CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Outside Miss Baxter’s office the same blonde woman was sitting at the assistant’s desk, painting her fingernails the colour of pink custard. She snapped her gum a couple of times as we approached, but otherwise didn’t really acknowledge our existence.

“Cynthia,” Miss Baxter piped up after an awkward moment. “This is one of our first year students – Poppy Pym.”

I waved one hand, and Cynthia’s eyes flicked in my direction. “Yeah,” she muttered, her concentration returning to her fingernails. “Nice to meet you, Polly.”

“It’s PoPPy—” I began, but Miss Baxter shook her head.

“Any messages?” Miss Baxter asked patiently.

“Oh, yeah.” Cynthia nodded. “A bunch of people called about some stuff. I can’t really remember to be honest. They weren’t, like, the most interesting bunch, you know?” She gingerly picked up a pink post-it note covered in scrawl. “Here’s some of them.” She handed them to me. “WATCH THE NAILS!” she hissed.

“Er, thanks,” I said, looking at the post-it uncertainly.

“I’ll take that, thank you!” Miss Baxter plucked it from my hands. “Now, come on, Poppy, there’s something I need to show you,” and she pushed me towards her office door.

All thoughts of assistants vanished once I stepped into Miss Baxter’s office because standing inside was my whole family. With a squeak I threw myself into Pym’s open arms and buried my head in her shoulder. She smelled of rose soap and spun sugar and I felt tears stinging at the back of my eyes as she wrapped me in a warm, familiar hug.

“I told you it would be good surprise, eh, Tomato?” Fanella’s voice reached my ears.

“I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow?” I gasped as I was pulled into a body-squishing hug with Boris, then squeezed between Doris and Marvin.

“We couldn’t wait!” squeaked BoBo, as Chuckles fell at my feet and offered me a rose he had made out of balloons.

“Where’s Buttercup?” I asked, looking around.

“Miss Baxter thought it might not be a good idea to have her wandering around in case she caught someone unawares, so she’s curled up in her bed in Luigi’s trailer,” said Sharp-Eye Sheila, her arm around Luigi’s shoulder. I noticed that Luigi had a large plaster stuck across his top lip, covering the right-hand side of his moustache.

“Anyway,” said Tina, “we wanted to make sure—”

“—We got here in plenty of time before the rehearsal,” finished Tawna.

“We missed you!” they exclaimed in unison, squeezing me in between them like a Poppy sandwich.

“It’s so good of you all to step in,” said Miss Baxter, clasping her hands together. “It would have been such a shame to cancel when we could raise so much money for the town hall, and there’s a lot of local press interest as well, because of the fire.”

“Yes, Miss Baxter has been telling us all about it,” said Pym, fixing me with her all-seeing stare. “It sounds like we have lots to catch up on.”

I squirmed a bit at that but luckily Fanella’s loud voice cut in.

“Me, I will play main character, yes?” she demanded.

There was a brief silence.

“Um, no,” I said eventually, “they already have someone to play Macbeth. And he’s . . . a man.”

“No problem.” Fanella clicked her fingers. “I wear the false moostache.”

Luigi flinched and touched the plaster on his top lip. A sound like a muffled sob escaped him.

“No, no,” I said hurriedly, “but you can play one of the three witches if you like?”

Fanella glared at me. “You want me to play a weetch? What are you saying, Tomato? You think I am like weetch?”

Fortunately we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in!” called Miss Baxter in a relieved voice.

The door opened to reveal Inspector Hartley. I hadn’t seen the inspector since our little run-in with an international jewel thief, but he still seemed to be wearing the same crumpled suit, and his grey eyes were fixed on Miss Baxter’s face.

“Arthur!” Miss Baxter exclaimed, a pink glow spilling across her freckled cheeks.

“Sorry I’m late, Emma—” he began, but stopped when he saw the entire circus troupe staring at him.

“No, no,” Miss Baxter waved a hand, “I’m quite behind and I was distracted by the arrival of Poppy’s family.” She paused. “You remember Poppy? And the rest of Madame Pym’s travelling circus?”

“How could I forget? How do you do, Miss Pym?” He turned to me. “I hear you’re caught up in my investigation again? Volunteering with the drama society, are you?” I nodded and his piercing gaze made me feel like Pym wasn’t the only one who could read people’s minds. “I understand that you are all stepping in to help out?” he continued, turning to Pym.

“Yes we are,” Pym said slowly, “and I think you may shortly be getting some of the answers you are looking for, Inspector.” Her eyes had taken on that cloudy look that meant she was seeing something that the rest of us couldn’t.

“Well,” the Inspector said briskly, “I was going to ask if you would mind me popping in to your rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” Pym muttered. “In fact, I think that would be a very good idea.”