The Secrets of Drearcliff Grange School (11 page)

‘It
must
have been the Hooded Conspirators,’ enthused Frecks. ‘If they’ve got Kali, she’s in the tower!’

‘Crumpets,’ exclaimed Amy.

‘I don’t see why they
haven’t
spirited her away or done her in,’ said Frecks. ‘They’re running a fearful risk sticking close to School. Perhaps Kali’s being held for ransom and Swan’s keeping mum?’

‘Miss Kaye said Mr Chattopadhyay is coming down tomorrow. Perhaps he’s bringing a princess’s price with him. Kali’s weight in gold coins or blood rubies.’

‘
I
wouldn’t cross Kali’s dad,’ said Frecks. ‘He’s not the sort to take Hooded Conspiracies with a song and a philosophical laugh. He’s the sort who hunts down enemies and garrottes them, their children, their parents, their friends and their pets. Come tomorrow, I shouldn’t care to be a white mouse owned by the sweetheart of a cousin of a Hooded Conspirator!’

‘We can’t wait for tomorrow,’ said Amy. ‘Mr Chattopadhyay will be too late. Even if he takes the earliest train from Birmingham, Joxer won’t get him to School till well after dawn. And that’s when Kali will be got rid of. The third dawn!’

‘How do you know this?’ asked Light Fingers.

‘I feel it in my moth antennae,’ Amy explained. ‘Really, I do. You’ll have to take it on trust.’

That hung there in the cell for the briefest flicker.

‘Good enough for me,’ said Frecks. ‘The word of a Moth Club girl is not to be doubted!’

Frecks stuck out her paw, which Amy gripped. Light Fingers grasped their enlocked hands.

It was already getting dark. Girls were drifting towards the Refectory.

‘We can’t hare off now,’ said Frecks. ‘If we’re marked absent at Supper they’ll raise the whole School after us. It’ll be torture sitting and eating as if nothing were amiss, but we’ve got to be valiant. After nosh, we fly!’

T
HE MOON WAS
just past full, the night sky clear. Wet shingles shimmered and tidal pools reflected constellations as the Moth Club – in full costume – crept towards the tower.

Being off School Grounds at any time was a Major Infraction. At this hour it was probably cause for expulsion and disgrace. Their cots were stuffed with pillows, in case Wicked Wyke sprang one of her occasional inspections.

‘Should we call “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair”?’ ventured Frecks. ‘Might give Kali heart to know rescue is at hand.’

Amy – Kentish Glory – shook her head. Stealth was the order of the evening.

The three girls blithely passed Danger! and Keep Out! signs, and climbed the rocks and rubble piled around the base of the broken tower. The footing was unsure. Rubbery, slippery seaweed-coated broken, tilted surfaces. Deceptive pools were populated by scuttling crustaceans with angry eyes on stalks. Up close, there was more of the tower than Amy had thought. What had sheared away with the crumbling cliff was the top of a fortified lookout post, built when Somerset expected invading Welsh warriors any minute. They would have had names like Dai the Dreadful, Evans the Eviscerator and Bloodthirsty Blodwyn.

Like Rapunzel’s upstairs dungeon, the tower had no ground-level entrance – and no windows for the first thirty feet or so. Leaning inland at a greater angle than the Tower of Pisa, it was a wonder the remnant hadn’t completely collapsed. Smudge claimed it had been shored up in olden days and used as a lookout post by Cap’n Belzybub, the masked raider who once reddened these waters with the blood of innocent sailors.

Light Fingers indicated the window from which the rope ladder had been lowered. It was near the top.

It was down to Kentish Glory to swarm the tower.

Looking at the window, she made herself light. She floated up two or three feet in a spurt and bumped against the inclining stone wall. Her friends winced in sympathy, but she held her tongue.

The wall was rough enough to afford handholds every few feet. The way was too crumbly and irregular for mountaineering, but she was a floater not a climber. She pulled herself up, careful not to get too far from the wall. She angled her body to avoid scraping her legs. It was like swimming through air. The cloak-wings helped her manoeuvre. Could she ever use them to fly properly? A strong wind blew. She had to be wary of being caught by a gust and borne off into open air.

She had a moment to realise she’d never floated this far off the ground before. Then, near the window, the urgency of her mission overcame other concerns.

She heard voices inside the tower. The shock made her suddenly heavier. Gravity tugged and she slithered down a few yards, then flattened against the wall, sticking like a moth, cloak spread around her. It took all her concentration to stay light and hold her position.

The talk was in a language she didn’t know. Eastern gabble, she thought. Mr Chattopadhyay had many enemies in his home country, especially former in-laws. Could this be a revenge plan? Using the bandit rajah’s daughter to lure him to a spot where he could be assassinated. If someone else killed her father, Kali would be furious.

Amy inched up towards the window. Rather than pop her head over the sill, she climbed beside the opening and listened. The conversation stalled. She detected dim light from inside the tower.

Then, she surged up the final few feet and reached the broken battlements. She hopped over, and made herself heavy enough to put her feet on what turned out to be the rotted timbers of a platform-like roof. Creaking wood began to give way under her. She had to float again, taking her weight off the unsafe roof, and gripped the secure stone. She sat in a gap in the battlements and listened. Her racket had not alerted the Hooded Conspirators.

She looked down and waved. Frecks and Light Fingers – Willow Ermine and Large Dark Prominent – waved back…

…when Kali was in the Moth Club, what name would she take? Amy hadn’t looked up the moths of Kafiristan, but suspected they were exotic species.

She hooked her feet around stone and let herself float face down. At full stretch, she reached the window – and peeped in from the top.

The window let into a small room. No one stood guard here. Amy made out a coiled rope ladder, attached to pitons newly hammered into cracks between the flagstones. She also saw the famous hamper, open and empty. It wasn’t large enough for a feast, so she assumed only two or three Hooded Conspirators guarded Kali. Did the villains bother to give their captive anything to eat or drink? It would be just like them not to.

Crawling insect-like, Amy entered the room.

Letting go of the window-rim, she bobbed up against the low ceiling. She gradually thought herself heavier and settled her ballet pumps on the floor.

There was a doorway, which had stout, rusted iron hinges – but no door. That must have rotted ages ago. Beyond the opening was a light. Poking her head out, she saw a winding staircase. She went back to the window and quietly let down the rope ladder, which Frecks and Light Fingers caught before it flapped away in the wind.

Soon, all three girls were inside the tower.

This time, Frecks had brought a hockey stick for use as a cudgel.

Amy remembered that the Hooded Conspirators had firearms. Was their leader here? The fellow she’d beaned with a cricket ball. She hoped his head was still splitting. He must have a good-sized bruise under his hood.

The Moth Club silently made their way down the spiral stairs.

Then, they heard voices – and froze, a tableau of cloaked, masked figures. On the next landing was a room. Lantern-light spilled out.

‘… there, the princess won’t slip from that so easily,’ drawled an all-too-familiar voice – Crowninshield. ‘My sis is an expert in these things. Houdini himself couldn’t get out of one of her corned-beef constrictor knots. Much less Nut-Brown Nancy here.’

Frecks quietly slapped her hockey stick into her hand.

Kali was here! And the worst of the Witches!

‘Wriggle all you like,’ Crowninshield crowed. ‘The rope only gets tighter. Minnie had more badges for knots than anyone in the Brownies, before they court-martialled her for demonstrating grief strangle knots on Brown Owl’s Pekingese.’

‘She does look funny, Beryl,’ said Crowninshield II. ‘I didn’t think girls her colour could go red in the face.’

An mmpphing noise suggested Kali was gagged. The tone of her muted protest indicated dire promises.

‘Now, give us some of that bottled beer, like you promised,’ Crowninshield demanded of her unknown confederates. ‘You chappies may be the most desperate Thuggees in far-off Whateveristan, but you’re no match for a Drearcliff whip! It’s a wonder Red Flame lets you hang around.’

Red Flame – the Leader of the Hooded Conspiracy!

Of course, who else would be the arch-enemy of the Moth Club but a flame?

Frecks was all for charging in, but Amy held her back. They were too close to blow the game by indiscriminate action.

A hooded man came on to the landing. The Moth Club stuck still, hiding in the dark. The wretched sisters trotted after him. Crowninshield was smoking a black cigarette and wearing make-up. Crowninshield II was fiddling with a cat’s cradle.

‘Beer’s down below, eh?’ said Crowninshield. ‘Makes sense. Keep it cool in the depths.’

‘Drink meeeee-eeeee,’ came a tiny, shrill, liquid voice from the lower floor.

The Hooded Conspirator, unused to Crowninshield’s vent act, clutched his throat in terror. She laughed nastily.

‘Give all your beeeeeer to Beryl,’ said a voice from nowhere. ‘Or face the wrath of the Great God Jumbo-Omooo!’

Crowninshield II tittered nastily.

The Hooded Conspirator produced a curved knife from his loose black blouse, but Crowninshield brushed it aside.

‘I say, for desperate characters, you mob are utter clots, aren’t you? There are Firsts who wouldn’t fall for that. Come on, bucko, let’s get that beer!’

Crowninshield prodded the knife-man with rather more confidence than Amy would have shown around such desperate fellows. With abduction and assassination to their credit, they’d scarcely stop at tossing a couple of extra heads on to the pile.

The sisters were led downstairs, away from the landing.

In the room, Kali mmmppphhed some more. Amy judged that at least one Hooded Conspirator was left to guard her – but probably no more. These were the best odds they would get.

She gave a low whistle, and the Moth Club sprang into action.

K
ALI WAS TIED
up. Seemingly every part of her was individually tied to a particular part of a stout chair. A white scarf wound round the bottom half of her face, lipstick smile painted mockingly over her mouth. Her exposed eyes were darkly furious.

There was indeed but one Conspirator in the room, not even Hooded. He had taken off his mask to drink a mug of tea, and looked stricken to be caught with a naked face when the Moth Club burst in. He was an Englishman, to judge by his colour – but unthreateningly middle-aged. Hood-wearing had scraped his hair into a funny shape.

Frecks conked the Hoodless Conspirator squarely on the noggin. He went down like a slaughtered bull. His eyes rolled up and blood came out of his nose, but Amy didn’t waste sympathy on him.

Light Fingers patted the prone guard down, and came up with a knife which seemed cousin – if not twin – to the dagger waved by his mate when Crowninshield was showing off her voice-throwing.

Amy got the gag off Kali’s mouth.

‘Mother of pearl, that’s a relief,’ said Kali. ‘Who the heckle are you gals?’

Amy flash-lifted her domino.

‘I mighta knowed. Get these strings offa me.’

Light Fingers sawed rapidly, severing knots which couldn’t be untied.

Kali recognised the swiftness of movement.

‘Light Fingers? And the frail with the blunt instrument has gotta be Frecks. I’m mightily impressed. I was workin’ on a coupla ways out, but this saves time an’ motion.’

Kali was free. She stood up, but wasn’t steady. Amy supported her.

‘I’ve got pins and needles all over,’ said Kali.

Amy helped Kali out of the room. The Hoodless Conspirator groaned and Frecks gave him an extra love tap.

On the landing, they found Crowninshield II. She had a bottle of ginger beer.

‘Ber-ylll,’ she yelled, ‘it’s the Moth Girls, again!’

Kali, arm around Amy, lifted up her leg and planted her foot squarely on Crowninshield II’s chest – then gave her a shove which tumbled her backwards down the stairs…

‘Oh, ow, oh, ow-www, watch out…’

The Fourth rolled out of sight and collided with bodies rushing upstairs, summoned by her cries. Crowninshield swore loudly, unintentionally throwing her voice so that oaths bounced back from the walls.

‘Exite, rapido,’ said Amy.

The Moth Club got Kali up to the window-room and helped her on to the ladder. There was a tense moment as it seemed the ex-prisoner’s hands couldn’t get a grip on the rungs, but her circulation started flowing again and she scrambled down like a monkey.

Frecks and Light Fingers followed.

Amy watched the doorway.

The Hooded Conspirator charged in. Amy threw herself through the window – hoping she’d float not fall. She soared away from the tower and thumped against the cliff. Kali was about half-way down, legs caught in the rungs. Frecks and Light Fingers were stuck above her.

‘Give me that shiv,’ said Crowninshield.

Leaning out of the window, the Witch started cutting rope. The three girls lurched dangerously. Kali got free and started moving down again.

‘You’re going to faa-aalll,’ mocked a voice from the winds. ‘You’ll be squashed flat as a pan-caaake!’

One of the main ropes was severed and the other went tight. Crowninshield got her blade to it.

Amy pushed against the cliff face and launched herself at the tower, aiming for Crowninshield. Her cloak filled with wind, and she rode the air like a glider.

She held her arms out in front, hands knotted into fists.

Like a battering ram, she thumped into Crowninshield’s face. The whip raised her knife, but Amy back-pedalled in the air and floated out of slashing range.