charlie then turned Sputnik round at such a speed she was almost a blur and I thought Sputnik was going to shoot up into the sky. She hurtled across the playground, chasing him, about to knock Peter over again, when the teacher on duty spotted her and Charlie had to slam on the brakes.

Peter, walking past me, was busy sneering and gloating at Charlie being told off. Just like lightning striking, I stuck out my foot and he fell flat on his face, squashing it. His face already looked ugly and he has mean, squinty eyes. That day he had a grazed nose and a cut lip too - and he lost his sneer! He doesn't come near Charlie or me any more.

When Charlie had finished taking photos we went into the last room and Sam wanted a turn.

"It's only got a hundred photos, not a thousand yer know," I said - not that they took any notice. "Let me delete some first."

"Boo-oo-oo," Sam's grandad moaned, creeping in behind us expecting to make us jump, but we were too busy bickering. "Everyone's gone. Have you seen any ghosts?"

"Yes several," I answered grinning and before the others could say anything, adding, "one used to be the caretaker here and he wants his old job back."

"Don't blame him," was Mr Brady's quick reply. "Maybe, we could come to some agreement about the work. He could do all the hard digging and see if he can dig up some of his mates to help."

We all laughed. Mr Brady was definitely back to his old self with his lame jokes, but he was on a roll. "What did one ghost say to the other ghost?" he asked.

I sighed and Sam said, "Go on then, what?"

"Do you believe in people?"

Well I said they were lame didn't I! But that wasn't the end. He started singing, well chanting really.

* *

'Mrs White had a fright in the middle of the night,

Saw a ghost, eating toast, halfway up a lamppost.'

* *

OH! How totally cool was that... and Charlie and me were SO good at singing. We all started chirping, with a clap and a rumble on the walls from Sam for added spookiness:

* *

'Mrs White had a fright in the middle of the night,

Saw a ghost, eating toast, halfway up a lamppost.'

If there was a ghost he would surely know we were SO here for him.

#

\- 4 -

### M' LADY

"Well, who am I then?"

I stood poised, pretending to talk into my nan's mirrored powder compact.

"A freak," Josh said.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I don't think a lady would do that," Mum eyed me with disapproval.

"I have a late start today," said Dad, "so I'll take you to school. Shall I get the car out for you m'lady?" he bowed.

I grinned. "Yes please, Parker, but I wish you had your uniform on."

"Just a moment m'lady." Dad disappeared and came back with a peaked police hat from my dressing up box. "Will this do m'lady?"

"Thank goodness we're going to our school by taxi," Oliver said, shaking his head as he stuffed the last piece of sugary smelling, honey toast into his mouth.

"I think those two are the two criminals we saw on the French Riviera - the ones after the artwork," I said to Parker.

"Could be m'lady; maybe you should put a bug on them so we can trace their whereabouts," Parker answered, glancing towards my ladybird hair clip lying in the open drawer.

Quickly I picked up the clip and slid it onto Josh's art folder just as the taxi beeped outside and Josh turned round to pick up his bags.

"Have a nice day," I said sweetly.

Oliver was now staring at me strangely. "That pink outfit makes you look more like a candyfloss stick than Lady Penelope," and he knocked my hat off.

I tried to kick him but he dodged and I missed.

Mum said, "He's just jealous because you are going to have such a fun day. Take no notice you look great."

I thought I did too. I had on my pink boots, a short pink skirt and tee shirt, with my nan's pink 'box' hat that had a pink veil made of net attached to it, which came down and just covered my face. I looked mysterious and very sophisticated, just like Lady Penelope out of _Thunderbirds_.

It is book week at school and today we all dress up as a character from a story. We have some storytellers come into school and we make up stories with them. Then we have a book market with lots of stalls selling books in the hall. I always save my money to buy several, plus I have my birthday money too.

"I wonder what Charlie will be. She wouldn't tell me," I said to Mum.

"You'll soon find out. Get your things together. Dad has got the car out."

Suddenly I remembered the printout from the Internet about the person who used to own our school. As soon as I had got home last night, I'd kicked off my shoes, dumped my bag and coat on the floor, gone into the office and turned on my computer. Just as I got the history of our village to come up on the screen, my Mum had yelled, "Amy how many times have I told you to hang up your coat, put your shoes in the cupboard and empty your lunch box?"

I pretended I couldn't hear her.

Mum came into the office and tapped me on the shoulder with 'that look' on her face.

"I've got such a lot of very important homework to do," I said. That usually works, but it didn't this time.

"I have to get dinner for you and your brothers and get them to rugby practice in the next half hour, Amy."

So....?

"You are big enough to put your things away properly when you come in from school and I am fed up with picking your clothes up after you."

I thought that was a bit unfair, at least once a week I hung my coat up without being nagged. And why did my brothers have priority? But I decided it would be quicker not to argue, so I raced and picked up my coat, hung it on the hook, nearly missing, and flung my shoes somewhere into the back of the cupboard. I tipped my lunchbox remains in the bin and threw the box in the sink.

There done! Whatever was _she_ so fussed about? It took 30 secs tops.

Yesterday, Mr Brady had given us a sort of history lesson about the school. All three of us were sizzling with interest - _I knew Sam and Charlie would be -_ when he told us that the owner of the manor house died - _unfortunately by natural means_ \- aged 70, and having no heir he had decided to give the house to the village for a school and his money to help fund it. What a let down!

Maybe I could find a maid he upset or perhaps he was a German spy that nobody knew about; he _must_ have been in some war. Surely something awful must have happened some time?

The manor house became a school in 1925, my computer screen glared back at me. The rest of the school had been added on gradually as the village expanded and children by law had to start going to school. _Oh wicked; if I had been born in the olden days I wouldn't have had to go to school!_ Two more classrooms were built in 1950 and the latest four classrooms only ten years ago.

That was it! Not even a sign of a spy, a murder or a ghost. I felt like a deflated balloon. But a good newspaper writer wouldn't give up.

"Hmm," I tapped into the search engine again \- _murders and haunted_ _houses._

"OK," I said to the screen, "let's try _ghostly happenings_ , _sightings of ghosts, myths, legends, scary_ _events_." Still nothing. Maybe I was going back too far. How about more recent things happening about the village: _Local news - mystery deaths, unexplained events._

Nope zilch! I was living in the SO most totally boring area on this planet.

#

\- 5 -

### THE ALIEN

"Hubble, bubble, toil, and trouble," Charlie snarled as she came rolling out from behind a bright, yellow forsythia bush, when I entered the playground. She was waving a gigantic wand that flashed coloured light at me and fragrant petals with yellow pollen dust flew at me. It looked more like a flashing lamppost than a wand! She should have been dressed up like a ghost, the one that scared Mrs White, with that thing in her hand.

"Love the outfit," I said. I thought a witch was a bit of an ordinary thing to choose; there were always lots of witches on story day. "Especially those wicked green-striped tights and your green wig," I added. Yes, as far as witches go, she did look good.

"Have you seen my frog?" She grinned, twirling the wand towards the bush, knocking her hat sideways.

"Rivet, rivet." A rotund, emerald-green, frog with eyes that wobbled as if he was in a dizzy trance, jumped out from the bush.

"I prefer you boss-eyed, like at my party," I said.

Sam removed his masked hood. "Oh... you guessed. Phew! That mask is hot." The frog looked as if he had been part-boiled his face was so red.

"You have to put it back on," Charlie growled, "or how can I tell people I shall turn them into frogs, like you. You're part of my story."

"I think he looks much better as half boy and half frog," I said, glancing at poor perspiring Sam. "It's more evil, being only half a creature."

"You're just saying that," Charlie said.

"No I'm not, I'm too afraid you might turn _me_ into a frog."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "Or something worse," then she smirked. "Anyhow who are you?"

I got out my radio-controlled powder compact.

"Now guess."

"Lady Penelope," Sam said triumphantly. He knew I liked her.

* *

A flickering candle made the school hall dance with shadows. An eerie silence filled the air. I could almost smell the rotten corpse of death... was that what I had smelt before? Suddenly, an old man sprang up from behind the stage and we all shrieked. He was dressed in white with a long white beard that nearly swept the floor... our ghost!

He moved, swaying towards his audience, his keys jangling, rattling, and clanging from a thick chain around his waist. A silver pendent with a clock face on it, swung like a pendulum across his chest, bursting with flashing hues of blazing light that dazzled me and seemed to make him disappear for a second, like magic.

The storyteller began his tale; was he our ghost? Was it he sabotaging Mr Brady's jobs? I looked at him carefully. He seemed ancient; certainly old enough to be the man who owned the manor house before it became part of the school. A painting of him hung in the corridor; it was a _bit_ like the storyteller... it could be him when he was young without the beard.

When he came up to me and gave me a key as part of the story, trembling I touched his bony hand. I'm sure it was real because it was warm and not cold like a ghost's hand. What else could I do to see if he was our ghost, I wondered. I could pull his beard to see if it was real, _if_ I could find the courage.

His eyes were green and sparkly and not at all like a ghost's when he gazed into my face. They didn't even make me feel shivery! He was waiting for me to make up something about the key for the story.

I gulped. _"Is it the key to a ghost's room? And to maybe your stony tomb,"_ I chanted, giving the key back to him, sort of missing his hand on purpose so he had to bend nearer to pick it up. With shaky fingers, I gave a sharp tug at his beard expecting it to fall into my lap, but it didn't move or come off. It jerked his head and he looked like he might laugh, but didn't, his eyes just twinkled at me.

My tummy went bubbly, he _is_ the ghost... and he would guess I knew with the words I just used. Wouldn't he?

Well if he did, he didn't show it!

"Mmm, that's really good... 'a ghost room or tomb'," he nodded and twirled away to pounce on little William, who sat further down the line. "What shall it be, for thee?" He handed William a little plastic dragon.

William thought for a moment, " _The dragon spilled forth his fire and smoke..._ " he started.

I nudged Sam, who was sitting next to me. "I think he is our ghost, best try and keep an eye on him," I whispered. Sam nodded.

When the ghost finished and we had exhausted our story, he bowed and I'm sure he grinned at me before he swept out of the hall, so swiftly, his robes flapped like wings and he nearly flew.

We weren't allowed out of the hall, so how could I follow him?

Immediately, Sam started a coughing fit and the teacher said he should go for water, but the teacher escorted him and when I got out of the hall - walking in an orderly line! - I couldn't find him or the ghost.

Then it was break time and Sam found me in the playground sitting with Charlie, but he had lost the ghost. He had turned a corner and just vanished, according to Sam.

Now what?

The hall was filled with lots of people and bookstalls when I next went back in. It was so like paradise: magical and enchanted, all filled with books to explore. I would love to have a bookshop and then I could read any book whenever I wanted.

I bought three books and started looking around to show them to Charlie and Sam, who had wandered off in another direction. However, I couldn't see them and I wasn't sure they were still in the hall as it was so crowded. After being squashed several times and dropping one of my books, I felt hot and decided to visit the toilets where I washed my face with cold water.

Suddenly, the light went out. Luckily, I had finished and although my eyes were still bleary, I could see the door handle from the light streaming through the high window.

The corridor outside was murky. What had happened to all the lights? A shiver swept over me and my stomach churned. I felt as if someone was watching me... the ghost!

I started to move towards the hall, faster and faster until I was running. When I got to the open entrance doors, I skidded to a stop and peered in. I could see all the stalls, but there was nobody there. The hall was empty and I was alone. Where had everyone gone? I looked around: it was shadowy, black and threatening. Then, out of the gloom, a tall grey form peered at me. I shrieked and jumped back, then realised it was the cardboard cut-out of a dragon advertising a book, but it looked sinister, as if it was waiting to pad towards me.

I'd only been away ten minutes; where were the stallholders?

My insides went like a boiling brew in a witches' cauldron. I backed slowly away from the entrance, keeping my gaze on the dragon. I didn't want to be in there by myself with the ghost - where ever he was - and in the dark.

Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I screamed - only it was more like a silent squeak inside me. Spinning round I saw Sam grinning at me. I was so glad to see him that I hugged him and he laughed.

"Whe... where is everyone?" I hissed.

Before he could answer me, we both heard a creaking groan from the hall behind me. We turned; my eyes nearly popped out, I gasped, and my mouth hung open. I could feel Sam quivering beside me. A 'creature thing' was tearing at the hall floor and had pulled off part of the skirting board in the far corner by the cupboards.

Whatever it was must have heard Sam's laugh because it stopped, half twisted and slowly stood up. Big black shiny eyes glared at us from an enormous green head on a green body, with spindly, almost spidery, legs.

Ohmygosh! It's an alien!

We froze. I tried to take a breath, but it wouldn't come. All the hairs stood up on my arms, goosebumps sweeping my body.

For a moment, the creature looked at us before it raised the skirting board and took a step in our direction. I clutched Sam: _was it coming to hit us with it_?

The alien dropped the board with a clutter and came towards us, each step thudding on the floor just like my heart in my chest as it crossed the room. I went icy cold. I couldn't even swallow and I was trembling as if the ground was shaking in an earthquake. I could feel Sam rigid with fear beside me.

Then, suddenly, the creature just disappeared! It seemed to vanish into the dark shadows of the wall. Sam grabbed my hand and unfrozen, we whirled round and ran in the opposite direction down the shady gloom of the corridor into the playground. Neither of us said a word.

My mum seemed to home in on me and I fell into her arms. "We've j... just s... seen a... an... alien," I stuttered.

Mum grinned and Charlie, who was next to her, said, "Yeah right."

Then I smelt smoke, like on bonfire night and noticed there was thick misty smoke, like a low foggy cloud, creeping along the ground. I looked about me for a spaceship.

"Really we did, I saw him too," Sam cried. "I think he was trying to eat the wood in the hall."

"It's true. He was," I nodded and got even closer to Mum.

"Well that explains all the lights going out," Charlie said mockingly. "When his spaceship landed it must have triggered a surge in the electricity and wiped it out."

"Where is his spaceship?" Sam asked, glancing about him into the mist and darkness.

"And he disappeared into the wall," I whispered.

Mum put her arm about me as if I was mad. "There, there. I think it's time we went home," she said, in the same tone she uses when she speaks to my little cousin.

I bristled. She clearly didn't believe us.

"How do you explain this mist all over the playground?" Sam asked my mum. "It's the sort of thing an alien could do."

She shrugged, "I am sure there is a logical explanation for it all and the alien was just somebody dressed up. After all, you still look like a frog."

"How come he went through a wall then?" Sam said.

"It just seemed like he did in the dark," Mum explained in her soothing voice. Sam and I looked at each other; we knew different.

"Then what about the skirting board...?" I asked, but just then, Charlie's mum arrived with Mr Brady. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face.

"This mist is coming from some machine in the shrubbery. It's like the stuff you get on the stage at a pop concert - and the lights went out because someone has pulled out the fuses."

"Well there you are then," said Mum, "I told you there would be a logical explanation." She turned to Mr Brady. "Amy has had a scare, so we are going home now. I hope you soon get it sorted."

"Yes, she's seen an alien; so has Sam," Charlie smiled.

It was one of those deadly, sweet smiles; I felt like hitting her; she didn't believe us either!

"We really did, honest," Sam said to his grandad. "He had the skirting board in the corner near the cupboards to eat and then he went through the wall."

"Eh? The skirting board to eat! Do aliens eat wood then?" Mr Brady asked, gazing down at his grandson's earnest face. "We'll go and look shall we?"

We all nodded, except Mum; she still wanted to take me home, but she followed us back indoors. I guessed she was thinking that 'a logical reason' would be quicker than an argument.

When we got to the hall, Sam and I stood at the door looking around it. Mr Brady had fixed the fuse so the lights were on again and it was buzzing with voices from the stallholders who were packing up their stalls.

Sam led the way; he was braver than I thought. He stood pointing at the ripped up floor and the dropped skirting board. "See," he said. "Now do you believe us?"

The others stared at the destruction.

"Why on earth..." Sam's grandad began, shaking his head.

"The alien was hungry," I said.

"Well why did he leave the wood here then?" Charlie's mum asked.

Charlie sighed. "Oh Mum, honestly..."

"Because he was frightened," Sam answered, ignoring Charlie.

" _He_ was frightened!" I said.

"Well that's about enough of this nonsense, _we_ are going home. Come along Amy, I've had enough for one evening." Mum grabbed my hand and I twisted and shrugged at Sam.

#

\- 6 -

### A BURGLAR

"Oh no!" I gasped as Mum swung into the school car park next morning. There were two police cars and lots of policemen milling around. My heart went cold and I shivered, feeling chilled all over. "The alien has done something terribly terrifying," I whispered.

Call it my sixth sense or something, but somehow I just knew that something had happened to Mr Brady: the ghost had got him during the night. The alien must be a ghost because only ghosts can walk through walls and now he'd had his revenge on Sam's grandad.

I couldn't stop goosebumps prickling my skin. I climbed out of the car inhaling the whiff of smoke that still hung about in the damp air, spying Charlie just as she spotted me. I ran over to her and she turned Sputnik round to come whizzing over to me.

"What's happened?" I asked, but she shook her head, too choked to say anything.

"Charlie," I gasped, "is it ...?" Suddenly I didn't want to say his name out loud in case it really became true.... But I was a detective and I had to know. I took a deep breath and forced myself to whisper, "Mr Brady?"

Charlie nodded.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, tears welling up.

I didn't know what to do, but thank goodness for mums - they do have their uses. She came over and put her arm about my shoulders, "It's alright, it's alright. Mr Brady is fine; a little shocked, but fine. The police have got everything in hand and Sam and his parents are with him too."

"What happened?" I asked, wiping away my silly tears on my sleeve.

"I don't know, but someone will tell us soon. We have to go into the school hall, children, and parents too, unless we have to rush off. I'll phone work."

"It's that alien," I said.

Mum raised a perplexed eyebrow and got out her mobile.

Of course, my Mum was as worried as me, because Mr Brady was Nan's best friend; Dad's as well. Nan, Dad and Mr Brady play darts for the local pub team and he and Dad train the rugby team together. Mr Brady used to be a great rugby player when he was younger, until his knees went. I'm not sure where his knees went to though. I must ask him, now I know he's not dead. I was so relieved I felt all trembly.

I could tell Mum was going to stay for a while. She could see I was upset, and anyway, there was no way my mum was going anywhere before she'd heard all the gossip. Go all day without knowing? Huh! I almost smiled. Mum would never have made it! Then I started to worry. Who would I go to after school tonight if Mr Brady was unable to look after us? I don't think that had ever happened before.

Charlie's mum had joined us now and we all tried to go together to park Sputnik so we could change Charlie into her wheelchair and then go into the hall. The police, however, had other ideas and would allow only Charlie and her mum through. Mum and I were ushered round the school to another entrance. But we met up again in the hall and sat together on the far side, the opposite end to where the alien had vanished. I thought it too spooky to be too close. Charlie and I held hands and our mums smiled weakly at us as we waited in silence.

I kept looking across the room expecting the alien to burst through the wall at me any moment, and then I thought maybe the police had got him. On the other hand, how do you catch a ghost, especially an alien ghost? Last night it had all been so freaky... it had kept me awake most of the night just thinking about it. Goosebumps surged over me again; that had kept happening too, ever since I saw and thought about the alien.

A low buzz of conversation slowly began as people started guessing about what might have happened. As it reached a crescendo, Mr Spitewell and a policeman stepped onto the stage at the front of the hall.

There was a sudden hush as everybody waited, looking up at the Headmaster. My tummy was knotted up like a ball of string and as Mr Spitewell introduced the policeman, I swallowed hard as I felt something rise in my throat. I thought for a second I was going to be sick. I wished I could see Mr Brady, just a glimpse, but there was no sign of him.

The policeman, in his dark uniform with a pinched expression round his lips began to speak, telling us what had happened. Mr Brady had gone to the village pub to play darts for the darts team, like he usually did every Tuesday evening, but had come back early as the match was cancelled. He was walking quietly across to the lodge house when he thought he saw a quick flash of light in the school hall. At first, he thought he must have imagined it, but then he saw another flash. With all the mysterious things that had happened that day, he went to investigate. He opened the school entrance door - which strangely was still locked - and called out. He called again as he went into the hall and switched on the light.

"Nobody seemed to be around, Mr Brady told me it was as silent as a grave," the policeman said, "and he could not see or hear anything. He shrugged to himself and was about to switch off the light when he noticed that one of the doors to the two cupboards in the corner of the hall was slightly open. He crossed to it and peeped in. Suddenly, he was pushed violently inside from behind and he fell onto his knees on the floor of the cupboard. As he twisted round, the door was locked from the outside by an unseen ghostly hand."

I gasped. Every head in the hall swung to the left as we all gazed in awe at the cupboards. Again, I half expected the burglar or some green alien to jump out from them, and another lot of goosebumps pimpled my skin.

Luckily, so the policeman told us, Mr Brady had his mobile in his pocket and after he had recovered from the shock, he phoned the police and Sam's dad. They had come and released him and, after talking to the police, he had gone to stay the night at Sam's house.

The police had stayed to search the school, but no sign of the intruder had been found. The whole thing had the police baffled. Firstly, someone had deliberately pulled the fuse out so everyone had to leave the building; secondly, there was the curious mist machine that nobody knew where it had come from. Lastly, nothing had been stolen, not _even_ one computer touched. It was more than odd and they praised Mr Brady for his courage in stopping what was obviously attempted theft.

The policeman told us they were treating it very seriously and intended to keep a policeman on duty for the next couple of days and nights. Not only that, but the new security alarm system was to be installed that day. Therefore, it was safe for everyone now and there was no need for any concern, he reassured us.

It was almost time for our morning break, so Mr Spitewell thanked the policeman then said that as soon as we had said goodbye to our parents, under the circumstances, we would have an early, extended playtime.

Wicked... was Mr Brady our hero, or what? _And_ he was unhurt. He had saved our school valuables, including our vital computers, and if that was not enough, he had managed to get us time off from schoolwork. Only Mr Brady could achieve so much. All at once, my eyes filled with tears again.

My mum wiped my face and gave me a kiss, "I'll see you after school; give Mr Brady my love."

I nodded and Charlie and I went into the playground. I sat on the hard wooden bench under the tree and Charlie wheeled up beside me. Neither of us felt up to playing.

"They didn't say anything about the alien ghost," I said, worried.

"Honestly, Amy," Charlie sighed, "you don't really think..." and then she saw my face and put her arm about my shoulders. "Maybe after school we could investigate the hall again."

Then Sam appeared, grinning. I jumped up and hugged him before I could stop myself, I was so glad to see him, just like the evening before. Of course, he had to tell us all the happenings all over again, until Charlie and I couldn't think of any more questions. While he was telling us, a small crowd of our schoolmates had gathered to listen. I could tell Sam felt quite a celebrity.

Just as he finished, Mr Brady came into the playground to join us and a loud cheer went up from us all. He went distinctly pink and much to my surprise seemed flustered by all the attention. He was carrying several large boxes of biscuits and _all_ the children in the playground were allowed to have one each. He was SO totally the coolest Grandad on the planet.

Biscuits were not usually allowed at playtime: not healthy, too full of sugar. "Only fruit if we wanted a snack," the teachers said, while _they_ munched on biscuits and had their coffee! But today the rules didn't count, especially by our school hero Mr Brady.

"See you all after school," Sam's grandad said to him and gave Charlie and me a wink, just as the bell went.

I just knew the day was going to drag, which it did. We had so much to investigate after school too; the thought had me wriggling in my seat for most of our boring lessons.

#

\- 7 -

### A SECRET PASSAGE

"Goodo," Mum would be late picking me up tonight because she was late into work and there were no school clubs on a Wednesday, so that meant the teachers went home early, usually while we scoffed our cake.

"Want any more cake?" Mr Brady asked us.

We all shook our heads, too eager to search for clues at the crime scene _even_ to want more chocolate cake. It was enough we had been waiting all day, wasn't it? I thought it was a bit like the feeling I got on Christmas Day, when you thought you were never going to get to open your presents. My family allowed us to have only our stocking presents and just one present from under the tree in the morning - I always picked the biggest one - then we had to wait until after dinner to open the others. I ask you, how can you eat a decent dinner, when all you want is to see what presents you've got?

"It's a family tradition," my mum always said. Well, when I had a family, we would open the presents all at once... first thing in the morning.

"Sure?" Mr Brady chuckled, getting up to put the left over cake away and grinning at our eager faces.

"Yes," we chorused.

"Come on then."

The school hall was even more eerie than usual, with invisible creatures that danced their shadows on the deepest parts of the walls. I wondered if Mr Brady was scared, so I slipped my hand into his big, warm hand, until he switched on the light.

We crossed to the cupboards, Sam pushing Charlie in her wheelchair behind us. Every floorboard groaned; I had never noticed they did that before. The cupboard keys rattled like the spirit of a dead demon, clacking a spine-chilling tune that echoed menacingly around the panelling. It reminded me of the storyteller, although I was no longer convinced he was the ghost.

Mr Brady opened the first cupboard, the one that he had been pushed into. My tummy fluttered, my mind filled with hideous aliens and slimy serpents as I stood behind Sam's grandad and peeped in. I looked into the blackness; mysterious shapes seemed to trail against the wall. I gulped. Mr Brady reached in and switched on the inner light.

PE equipment came into focus and the smell of rubber from balls stored in there drifted into my nostrils. I expected to see a man in a balaclava standing there glaring at me and about to grab us, but all there was were shelves of balls and stacks of rubber rings and a basket of coloured bean bags.

Hmm, maybe there was something else in the other cupboard, I thought as bravery returned. We opened the second door. It squeaked on its hinges and I went rigid, but once again, there was only sports stuff: cricket pads and equipment, and hockey sticks; it was just as uneventful as the first. I wrinkled my nose; it smelt like Josh's smelly feet.

I brought out my camera, "I'll take some shots." As the others looked at me, I said, "There might be some unseen evidence that we could discover when we study the pictures more closely. I've seen it on the telly; evidence being found later when they looked at the photos again." I was thinking that I'd study them on my laptop screen tonight.

Charlie grunted and turned away. She started knocking on the dark wooden panels outside the cupboard along the length of the hall.

I was tempted to think of some knock-knock jokes, but I didn't think she would find them funny at the moment.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as we gazed at her.

"There could be a secret cupboard or even a passage. Maybe that is where the alien went."

"I thought you didn't believe us," I said, amazed.

"I don't think it's an alien or a ghost; but I believe you both saw whatever it was vanish into the wall. So..."

"Omygosh! A secret passage! How totally cool! "

Sam and I glanced at each other. If there _was_ a secret passage, that would mean the alien ghost was a stunt of some sort, maybe linked with the burglar and _real_ , just like Charlie had said.

"There is no secret panel in those cupboards," Mr. Brady said with amusement in his voice. "It used to be part of the hall until I turned the alcove into those cupboards about three years ago. Will you be OK while I go and lock up?"

I came out of the cupboard and started tapping on the wood as we all nodded our OK to Sam's grandad. We were much too busy now with finding the secret passageway to give him an answer.

The entire wall sounded the same to me; I wasn't able to tell between such subtle sounds, so I had to rely on Charlie and Sam to hear the difference. Actually, I wasn't sure they could tell if there was a hollow sound or not, either. There were a few false hopes, but they came to nothing when we pounded on what we'd thought was a hollow panel.

Footsteps vibrated on the wooden floor...

All three of us whirled round.

Oh... it was only Mr Brady. For a while, I had forgotten about him. We sighed with relief when we spotted it was him coming towards us.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," Charlie answered, giving a shiver.

None of us was going to admit we had thought the burglar had come for us. Or worse, the alien! Well, he was not really a burglar, because he had not stolen anything.... yet. Moreover, the alien might not be real either. I just didn't know what to think anymore.

"Where exactly did this alien of yours disappear?" Mr Brady asked.

"Over there," Sam and I said together, pointing.

"Mm..." his grandad strolled over to the wall and this time _he_ started knocking the panels. We all giggled and he raised his eyebrows at us.

Being taller than us, he could see what we had missed: one of the edges at the top of a panel was slightly more indented than the rest. "What's this then?" he said, and pressed hard on the indent.

Slowly, the panel gave a low hiss and slid to the right. A large gaping hole stared at us.

"Wow, cool," said Charlie, the first to recover.

"Well I'll be blowed," said Mr. Brady, poking his head into the darkness. "I'll go in and see where it leads. You three stop here," and he pulled out a torch from his pocket.

"Be careful," Sam said.

His grandad patted his shoulder then disappeared through the gap.

The wait was awful: I imagined him being eaten by the alien, its green, dribbling slime mixing with Mr Brady's red blood and pouring out of its slavering jaws. Then I started thinking that the burglar might be there instead, and he was hitting Sam's grandad, knocking him out, and would then be coming for us. Quivering, I moved away from the opening. Sam glanced at me, grinned, and shouted into the black hole. He was _SO_ totally the bravest person I have ever met!

"Grandad, are you alright?" he shouted.

"Aaarrrh!" Charlie and I screamed as Mr Brady's head materialized from the murky gloom.

"You made us jump, appearing like that," Charlie said.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, catching a look at our alarmed faces.

"Where does it lead Grandad?" asked Sam, hopping from one foot to the other.

"It goes into the old cupboard in the office. It used to be some sort of coalhole I think and at one time was on the outside of the old manor, before the reception area was built around it. It's filled up now with stationery. Someone must know this building better than me. I never knew that cupboard had an inner door and could lead here, or vice versa."

"What are you going to do about it?" I asked, relief flooding through me. No real alien would need a secret passage, nor would a ghost; they could walk through walls. That meant a burglar, which was somehow not quite so scary, though bad enough.

"I'm going to get a bolt and put it on the inside of the inner door in the cupboard and then do something to stop this sliding wall panel from sliding," Mr Brady looked smug.

"That will stop them from destroying your work. They won't be able to get in here without someone seeing," Charlie said.

"Certainly won't, but I don't want any of you kids to tell any of the other children or anyone else yet, not until we get to the bottom of what's going on. It's our secret. Understand?"

We nodded. We loved secrets.

"Can we just have a look in the passage first?" I asked, now I knew it was not an alien den.

"OK, but it is very narrow. Charlie, I will have to give you a piggyback if you want to look," Mr Brady gazed down at Charlie.

"Wicked! Yes please: I don't want to miss out. It was _my_ idea about a secret passage after all."

Mr Brady nodded and bent down, and we helped Charlie out of her wheelchair and onto his back, then we crept in through the opening. Mr Brady and Charlie went first, then me and last, Sam. The smell was ghastly: sort of, like a vampire grave might smell, old and dank. Not that I've really smelt a vampire grave, or any other grave actually, but I'm sure it would smell just like this passage.

"It's not very big is it?" Charlie said, her voice sounding all hollow. "More like a long cupboard." True, I thought, as secret passages go, it was a bit of a letdown.

"About five metres I should think," Mr Brady said.

Stacks of blaring white paper and exercise books lined the walls as we came through the stationery cupboard and out into the open reception.

Putting Charlie down on a chair, Mr Brady said, "Sam, go and get Charlie's wheelchair and remember, don't tell a soul. This is our secret."

#

\- 8 -

### THE BLACKMAILER

"Hi ya. Anything to report?" I asked Sam, greeting him on Monday morning with a slap on the back.

Sam shook his head dismally, "Even Granddad's work, hasn't been touched."

"It's a mysterious dead end," Charlie looked grim.

The soft breeze rustled the leaves around our feet as we sat slumped on the old damp bench feeling as if it was the end of the world, like it had all come to nothing.

"The police have patrolled ever since the break in, all weekend and have even parked their car in the car park each night," Sam said.

My head shot up from miserably peering down at my shoes as I shuffled them, listening to the crackle they made on the ground amongst the leaves. "Well, no wonder nothing has happened! I think that's rather silly; no burglar would come if they saw the police would they?" I glared at Sam as if it was his fault.

"The police think it was just an ordinary burglar and he has probably given up with this school and gone to another, or something."

We knew different: a secret passage, a false alien, and a weird mist-making machine. It was nothing ordinary! It was too strange and our inquiries had lead to there being too much of a connection with _our_ school. Something odd was going on. My instincts as a detective told me that.

The bell clanged like the change of watch on a ship across the tarmac and we moved to line up. I SO wanted something to happen, I was feeling desperate; surely a little happening, not too perilous, was not too much to ask. I was sort of half convinced, 'cause I couldn't think of anything else, that it just _had_ to have something to do with the school building.

"What if we have another look round the _whole_ of the building tonight after school, not just the old part?" I suggested.

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea," Charlie agreed, "but I have to go to physio. So you and Sam will have to do it."

"I will MSN you with an update, tonight," I said, dumping my bags on the floor.

"Well I hope you do it properly, take some photos of each room and look in the large cupboards in each room and..."

I switched off; she was being bossy again. Then I glanced at Sam, he was nodding, looking interested in everything Charlie said. He is, oh, SO totally sweet.

The smell of paint came drifting out from our classroom as we hung up our coats. At least I had one of my favourite lessons, but I didn't feel inspired like I usually did. We trudged into the classroom.

Nothing occurred all day and after school, Sam and I could find nothing in the new building that could even _suggest_ or give a clue to what might be going on. We both felt fed up... this detective work was becoming quite boring. All weekend I had been hoping for something. I had SO looked forward to school this morning.

_Had_ the burglar given up?

When I got home and had my tea I went onto MSN to talk with Charlie. I switched on. There were three messages, all from Charlie.

Get back to me fast. I have something to tell you.

It's important, where are you?

If you don't answer soon I will have to make a decision by myself.

The last one was only four minutes ago.

_What's up?_ I answered.

Where have you been, for goodness sake? While I was waiting in the school waiting room for Mum, I was drawing on one of my legs. I know I wasn't suppose to, but I am trying to give myself a small tattoo of a Celtic dragon. I want a tattoo up my leg and Mum said I couldn't have one at my age. So I thought that if Mum got used to seeing something like one on my leg she might change her mind.

I thought this was a bit dumb, knowing her Mum: she never changes her mind. Not like my parents; I could change their 'no', for a 'yes' on most things; probably not over having a tattoo though! I keyed in: _What's this got to do with anything? I thought you said it was urgent._

_Sorry. Yes. Well, a man called in to speak to Miss Day_ _and she went quite pale when he appeared._

Mmm, I thought; Miss Day was the school receptionist. I waited expectant.

He looked mean and nasty. He gazed straight at me but still spoke to Miss Day without whispering. But that's normal. I often get made to feel invisible: people think that because I'm in a wheelchair I have no brain either.

Totally NO WAY could you say Charlie had no brain or anything like that! She is SO totally clever; she's top of our class. But she does go on a bit.

Anyway, the man said he wanted the school keys and if he did not get a copy, he would make Miss Day's life more unhappy than it already was. He said he had no more time to wait; he expected all the keys in the morning, when he would be back, or he would go round to her house and have a word with her boyfriend!

I gasped. How strange. I'd always liked Miss Day, she used to do a lunchtime dance club that I joined and loved; she was bubbly and good fun. _So what happened?_ I asked, my fingers flying over the keys.

_She said_ , " _Please Dad, I cannot get them and now there is a new security code, which I don't know." Miss Day was pleading and she was nearly crying. It was her dad! He said she was to get the code too, that he would see her in the morning and then he left._

_Fancy having a dad like that!_ _I am sure it has something to do with all the odd things going on in school, or why would he want the school keys? What shall we do Amy? Shall I tell the police, or Mum or Mr Brady, what do you think?_

I didn't know what to think; Miss Day's dad! It sounded like he was blackmailing his own daughter - but why? What did the school have that he wanted?

I wrote: _I think you should tell your mum and dad._ _If he can be that nasty to his daughter, she needs our help._

Yes, OK.

_Tell them soon,_ I keyed _\- and let me know what happens._

#

\- 9 -

### INTERROGATION

"Crickes! Where is she?" I asked myself for the hundredth time while waiting wriggling on the small rough wall in the playground.

I hadn't slept a wink thinking about what Charlie had written and what could have happened. I wanted to know what Charlie's parents had said. I waited and waited, but she hadn't got back to me before I had to go to bed.

Scrambling down from the wall, I jigged up and down. Maybe she was at the police station... maybe Miss Day was being questioned.... maybe they had arrested Miss Day's dad. Maybe...

At last, I saw Charlie wheeling herself towards me. I raced over to her.

"Well?"

"It's not good news. Mum phoned the police and they spoke to Miss Day, but she said I had misheard.... I hadn't. She said her father was asking for car keys and the police believed her. She had no reason to lie, they said. They probably think I'm stupid too. So that's that." Charlie shrugged.

"But you didn't get it wrong did you?"

"NO, I DIDN'T!"

"It's up to us then, let's tell Sam; here he comes."

When, with my help, Charlie, had finished telling Sam, he was as excited as me. "Do you think we should tell Grandad?" he asked.

Charlie and I both shook our heads. "We shouldn't worry him," I said. "We can keep an eye on Miss Day. I will pretend I feel a bit sick. They will put me in the quiet room that Charlie was in yesterday. It's next to the reception and I can see if Miss Day gives anything to her Dad when he comes."

"S'pose he already has the keys?" Charlie said. "Miss Day doesn't come into school until after Assembly; she could meet him first and then come to school."

SO totally Charlie! I hadn't thought of that. "Well, what shall **we** do?"

We all sat thinking.

"He would still need the new code," Charlie said.

Sam grinned, "Oh yes, and only Grandad and Mr Spitewell know the code."

What would a crime detective do? I thought, just as the bell rang.

He wouldn't have to go to school for a start, I told myself. He could spend the day tailing Mr Day... after finding out where he lives, of course. It was not that easy for me.

We made our way into class, all deep in thought and far from wanting to do - _maths_! I didn't even feel like finishing off my story about a magic dragon! I had enjoyed writing it last week, but not today, unless the dragon could whisper to me about where Mr Day was. The more I thought about my story, the more I decided he was a hopeless magic dragon and just another piece of useless nonsense. What good would writing about a magic dragon be to me in the real world anyhow? It wouldn't help me with my detective work or writing a scoop for a newspaper, would it? Dragons don't really exist anyhow, do they? Well, I don't think they do.... I could find out if they did, I s'pose, from the Internet.

Wham! Then it hit me.... Why was I not thinking with my deductive powers? I should find out all I could myself about Mr Day!

I went back to Plan One. I would start with Miss Day herself. "Ow... argh," I cried softly, but just enough for Miss Happeton to hear as she came past me.

"What's the matter Amy?" she asked, her voice full of concern. I felt guilty pretending and couldn't look her in the eyes.

"I feel sick and my tummy hurts," I whinged. It was all I could do to stop Miss Happeton from phoning my mum. But my oh SO clever acting managed to convince her I just needed to lie down quietly. So I landed up in the quiet room, just like I'd planned.

Charlie and Sam said later it was a brilliant performance. Maybe I should be an actress instead of a journalist. Mmm, I might have to kiss some horrible ugly man though. Even worse, an old man with false teeth! Yuk! No fear... I don't fancy that.

The only thing wrong with my plan was that there was _no_ Miss Day. I had to put up with Mrs SS instead. We all call her that; it stands for 'scary secretary' - her real name is Mrs Saunders.

I nearly gave up the whole idea and made a miraculous recovery when I found _she_ had to keep an eye on me. But a good detective would turn it to their advantage; so I did. I asked her in the most SO totally coolest way, where Miss Day was.

"She is at the dentist."

Mmm.... That would be right, I thought. "Sudden was it?"

SS peered at me above her glasses, "Yes."

"Have you known Miss Day long?"

"I helped her get this job!"

SS helping someone... Omygosh, she _was_ human. She wasn't a witch in disguise after all. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed.

"Do you know her dad?" I asked, looking angelic.

Oh, that did it! This time she really glared at me, her eyes fixed, over the top of her glasses, like she was staring right through me and I felt my tummy and whole body melting. I gulped, spluttered a bit, and suddenly nearly had an attack of near genuine tummy cramps!

"We don't talk about her father and anyway, why do you want to know?" she handed me a glass of water.

"Just wondered," I mumbled, groaning and downing the water like I imagined a private detective would drink a double shot of whisky. It gave me courage and my brain went into top gear.

"We had a conversation about dads last week," I said, " and I thought she sounded sad. He doesn't live with her." It was a sort of question.

"No he... lives away; although I believe he is back now. Well, I must be getting on. I shall leave the door open so if you want anything just call me. I can see you from my desk."

I wasn't sure if 'seeing me' was supposed to reassure me of her concern, or if it was a warning, that she had her eye on me.

* *

It turned out I need not have interrogated SS after all. My dad knew all about Miss Day's dad, when I casually mentioned him over dinner that night. He had _even_ met him. My dad had been on the school committee when Mr Day had been one of the workmen who put down the _new flooring_ in the school hall over seven years ago.

And that wasn't the only thing!

Mr Day had been in prison for robbery. Diamonds, _What is more_ , they had never been found!

Luckily, I had finished my dinner or I might have choked! I just _knew_ it had to do with the school building; knew it, knew it, knew it. There were diamonds hidden under the floor. It explained everything! All we had to do was dig up the floor of the school hall! _That's_ what the alien had been doing when we interrupted him - except he wasn't an alien after all. I bet it was Mr. Day.

"Do you feel ill again? You look suddenly flushed," Mum asked, feeling my forehead.

Flushed!! I nearly burst with the screaming abdabs! I SO needed to talk to Charlie. Somehow, I shook my head and as calmly as I could, said, "I'm going to MSN Charlie."

My mum had other ideas. "I don't like the pinkness of your cheeks, Amy, and since you've been ill for most of the day, I think you should have your shower and get an early night."

Oh bubblegum and bootlaces! It serves me right I s'pose, but my lie had all been in a good cause so I didn't think it was fair, but I couldn't tell Mum that, could I?

I didn't sleep. I wriggled around, got hot, shifted about and had an attack of the itches. When at last I started drifting into half sleep, I saw sparkling diamonds, hundreds of them; I was swimming in a sea of them....

Even when I woke, I could still see them for a few seconds, before I realized it was the glass tumbler beside my bed, sparkling in the early light. It was still semi-dark when I got up, dressed, and ran downstairs.

I had just finished making a jam sandwich when my dad came wandering into the kitchen, sort of weaving about, drunk with sleep and scratching his head. It was strawberry jam and I had made a bit of a mess, but Dad SO overreacted.

Startled when he spied me, he must have thought I'd had an accident or something 'cause he nearly had kittens. Well I know men can't have kittens really, but you know what I mean. My mum says it all the time.

He grabbed hold of me with a shriek and shot my half-eaten sandwich into the air. It did a wonderful twist and fell apart landing jam side down; one piece on Dad's head and the other down my clean school top.

My mum appeared next. Like a puff of magical haze, she whirled towards us. Then she screamed.... I think it was more from the state of my last clean top than the thought that I had been stabbed.

Oliver came running in then and only half awake he fell over the cat, who was stretching to wake herself up. With all the noise and fuss going on, I'm surprised she had so much trouble!

My brother went sprawling, sliding headlong across the stone floor. Cool... it must have hurt; he yelled _really_ loudly.

By now Dad had realized it was jam on me, and so went to help Oliver up off the floor; but he had _real_ blood oozing from him; all round his knee and down his leg and creeping across the floor.

Of course, I got the blame... but it was worth it.

#

\- 10 -

### CASE SOLVED

Phewee! Eventually - well, it seemed like forever - I got to school, but Charlie was late and Sam was nearly late, and there was me bursting! What was the matter with everyone today? Was the world out to wreck me?

"Mr Day stole some diamonds," I said smugly while we were hanging up our coats.

"WHAT?" Charlie exclaimed loudly, her head swivelling nearly back to front like an owl, making all our friends turn and stare at her.

_No way,_ were we able to settle down to schoolwork. Questions were buzzing in our brains like a wasp caught in a jar and we kept talking in a low voice to each other.

"Will you stop talking, Amy?" Miss Happeton said bending low to stare at me straight in the eyes. "You're obviously feeling well today!"

"Sorry. Yes, much better, thanks."

"And Charlie, that's enough; get on with _your_ work."

How could we? Our school lessons were even more boring than yesterday and us with such more important work to do.

At last, it was break time. We practically flew outside and I told them what my dad had said. We made our plans: as soon as school was over for the day, we would check out the floor in the school hall.

The day could not end fast enough, and I thought it never would. It did though, and we grabbed our bags and raced towards the hall. As we scuttled along the corridor, Charlie weaving about in her wheelchair like a bat out of hell - which is something my dad says - I thought it was a good thing there were no clubs tonight and soon no teachers.... except... _Mr Spitewell_.

E e e e k!

He stood looming in the doorway to the hall, a big dark shadow like a giant bug, his arms hanging at his sides like two enormous pincers.

Charlie, in the lead, stopped dead and Sam nearly fell on top of her wheelchair. And I, bringing up the rear, skidded sideways, nearly into the potted plant that was balancing on a tall stand. It wobbled dangerously... wobbled for seconds and all three of us gazed at it willing it not to fall, which it didn't \- we must have stopped it with our mind thought patterns - you know, hypnotized it, just like people do from the future with their super powers on the telly.

"What," _deliberate pause,_ "do you think you are doing?" growled Mr Spitewell, drawing in his breath so that it hissed over his teeth.

I thought it was kinda obvious myself; we were sprinting along the corridor, which we were not suppose to do, so we weren't going to own up to it were we? Why did teachers sometimes pretend to be so thick?

"Sorry," we all mumbled together, trying to look as angelic as possible.

He wasn't fooled, his eyes narrowed and he turned from a bug to a cowboy in a Wild West film, like he was standing in the doorway entrance to the saloon and about to go for his guns.

Charlie, Sam and I squared up to him; we were not afraid... much!

"I thought," said Charlie, while Sam and I held our breath, "my wheel on my chair was not spinning properly; we were just testing it, Mr Spitewell."

Oh, SO totally cool. Wasn't Charlie the cleverest, quick thinking person on this planet?

"Mmm," Mr Spitewell frowned down at us. "Where's your grandfather?" he turned to Sam.

Sam opened his mouth and gave him a weak smile.

"We thought he was in the hall," I fibbed; I was getting good at fibbing.

So was Charlie. "We are supposed to be meeting him in there," she said.

"Well OK, but no more racing; your wheels are working just fine," he scowled at her.

"Yes, aren't they?" Charlie beamed, giving him the most dazzling of smiles, which seemed to knock him off balance. How does she do it? Her smiles are as good as my mum's looks.

At last we had the hall to ourselves and by the silence in the school, the building too. Luckily, before he left Mr Spitewell switched the lights on for us, so it was not too scary, but in any case, I wasn't afraid. I knew Mr Day would only come back for the diamonds during the middle of the night. We just had to find them first.

We started tapping the floor and then Sam and I started stamping loudly, banging with our feet like we were demented chickens about to find a pecking hole with a large juicy worm in it. Charlie, who had found a drumstick, was hitting the floor with it, first normally then beating to a rhythm. Well, I think that was what she was trying to do, but her drumming was not quite stage-ready yet. It made us giggle and then Sam tried unsuccessfully to dance and stamp at the same time, which made him look even more insane. His hair flopped about like the red bit on a chicken's head and his body wobbled around like he was in spasm from an electric shock. We all fell about laughing.

"This will take us ages," Sam said, "and the floor all sounds the same to me."

It was then I had a brainstorm - as my brothers would have said. Mr Day had been near enough to Mr Brady to push him into the cupboard _real_ quick. He must have been in the second cupboard. Why was he in the cupboard at all? Obviously because it would be better to hide something in the floor at a corner, which was now cupboards, than in the middle of a large open hall, wouldn't it? I was suddenly convinced and I easily convinced my two pals, who were willing to try anything rather than continue tapping the floor.

Charlie could not get her wheelchair inside the cupboard so she gave out instructions on where to look; a job that suited her.

I was trying to climb up the shelves - Charlie's _suggestion._ "There could be a cubby-hole at the top; try it," she ordered.

So Sam was helping to hold me so I wouldn't fall... _especially_ on top of him and I said, "It will be a lovely soft landing," and we both laughed.

Bossy boots said, "Stop mucking about."

Which we weren't doing; not really, and I went to tell her so and I twisted so suddenly that Sam caught his foot and let me go. I rocked, slipped, and then toppled, and we both landed on the ground with me squashed up between the wall and Sam. Then, a floppy floorboard sprang up and nearly hit me in the face. Ouch!

I peered at it; the floorboard had an empty hole underneath it!

As I scrambled up, Sam grabbed one of the cricket stump sticks. He dug at the next board and pulled it up; then the next. He was just going for the next one when Charlie said she was sure she had seen something in the corner, under the second loose board beneath the skirting that ran round the bottom of the cupboard.

I got on my hands and knees, peering at what looked like a corner of grey material. I tugged at it, but it didn't budge.

Charlie was now so excited she was going into a giddy set of instructions on how I should go about removing it. Not that I could hear her properly, nearly upside down and with my back to her so I was unable to watch her lips.

"Shurrup, I'm doing my best." I yelled. "Sam, put the pointy end of the cricket stump under this part of the skirting and wiggle it as far up as you can. I will try to pull the material at the same time, if I can get hold of it."

Sam, always obedient, did as I asked. There was a sound of splitting wood and suddenly, after several tugs, out came a pouch like a cloth bag. It felt quite heavy and I stared at it spellbound, as if it had some magical power over me.

"Open it," whispered Sam, so softly that I barely heard him, so he nudged me, and I looked up at him. "Open it," he repeated.

So I did.

Little nuggets that looked like my glass-beaded princess necklace sparkled back at me.

"Omygosh!" I gasped. "We have found the long lost diamonds." I reached in the pouch and pulled out a few; they lay sparkling on my palm like glittering rainbows. Dizzily I turned and showed them to Sam then Charlie. "What shall we do with them?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"We should give them to the police," said Sam.

"But what about Mr Day? I want him to go back to jail; he is so horrible to his daughter and I like her," I replied, still holding the magic pouch and diamonds in my hand. "Maybe we should hide them and not tell anyone."

"Mr Day could come after us if he finds we have the diamonds," Charlie shuddered.

"Maybe that is the only way to catch him," I grinned; this was my chance - my first criminal case and capture.

"You can't be serious," Sam said.

Charlie was silent, we turned to her, her face was all screwed up; she was thinking.

"Well?" I prompted.

"I agree."

"Not even Grandad?" Sam asked.

Charlie and I both shook our heads.

"How are we going to let Mr Day know we have the diamonds then?" Sam asked worriedly. He just hadn't seen enough telly detective programmes.

I had, and I had such a SO totally cool plan.

#

\- 11 -

### THE CAPTURE

"They're KO," I said to Sam when he'd finished putting the wooden boards back in place. No one would be able to tell they had been moved. They creaked and rocked a bit, but only if you stood on them and being they were in the far end of the cupboard that was not going to happen too often, was it?

Then we put the pouch of diamonds in with Miss Booty; she's our class rabbit and with a name like hers, it was meant to be her destiny, wasn't it? She hopped over to us expecting a treat, so we gave her a few dandelion leaves. Miss Happeton brings them in fresh each day from her garden and keeps them in a bag on a shelf by Miss Booty's hutch. We left her happily munching, the pouch hidden under her bedding.

That done, I could hardly wait until tomorrow when we would put the plan that was creeping into my head into action. I would think more about it tonight, work out the details, and tell Charlie and Sam in the morning. I felt so excited like a coiled up spring.

"Grandad's late locking up?" Sam said as we nearly danced over to his lodge.

"BOO!" the three of us yelled as we opened the sitting room door.

Mr Brady was sitting on the sofa with a skinny, pale-faced man beside him. Mmm, I thought Mr Brady looked a bit white too.

"I take it you're Sam," the man said, turning to stare at us.

Sam nodded, raising his eyebrows and looking at his grandfather.

I was sure I didn't know the man, and yet there was something familiar about him.... I didn't like him; he had mean shifty eyes, almost black, like the two buttons on my whale hot water bottle, but not as friendly.

Charlie grabbed my arm and I glanced down at her.

"Well," said Mr Brady, "thanks for bringing Sam over, he'll get used to this, being escorted by two lovely girls. You had better hurry off now or your mums will be worrying where you are."

What _was_ Mr Brady talking about?

I was just about to ask him when Charlie started saying, "It was nothing, must go, Mum's waiting in the car park. She'll be looking for us I expect. Bye Sam. Push me Amy, I feel tired."

This time I turned and stared hard at Charlie; she was _never_ tired and neither of our mums was in the car park. She grabbed my hand and had me half-pinned with her wheelchair in the doorway, sort of pushing me backwards through the door, so I had no option in which direction I went.

"Have you gone mad?" I said when we were out of the room, but Charlie gave me a warning look, shook her head, and put her finger to her lips.

When we got outside the house, she spoke. " _That_ was Mr Day!"

My mouth fell open. "NO." No wonder he seemed familiar; his daughter looked like him, except she had beautiful blue eyes and much more hair that wasn't grey.

"He is holding Mr Brady, and now Sam, hostage; and nearly us too. That's why Mr Brady was talking nonsense, hoping we'd cotton on and escape. What do you think Mr Day is going to do? Can't you push me any faster?"

So much for my detective skills... and my plan! Good thing Charlie had seen him before and had thought so quickly.

"We had better ring the police," Charlie said, getting out her school bag with her mobile in it. She was only allowed to use it for emergencies. I guess this was one.

While she punched in the number I pushed her chair away from the lodge at a run, but I wasn't happy. "I thought we were going to deal with him," I moaned.

"How?" Charlie snapped.

I had no answer.

"Exactly," Charlie said, holding her mobile to her ear. "Sam and his grandfather could be in danger."

"What now?" I panted. I had to slow down; all life seemed to be gone from me. "I feel like a damp rag," I added. Mum says this when she's tired. I'm sure it was the same feeling I had now.

"That's shock I expect." Charlie was SO sensible. "Oh, hello..." she said into her mobile.

The police took forever to take Charlie seriously. "Look up your records or whatever; we had a break in here," she yelled into her mobile, her face flushed with annoyance.

I managed to piece the one-sided conversation together. Eventually, after taking her address and threatening that if she were messing them about they would be round to see her, they said they would send someone along. "Along, along," Charlie repeated. She was real angry when she got off the phone, I mean _really_ angry, steam was practically coming out her ears.

"Do I sound like someone who would send for the police with such a story?" she raged. "Why didn't they look up their records like I told them, then they would know there had been trouble here last week? Just because I'm only nine." Her mobile went flying into the air as she went to slip it into her pocket and missed because she was so busy flinging her arms about.

While she had been on the phone, I had pushed her to the car park. I picked up her mobile and handed it to her, "Get into Sputnik, then we can see what we can do to help Mr Brady and Sam, until the police get here."

"OK, Yes."

That was more like it! I turned the wheelchair round, pulled down the side and Charlie slipped across into Sputnik. Just as she was seated, we saw Mr Day with Sam and his grandad coming out of the lodge house.

Hastily, with Charlie in Sputnik, we went and hid behind the school rubbish bins, the only things in the car park close and large enough to hide us. We peeped slowly from round their sides, coo were they pongy! I wriggled my nose and held it with two fingers like a peg. Good detectives have horrible jobs!

Mr Day was holding Sam's arm tightly and pushing Mr Brady in front of him. He shoved Sam roughly through the door of the school, but not before Sam had glanced nervously around. I could see he was looking for us... he knew we would rescue him. His face was all tense and as bloodless as a ghost.

"Do you think we should phone our mums?" I hissed.

Charlie shook her head. "No, my mum would have a fit."

Mmm, I thought, my mum would too; anyhow, she would be here to pick me up soon.

After what seemed like forever, Charlie and I got fed up with trying to guess what was happening, and there was still no sign of the police, so we crept slowly towards the corner of the school building.

I nudged Charlie, "Look, there's Sam!" I had just caught a glimpse of him in our classroom and I knew he must have told Mr Day where the diamonds were. I slithered closer to the window and I peeped in

Mr Day had his back to me and was looking at the diamonds. Sam spotted me and I waved, giving him hand signals like semaphore mixed with mime. It _was_ a pity he had not learnt my sign language, I could have told him we would rescue him for sure. Then I remembered the thumbs up sign my brothers always use. He nodded and gave a weak smile.

I ducked down under the window and crept back to Charlie. "He has the diamonds," I said.

Her face waxen, she asked me, "Where are the police? What shall we do?"

_ME_! She was asking me! Charlie was usually the one with all the sensible ideas.

After a moments thought I said. "How about we try a sort of Peter Hodges on him?" Charlie looked blank. "You know," I reminded her, "I'll trip Mr Day up as you pin him against the wall."

"How?"

"We just get something to put across the entrance as he comes out."

"Like what? We'll have to be quick."

"How about your wheelchair folded down?" I said. Before Charlie could answer, I raced over to the car park and got it, wheeling it back at speed to the doorway to the school entrance, round the corner from our classroom window.

"He'll see it and go round it," Charlie said.

Had she NO imagination? She really needed to read more; you can get good ideas from stories, _and_ you can get plans. I tried to be patient as I explained. "I'll just dance like a loony as he comes towards the door and he will be so busy looking at me and wondering what I'm doing he won't see it and he'll fall over it."

Charlie shrugged nervously, "I hope it works or we will be in trouble, I'll have my school bag ready to hit him with when he falls."

"Good idea," I agreed, trying not to let her see how scared I was.

My hands shaking, I folded down the chair. It was bigger than I thought. I wedged it in the doorway so he couldn't get round it. I stood waiting; Charlie and Sputnik were further away, on the corner, ready to come over as soon as Mr Day fell.

I jigged on the spot and my mouth felt dry. I could no longer see Mr Day and Sam in the classroom and Mr Brady seemed to have disappeared completely. Was he tied up somewhere? I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a detective any more. What if Mr Day had killed Sam and Mr Brady? What if he grabbed me as he came out and didn't fall? What if...

I was shaking so much my legs began to knock, and then from the corner of my eye I saw something move. I twisted, startled. It was Charlie, whizzing Sputnik round and zooming off across the playground as if she was in flight, like the rocket her car was named after.

My jaw dropped, why was she...? Then I saw Mr Day rushing across the playground in front of Charlie. He had come out of a different door and was getting away with the diamonds!

Charlie, in hot pursuit, must have shouted, I wasn't quite sure, but it made Mr Day half turn round and slow down, which was the last thing he should have done, because Charlie had reached him and as he turned she crashed Sputnik into the side of him; he buckled at the knees... and fell to the ground.

She was SO brave. But so was I. Without thought, I chased after Charlie and as Mr Day tried to scramble up on to his hands and knees, I jumped on his back. Charlie rammed his big bottom, knocking him flat again. Together we started beating him, me with my fists and feet, which were round his middle as I clung on to his back, and Charlie with her school bag. He was yelling at us - words I couldn't possibly repeat - and he shook violently, flinging out his arms to get me off his back and trying to get to his feet. When he staggered upright, he spiralled, trying to reach me and pull me off. It was like being on a merry-go-round, everything twirling.

I think we could have done him some _real_ damage if the police, along with Mr Brady and Sam, had not turned up. A policeman dragged me off Mr Day's back just as two other policemen went to grab hold of him. He tried to dodge them, struggled free from their grip, and kicked out hard. His foot caught Sputnik, which nearly went over sideways and Charlie almost fell out, but was caught by Mr Brady and Sam, who righted Sputnik as it toppled.

Then my mum and Charlie's dad turned up, running towards us, Mum crying out my name like a banshee, which I think is some kind of Irish ghost that wails to warn people they are going to die. Anyway, Josh calls me that when I scream at him - well today, it was Mum screaming. - But we had captured Mr Day.

#

\- 12 -

### SUPER HEROES

"COOL!" The excitement wasn't over; the police said they would take my formal statement in the morning.

Mum had phoned Dad while the police spoke to us all, then, as it was so late when they had finished, we picked up a Chinese takeaway. Wick-ed!

I bowled into the kitchen expecting lots of cheers, but Dad's voice was icy as he gazed down at me. "IF you EVER do anything so dangerous or silly EVER again, you will be grounded until you are old and grey, you got that?"

Yeah right, as if he could really do that! I looked up at him, his face suddenly seemed old and all crinkly, and I remembered Mum's face when she nearly hugged me to death like a big bear. I had never seen her look so frightened. She had gone from a lovely shade of pink to bright red as she went for Mr Day and was nearly had up for his murder - to white and looking like a phantom, as if she would faint. So I didn't argue about being grounded. Mum was still trembling and pale even now, so Dad told the boys to dish out the dinner while he sat Mum down on the settee and made her a cup of tea.

I smiled smugly to myself; I bet Mr Day was glad the police had him safe from me, Mum and Charlie.

"You're the coolest ever sister," Josh said in a low voice, and Oliver nodded.

About time, they realized that!

"What would you like on your plate, you can have first choice?" Oliver asked.

Yes! Respect at last.

Later, they both crept into my bedroom and asked me all about what happened. I did spice up the story a bit, about what I did, but Josh grinned and said I was a real super hero and he was proud to be my brother!

Then Dad came up to my bedroom and turfed them out, "After all that... hmm, excitement, she needs her sleep," he said gruffly.

As _if_ I could sleep!

Then Dad gave me a kiss and came over all soppy; he was such a softy. I could get him to do anything I wanted, even if I hadn't been a super hero.

"You're my special princess," he said, his eyes all glassy.

"Dad," I squirmed, "I'm nine now, don't call me that, I'm not a baby."

"Of course you're not, give me a cuddle."

"Only if you tell me the story about Nanny and her flying dragon."

He was SO totally hopeless, wasn't he?

I gave him a cuddle and we lay together on my bed; me snuggled up in his strong, warm arms while he told me the story about a magic land and a super girl warrior who saved the world.

She sounded nearly as brave as me.

* *

Omygosh, was it fun to be at school next day? I felt just like a celebrity. We did get cheered, just like Mr Brady had been, and _everyone_ wanted to hear what happened and each time we told our story it got wilder and wilder. By the end of the day, I _even_ believed that the three of us could save _anyone_ from the evils of our planet. We were allowed to give Miss Booty lots of treats for the part she'd played, not that she knew she'd played a part really, but she seemed perfectly happy with all the attention.

First, we gave the police our statement, which was too serious to be fun like I thought, and then we had a special assembly, where we sat on the stage like honoured visitors, next to Mr Spitewell.

"I am very proud of all three of you and I always knew you would do something great with your lives," he said.

Yeah right!

"Only not quite this early in life," he smiled. "Maybe you could all wait until you are older to actually achieve any further greatness?"

Everyone laughed.

I bet he didn't know he had such ruthless, trained killer kids like us in his school! AND as for us waiting till we were older... these things just happen to you when you are super heroes.

In the afternoon, the local newspapers turned up and I met a _real crime journalist._ The best bit was, they promised I could visit their offices and go out with one of the reporters the following week. I told them it would have to be a crime reporter, which caused a bit of discussion for a while.

They took lots of photos of us all and we felt just like pop stars.

Charlie said in the middle of our 'photo shoot,' "It's a good thing we've had lots of practice posing for the camera isn't it?"

I nodded, it certainly was. "Don't do your stupid face pose," I said to Sam.

He smirked and for a moment...

Charlie and I glared at him.

When they had finished, I said, "Can I go out with a photographer too please?" If you don't ask you don't get, my Nan always says.

"Me too," said Charlie.

I looked at her strangely; she didn't have a camera. In fact, I didn't know she _even_ liked taking photos. As if she could read my mind, she said, "I'm getting a camera. Since I had a go with yours I thought I might be a photographer when I grow up."

I gasped; she had _always_ been so definite about becoming a racing driver, then I grinned. Well... I thought I knew everything about my best friend. But it would be SO totally cool and terrific fun taking photos together - probably of the most famous people in the world.

So it was agreed that both of us could spend a _whole_ week with the local newspaper! Not only were we going to work with a journalist and photographer, we had special permission to be off from school! How wicked was that?

In addition, if that wasn't enough.... when we were at Mr Brady's enjoying extra slices of cake, because as he said, laughing, "We had to keep our strength up," the police arrived again.

"Oh, oh," said Sam when he opened the door to them.

But guess what? They said there was a large cash reward to share for finding the diamonds!

It was hard to believe; we weren't only famous, we weren't only super heroes, we were going to be rich too!

I started to make a list in my head:

1. Horse riding lessons.

Charlie went horse riding and I had seen on the telly some show jumping last week. A show jumper's life seemed less dangerous than a detective's, and _if_ I had a horse I could become....

# About the Author

**Lia Ginno** is a Nanny of five grand children - don't call her Grandma, she hates the word and says she is not old enough to be called that yet! She lives in Lincolnshire near to her grand children who regularly visit...to nick chocolate. She likes to tell them scary stories, and she knows magic and special secret spells; - which _unfortunately_ her grand children are too young to know! They all paint together, make pots and animals with clay, sculpture with papier-mâché, flinging sticky paste all over the kitchen floor, or bake and decorate unusual tasting cakes. Sometimes she has to _bribe_ them to get their help to show her how to 'operate' something on her computer, because they are all such 'smarties.'

Lia, NNEB. Cert Ed. Often goes into schools and has fun sessions with games, story telling and craft promoting friendship, reading, and writing - some call them workshops, (another word Lia hates.)

She also likes to meet her readers so if you want her to visit your school, ask your teacher and go to her website for further information. www.liaginno.com

The sessions are all FREE - but exclude expenses.

