As the parents filed out of the chapel, uniformed police constable Jane Rooke sat on the aisle side of the last pew smiling at everyone as they walked by. She couldn’t help but notice her presence had an unsettling effect on some including celebrity couple Chrystal Rox and Mickey Grunge.
“What did you do with my spliff?” he asked his wife as they got out of earshot.
“I put it inside my beehive. It’ll be safe there but if you have anything else on you, you’d better go straight to the bog and flush it. We can’t get busted at Bobby’s school, he’d never forgive us.”
Jimmy Darling was also slightly perturbed and revealed to his wife: “I didn’t have time to tax the new motor. Do you think that’s why she’s here? The last thing I want is the Old Bill sniffing around in front of all those posh folk trying to make a show of us.”
She tutted and said: "I knew we should’ve just come in the Mercedes, but no, Jimmy Darling wanted to play the big man and show off.
“We can’t impress this crowd, Jimmy. We’re not like them and they’re not like us. That flaming Lady Whatshername looked at me as though she’d just spotted some dog dirt on my Manolo Blahniks! It doesn’t matter how much money we have, those lot will never treat us as equals. I couldn’t care less, love, and you should be the same. Stuff ’em. Stuff ’em all.”
Jimmy Darling looked down at his feisty wife and said: “What the frig has Barry Manilow to do with this?”
Looking at him, she said: “Manolo, Manolo… Manolo Blahniks, my bloody shoes you noodle.”
Her husband looked down seemingly unimpressed at his wife’s feet, adding: “Very nice.”
Meanwhile, Svetlana Volkova nudged her husband on spotting the policewoman and whispered: “I hope you are not carrying Viktor.” The big Russian looked uncomfortable as he felt inside his suit jacket and reassured his wife that ‘our PSS friend is in the glove compartment’.
“For goodness sake, Viktor, nobody is going to try anything in Sweetheart Abbey. We are safe here,” said Svetlana.
Dr Jones hurried down the aisle swatting away a couple of first formers, so he could personally escort Svetlana and Viktor to the reception. He couldn’t entrust his benefactors to anyone else but as the three walked towards the door, Jane Rooke stood up and waited for them to pass. Then, to the consternation of Viktor Volkov, she tapped him on the shoulder and said: “Just a moment of your time, sir. Have you mislaid something?”
The broad-shouldered Russian tensed as his wife began pulling on a strand of her blonde hair. They both slowly turned around and looked puzzled as the policewoman waved something white in front of them: “Your handkerchief, I presume? It is initialled VV?”
Svetlana broke the uneasy silence and smiled, saying: “Thank you, officer. Viktor show your appreciation.” He pulled out a money clip stuffed with £50 notes and Jane’s eyes widened: “Really, there’s no need. It seems everyone wants to give me money tonight.”
She then handed over the silk handkerchief to Viktor and walked towards Dr Jones. “Thank you for giving me a ticket for tonight’s performance. I really enjoyed it, although apologies for still being in uniform. I didn’t have time to change. Otherwise I would’ve been very late.”
“But the night is not yet over Constable. Please do come and join us in The Caledonian Suite. Now that you’re off duty, I’m sure you could have a wee dram, as we say in Scotland,” said Dr Jones. And with that, the group headed towards the main school.
Jane Rooke was secretly pleased. She wanted to solve the mystery of the brown envelope and was fascinated by the assembled group of parents, an eclectic mix of people many of whom seemed to have something to hide. ‘What are their guilty secrets?’ she mused as she walked towards the main building.
Once inside, she went over to Duncan Dewar who, by this time, was standing next to his grandfather and Mr Petrie. “My, you all look a picture in your kilts. Duncan, I was enchanted by your voice – who knew you had that inside of you?”
Duncan could feel himself blushing. “How are you feeling after the accident?”
Duncan stammered: “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m glad you liked the performance. I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he commented.
“No, me neither. It was a spur of the moment decision but I’m glad I did.”
Gordon Buie chimed in: “I’m glad you came too, my dear. I just wanted to thank you and the other emergency services team for saving my grandson’s life. If everyone had not acted so quickly the outcome could’ve been so different. Please pass on my appreciation to your superiors. I will be writing anyway but now that you’re here, let me get you a drink.”
The clockmaker and his grandson headed towards the informal bar leaving the officer with Mr Petrie. She said: “For a moment, I thought I was going to be offered more money. It’s been quite a night of donations,” she laughed.
Mr Petrie moved his head to one side and said: “Really? Please do expand.” And so, she told him about the pupil who gave her an envelope in the chapel cloakroom ‘as a show of appreciation for your police work’ while Mr Volkov produced an eye-watering wedge of cash after she found his handkerchief.
His curiosity now aroused, he prompted her: “What did the boy in the cloakroom look like? Maybe I can help solve the mystery.” Looking around the room, she said: “Well, he was very distinctive. He had a shock of blond hair and I’m sure he’ll be easy enough to spot. In fact there he is,” she said nodding in the direction of Crispin Thornberry.
“Ah yes, Crispin, the future Lord Thornberry destined to be head of one of the most influential families in the UK. How public spirited of him!” he said with an enigmatic smile.
A few yards away, Jimmy Darling was chastising his son James over the so-called ‘soapgate’ affair. “How many times have I told you not to get caught?”
The boy looked at his father and protested: “But I didn’t get caught. Och Aye McKie only suspected some wrongdoing and he tried to call your bluff but I understand you kicked that in to touch because you’re far too smart for him.”
Mr Darling was about to start grinning when he noticed a steely look from his wife: “Yes, well, it could’ve backfired. Don’t put yourself in the frame again because people like that master get obsessive and before you know it, they’re there, around every corner waiting for you to slip.”
Shona Darling interrupted: “Let’s talk about nicer things. I was so proud of you, James, when I heard you’d saved that boy’s life, so proud. Tell me what happened and don’t spare the detail. I want to enjoy every wee scrap.” James smiled awkwardly and skipped the fact he’d been loitering in the local cafe when Ninian burst in to raise the alarm.
After he finished his story Shona went off to the cloakroom to reapply her lipstick when Jimmy Darling leaned down and said in his son’s ear: "You’ve made your mum proud but I’m not as gullible as she. I’ve given the police enough statements in my life to know when someone’s telling porkies. I don’t want to know son, either. That’s another of life’s lessons: Keep people on a need-to-know basis only but I’m telling you now that story has more holes in it than a Swiss cheese and is ten times smellier.
“I hope that copper over there isn’t here for any reason other than she likes a good Christmas Carol followed by a wee dram and small talk. Stay out of her way and keep that shut,” he said, pointing to his own mouth.
James looked up at his dad with an overwhelming sense of pride. He might not have been blessed with a great education but he reckoned few in the room could outsmart his old man.
“What I want to know is why you’re not in the choir? I’ve heard you singing around the house, son, and you’ve got a great voice,” said Mickey Grunge. "Well, Dad, it’s like this. You are probably the coolest dude in the room, the lead singer in an international band with zillions of sales and adoring fans around the world. Have you any idea what the pressure would be like for me?
“I don’t want to be on any stage. Look at the life you lead and the circus that follows you and Mum around? Would you really want that for me?” asked Bobby Bob Bob.
Mickey Grunge nodded sagely: “Yes, it’s all a bit mad innit? But it’s just like weird me sitting there listening to someone else’s son sing when I was thinking why isn’t it our Bobby?”
Chrystal Rox dug her husband in the ribs: “Are you deaf? He’s just explained it, hasn’t he? Our son is good with his brains. He’s an athlete, loves football and is the school rugby captain. He don’t want to sing and I don’t blame him. We’re hardly perfect role models, are we?”
Bobby Bob Bob laughed and said: “Hey guys, don’t get so heavy. You know I love you both to bits and you are the coolest parents at Sweetheart. C’mon old man, lighten up.” Mickey Grunge nodded enthusiastically and patted his son on the back and as he did so, he looked around catching Jane Rooke’s eye.
“Hey Bobby, if you’re so clever, why’s that peeler giving me the evils?”
He looked around and caught the policewoman quickly glance in another direction. “I dunno, maybe she’s a fan, Dad. Ever thought of that? But erm, you haven’t brought anything into the school, have you?” Both parents shook their heads looking quite guilty and leaving their son a little bit unconvinced.
The awkward silence broke when Dr Collins announced festivities had come to an end as had the term and he wished everyone a seasonal farewell. “Those boys who are staying overnight should make their way back to their houses and we’ll see your parents tomorrow. Everyone else, have a safe journey and we will see you in the New Year.”
Dr Collins stood by the entrance shaking hands with each set of parents as they left. Lord Thornberry walked down the steps with Lady Jemima and Cecilia by his side and waved over at the Sparrows who were about to get into their Range Rover when, out of the shadows a policewoman carrying a large box walked over to where his Bentley was parked and shouted: “Who does this motor belong to?!”
Lord Thornberry raised his voice slightly: “Oh, that’s mine officer. Is there a problem?”
The tall, willowy blonde policewoman strode over and said: “There most certainly is. The tax is out of date and I suspect you’ve been drinking, sir.”
His lordship looked aghast and horrified as by this time the focus of pupils, parents and teachers were on him. “Now look here, officer. I want your name, rank and number. Do you know who I am?”
The policewoman marched up to him, put down her box and put her hand on her hips: “So you want to know who I am? Well, I’ll tell you. I’m Rookie Blue and you are so busted!” She then pulled off her cap to reveal a mop of long, blonde hair and ripped off her uniform exposing an ample bosom trapped inside a silk and lace black and red basque, stockings and tartan garters. Bending down in a theatrical way, she pressed a button on the wireless box with her extremely long, red acrylic nails and suddenly the rap music of KRS-One’s ‘Sound of Da Police’ started pumping out.
While the lyrics and music might have been alien to stunned, onlooking staff and parents – with the exception of Mickey Grunge who by this time was dancing on the steps and waving his arms in the air – boy gamers familiar with the computer game Battlefield Hardline recognised the track immediately.
Lord Thornberry stood motionless like a rabbit trapped in the headlights, open-mouthed, as Rookie Blue then proceeded to crack a long leather whip she pulled from one of her garters and said: “Come on then, your Lordship, who’s been a naughty boy then?”
Cecilia Thornberry shouted: “Daddy, what’s going on?!” Lady Thornberry followed up with another question, demanding to know: “Who is this woman? Why is she doing this?”
Mickey Grunge, still swaying and rocking, turned to his wife and said: “This is quite a floor show Rox and we’re not in it but I think I quite like being on the sidelines for once.”
Eugenie Sparrow looked horrified and whispered to her husband: “Do something, George. You’re his lawyer,” but he snapped back: “She’s not a real police officer, you silly woman. She appears to be a strippergram. This is supposed to be a prank but it’s in extremely bad taste.”
Crispin Sparrow and Jacob Thornberry both rose slowly from the side of Mr Petrie’s Austin Cambridge which was parked next to the Bentley. Peering wide-eyed over the bonnet, Crispin Sparrow wailed: “Oh my God, something terrible has happened. That is not the tart I gave the money.”
“No, the tart you gave the money to was me, young man! PC Rooke not to be confused with the curvaceous WPC Rookie Blue and her wireless beat box!”
Sparrow turned around and saw Jane Rooke standing behind him. “You bloody muppet, Crispin!” screamed Jacob Thornberry. His hysterical loud outburst coincided with the very second the music was switched off and so was heard by everyone.
Now all eyes were on the real policewoman and the two guilty schoolboys as Rookie Blue shouted: “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?! This is the last time I’m coming here. You’re all a bunch of bloody freaks. First I’m told to go for the guy with an Austin Cambridge and then there’s a last minute call to say dance for the Lord bloke with the Bentley. Well, I don’t care anymore. I just want paying.”
Pulling the brown envelope out of her bag, Jane Rooke said in a terse, commanding tone: “Here, Crispin! Take this and pay the woman and then you can explain why you wanted to humiliate the father of your best friend.”
Dr Liam Wallace tilted his whole body slightly towards Dr Gideon McKie from their position near the entrance and said: “This is not a great day for Pythagoras House. Are you going to tell Professor McIntosh, or should I?”
Dr McKie retorted: “I think we both should but not just yet; in the interests of accuracy, I think we have a duty to remain just in case any more salient facts emerge.”
Just then, Dr Jones emerged from The Caledonian Suite with Svetlana, Viktor and the twins and all looked on with bemused expressions as rugby master Mr Swain shouted: “I think the floor show is over for now and there’s nothing more to see! Safe journey home, everyone.”
Dr Jones looked around asking: “What have we missed? What was that awful screeching noise?”
Dr Collins turned to the choirmaster and said: “You’ve missed nothing but allow me to congratulate you once again for producing a concert beyond comparison. I think we have all been given a reminder tonight that exceptional music is a joy to the ears. I’m sure the choir will do us proud in St Petersburg and hopefully make our benefactors equally proud they chose to invest in such a way.”
Svetlana beamed at such praise coming from the fearsome master while Viktor Volkov remained po-faced. His eyes were on the policewoman Jane Rooke who by this time walked back up the steps and headed towards the ladies washroom.
“Well, Sweetheart was never like this in my day, Mr Petrie. What just happened?” Sporting a mischievous look on his face and catching Duncan’s eyes, he said: “I will tell you the whole story over a glass of single malt in Dulce Cor. Let’s say goodnight to your grandson. It’s been an eventful day and an interesting evening.”
Crispin Sparrow was still frozen to the spot when Dr Wallace went over and snatched the brown envelope out of his hand, whispering: “You’ve got some explaining to do to your father, young man. I suggest you get to it now and in double quick order.”
He then looked around and saw the angry Rookie Blue glaring at everyone. “I think this belongs to you, my dear,” he said handing her the envelope. “Follow me and I will see you off the premises. This has been a most unfortunate incident.”
As they walked towards the driveway, she said: “Hang on a minute, buster. I’m not walking home in these heels. You better get me a taxi.”
Dr Wallace smiled and said: “I can do better than that, my dear. Let me take you home. Follow me. My car is just over there.” The Plato head looked over his shoulder and caught Dr Andrew Collins staring back. The headmaster then nodded very slightly as if to signal his relief and approval that someone was taking the initiative to remove the strippergram quickly and without fuss.
Back in the female cloakroom, Chrystal Rox emerged from one of the toilet cubicles and began to wash her hands when she developed a series of sneezes. Jane Rooke emerged from the adjoining cubicle just as Chrystal gave one last violent sneeze.
As she recovered her poise, she asked Jane Rooke about what had happened. “Trust me, you really would not want to know,” smiled Jane as she dried her hands. She then looked strangely at her and gently put her arms around Chrystal positioning her back in front of the oval mirror.
“See anything unusual?” Chrystal looked at her reflection and was about to say no when she saw something long and white literally hanging by a hair from her beehive.
During the coughing fit, she had managed to dislodge the giant spliff. “What the…well, I really don’t know where that came from. It’s certainly not mine. Here, officer, you take it for safe keeping.” And with that, Chrystal beat a hasty retreat from a mildly amused Jane Rooke.
Later that evening, Jane regaled her elder brother with the whole story of her last forty-eight hours at Sweetheart. “I can’t believe you met Mickey Grunge. He’s like the coolest man in the whole world.”
Jane laughed and pulled on her brother’s hair: “Unlike you, bro! Aren’t you a bit old for dreadlocks and a rainbow beanie hat?”
Ignoring her jibes at his hipster looks, he said: “What an exciting life you lead, sis, and I thought it would be all paperwork, parking tickets and persecuting the people. The only mystery now is what happened to the spliff?”
“Well,” said Jane: “I thought I’d save the best till last because I know you like to recycle.” And with that, she produced the cannabis joint from her bag.