Authors: Judy May
I woke really late this morning feeling a bit wobbly, and I couldn’t face Stephen. I was thinking about moving home, but Professor Brown said that my moving out would make his son feel far worse than a bang on the head would ever do. I told Ro and Paul about what we’d been up to and their take on it was that if Stephen had been there alone the shelf might have fallen anyway, so it was lucky I was there to help. The logic in that is slightly twisted in my favour, but it was lovely of them to want me to feel happier.
Paul said that Stephen slept through the night and Ro visited him after breakfast. Apparently he wants to see me, but I
can’t
face him, so I’m going to write him a note and send it in when Miss Higgins brings his lunch.
My note to Stephen read:
Dear Mr Brown
,
I can only suppose that neither my glasses nor my rude manners were good enough weapons of destruction over the past few days hence my having to resort to the old ‘shelf trick’. No doubt I will manage to finish you off completely if I actually ever make you a cup of tea instead of just fetching one. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cover it. Please let me give you my brother Paul by way of compensation. Really, keep him.
Yours generously,
Miss Lemony Smith
.
I also got the reference books from the library, the one with all the plans of The Grange and the others he had piled there, and asked Miss Higgins to deliver those to him.
Miss Higgins came back with a note from him in return that simply said,
Get in here!
I had to assume either the bump on the head had turned him simple or he really wanted to talk to me in a hurry. I knocked nervously on the bedroom door and went in to find him sitting up in bed wearing the kind of traditional blue-striped PJs that I would have expected, a large bandage around his head and his glasses sitting gingerly on his face. He was smiling at me.
‘Did you actually make a
plan
to ruin my life or is all this sort of accidental?’ he said.
‘Half and half,’ I shrugged miserably.
He insisted I share his lunch, and because Miss Higgins had provided enough food to explode even a guy’s stomach, I thought it would help him if I ate part of the pasta mountain on the tray in front of him. Luckily I’d been too ‘off’ to eat breakfast so I was very helpful indeed.
‘Lemony, I need you to do something for me.’
‘Go away and stay away?’
‘Quite the opposite, I need you to return to the cottage and look around, then report back. The crew and actors and extras will all be here again tomorrow and we might not get another chance. Bring Paul
and Ro with you to be safe.’
I agreed, grateful to be able to do something helpful other than stuff my face with linguini. I’m now sitting in the large sitting room writing this, waiting for Paul to finish whatever he’s up to so we can come up with a strategy together, and encouraging Ro not to call Bob, but to face her movie-world withdrawal head-on. Have to go fetch crisps to give her something to do other than stare at her silent walkie talkie.
We did it! I honestly thought we were wasting our time, but it was there! We ran straight from the cottage up to Stephen’s room and he confirmed that the drawing we found was of the necklace. OK, so we didn’t find the necklace itself, but it proves we are one step closer. With Ro on board we took a far more practical approach than just wading in with nothing but huge hope and a nervousness around shelves, instead we removed everything from the cottage and stacked it neatly outside, under a plastic sheet in case it rained before we put the stuff back.
We’ve all seen too many detective shows and were wearing such serious and knowing faces that anyone
watching us would think Stephen had lost an arm in there and we’d been sent to fetch it. The empty cottage seemed properly empty as we didn’t find anything treasure-shaped at all, no matter how much tugging of hooks and tapping of walls we did. We were just about to move the stuff back in and admit defeat when I thought that, if we were guessing with any kind of half-functioning minds, the necklace would have been buried beneath the ground. It would have been
under
the boulder so it would’ve had to have been below the floor not around the walls, window sills or fireplace.
Ro jumped all over this idea and wanted to call Bob to see what the chances were of lucking into some heavy floor-breaking machinery. In the end the demolition squad wasn’t needed, as Paul noticed that not all the flagstones making up the floor were the same. One was slightly more battered looking, which made us think that maybe it might have had a more exciting life than the other flagstones. Sure enough, with the famous shelf for leverage we managed to lift it and underneath we found a roll of tough fabric with the sketch inside.
Well, at that stage we only knew it was a roll of fabric as I insisted we wait until getting to Stephen’s
room before looking inside, after all it wasn’t
his
fault he was doing the wounded soldier bit while we all got to rove about like untamed detectives. Ro and Paul have started saying, ‘It was the
shelf
’s fault.
Bad
shelf!’ every time they see me looking guilty and angst-ridden over the whole thing.
He’d been napping when we bounded in, but it would have taken a hard-of-hearing narwhal to sleep through our frenzy. Once Stephen had compared the drawing to that in one of the books and confirmed it as the one we wanted, we suddenly realised that it didn’t bring us any closer to the
actual
necklace.
When trails go cold most wild trackers will spend hours sniffing around for a tiny clue to get them back on the scent again. However, we four Grangers decided we’d done enough for the day and played Scrabble. This was an historic event because for the first time in seven years I lost! Not to Stephen (although we were within two points of each other most of the time), but to Paul who is still insisting that ‘dogsbreath’ is one word and not two. We asked Professor Brown to adjudicate, but all we got was a ten-minute seminar on the nature of evolving language.
I was feeling a bit ropey after that so although it’s
only five I’m in bed already and I think I’ll sleep now. Miss Higgins wants to call the doctor for me again, but I’m sure I just need time to rest.
The crew is coming back tomorrow, which is perfect timing as I’m starting to miss them again. Ro agrees that our room is a little lonely without Lorna and Alice arguing over which of them is the best dancer and who has the best ‘surprised face’ and bonding over fashions it will take them a decade to afford.
Not feeling well AT ALL.
It was like waking up in a church. Lorna, Alice, Amber, Bonnie and Hanna were all sitting on the other beds whispering so loudly it was really talking with a lot of breathing behind it, and telling each other to ‘shhh’ or they’d wake me. I told them it was too late for that and suddenly had a crowd of concerned faces around me. Apparently the story of the ‘cottage accident’ travelled around the place faster than it took for the catering truck to run out of pancakes. In their version of it poor, brave Lemony is regaining the use of her addled mind (while also in
the throes of double pneumonia), while tragic Stephen’s skull is hanging on by a thin piece of string. No matter how many times I told them I was fine and that I was up and about all day yesterday they wouldn’t let me out of bed. Full-force caring. I feel sorry for the world if any of them go into medicine after school, they’d end up being the kind of surgeons who would amputate your stomach if it rumbled.
Miss Higgins called in and said that the extras wouldn’t be needed for a couple of hours so the girls set up camp around my bed. I must admit it was lovely to be the centre of attention, even if it did involve listening to a
lot
of stories read from magazines and a running commentary from Amber on everyone who passed by down below outside the window. Paul knocked on the door, but didn’t come in, leaving a note for me instead. I could tell from the handwriting that it was from Stephen, and as I didn’t want any of them to get the wrong idea I laughed knowingly and pretended it was from Paul himself. I said he couldn’t go ten minutes without needing to be obnoxious to me.
I shoved the unread piece of paper under the pillow and couldn’t retrieve it for another hour. Finally my
ladies-in-waiting were convinced that my demise was several years off as long as I avoided the coffee from catering, and I headed off to shower, managing to sneak the note away.
It read:
Dear Miss Smith,
Word has reached the castle that your health has waned overnight. Please send news forthwith as to the state of aforementioned health, as the success of the campaign depends upon it.
Your thoughtful gift of your brother Paul will prove useful in delivering this missive. He really is a most interesting and engaging servant, the first I have ever had to pay in bourbon creams.
Faithfully yours,
Sir Stephen Brown. (I promoted myself in your absence).
It made me laugh, but then I felt angry at the thought that the only reason he was asking about how I was doing was because he wanted me to help solve the mystery. I know this is a bit rich considering the damage I did to him recently, but I thought we were friends now. Maybe he’s just using me as someone who can run around for him.
It’s all a bit confusing.
I missed breakfast on the bus and have been eating so much rubbish recently that I asked Miss Higgins would she mind making me a vegetable stir-fry. I felt better after eating something good and have decided to eat fruit instead of biscuits today. Ro is back on form since Lizzy also made her a runner for the director on top of the few things she is still doing for Bob.
I actually caught her saying, ‘Ten four on Julian’s jacket. On the move from trailer to director’s chair!’
I was so relieved to see Stephen on set in the ballroom wearing his soldier’s uniform. The bandage was gone and Dipti had put make-up over the bruising, and the stitches and swelling were only visible close-up.
Perhaps because we’d had a few days off from filming, we had the BEST fun of any day since it started. During an endless wait for lighting, Lorna and Alice were teaching everyone how to tap dance on the wooden floor and soon most of the other extras and some of the crew joined in with the little routine. Most people were surprised that Lorna can tap, but I know her mum sent her for lessons in an optimistic attempt to make her more ladylike as
ballet class would have been ridiculous under the circumstances. Ed the choreographer was the only one who wasn’t too happy as he wanted us to be practising our old-fashioned dancing, quadrilles or whatever they’re called. I caught Stephen sitting down a lot and having to get his strength back, so I sat with him while the others started into Hanna’s hip-hop routine, and asked him what he thought we should do next, find the necklace or solve the break-ins.
‘Find the necklace,’ he spoke softly and leaned in so that no one would overhear, ‘That way we can set a trap to catch the people who are after it.’
We spent ages sitting on one of the formal chaise longues, which the props department had put around the edges of the room, but couldn’t talk about the necklace any more because Sophie came and sat with us. Given that there is no one her age she gets bored easily and feels she has to try really hard to fit in and Stephen was so good with her, telling her stories about kings and queens and showing her how to multiply huge numbers in her head. I couldn’t help noticing how good he looked in his soldier’s dress uniform, especially with his stitched-up head adding to the authenticity. (It’s the
shelf’s
fault.
Bad
shelf!)
Just as we got up to take our places for the next scene he asked me, ‘How are you feeling?’
But I didn’t get a chance to reply as Lizzie rushed me away to be in a group with some others. I caught sight of myself in a large mirror and didn’t know who it was for a moment. Dipti and Wendy and the contact lens lady have worked some kind of miracle. I know looks don’t matter, but under that special lighting I looked amazing, maybe even beautiful. Pity I don’t have a makeover team and a spotlight to follow me through my real life!
Once we wrapped in the early evening I decided to write a note back to Stephen, just for the laugh. It said:
Dear Sir Stephen,
Your uniform buttons looked remarkably shiny today, as did my nose I fear. This was due to the mild cold that has settled upon me following one or two inadvisable outdoor excursions over the past two days and a slight fraying of the nerves.
If this were not trying enough, I cannot imagine how the campaign might proceed from this point onward. I seem to have left my brain behind at the scene of the accident. If you see it, do not approach for it can be a ferocious and troubling thing.
Yours,
Lady Lemony. (Now that you are also landed gentry I may reveal my true identity.)
I slipped it into his pocket as we went into the sitting room to join the rest of the Grangers for one of Miss Higgins’ buffet dinners. He smiled at this, which made me feel better than I have for days.
Ro and Paul have been gathering info. She’s been talking to the security guards who say that it’s obvious that the break-ins were done by two people who are probably working on the film, at least part time. Paul has been flirting with every woman under the age of a hundred and saying he is trying to find out if any of them have encountered anything strange. I think he means apart from himself.
The blonde woman hasn’t been around since that day she was on the dining-bus, but it could be that she’s part of a larger gang. It seems that Stephen is
staying in bed today and I really wish he was here. This may be borderline insane, but I find it really exciting not knowing what he is going to say or do next. Like when I was putting on my costume shoes this morning and found this letter slipped inside one of them.
My Dear Lady Lemony,
May I be the first to offer reassurances that your nose was not nearly as shiny as the buttons of my coat, although most certainly it seemed to be a similar shade of red. Ever at your bidding I dispatched myself to the scene of my near-decapitation and believed at first that I had found your missing brain. Alas, on further examination it turned out to be an old deflated football. Should you deem this to be a suitable replacement I shall be honoured to convey it to you post-haste.
Yours ever gallantly,
Sir Stephen.
He really is funny, I think he just doesn’t bother to barge his way into the limelight and insist on an audience the way Paul and Alex do. Now I am really paranoid that my nose might be red so I’m going to check in with make-up.
When I got to the hair and make-up room Dipti started laughing and said that she’d been told to expect me and that she was to tell me that my nose is beautiful and just the right colour. Then the rest of me went red as I blushed massively and rushed off to write a note in return. I knew the library would be quiet and was surprised to see Stephen run away from there as he was supposed to be in bed. He sailed right past me without saying hello and I presumed he’d found some evidence, but he hurried off too fast and I couldn’t find him after that. Paul just checked his room, and Ro had half the crew on the walkie-talkies looking out for him, but he seems to have just vanished completely. I haven’t felt much like writing to him; I just want to talk to him.
We didn’t get any further in solving the mystery as Stephen got back while we were all eating dinner on the dining-buses (we wrapped really late) and went straight to bed. It’s crazy-late.