Davina Dupree Suspects a Smuggler Read online

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I hope you all remember what we learnt last week about the sun?’

  ‘Ooh, me, me, me!’ Arabella’s hand shot up and she jumped up and down.

  ‘Yes Arabella?’ Mrs Bunsen said.

  ‘The sun creates solar energy,’ Arabella said. ‘The light from it takes eight minutes to reach the earth and we turn it into electricity. I read a book about it after your lesson.’

  ‘Swot,’ Clarice whispered. She’s just jealous, the mean thing. She always says things like that to anyone who gets better grades than her.

  ‘Well done, Arabella,’ Mrs Bunsen said, the corners of her mouth tweaking upwards ever so slightly. ‘Today we’re going to create our own energy, right here on this beach. A little bit like the sun does, only in reverse. Mrs Bunn, do you have the anti-explosive aprons?’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ Mrs Bunn swung a small backpack off her back and rummaged around in it, drawing out a pile of silvery, metallic material.

  ‘Put one of these on each, girls,’ Mrs Bunsen commanded, picking one up and tying it round her own waist. ‘They’ve been specially treated to deflect any hot sparks and explosions.’

  ‘I’m putting one over my face,’ Cleo draped one over her head. ‘There’s no way I’m risking these looks for a stupid science experiment.’

  ‘You never know, if a spark flies through your ear and into your brain it might make you MORE intelligent,’ Arabella said. Cleo growled but the apron stayed firmly over her head.

  Mrs Bunsen rolled her eyes.

  ‘I have a pair of special glasses for each of you for that very reason, Cleo,’ she said, swinging her backpack off and lifting a bunch of thick plastic spectacles out of it. She threw a pair at Cleo. ‘Here, take that apron off your head and put these on, then at least you’ll be able to see. These are specially designed goggles that will shield your eyes.’ #Clever invention. #SO funny to look at.

  Soon, we were all standing in a group, looking like a bunch of mad scientists, wearing aprons and giant plastic goggles. Mrs Bunsen bent over and rummaged around at the bottom of her backpack, drawing out three curious looking bottles and a shiny container. Mrs Bunn just stared out across the sea at the horizon. I thought she was probably bored, wishing she was back at school drinking a nice, hot cup of tea.

  ‘Our secret ingredients,’ Mrs Bunsen brandished the bottles and container above her head. ‘Cardomina, Belzum and Raducci, and a mixing bowl made from Sparkozi. I think we’ll have a quick practise now, maybe test out small amounts of the chemicals, then break for lunch. After all we need to make sure we have enough energy ourselves if we’re going to be conducting nuclear experiments, don’t we?’

  ‘Nuclear what?’ Mrs Bunn’s eyes snapped away from the horizon and focused on Mrs Bunsen. ‘Oh for goodness sake, you haven’t changed a bit, have you Andromida? You were always on about nuclear experiments as a child. I remember when you blew up dad’s greenhouse trying to split the atom. His prize cucumbers were in there, you know, it affected him very badly. He never entered another garden show again.’

  ‘As a child? What, do you mean you’re sisters?’ Arabella asked, eyes widening.

  ‘Haven’t you told them we’re related, Andromida?’ Mrs Bunn’s eyes stopped looking all twinkly and narrowed so that she looked rather spiteful.

  ‘No, Hilda,’ Mrs Bunsen said quietly. ‘And this is neither the time nor the place to go into it. Right, first years, there’s been a change of plan. We’ll break for an early lunch now, and resume our experiment in forty five minutes time. Please take great care of your goggles and aprons, they’re very expensive.’

  Well gosh and golly and blow me down with a feather, I wasn’t expecting that revelation! But now that I look at them they do look rather similar, although Mrs Bunn’s eyes are darker and deeper than Mrs Bunsen’s and she always looks rather untidy as though she’s just been blown through a hedge backwards, whereas Mrs Bunsen’s SUCH a neat dresser. Right, must go now, Diary, as Arabella and I are going off to find a nice spot on the beach to eat our packed lunches.

  Later on the beach, Tuesday, 7th February

  Curious happenings, Diary...

  Wow, what a day. Arabella and I went and sat in the mouth of a really sweet little cave to eat our packed lunches, so we could look out to sea and be protected from the breeze at the same time. We’d talked about Mrs Bunsen and Mrs Bunn and how unexpected the whole thing was, and were half way through our smoked salmon and avocado sandwiches, when Arabella said,

  ‘Look over there. What on earth is Mrs Bunn doing?’ I looked where she was pointing and saw the dinner lady looking out to sea, doing what looked like some very strange exercises. First she stuck her right arm up in the air and her left one out horizontally, then she swapped them round. Before long she was twirling her arms as though she was pretending to be a windmill. #Talk about odd.

  ‘I have no idea what she’s doing,’ I said, giggling. ‘But she does look very funny. Maybe she’s trying to keep fit or something. We watched for a bit longer, drinking our fizzy grape juice, nudging each other and giggling every now and again because Mrs Bunn really did look like she was doing an exercise routine in time with the waves.

  Arabella looked at her watch, then scrambled to her feet.

  ‘Time to go,’ she reached out and helped me up. ‘Come on, l can’t wait to do this experiment.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, feeling very doubtful, wiping the sand off my glasses and apron then traipsing after her.

  ‘Gather round,’ Mrs Bunsen shouted as we joined the huddled group of first years on the other side of the beach. ‘Make sure everyone’s standing where they can see because I’m going to talk you through the experiment and do a demonstration, then ask you to split into groups so you can try the experiment for yourselves. Goggles on everybody? Then here we go.’

  She unscrewed the caps of the three bottles. One gave a hiss, one oozed green smoke and the other frothed over. Cleo and Clarice took several paces back. Mrs Bunsen stepped forwards, placing the mixing bowl in the centre of our circle.

  ‘One drop of Cardomina,’ she said, shaking a thick bright blue glob from the bottle that had hissed. It landed in the middle of the mixing bowl with a “SSssssss”. ‘Three shakes of Belzum,’ Mrs Bunsen’s eyes lit up in a way I’d never seen before as she gently prized out three feathery drops of green goo, making sure they landed on top of the Cardomina. Nothing happened. ‘And four healthy squeezes of Raducci,’ she said, whacking a load of deep pink froth on top of the contents of the mixing bowl.

  White light shot upwards from the depths of the bowl, causing most of us to fall over backwards in shock. Only Arabella was left standing, her mouth open, a look of adoration in her eyes. As the light arced it turned into a fountain of pink, green and blue sparkles that rained down on us. Clarice and Cleo screamed and ran into the tunnel and I must say I was glad to be wearing my safety goggles because the sparks were so bright they made my eyes hurt a bit, but they didn’t seem to do my hair any harm, just made it smell smoky for hours afterwards.

  ‘And there you have it,’ Mrs Bunsen came forwards, rubbing her hands together when the sparks had died out, her eyes still alive. ‘A simple yet effective experiment, dangerous if you haven’t been listening. A source of energy made from splitting the atoms of a few simple ingredients. Remember, one drop of Cardomina, three shakes of Belzum and four healthy squeezes of Raducci. Now split into pairs, collect a mixing bowl from Mrs Bunn’s backpack and spread out along the beach to conduct your own experiments.’ #Woo hoo!

  Arabella took charge of our science experiment and told me exactly what to do and how many drops to squeeze out of each bottle, which I was quite glad about because otherwise I might have blown up the whole beach, although it was a bit annoying how bossy she became at the end. We practised making the fountain of light and sparks loads of times in different parts of the beach. Arabella made one that went half way up the cliff! Fountains of all shapes and sizes were going off all around us t
he whole time; Lynne and Moira made quite a good one, Lottie and Erica’s was quite small – Arabella says they probably didn’t use quite enough Raducci – and Cleo and Clarice went wrong with theirs and managed to set the end of Clarice’s hair on fire, which she screamed and screamed about. #Really loud voice. #Hurt my ears.

  At the moment, I’m sitting on the beach drinking hot chocolate with the rest of the first years. Mrs Bunn brewed some up for us as a treat on the portable stove she brought in her backpack, as she said we’d worked so hard all day. And she gave us all one of her chewy, strawberry sweets. She’s rather sweet really, let us sit down to drink it while she went round collecting up all the goggles and aprons.

  Right, I have to go now Diary, Mrs Bunsen is calling for us to troop off down the tunnel and back to school. Cleo and Clarice are first in line, I don’t think they’ve enjoyed today very much!

  Later that night, Tuesday 7th February

  Crisis, Diary!

  Oh my goodness, you’ll never guess what happened while we were all at the beach, it’s SUCH a disaster, especially for poor Arabella.

  As we dragged ourselves up the last bit of the tunnel and into the kitchen cellars, VERY tired after our day on the beach, we could hear frantic shouting that got louder and louder as we got closer to the kitchens.

  ‘Is that...Marcel?’ Melody asked from behind me.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, worried. ‘I think it is.’ We all know Marcel has a TERRIBLY bad temper and always argues with his chefs, but sometimes I think it’s all for show. He has a really soft side too and always bakes amazing cakes for all the teachers, pupils and chefs on their birthdays. But the way he was shouting now was different from normal, he sounded more anguished and distressed.

  ‘Where are all the jars of Italian sweets?’ Arabella said as we walked through the deepest cellar. ‘I’m sure they were right here before.’ She pointed to a large, dark space on the floor.

  ‘Maybe Marcel moved things around while we were out?’ I said, doubt creeping into my stomach. Something didn’t feel right at all.

  ‘It certainly looks a lot more spacious down here than it did this morning,’ Lottie said, coming to walk next to me. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, breaking into a run, seeing the steps up to the kitchen ahead of me. I arrived in the shiny silver and white kitchen, closely followed by Arabella and Lottie, in time to hear Marcel shriek,

  ‘But where ‘as it all gone, Mrs Fairchild? Where are all my INGREDIENTS?’

  ‘Deep breaths, Marcel, there’s a lamb,’ Mrs Fairchild said in a calm little voice. She was standing in front of the enormous oven, hands clasped, watching Marcel pace up and down the kitchen. For once he wasn’t wearing his chef’s hat, which was a bit alarming to see because Marcel ALWAYS wears his hat, it’s practically part of him. But most disturbing of all were the tears that ran down his face in rivers.

  ‘Why would anyone ‘ere do theez to me?’ He howled. ‘Why, Mrs Fairchild. Why? What did I do to deserve it? All my new batch of ingredients stolen, including ze WHOLE stock of Italian sweets. The school meals are ruined. RUINED!’

  ‘You are a great chef, Marcel,’ Mrs Fairchild stepped forwards, taking his hand and holding it tight. She glanced up and saw us first years assembling at the top of the steps. I’m sure half our mouths must have been hanging open. ‘I know you’ll be able to manage with the ingredients you have left until we catch the culprit and get back what is rightfully yours and the schools.’

  ‘The Italian sweets,’ whispered Arabella in my ear. ‘Please don’t tell me they’ve been stolen. They’re the most important ingredient of Magic Mousse.’

  I turned to see she’d gone rather pale. Like I mentioned before, Arabella SERIOUSLY loves Magic Mousse.

  ‘Look,’ Mrs Fairchild let go of Marcel’s hand and shooed him gently towards the kitchen door. ‘Why don’t you go to bed, there’s a dear? Things always look better after a good night’s sleep. Let’s talk about this again tomorrow morning.’ So with his head hanging down, Marcel shuffled off into the corridor, sniffing loudly. Mrs Fairchild turned to us.

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to see or hear any of that,’ she said, quite seriously for her. ‘Please understand, first years, that something extremely serious happened while you were out on your school trip today, and I shall be calling an emergency assembly about it tomorrow morning. The fact is, most of Marcel’s ingredients that he keeps in the cellars have gone missing, presumed stolen. The total amount they are worth together is over a hundred thousand pounds, as Marcel buys in the finest, rarest foods from around the world.’

  Mrs Bunn, who’d come to stand behind me – I could tell from the chewing and strawberry sweet aroma - tutted loudly. Arabella moaned softly, her worst fears confirmed. Mrs Fairchild stopped frowning.

  ‘But let’s not forget its only food that we’re talking about,’ she rubbed her hands together. ‘Luckily it’s all replaceable. Eventually. Rather an expensive batch to buy back, but never mind. Now come on, off to bed with you all. You must be tired after your busy day.’

  Well. Really! #What a palava!

  Wednesday, 8th February

  The plot thickens, Diary.

  By breakfast time, the whole school seemed to know what had happened.

  There was a buzz in the dining room as we ate our smoked mackerel on seeded toast with lemon mayonnaise. Literally EVERYONE seemed to be talking about it.

  ‘Apparently Marcel’s scream made Mrs Fairchild sprint from her office...’

  ‘They’re calling the police in, there’s a criminal amongst us...’

  ‘ALL of the Italian sweets are gone, Marcel will never be able to make Magic Mousse again...’

  ‘Noooo!’ Arabella yelled, when she heard this remark.

  Marcel came out of the kitchen to talk to Mrs Fairchild, who was sitting on a table not far from our own. He didn’t look like the chef we’d come to know and love, his face was pale, his eyes looked down and his shoulders sagged. Poor Marcel. I was annoyed to see Clarice and Cleo intercepting him on his way over. Whatever they said to him made him shake his head vigorously and look even more miserable. #So whingy.

  ‘Meesus Fairchild,’ he cried, as he got nearer to the headmistress’s table. ‘Those blonde ‘aired girls just told me they think ze thief is Franco, as e’s new and nothing like this ever ‘appened before ‘e arrived. But I’ve known Franco since ‘e was born. I can’t believe –‘

  Mrs Fairchild sighed.

  ‘I believe you may be talking about Cleo and Clarice, Marcel, and if I’m not mistaken, Franco accidentally poured mint sauce all over Clarice’s white top the other night.’ Her eyes twitched mischievously. ‘Let’s not forget that this may be why those particular girls are so quick to point the finger at Franco, to exact some sort of petty revenge.’

  Marcel shook his head despairingly.

  ‘I ‘aven’t slept all night,’ he said, wringing his hands. ‘I just don’t know what to theenk anymore. Maybe I should resign-‘

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Mrs Fairchild said, rather fiercely for her. ‘You and I shall be brave and stick together, Marcel. If we do that, and with the help of the police – who I’ll ring later today - we’ll somehow get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all. And today we’ll buy back at least some of your ingredients and keep them under lock and key until the thief has been caught. Deal?’ She stuck her hand out. Marcel sighed.

  ‘Deal,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Meesus Fairchild. You are indeed a magnificent lady.’ Mrs Fairchild twinkled and giggled in reply.

  Arabella turned to me.

  ‘We should investigate too,’ she said in a low voice. ‘This is the worst crisis I’ve ever faced. I think I might die if I can never eat Magic Mousse again.’ I grinned. She can be so melodramatic sometimes.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘We need to take a look at the scene of the crime ourselves,’ Arabella muttered. ‘Take a look at the cellars without a grown up br
eathing down our necks. That way-‘

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Mrs Bunn came waddling over, a beam on her face but her eyes sharp like usual. ‘Come on, eat up or you’ll be late for lessons.’

  Right, I must go now Diary as I have a double art lesson after break. Arabella and I have agreed to do some snooping around in the cellars after school today. I just hope we don’t get caught...

  Later that afternoon, Wednesday 8th February

  Disturbing discoveries, Diary!

  My goodness, we’ve had an exciting day.

  Basically, after lessons finished we wandered down to the kitchens looking really innocent. Our cover story was that we needed some chocolate as we were feeling tired after all our hard work, and were looking for a chef to ask him for some. But really, we were determined to sneak down to the cellars and have a look around to see if we could find a clue that might tell us who the thief is.

  Luckily there was no one about, which is exactly what we’d hoped for. We knew the chefs tended to take a break between lunch and dinner time as we’d often seen them strolling about the school gardens arm in arm, or sometimes arguing loudly, so it was an eerily quiet kitchen we found ourselves sneaking into.

  ‘Excellent,’ Arabella whispered. ‘Let’s go.’

  We tiptoed over to the cellar door and descended the stairs. Arabella had a torch stuffed up her cardigan sleeve, which THANK GOODNESS she got out and shone in front of us or I think I might have tripped.

  As before, the cellars looked remarkably empty.

  ‘They must be locking any new ingredients up somewhere safe,’ I whispered.

  ‘Yep,’ Arabella whispered back, sounding grim. ‘Marcel won’t leave anything to chance now there’s a thief about. Come on, let’s go down to the deepest cellar where the Italian sweets were kept. You never know, we might find a clue...’