Friday Barnes 3 (16 page)

‘What?! Nothing! But she told me she was the princess!' protested the Headmaster.

‘Your Majesty,' said Friday, stepping forward so she was right in front of the podium. ‘I think I can help.'

The Headmaster dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Please do. Losing a royal princess is not going to look good on my resume. And I'll need a good resume because I'll almost certainly be fired if I've lost a royal princess.'

‘The real Princess Ingrid is perfectly safe and holding Binky's hand,' said Friday.

Everyone looked around at Binky. He was standing next to Debbie holding her hand.

‘I'm here, Papa,' said Debbie.

‘Ingrid!' The king rushed forward to crush her in a hug.

‘Ingrid?' exclaimed Binky. ‘Oh no, I'm totally confused.'

‘It's true,' said Debbie, which was difficult because her father was hugging her so hard he was crushing her chest. ‘I'm sorry to deceive you, but I am the real Princess Ingrid of Norway.'

‘I think I'm going to faint,' said Binky, looking stunned.

‘How did you know?' Debbie asked Friday. ‘I've worked so hard to keep my identity a secret.'

‘That's why I didn't say anything earlier. I may listen at walls, but I have some respect for the notion of privacy,' said Friday. ‘I realised that the princess wasn't a real princess when she first arrived and my father's car exploded.'

‘You did?' asked Debbie.

‘Rasmus didn't rush to her,' said Friday. ‘He rushed at Ian. We thought he suspected Ian of being responsible. But Ian was standing in front of you. Rasmus rushed to knock you down to protect you from danger. Once I suspected that Ingrid wasn't the real princess, there were lots more clues. There was your hostility towards the princess. The plain lenses in your glasses – which Melanie noticed. And most significantly, there was Ingrid's distaste for fish. With Norway's long coastline and proud fishing heritage, there is no way a Norwegian princess would ever denounce the taste of fish. And finally there was the time you yelled at Rasmus in Norwegian in the middle of the night.'

‘I suppose that was pretty suspicious,' admitted Debbie. ‘I'm sorry. I hired an actress to pretend to be me so that for the first time in my life I could really be … me.' She turned to Binky. ‘I hope you can forgive me. I just wanted to experience high school as a normal student.'

‘Oh, yes, I'll forgive you,' said Binky. ‘No need to worry about that. You'll just have to wait until the blood stops rushing in my ears and I stop hyperventilating.'

‘But no normal student would ever want to go to high school,' said Melanie. ‘Not if they could lounge around a European castle instead.'

‘Rasmus,' said the King of Norway, turning on the bodyguard, who was standing at the back of the stage. ‘Did you support this debacle?'

‘Yes, Your Highness,' said Rasmus, staring at his shoes.

‘Your job is to take care of the princess, the
real
princess!' yelled the King of Norway.

‘I thought she would be safer with a decoy,' said Rasmus. ‘And she left me no choice. Your daughter can be very forceful when she wants to be.'

‘You can?' asked Binky.

‘My time here at Highcrest has been the happiest of my life,' said Debbie.

‘Really?' said the Headmaster, who was pleased but secretly suspicious he must be doing something wrong if a child was enjoying going to school that much.

‘Sorry to interrupt,' said Melanie, ‘but why is Princess Ingrid the impostor galloping away on her pony?'

Princess Ingrid was indeed galloping at full speed across the polo field, heading towards the swamp.
She had something bright and shiny tucked under her arm.

‘She's stolen the cup!' said Friday. ‘She's The Pimpernel!'

Friday instinctively started running after her, although goodness knew why. She never could have caught Princess Ingrid if she was chasing her on foot, but to chase the princess when she was galloping away on horseback was positively ridiculous.

Then suddenly Friday found herself grabbed under her arms and hoisted upwards. Ian had pulled her onto the back of his pony. ‘Hang on tight,' he warned. Ian urged his mount forward and they took off in pursuit. Friday clung to Ian like a scared limpet grasping a rock in a storm. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder blade and her arms were wrapped tightly around his disgustingly sweaty polo shirt. The pony was throwing up great clods of dirt behind them as they powered across the field and lunged into the swamp, following the sound of Princess Ingrid's hoof beats.

‘She's heading for Mr Pilcher's motorboat,' said Friday.

‘Duck,' said Ian.

‘You think she's heading for a duck?' asked Friday.

‘No,
duck
!' said Ian.

Friday looked up to see a low hanging branch inches from her face. She ducked.

‘There! Up ahead,' said Ian.

In front of them Ingrid was climbing into the boat. She turned the engine on and started guiding the boat out into open water.

‘We've got to stop her!' yelled Ian.

‘No, just let her go,' said Friday.

‘No way,' said Ian. ‘She's got the cup.' He urged his pony into the water.

‘Stop!' said Friday. ‘It's just a cup!'

‘That's worth $100,000!' said Ian.

At that moment the decision was made for them, because it turns out that Ian's pony did not care to take a bath. When Butterfly Buttons found herself shin-deep in mud and water she decided she'd had enough, reared up and threw Friday and Ian off before cantering back to her nice warm stable at the school.

Friday and Ian landed ingloriously in the thick, stinky swamp mud.

‘Fantastic,' said Ian. ‘We're covered in mud, the school lost a $100,000 trophy and Princess Ingrid has got away.'

‘Only one of those three facts is correct,' said Friday.

‘What are you talking about?' Ian struggled to stand as the viscous mud fought his efforts.

‘The cup is not worth $100,000,' said Friday. ‘I made Parker say that to draw out the thief. It's really just gold-plated. It cost the school $18 to have it made back in 1938.'

‘Which other fact is incorrect?' asked Ian.

‘Princess Ingrid has not got away,' said Friday, pointing to the boat.

Ian turned to see the boat slowly cruise to a halt.

‘I siphoned most of the petrol out last night,' said Friday. ‘I wasn't sure who The Pimpernel was, but I didn't want to leave an escape route open before I found out.'

‘What if she makes a swim for it?' asked Ian.

‘I doubt she will,' said Friday. ‘Most Northern Europeans are only moderately good at swimming. Besides she's phobic of fish. So she'd never even dip her toe in the water.'

They could hear a siren in the distance.

‘What's that?' asked Ian.

‘While you were playing polo, I borrowed Mrs Cannon's phone to alert the coastguard that an act of smuggling would be taking place here, at precisely this time,' said Friday, checking her watch. ‘They're actually a couple of minutes tardy. I'll have to have a word with their chief about that.'

Later that afternoon Friday sat on the rostrum alongside the polo pitch reviewing the day's events with the Headmaster, Ian, Debbie, Melanie and Dr Barnes. He had been released when Princess Ingrid, whose real name was Karin Jonas, had confessed to the entire litany of theft that had taken place at the school over the previous six weeks. Although he was still so confused Dr Barnes sat with his head in his hands not saying very much.

The Headmaster was pretty flustered. ‘So I have been bending over backwards to accommodate every whim of some unknown Norwegian child actress?' he asked.

‘She's actually very well-known in Norway,' said Debbie. ‘She's a soap opera actress. In hindsight, I suppose I should have taken that as a warning sign. Actors are so morally bankrupt.'

‘But why didn't anybody notice when that photo was in the magazine?' asked Binky, turning to Debbie. ‘You don't look anything like that other Ingrid. Surely someone Norwegian would have been able to tell.'

‘Actually,' said Debbie, ‘I do look a lot like that other Ingrid. This isn't my natural hair colour and I'm wearing brown contacts. I'm really blonde with blue eyes.'

‘No way!' exclaimed Binky.

‘Are you angry?' asked Debbie.

‘I'm very, very confused,' said Binky.

‘But he usually is,' said Melanie.

‘I hate to sound superficial,' said Binky, ‘it's just that … I fell for a short, dowdy brunette in an ugly blue cardigan.'

‘I'm still short,' said Debbie. ‘And my cardigan is still ugly.'

‘True,' said Binky. ‘I know I shouldn't be shallow. It's poor form. I'm sure I can overcome it.'

Debbie gave Binky an affectionate squeeze. And he distractedly kissed the nearest part of her. The top of her head. He was still very muddled.

‘Why don't you have a Norwegian accent?' asked Melanie.

‘It can be surprisingly dull living in a castle. There are so many priceless historical artefacts that you can't ever touch,' explained Debbie. ‘So I tend to spend a lot of time watching English-language TV.'

‘Me too!' said Binky, brightening up. ‘That's good. We do have things in common.'

‘But I don't understand why Ingrid wanted to steal all those things,' said Ian.

‘She was an addict,' said Debbie. ‘She was addicted to shoe shopping. I didn't realise when I hired her. But when we were sharing a room I soon realised she was unbalanced. She was driven by an irrational desire to own more and more shoes. She stole all those things so she could sell them and buy more shoes. My father
will arrange for her to be sent home to Norway and get treatment there.'

‘How long have you known she was The Pimpernel?' asked Friday.

‘I didn't know for sure, but I suspected,' said Debbie. ‘I have been looking for her stash, hoping that I could return the stolen property. It was clever of her to hide it all in your father's broken-down car. I never thought of looking there.'

‘So how long have
you
known?' Ian asked Friday.

‘Since you told me,' said Friday.

‘Me?!' said Ian. ‘What do you mean?'

‘When her necklace got caught on your shirt,' said Friday. ‘You said she had a pair of diamond encrusted scissors in her pocket that were so sharp they easily sliced through your heavy cotton shirt. That's how she sliced off the Headmaster's watch and your lanyard. But it was only a suspicion. I needed proof before I could say anything.'

‘I see,' said Ian.

‘And of course you did your best to put me off the right track,' said Friday.

Ian smiled.

‘He did?' asked Melanie.

‘Ingrid may be the thief,' said Friday, ‘but I suspect that Ian is the elusive Aquamarine Pimpernel.'

‘You can't prove that,' said Ian.

‘No,' agreed Friday, ‘but if the calling cards weren't left lying around by the thief, they must have been made up as a joke by someone with a devious sense of humour. Someone who enjoys creating a stir.'

‘That does sound like Ian,' said Melanie.

‘I can't believe it,' said the Headmaster. ‘The Pimpernel is just a joke. And you –' he turned to Debbie ‘– a girl I've hardly noticed, are in fact heir to the throne of Norway!'

‘Yes, I'm afraid so,' said Debbie. ‘I wear these thick glasses and drab clothes so the paparazzi won't want to take my picture.'

‘I think your thick glasses and drab clothes are beautiful,' said Binky.

Debbie smiled. ‘That's what I like about you. Your simplicity.'

‘And the Haakon Stone is safe,' said the Headmaster, taking the pink diamond necklace from his pocket. ‘We were able to get it back from the fake
princess before the police took her away. I am pleased to be able to return it to you, Your Highness.' He handed the necklace to Debbie.

‘Oh, that isn't the Haakon Stone,' said Debbie.

‘It's not?' asked Friday.

‘No, it's just a diamond,' said Debbie, putting it in her pocket. ‘I lent it to Ingrid so she would look the part of a European princess'.

‘Just a diamond!' exclaimed Ian. ‘A diamond that size must be worth a fortune.'

‘I suppose so,' said Debbie. ‘But this is the real Haakon Stone.' She pulled the leather strap out from around her neck and showed them the pebble she always wore. ‘It's an ancient symbol of the Norwegian Royal Family, so it's much more valuable.'

‘And you've been wearing it next to your room key all this time?' asked Friday.

‘It was a very handy tip,' said Debbie. ‘I haven't locked myself out of my room since.'

A rumbling motor sounded in the distance. Melanie shaded her eyes as she looked up into the sky. ‘Is that a helicopter?'

‘No-one has asked for permission to land a helicopter here,' said the Headmaster. ‘I do hope it's not
one of the parents grabbing their children before they run off to a tax haven. They never pay their school fees when they do.'

‘It's louder than a normal helicopter,' said Ian. ‘It sounds military.'

The pale blue helicopter was descending towards the polo pitch.

‘Am I the only princess enrolled here?' asked Debbie.

‘I think so,' said the Headmaster. ‘Although I wouldn't rule anything out after today.'

‘Why do you ask?' asked Friday.

‘Because that is a Swedish military helicopter,' said Debbie.

‘I don't know anyone from Sweden,' said the Headmaster.

‘Oh dear,' said Friday. ‘I do.'

The helicopter landed, the pilot cut the engine and the door swung open. A dowdy middle-aged woman, wearing a brown cardigan and with terribly untidy hair, stepped out.

‘Who is it?' asked the Headmaster. ‘She looks like a scarecrow.'

‘Evangeline!' exclaimed Dr Barnes.

‘Who?' asked the Headmaster.

‘My mother,' said Friday.

‘The
other
Dr Barnes,' said Ian.

‘Actually, if you include my brothers and sisters,' said Friday, ‘she is one of six Barnes doctors. It gets very confusing.'

Friday's father started running towards his wife.

‘Does your family get some sort of bulk discount from an ugly brown cardigan shop?' asked Melanie.

Friday's mother jogged towards her husband, her arms flung wide ready to embrace him. She wasn't very good at running. There was a lot of wobbling and not a lot of forward movement.

‘This would be like a scene from a romance movie, if they both weren't so wildly uncoordinated,' said Melanie.

Friday's mother tripped over a clump of grass and Friday's father stumbled over his own shoelaces. They collapsed on top of each other on the grass.

‘Oh, Rupert,' said Friday's mother.

Ian snorted a laugh. ‘Your father's name is Rupert.'

‘On the list of embarrassing facts about my father, that doesn't even make the top one thousand,' said Friday.

‘You came back for me,' said Friday's father.

‘I need you,' said Friday's mother.

‘You realised you need me to help analyse your equations?' said Friday's father.

‘Yes, I suppose I did,' said Friday's mother. ‘Also, I can't bear travelling without you. Hotel rooms are horrible. I can never get the lid off the jar of macadamias myself.'

‘Oh, Evangeline,' said Friday's father. ‘How I've longed to hear you say that.'

‘He's longed for her to want help opening a jar?' asked Ian.

‘You've got to understand neither of them is listening to the other,' explained Friday. ‘It's like a chimpanzee communicating with a gorilla. They're making noises, but the communication is essentially non-verbal.'

Both of Friday's parents turned to the helicopter, and walked towards it arm in arm. The pilot turned the engine back on and the blades started whipping around again.

Friday stood up and took a step forward. ‘They're not going back to Sweden without saying goodbye, are they?' she asked.

Her parents climbed into the helicopter and shut the door behind them, without even a backward glance.

‘I think they are,' said Melanie in response.

‘I just got Dad off multiple theft charges …' said Friday, ‘and Mum didn't even say hello, let alone goodbye. I thought I was jaded to my parents' insensitive ways, but this … this …' She swallowed. She did not want to cry. ‘This is a new low.'

No-one said anything. No-one knew what to say. Ian took a step forward and put his arm around Friday's shoulders. ‘Just think, if you didn't have shoddy parents, you wouldn't be who you are today.'

Friday looked up. Ian was looking at her with a sad smile. She realised the same was true for him.

‘Would you like us to step away so you can have your first kiss?' asked Melanie. ‘Unless you've already had your first kiss and I missed it, perhaps because I was napping.'

Friday groaned. Ian dropped his arm. The moment was over.

‘Come along,' said the Headmaster. ‘Mrs Marigold's making pepperoni pizza for dinner. She might
even hand out seconds of dessert when she finds out your father has gone.'

But Friday never got to find out. When she got to the dining room Uncle Bernie was there waiting for her, and he had two people, a man and a woman wearing dark grey suits and sunglasses, with him.

‘Who are they?' asked the Headmaster.

‘The big scruffy man in the creased suit is my Uncle Bernie,' said Friday.

‘Perhaps soon to be Ian's stepdad,' added Melanie.

‘He is not!' said Ian.

‘And the other two,' said Friday, ‘given their suits with a high polyester content and ostentatious wearing of sunglasses, I deduce are some sort of government officials.'

‘Friday!' exclaimed Uncle Bernie as soon as he saw her. ‘I'm so sorry. There was nothing I could do.'

‘About what?' asked Friday.

The woman pulled an identification card from her pocket and introduced herself. ‘I'm Agent Torres
from the Department of Immigration. You'll have to come with us.'

‘Why?' asked Friday.

‘You're being deported,' said Uncle Bernie.

‘On what grounds?' asked the Headmaster. ‘She hasn't committed a crime. Not one that's been proven, anyway.'

‘We're deporting her because she's not a citizen,' said Agent Torres.

‘Yes, I am,' said Friday.

‘Is it true you were born in Switzerland?' asked Agent Torres.

‘Well, yes,' conceded Friday.

‘Not only that, she's not Friday Barnes,' said Agent Torres.

 

To be continued …