Invisible! (6 page)

Charlotte let out a long, careful sigh as the nurse picked up her bag and departed in an antiseptic waft.
Thought she'd never go
. She looked across at Rosie, who nodded towards the door and mouthed the word
out
. Miss Massingberd's head was nodding. With visits from the police and the nurse she'd had a tiring morning, but if she'd known five invisible callers were tiptoeing past her chair, she'd have found it less easy to fall asleep.

The five had put twenty metres between themselves and the conservatory when Carrie whistled.

‘Jeez, that was scary! You don't
feel
invisible, do you?'

Peter shook his head. ‘No, but you certainly feel
bare
.' He giggled. ‘I kept expecting the old bird to look at me and say,
Where are your
clothes,
young man
?'

Conrad nodded. ‘Me too. I couldn't believe we could just stand there and they wouldn't know.'

‘What about
me
?' squealed Charlotte. ‘That nurse actually brushed me with her skirt as she went past. I nearly died.'

Rosie smiled. ‘You all did fine. Much quieter than last time.'

Peter scoffed. ‘We flipping well
had
to be didn't we, with people two metres away.'

‘Millimetres,' amended Charlotte.

Rosie nodded. ‘That's another thing. You've got to make sure nobody actually
touches
you, because that's an even bigger give-away than hearing something.'

Conrad looked back at the Manor. ‘Are we leaving already? We didn't do much searching for clues.'

Rosie shook her head. ‘We don't
have
to leave. I thought you might have had enough, what with the scare and all. Who's for staying?'

‘I'm all right,' murmured Peter.

‘Me too.' This from Charlotte.

Carrie nodded. ‘We're OK, Rosie. What shall we …' She broke off at the sudden noise of a car engine.

Rosie grinned. ‘Don't panic, it's only Florence Nightingale.'

‘Who?'

‘The nurse, you spack. Leaving.'

‘Oh. Oh yeah.'

They stood on the overgrown lawn, listening.
The engine noise receded till the wind in the grass was louder. Then they wandered back towards the house, giving the conservatory and its sleeping occupant a wide berth.

They circled the Manor, combing neglected flower-beds and peering into shrubs, finding nothing. When they reached the south wall again, Rosie advanced alone to examine the freshly boarded window and the ground under it. Through the streaky panes she could see the back of Miss Massingberd's chair and the top of the old lady's head. Traces of a silvery powder on the window frame meant the police had dusted for fingerprints. There was nothing else.

‘Waste of time,' growled Peter as the five picked their way towards the ice house.

Rosie shrugged. ‘Good invisibility practice, if nothing else.'

‘Hope nobody's swiped our stuff,' murmured Charlotte.

‘Hey.' Carrie's eyes sparkled. ‘What if the thieves have hidden the paintings in the ice house?'

Her twin scowled. ‘Why the heck would they do
that
, dipstick?'

‘I dunno. Too heavy to carry, perhaps.
You know – come back later with a truck?'

Rosie grinned. ‘Suppose they come back while we're in there, just as we go visible?'

‘Oooh!' Charlotte shivered. ‘Don't say that, Rosie, for goodness' sake. It's going to take me all my time to go back into that place as it is.'

The ice house lay silent under its canopy of trees. Their clothes were undisturbed. They dressed quickly, crowded into the half-light by the door. Truth was, they'd spooked themselves with talk of the thieves. They knew they had to circle once more in the inky blackness and nobody fancied it.

Halfway round, a heavy hand fell on Conrad's shoulder and a voice growled in his ear,
Gotcha, you miserable young snooper.
The boy's scream nearly blew the roof off, and it was ten minutes before he was able to complete the circle on rubber legs. Rosie had got her revenge.

Mummy Bear plucked the pegs from a pair of jeans, folded the garment over her arm and handed the pegs to Rosie, who dropped them in the bag. A sunny day and a light breeze had dried the washing beautifully. Now, at dusk, big moths looped round the fire Daddy Bear was tending a few metres away. He'd built it downwind of the line so smoke wouldn't spoil the clean clothes. He'd cook dinner over the fire and later they'd sit round it till bedtime, talking.

‘So.' Mummy Bear took down a jumper. ‘What did you do today, Rosie?'

‘Oh, I met some of the kids at Sizzlers.' Rosie
dropped pegs in the bag. ‘We went invisible and had a snoop round Inchlake Manor.'

‘You did? What for?'

‘I thought we might find a clue to who burgled the place.'

‘And did you?'

‘I'm not sure.'

‘Ah-ha.' The line was empty. Her mother dumped the last of the clothes in the basket and straightened up. ‘You
are
being careful who you teach invisibility to, aren't you, sweetheart? It's a dangerous skill in the wrong hands, you know.'

Rosie nodded. ‘I know, Mummy Bear. I wouldn't give it to anybody who'd use it in bad ways.'

Mummy Bear smiled. ‘I know you wouldn't, Rosie. Come over to the fire and tell Daddy Bear and me all about these friends.'

‘Well, there are four of them,' began Rosie, when they'd settled themselves. Daddy Bear leaned forward with a long spoon to stir the stewpot. ‘Two girls and two boys. The girls' names are Carrie and Charlotte, and the boys are called Peter and Conrad. Carrie and Conrad are twins. Charlotte goes to a different school
but she's Carrie's best friend. Peter saved me from a bully.'

Daddy Bear smiled through fragrant steam. ‘It's good you have friends, Rosie. I bet I can guess what you're calling yourselves.'

‘What?'

‘The Inchlake Invisibles.'

‘How'd you
know
that?'

He laughed. ‘It's not that hard, sweetheart. Let's see: so far this year we've had the Pilgrim Invisibles, the Appleby Invisibles and now the Inchlake Invisibles. Last year it was the Whitby Invisibles and the Kirk Yetholm Invisibles. Next year …'

‘Yeah, OK OK.' Rosie lifted a hand. ‘I know I'm not big on originality, but what
can
you call a gang that makes itself invisible?'

Her father chuckled, shaking his head. ‘It doesn't matter, honeybunch. You make friends everywhere we drag you, and
that's
what matters. Bring 'em over one evening and we'll have a barbecue.'

Rosie grinned. ‘Thanks, Daddy Bear, that'll be really cool.'

Daddy Bear smiled. ‘Better do it before the end of the month or it won't be just cool, it'll
be bitterly cold.' He lifted the spoon and tasted the stew. ‘Mmmm. I reckon this is just about ready if you want to pass your plates.'

‘Rosemary Walk.' Miss Blackburn plucked Rosie's essay from the top of the pile and frowned at it. ‘I asked everybody to write a piece entitled
My Family.
I expected
factual
pieces.' She looked at Rosie over the top of her half-moon glasses. ‘You may remember we talked last week about different
sorts
of writing. Fiction was one sort. What
is
fiction, Rosemary?'

‘Miss, it's made-up stories with characters instead of real people.'

‘And factual writing?'

‘Miss, factual writing's about real people and actual events, like history and that.'

‘Correct. So why did you give me a piece
which mixes fact with fiction?'

‘I didn't, miss. Everything's true that I wrote.'

‘No, Rosemary, it is not.' The teacher read from the top sheet. ‘I have no sisters or brothers. There's just Mum and Dad and me. My dad's name is Daddy Bear, my mum's is Mummy Bear.'

Some of the children sniggered. Miss Blackburn gazed at Rosie. ‘Daddy Bear is not a name, you silly girl, and neither is Mummy Bear. Since your surname is Walk, I assume your parents are Mr and Mrs Walk. If you don't know their first names, Mr and Mrs Walk will be quite sufficient.' She skated the essay across Rosie's table. ‘Corrections in the margin, please, and no more fairy tales unless I ask for them.'

As the teacher moved on, Rosie straightened the essay and rested her fists on it, blushing furiously.

Carrie leaned towards her. ‘Never mind, Rosie. She'd have a cow if she knew what we call
her.
'

Rosie smiled briefly. Miss Blackburn's nickname was
Blackbum
. ‘I know, Carrie, but these
are
Mum and Dad's names. Dad says you've got the right to be called anything you choose.'

‘Ah, but your dad's not in old Blackbum's class, is he?'

‘Wish he was. He'd sort
her
out, quick-sticks. Anyway, can you come to a barbecue Friday after school?'

‘A barbecue? Where?'

‘Our place. And will you ask Charlotte?'

‘I'll have to ask my mum first. She's not keen on me going in the woods in broad daylight, never mind after school. Can Conrad come, if we get permission?'

‘'Course. All the Inchlake Invisibles. Tell your mum you'll be perfectly safe with my folks. I'll mention it to Peter at break.'

‘Are you
chattering
, Rosemary Walk?' Miss Blackburn's voice was like a whiplash. The two girls sprang apart.

‘Just borrowing Carrie's ruler, miss.'

‘Hmmm.' The teacher eyeballed Rosie. ‘You will be sure and give it
back
, won't you, Rosemary? Can't have things going astray in our classroom, can we?'

‘No, miss.'

‘I'm really sorry, Rosie. I can't believe old Blackbum
said
that.'

‘It's OK, Carrie. Not your fault. Some people are like that about travellers.' It was break-time. The two girls were in a far corner of the playing field, close to the fairy ring.