The Secret Five and the Stunt Nun Legacy (21 page)

They all trooped off to the sidebar, leaving the inquisitive pale lady standing there with Whatshisname. Suddenly he felt quite alone and dejected without his chums.

‘Hello!’ said the lady, bending down to stroke Whatshisname’s head. ‘You’re a lovely fellow, aren’t you?’

‘Woof woof woof!’ said Whatshisname, pleased at being called a fellow, given previous misguided assumptions about his gender.

‘I tell you what!’ said the inquisitive pale lady. ‘While they’re away, why don’t I go and sit over there on that comfy chair, alongside their sidebar, and you can sit by me and we can chat.’

‘Woof woof woof!’ said
Whatshisname. He followed her and sat down at her feet. He peeked over her shoulder to see inside the sidebar, but couldn’t see anything except a haze of italics, so he gazed up at her, his eyes considerably full of dole. To be honest, this could turn out to be his worst nightmare, apart from the trebuchet incident – what on earth were his pals talking about? Not vets, surely?

Never mind, he had this nice inquisitive lady for company. He only wished that he had the power of speech, then he could tell her all about Nixie digital clocks.

‘You are really nice,’ the inquisitive lady sighed. ‘Just like my old doggy.’

She stroked Whatshisname’s head. He sighed and began to relax a bit.

‘Yes, I remember my old doggy, bless her, looking up at me as I drove the knife in. Such pitiful eyes. She made no sound as she died, just a little gurgle. When you think
about it, if only she’d made no sound in life, then I’d have had no reason to have killed her – where are you going? Come back! Nice doggy!’

But Whatshisname had gone! He had shot off and was now busy cowering behind the reception desk.

The inquisitive lady shrugged, then slipped the penknife back into her pocket. She waited for the children to finish in the sidebar, and thought this was taking far longer than she’d expected. She started to worry that her meagre part in the story might become even more meagre by the time they’d finished.

More worrying to her was that she might not have enough meaningful narrative to fill the space alongside the sidebar. But, happily for her and for everyone, it worked out just fine.

‘Hello!’ the inquisitive pale dog-murdering lady said as the four children came back from the sidebar. ‘Did you enjoy your little meeting?’

‘Meeting? What meeting?’ said Ricky, looking genuinely confused. ‘Where’s Whatshisname?’

The dog-murdering pale inquisitive lady frowned. ‘I don’t know. I was just explaining all about my tendency to kill defenceless animals for the flimsiest of reasons and he took off somewhere. Can I help you look for him?
Please?
’

‘No, we’ll look later,’ said Daniel who was, deep down, not that mortified about losing Whatshisname.

‘Yes, we have to go and find Uncle Quagmire, quite urgently,’ said Betty, feeling very important all of a sudden.

‘Oh dear, don’t you want to use my wardrobe?’ the pale lady asked inquisitively.

‘Not just yet, thanks,’ said Betty. She beckoned the others towards the lift. ‘But we’ll be back soon, I believe.’

Leaving the pale inquisitive dog-murdering lady standing there fingering her knife and looking even more pale and inquisitive, the children quickly made their secret way up to the ninth floor then scampered down the stairs to the fourth floor. But when they reached the room, they saw that Whatshisname had mysteriously reached there before them! He looked very relieved to see them, or at least as very relieved as dogs can look with their somewhat rigid facial structure.

‘Gosh! Where’s Old Hag?’ asked Amy. And gosh indeed, as Old Hag was no longer lying there unconscious. She had completely disappeared!

‘This is worrying!’ said Amy, worryingly.

‘I trust that she’s not somewhere else, thoroughly spoiling our thrilling adventure again,’ moaned Ricky.

‘Never mind her,’ urged Betty. ‘Shall we knock this time? Or
just burst in again? You know what happened the last time we decided to burst.’

‘I definitely think we should knock quite politely,’ said Amy. ‘I’m really not too keen on all this bodily nakedness. I still haven’t fully recovered from seeing Ricky in chapter one. I meant to ask, Ricky, what was that tiny wrinkly . . .’

‘Sssh, Amy!’ Betty shushed. She knocked gently and compassionately on the door. Then the four children and Whatshisname pressed their favourite ears against the door, listening very very hard indeed. They could hear voices, the creaking of a bed, and the sound of a pair of man’s trousers being put on rather hurriedly! They didn’t know what to do! Secret Five training had never covered how to react to bed creaking and hurried trousers!

‘What shall we do?’ whispered Daniel.

‘I suggest we should wait,’ suggested Ricky. ‘I thought I heard someone opening one of those little packets of HobNobs that you get on the tray by the kettle in the room.’

But, just then, suddenly, yet tenderly, and with a surfeit of irritating, and totally unnecessary, commas, the door opened, wide! There stood Uncle Quagmire! And there was no sign of a HobNob in his hands!

‘Oh, it’s
you
,’ he said perceptively. ‘Yes . . . well . . . I was just, er, questioning Clarissa about . . . about . . . well, it’s all very inconclusive.’

Ricky peered around Uncle Quagmire, trying to see if there were indeed any HobNobs or, as he was desperate, custard creams going spare. The others, meanwhile, were all wondering why Uncle Quagmire’s trousers were on back to front, and they were about to ask that very question when they heard Clarissa’s voice from inside the room.

‘Quaggy! Where are you?’ she called. ‘I’m getting quite cold!’

‘Children,’ said Uncle Quagmire in a strangely quiet voice. ‘I’m trying to . . . erm, to mend the, er, radiator for Clarissa? Yes,
that’s it. So here’s a good plan – just
go away
and I’ll see you down in the hotel reception. Won’t be long.’

‘But, Uncle Quagmire, we need to ask you something,’ said Ricky. ‘Firstly about the peculiar behaviour of your trousers, secondly about the digital alarm clock. It hasn’t been invented yet, so we can’t get back. Isn’t there another way to time travel? What about Euro Tunnel? Or a no-frills airline?’

‘Quaggy!’ called Clarissa. ‘Come back to . . .’

‘Not now!’ yelled Uncle Quagmire over his shoulder. ‘The
children
are here!’

‘B-b-b-but . . .’ stuttered Amy.

‘Never mind all that butting and stuttering,’ said Uncle Quagmire, quite irritably. ‘In answer to your incisive question, Richard . . . I mean Ricky, I forgot to mention, there is something called a Nixie clock . . .’

‘Woof woof woof,’ said Whatshisname wearily.

‘. . . that was a sort of forerunner of the digital clock in the Fifties.’ Uncle Quagmire stopped talking and glanced down at his trousers. He suddenly realised that his trousers were on back-to-front! ‘Oh, erm, yes, I can explain. Time travel does have a strange effectation on our attire – sometimes – so do watch out for any sudden clothing re-positioning, won’t you. Anyway, you all go and wait in the nearest available hotel reception for me, there’s good children, and then we can all gather round and do a planosal for the rest of the adventure. Now, I must go and finish this . . . radiator maintenance and, er, the intensive questioning of Clarissa. As I say, so far, it’s all very inconclusive and unproductive. Apart from the . . . oh, never mind. Byeeee!’

And, on the third
e
in
byeeee
, he slammed the door in their faces!

‘Well!’ exclaimed Amy in a muffled voice, her face now pressed firmly to the door. ‘What a rude man! If he wasn’t a blood relative I’d be so upset by his utter rudeness.’

‘I agree,’ agreed Betty, ‘with whatever you just said. But what was that about a clock? Isn’t that what we want?’

Daniel removed his spectacles. ‘Listen,’ he said, pointing the curly bit at the others and trying unsuccessfully to look and sound remotely intelligent. ‘You heard what he said. It’s all very inconclusive. There’s probably no need for us to go to 1980. Don’t you think we should all decide to accept defeat and go back – or is it forwards – to 2010, mid-adventure? It would be so much easier for us all.’

‘But his maladjusted trousers! And all this radiator repairing? I don’t understand!’ Amy moaned.

‘I think this all means,’ said Ricky, ‘that we will have failed in our heroic adventure, and surely that can never
ever
happen?’

‘Woof woof woof,’ said Whatshisname, hopefully.

‘Hmmm. Why not?’ said Daniel, sucking the end of his spectacles’ curly bit. ‘Surely there are times when failed heroes like us have to take it easy?’

‘Shall we go and wait in the reception?’ suggested Amy. ‘It sounds as though Uncle Quagmire will be a while, what with all that strange radiator fixing and intensive questioning. And do watch out for all that clothing repositioning, won’t you?’ She looked down and inspected her own clothing. They all looked fine, so far.

When they eventually made their way back down to the reception there was no sign of the inquisitive dog-murdering pale lady. Whatshisname took the opportunity to be very glad indeed. He sighed with relief. He could relax again!

‘She’s gone. That’s a good job,’ said Ricky. ‘She’d only have asked to join our secret club.’

‘Hello!’ said the dog-murdering inquisitive pale lady’s voice from behind them. ‘Are you still interested in using my wardrobe? Oh, your sacrificial doggy is back!’

The children turned in surprise. Whatshisname, his gladness short-lived, skulked behind Ricky and growled a meaningful growl. His second line of defence would be a burst of noxious hell-gas.

‘Oh, hello!’ said Betty. ‘Yes, we do have a small problem. We need a special sort of clock, apparently. It’s called a Nixie clock.’

‘Well,’ said the lady, looking past Ricky to glare at Whatshisname. ‘Isn’t it just your lucky day! I have in my room something that looks a bit like a digital alarm clock. It’s a Nixie clock complete with microcontroller and voltage-regulator. What a strange coincidence! I take it everywhere with me.’

The children were delighted! The pale lady said that she had planned to keep it for a few years in case someone eventually came up with an online auction website on which she could make a small fortune for Fifties memorabilia and be frequently targeted by online fraudsters from Bulgaria due to the lack of a robust firewall, but she thought that the children’s cause was a worthwhile one so she would let them have it for free. ‘As long as I can join The Secret Five,’ she added. ‘And commandeer the dog for my own perverse entertainment.’

Whatshisname growled again, and Ricky stamped his very own foot. ‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘Didn’t we say this would happen?’ He turned inquisitively to the pale dog-murdering lady. ‘I’m in favour of the dog commandeering, in fact I’d encourage it, but can I ask, is this membership with or without privileges?’

The pale lady pondered the question. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘hmmm, yes . . . with, I think.’

‘We have no choice,’ said Betty. ‘We have to go back to 1980. Or is it forward?’

‘I think we should start to make people swear an oath of allegiance or something,’ said Ricky, quite glumly. ‘We’re letting in people without any terms and conditions, and don’t know if they’re going to be loyal and trustworthy. That can’t be good for future loyalty and trustworthiness.’

The others all thought that was a valid point, especially as they still doubted Ricky’s loyalty and trustworthiness, so they huddled together and discussed whether the pale lady with a wardrobe looked like a potentially trustworthy member of their elite club and how they could test her loyalty. But then Betty pointed out that, very soon, if the adventure went well, they would be back in 2010
and the lady, as she looked so very pale, will have quietly died years ago, and there were no constitutional procedures for granting posthumous Secret Five membership, so they might as well let her in and make use of her Nixie clock.

‘Good plan!’ said Ricky. ‘Which one of us is going to tell her that she’s going to quietly die very soon? Can I? Let me! Please!’

‘Woof woof woof!’ volunteered Whatshisname eagerly.

‘We don’t have to tell her that,’ said Betty, quite sensibly. ‘We just say that she’s got temporary membership but advise her to make full use of the privileges soon because she hasn’t got much time left.’

Of course, when they told the pale lady, she was quite understanding, and yet still inquisitive and pale. She was also quite disappointed when they said that she couldn’t have Whatshisname as they may need a nourishing ready meal later in the story, should they all get marooned on a lifeboat mid-ocean for weeks on end while searching for a strange and mysterious island where there was probably some treasure that had been buried in a stout and sturdy wooden box.

‘I’m quite understanding of your executive decisions,’ the pale lady said, ‘and slightly interested in the bit of narrative about the buried treasure, which has the potential to sound terribly exciting, if you like that sort of thing, and don’t mind the story suddenly shooting off in a completely different, irrelevant and illogical direction. But for now, whenever you’re ready, go and help yourself to my wardrobe and my clock. Here’s my room key. I gave the other one to someone else, so this is proving to be a very popular pastime indeed.’

‘Popular?’ asked Betty, frowning an important frown. ‘Someone else?’

‘Why, yes!’ said the pale lady. ‘Only a few minutes ago, an old lady with a West Bromwich Albion bobble hat went up to use the wardrobe and the clock. She said she was a fully paid-up member of The Secret Five, and not to mention it to you as it would be a
nice surprise. But for the sake of this particular adventure, and to help fill this ever-growing plot hole, I have. So there.’

‘Oh, blow!’ exclaimed Daniel. ‘What did she say she was going to do?’

‘She didn’t,’ said the pale lady inquisitively. ‘But she did seem to be in a bit of a hurry.’

‘Gosh, do you think she overheard what Uncle Quagmire was saying?’ Amy asked.

‘Well, I did notice her lurking secretively and making copious notes,’ the pale inquisitive lady said, ‘while your Uncle Quagmire was telling you all about that Sampson de Lylow rogue.’