Saffron & Bruno and the Kidnap!

Saffron was excited.  Every time she walked passed Bruno, who just sat there on the bed and watched her, she gave him a smile and a glance and, sometimes, a tickle on the tummy.  Once she was dressed and ready for school, she picked Bruno up and took him down stairs to the kitchen.

On the landing, she met Natty and Jeremiah, Natty’s pink toy elephant.  The girls smiled at each other and grinned.

Saffron’s mother was listening to the radio and packing Saffron’s and Natty’s lunchboxes.  Saffron gave her mother a hug and a kiss good morning and sat at the kitchen table to eat her cereal.  Natty did the same.  Bruno sat on the chair next to Saffron and Jeremiah sat next to Natty.  Every now and again, in between mouthfuls, Saffron would smile at Bruno and chuck him under the chin; Natty would stroke Jeremiah’s head.

Saffron checked her bag.  She made sure she had all she needed for her day ahead.  Her schoolbag contained her pencil case, her schoolbooks, her library book, her lunchbox and her drinks bottle.  Natty checked her schoolbag too.  Both girls picked up their respective toys and headed out of the door to wait for the school bus.  Both girls smiled big smiles.

In the attic the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were just getting their morning walking through walls practice going when they noticed the girls heading out of the house for school.  The girls looked up at the attic window and waved.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew waved back.

“They look ever so happy, this morning,” said Stephen Number Four.

“Well, of course they look happy,” said Stephen Number Twelve haughtily, “they are off to school; a place of learning, a place where they will multiply their erudition and become learnéd scholars.”

“What was that you just put on the ‘e’?”  Asked Stephen Number Four.

“’Learnéd’?” repeated Stephen Number Twelve, “I merely accentuated the ‘e’ with an acute accent.”  There was a pause as the rest of the Stephens took this in.  Andrew smiled.  He knew what was coming.

“You didn’t sound very cute,” said Stephen Number Four.

“That’s right,” said Stephen Number Six, “you were using your normal accent, not your cute one.”

“Yeah,” agreed pretty much all the rest of the Stephens.  Stephen Number Twelve tutted in despair and turned back to the window.

“I do wonder, however,” he said,” what is causing them to look quite so happy, today?”

“I reckon it’s got something to do with the fact they’re taking Bruno and Jeremiah to school with them,’ said Stephen Number Fourteen.

“You could be onto something,” said Andrew, “Saffron hasn’t taken Bruno to school for ages.”  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew looked at one another and a single thought shifted between brains.

“Shall we go to school, today, to see what’s making the girls so happy?”  Asked Andrew.

“Yes, let’s!”  Chorused the Sixteen Stephens, and they all trooped off to wait for the bus with the girls.

The school bus arrived.  Saffron and Bruno and Natty and Jeremiah got on and sat with Rachel and Sofia, her rainbow coloured Tyrannosaurus Rex.  The three girls grinned at each other.  The grins became tinged with laughs as the girls listened to the Sixteen Stephens arguing about who sat on the back seat, who had sat on the back seat last time and whose turn it was to sit on the back seat this time and that everyone knew that I (Stephen Number Seven) always sit on the back seat so why was there an argument about it?  Before the girls new it, the bus arrived at school and before the Sixteen Stephens could settle the argument about who was going to sit on the back seat, it was time to get off the bus again.

The girls giggled as the argument over the backseat erupted!

*

The bell rang for the start of the school day.  The three girls rushed into class, hung they’re bags on their coat pegs and sat on their seats.  Each of them placed their toy on their desk.  Around the classroom the girls could see all their other classmates doing the same thing.  Libby had brought a bright green and purple crocodile; Sebastian had brought a Spaceman action figure; all around the classroom dolls, cuddly toys and action figures of various shapes sizes and names were on display.  Even Agatha Bartholomew had brought in a toy; a plastic spider she insisted was called Killer Fang, and Serena had brought in a doll that looked like a purple girl after she had eaten a sweet that wasn’t quite ready to be eaten.  She said her toy’s name was Violet.

Mr Dressing entered the room, carrying a toy of his own; an old, threadbare bear.  He plonked the bear on his desk and asked for quiet.  The classroom hushed.  All the students were looking at the ancient bear sat on their teacher’s desk.  The bear had no fur at the elbows and one of his eyes was a different colour to the other one…and slightly larger.  Mr Dressing introduced Duncan and explained how this bear had been in his family for generations, passed from one child to the next until he received it when he was child.  Up until recently, he explained, Duncan only had one eye!  Mr Dressing had fixed this up but could only find the green one that was a bit bigger than the brown one already on the bear’s head.  That was ok, explained, Mr Dressing because being a bit different and not all looking the same was a good thing, and made life much more interesting than boring.  The students listened and agreed, an interesting life was much better than a boring one.

The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were arranged at the back of the classroom and were staggered by the variety, colour and shapes and sizes of the toys arranged around the room.  They wondered what on earth they could be for.  Their question was promptly answered.

“Right,,” said Mr Dressing, “We won’t need the toys til this afternoon and our art class.  We have a special guest teacher coming in to show us some special drawing and painting techniques and we’ll need our models then.”  He gave the instruction for all the toys to be placed by the bags and the coat pegs.  Natty was really excited.  She couldn’t wait to send her picture to her mum and dad.  Saffron smiled at her cousin.  The class hurried to complete the instruction and then they all got down to some really fascinating mathematics.

*

Morning tea came and Saffron, Natty and Rachel headed off to the canteen to get a cream bun and a carton of juice.  It was a Tuesday, and this meant that the cream buns not only had cream, they had a black currant jam filling too; and this made Saffron very happy indeed.

“I love black currant jam!”  She said as she held her bun and stared at it approvingly.  The other two girls giggled.  They too thought black currant jam was delicious, especially the way Gloria Waynor and Gladys Wight served it up, but they weren’t quite as enthusiastic about it as a bun filling as Saffron.  The two dinner ladies looked up from their counter and wiped their hands on their tabards.

“We’d better get some more buns out,” said Gloria, “The boys are here.”

“So they are,” smiled Gladys, “ I do enjoy it when they pay us a visit.”  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew patiently waited their turn, even Stephen Number Eight – who had brought an extra large tray to carry an extra large amount of cream buns on.  Stephen Number Ten was casually spinning a custard pie and wondering whether the cream bun was as aerodynamically efficient as a pie.  He looked around the room and saw that this was exactly the right size and sort of room for a prototype exploration of this theory.

“Just you wait on, young Stephen,” said Gladys, who might have been a bit of a psychic when she was younger.  “There’ll be plenty of time for potential food flinging before the day is out, you mark my words.”

“Did you just read my mind?”  Asked Stephen Number Ten, “Are you a Medium?”

“She’s an extra-large, and don’t you believe a word she says otherwise,” chimed in Gloria Waynor.

“You cheeky thing,” laughed Gladys.  “It’s not too difficult to read your mind, Stephen, when all I can see you doing is twirling a custard pie, closing one eye and aiming at the far end of the room and then going “whoosh!” with your very own mouth!”  The dinner ladies chuckled to their selves.

“I’ll have a cream bun then, please,’ said Stephen Number Ten, and he went and sat and ate it and only thought about throwing it at someone six times.

On their way back into class, the three girls checked in on their toys.  Bruno, Jeremiah, Sofia and all the other toys sat waiting patiently for their starring role in the art class to begin.  Saffron could not help herself but to rush across and give Bruno a bit of cwtch before heading into the classroom.  There she was met by Mr Dressing and an intriguing Geography activity.

*

For the first time the girls could ever remember, they spent their lunchtime wishing it would go faster so they could get back into the classroom and get drawing their playtime companions.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew spent their lunchtime in a variety of ways.  Stephen Number Eight spent it trying to get the better of Gladys and Gloria in the school kitchens.  He failed.  Gladys and Gloria found that very funny.  Stephen Number Eight’s belly was a lot emptier than he had hoped it would be.  Stephen Number Twelve spent lunchtime in the school library pretending he completely understood all of the books in there.  Stephen Number Ten spent his lunchtime working out the potential flying qualities of each of the foodstuffs on sale in the canteen.  Andrew spent his lunchtime catching up with Gladys and Gloria, in between their foiling of Stephen Number Eight, of course.  Andrew had a lovely lunchtime.  The rest of the Stephens enjoyed their school dinner and then enjoyed playing tag around the playground.  The bell for the end of lunchtime saw the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew hurry back to the classroom, too.

“Now then, class,” said Mr Dressing, “I would like you to all go and get your models ready for art.”  The classroom emptied as the students rushed to get their toys.  Soon, all but three of the students were back in their seats.  Saffron, Natty and Rachel were not back in their seats.  They were still standing by their coat pegs.  There was no sign of Bruno, Jeremiah or Sofia.  None whatsoever.

“Saffron?  Rachel?”  Mr Dressing was calling from the classroom for the girls to come back in.

“They’re not there, Mr Dressing,” said Saffron, as the girls came back into the room.

“Who aren’t there?  Where?”  Asked Mr Dressing, a little confused.

“Bruno and Sofia and Jeremiah,” said the girls, “They’re all gone!”

“What do you mean?”  Mr Dressing was not being very quick on the uptake today.

“Our toys, Mr Dressing,” said Saffron, “They aren’t where we left them.”

“They been taken,” added Rachel.

“Oh, now girls, check again.  They’ve probably just got moved about during the day,” said Mr Dressing, trying to be reassuring.

“No,” said Natty, coming into the classroom and holding a note, “They’ve been taken.  Look!”  She held the note out for Mr Dressing to see.  Before he could take it, Saffron looked over Natty’s shoulder and saw what was written on the paper.

“YOUR TOYS HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED!  MAYBE ONE DAY YOU’LL SEE THEM AGAIN!”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Saffron, “Poor Bruno!”

“Poor Jeremiah!”
“Poor Sofia!”  The girls slumped in their chairs hopelessly upset at the disappearance of their beloved toys.  Naturally all eyes turned to the one suspect whom everyone suspects: Agatha Bartholomew.  Agatha Bartholomew sat with her round friend, Serena, looking as wide-eyed and innocent as a person could wish to look.  This only made the three girls even more suspicious.  Nonchalantly and then with growing amazement that all eyes were on her, Agatha Bartholomew looked up and then around at the accusing stares of the three toyless girls.  She grinned, and even though you could tell she was happy, the grin was a joyless one: the grin of a shark.  Mr Dressing intervened.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “you can take your eyes off Agatha.  She was helping me and the Head Mistress all through lunch hour.”  The three girls did not avert their stare.  Agatha Bartholomew’s grin widened.  “This is most peculiar, girls,” he said, “most peculiar, indeed.”  Mr Dressing turned and walked back to the front of the classroom.  The three girls slumped further in their chairs.

“Poor babies,” hissed Agatha Bartholomew under her breath, “I wonder what will ever become of your baby toys, poor babies?”  The faces of the three girls were red with upset.  Their eyes filled with tears.  They slouched further still and worried about their missing toys.  They looked at each other.  What were they going to do?  Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia weren’t just toys, they were their friends!  They knew they had to find them.  They knew they had to make them all safe again.

There they were...gone!

 Another face was red and getting redder.  This face was an embarrassed face, and it belonged to Serena Stoutly.  She was furiously looking at her desk and desperately trying not to catch the eye of Natty, whom she knew would get the truth out her just by simply looking at her and appealing to her better nature.  Purposefully, Serena moved her chair so she was facing a little bit away from the forlorn threesome and a little harder to catch the eye of.  Agatha Bartholomew kicked Serena under the desk.  Serena looked up at her spiky friend.  Agatha Bartholomew said quite a lot just with the look in her eyes.  Serena gulped and continued to furiously look at her desk and not catch the eye of, well, anyone.

The three girls stared with glumness and rage at the three artist model dolls Mr Dressing had plonked on their table.  Absentmindedly, lines of varying strengths of grey were drawn on their pages.  Outlines of shapes were forming and lines etched on the paper but the minds of the girls were not on their work at all.

“We have to find them,” said Saffron, “we simply have to.”  The other two girls nodded their agreement.  They all wore determined looks on their faces.

“Look at Serena,” said Natty, “She knows something.  She knows we know she knows something.  She won’t even look at us.”

“We need to get her away from Agatha Bartholomew,” Rachel said, “She won’t say a thing if that bully is around.”

“Andrew?”  Said Saffron without even missing a beat, “Can you help get Serena away from that Agatha Bartholomew?”
“Leave it to us,” said Andrew, who had appeared at Saffron’s elbow.

Andrew had a struggle to get the Sixteen Stephens away from their preening and posing.  Stephen Number Seven rested his palette against his easel and Stephen Number Thirteen rested his palette against his eagle (who was thankful for being able to rest the wings he’d been holding the canvas up with) – Stephen Number Thirteen had been a little confused about the requirements for being a proper artist and was currently distracted by the enormous floppy splotch of a hat Stephen Number Seven was wearing on his head.

“What is that?”  Stephen Number Thirteen asked.

“A beret,” answered Stephen Number Seven.

“No,” said Stephen Number Thirteen with conviction, “what I have on my head is a ‘beret’.  I don’t know what on earth you’re wearing.”

“What you have on your head is a berry,” said Stephen Number Seven.  Stephen Number Thirteen took the small piece of fruit off his head and sniffed.

“Right,” said Andrew, “The girls want to get Serena away from that Agatha Bartholomew.  We have to come up with a plan.  Any ideas?”  There was a pause, and then a look of enlightenment appeared on Stephen Number Twelve’s face.

“We could lay a trail of small but precious jewels from Serena’s desk, this would lure her to a cage, a disguised cage, mind you, then we could trap her in the cage, put the cage on a train and transport her to a remote lair where the three girls would lie in wait and be able to question her without that Agatha Bartholomew anywhere around.”  There was a pause.

“What would you disguise the cage as?”  Asked Stephen Number Five.

“A badger,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “No one would suspect a thing.”  There was pause.

“Well,” said Andrew, “Thank you for that suggestion, Stephen.  I was thinking of something a little less complicated than that.”

“Right, right,’ Said Stephen Number Twelve, “Gotcha.”  There was a pause.

“We could dangle a lasso…”

“Simpler than that.”  There was a pause.

“We could hypnotise everyone in the …”

“Simpler.”  There was a pause.

“If only we had a polar bear…”

“No.”  There was a pause.  Stephen Number Three put up his hand.
“Yes, Stephen?”  Said Andrew.

“Why don’t we just knock that cup of water she’s got on her desk on to her?  She’ll have to go to the bathroom to dry herself off and the girls could speak with her there.”  He stopped speaking and looked around the group in case he had just said something wrong.

“Ah, yes,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “I could ricochet a tennis ball off a camel onto the table and knock it…”

“Stephen,” said Andrew.

“Hmmm?”  Said Stephen Number Twelve.

“You can stop speaking now.  Great idea, Stephen,” Andrew said to Stephen Number Three.  Stephen Number Three beamed.

Andrew materialised next to Serena’s desk and knocked the cup of water all over the poor girl.  The water cup she’d been using to wash paint off her brush flowed brown and cold all over her lap.

“Hur no!”  She called out, “My lap!”  Agatha Bartholomew pointed at her friend and laughed.  Serena jumped to her feet and rushed to the bathroom.  Before Mr Dressing could say anything, Saffron, Rachel and Natty all followed her.  Agatha Bartholomew saw exactly what happened and rose to her feet, a nasty snarl forming on her lips.  Andrew appeared in Serena’s chair.  Agatha Bartholomew’s eyes fell open and her mouth shot shut.

“Boo,” said Andrew, “Remember me?”  Agatha Bartholomew managed to move her hands enough to be able to rub her eyes and try and wipe away the ghost who was now sat opposite her and speaking with her.  It didn’t work.  For a moment, she completely remembered this ghostly apparition...

“Now,” said Andrew, “We’d be grateful if you retook your seat.”  Over his shoulder Stephen Number Ten appeared, custard pie twirling away on one ghostly finger.  “Now,’ Andrew continued, “I know what you’re thinking; has he thrown all but one of his pies or not?  To tell the truth, in all the excitement, I kinda forgot myself. But, as this is a standard made custard pie, short crust pastry with a cream, egg and vanilla based filling, and could cover your face in one throw, you’ve gotta ask yourself one question. ‘Do I feel lucky?’”  Andrew smiled, “Well, that and ‘can anyone else see these ghosts in the classroom, or is it just me?’  …So, two questions.  Punk.”  Stephen Number Ten mimicked throwing the pie at Agatha Bartholomew and she instinctively ducked.

“Are you alright, Agatha?”  Asked Mr Dressing, “You’ve gone all white.”

“One false move,” said Andrew, “And you’ll go all yellow.”  And he winked and nodded his head toward the custard pie twirling on Stephen Number ten’s finger.  Agatha Bartholomew went a little bit whiter and gulped.

In the bathroom, Serena was doing her best to dry her top when she realised the room had a few more people in it than just her.  She stopped and slowly looked up to see Saffron, Rachel and Natty with their arms folded across their chests or on their hips.  They had very determined looks on their faces.  Serena took her turn to gulp, too.

“What have you done with them?”  Saffron spoke first.

“Where are they?”  Rachel spoke second.

“Serena,” Natty spoke third and more soothingly than the other two, “What’s going on?”

“Hur, erm…” Serena looked down and her feet and fidgeted with her fingers.

“Do you know where the toys are?”  Natty asked.  Serena nodded, and continued fidgeting with her fingers.

“Well?”  Asked Saffron, impatiently.  Serena quickly glanced up, met Saffron’s eyes and then looked back down again.  She shook her head.

“Come on, Serena,” said Natty, “You know you have to tell us.  It’s the right thing to do.”  Serena looked up again.  Guilt and confusion were spelled all over her face.  She did indeed know she had to tell the girls but what about Agatha Bartholomew, what would she do to her if she found out she’d said something?  Serena looked back down at her hands again.  She looked back up, her mouth gaping like a goldfish.  The three girls waited with bated breath.

“Hur…” Serena said, “hur… They’re in the rubbish bins behind the school canteen.  Agatha put them there and said they’d get taken to the rubbish dump with all the other rubbish and she laughed and said I wasn’t to say anything to you, but I did say something to you, please don’t tell Mr Dressing on me!  Please don’t tell Agatha on me, neither.”  Serena’s bottom lip quivered a bit and wobbled and big tears formed in her eyes.

“Don’t you worry,” said Natty, “we won’t tell, will we Saffron, Rachel?”  The girls shook their heads and rushed off to the bins behind the school canteen.  Natty left with a smile and squeeze of Serena’s arm.  Serena went red again, embarrassed but pleased at having done something good.

Saffron, Rachel and Natty sprinted to the bins.  The canteen bins were three in number and green.  They were also quite smelly and quite full.  One, in fact, was overflowing from today’s lunch, fish pie.

“Aw, phew!”  Said Saffron, “it stinks!”  The girls approached with caution.  Gingerly, Rachel reached out and lifted one of the bin lids.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”  The girls spun around in surprise.  There stood Gladys and Gloria.  Gloria had a wagging finger going on.  “I simply cannot believe that good girls like you would be here, now, in class time…”

“We’re sorry, Gloria,” interrupted Saffron, “but we had to…”

“Tut tut,” said Gloria, taking her turn to interrupt, “such manners!  We don’t care what ‘you just have to’.  You’re not just having to do anything without the proper safety equipment on for dealing with school canteen bins!”

“That’s right,” said Gladys, “Health and Safety would have a fit if they saw you out here now without the right protective gear on!”  Against all their protests, the three girls were taken into the canteen.

“Right,” said Gloria, “here you go.”  She handed each girl a clothes peg and Rachel a speaker system.  The girls looked confused, one of them even said “huh?”  Gloria Waynor and Gladys Wight looked pleased with their selves.

“Right you are,” said Gladys, “One peg for the wearing on the nose of, to protect you from the horrendous niff of the school bins; and, one anti-cat tannoy system just in case any of your are allergic to cats.”  The girls looked extremely puzzled, “It’s fish pie day, isn’t it?”  Said Gladys with a shrug of her shoulders, as if to say ‘everyone knows you have to have an anti-cat tannoy system on a fish pie day’.  The girls slowly and with a steady measure of puzzlement walked back out to the bins.  Before they could open the first one, Saffron halted them and pointed.

“Look,” she said, “that note up there.”  Natty reached up and pulled it down.  The girls read it together.

“I KNEW YOU’D GET THAT BLUBBERING BLABBER MOUTH TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE BINS!  TRY AGAIN, STINKY, STUPID GIRLS!”

“What are we going to do now?”  The girls looked on in disbelief.  Rachel set off the anti-cat tannoy and a slinking ginger Tom slunked away.

Back in the classroom, Mr Dressing was becoming increasingly worried at the whiteness of Agatha Bartholomew’s appearance.  He was also increasingly worried at the redness of Serena Stout’s appearance.  He was also increasingly worried at the lack of Saffron, Rachel and Natty’s appearance.  Where could those girls have gone?  As he distracted himself in his worry, Andrew took this cue to disappear, as did Stephen Number Ten.  Agatha Bartholomew regained her composure and kicked Serena under the table.

“I bet you told them stupid girls where their toys were, didn’t you?”  Serena refused to look up.  She went a bit redder and tried to carry on with her painting.  “Well,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “It doesn’t matter because their toys aren’t even in the school bins!  I knew you’d tell them, so I’ve hidden them somewhere else.  They’ll never find them now!”  Agatha Bartholomew laughed an evil laugh.  Serena Stout’s redness did not ever seem to want to end.

Saffron, Rachel and Natty were stood by the bins.  The ginger Tom had left.  They were determined not to give up on Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia.

“We should look for clues,” said Saffron, “She obviously has been here, otherwise the note wouldn’t have been there for us to see.”  The girls spread out around the bins and the back of the canteen.  Silently and patiently they looked about.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew decided to join in the search.  Stephen Number Four appeared wearing a deerstalker hat and holding a gigantic magnifying glass.  He fell to all fours and began to scrabble about on the floor, looking closely at the ground.

“That’s a funny hat,” said Stephen Number Thirteen, still smarting from the beret incident, “what type of hat is that?”

“It’s a deerstalker,” said Stephen Number Four, “The famous detective, Sherbet Holmes, used to wear one of these.  I’m hoping it will inspire me and help me find a clue!”

“Sherbet?”  Enquired Stephen Number Eight, “I do like sherbet, yes.  I could go a bit of sherbet…” he trailed off as he realised there was no sherbet.

“It was Sherlock Holmes,” said Saffron irritably, “he used to wear a deerstalker hat and was a famous detective.”
“I know a good joke about deer,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “What do you call a deer with no eyes?”

“Blind?”

“Unlucky?”  Came the various replies.

“A poor deer?”
“Alan?”

“I give up,” said Stephen Number Twelve and went back to searching for a clue.

“Look!”  Exclaimed Natty.  She was pointing at the floor, a little way away from the back of the school canteen.  Saffron, Rachel and The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew rushed over.  They looked.  They could see, on the floor, a trail of blue paint heading away from the canteen and across the playground.

Saffron, Rachel, Natty and the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew followed the trail.  Stephen Number Four was still staring through his magnifying glass but it wasn’t needed to be able to see the bright blue line of paint as it wended its way across the playground.  The group followed the paint which every now and again took on the appearance of paint that had run on to someone’s shoe and dribbled off again, leaving a random foot-shaped mark on the ground every so often.  The paint led the group all the way across the playground, past the climbing frame and the goalposts, to the caretaker’s shed.  The paint took them past the shed and on to the school furnace.  The school’s heating was still powered by a fuel burning furnace and there, atop the fuel-pile, sat a dusty old sack; and poking out of the dusty, old sack were three colourful, cuddly best friends in the whole wide world.  The three girls rushed forward.  They snatched their toys up and gave them some of the finest cwtches ever witnessed.

“I thought I’d never see you again!”  Exclaimed Saffron, throwing Bruno up into the air and catching him.  Both Rachel and Natty were doing similarly euphoric things with Sofia and Jeremiah too.  The gang headed back to class and to a showdown with the school bully, Agatha Bartholomew.

*

Agatha Bartholomew sat painting and alternatively being exceptionally angry at Serena for caving in to those stupid girls so easily and being frightened that that ghost may suddenly reappear at any second and make her go all white again.

Serena was slightly less red than she had been.  She was focused on the drawing of her toy dog and was quite happy with the way she had managed to capture the cheeky but loveable face on the page when the page was obscured by the arrival of three other toys.  Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia sat on the table and stared at Agatha Bartholomew.  Their glare was met with a radiant smile and a look of wide-eyed innocence.

“Oh look,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “You’ve got your stinky, baby toys back.  Aren’t you lucky?”

“No,” said Saffron, “we’re not lucky, we’re clever.  Cleverer than you, anyway.”  The three girls stood accusingly over the bully.  Agatha Bartholomew smiled again.

“Mr Dressing?” She called, “It looks like the truants have come back to class.”

“Truants!?”  Exclaimed he girls.

“We’ve been looking for our toys, which you stole and then tried to hide in the fuel-pile so they’d get burned in the furnace,” said Saffron with a snap.

“You’re the lucky one,” said Rachel.

“Yeah,” said Natty, “Lucky we found them otherwise you’d be in real trouble.”

“Why would I be in trouble,” laughed Agatha Bartholomew, “I’ve not been anywhere near your stupid, stinky, baby toys.”  The girls seethed.  At this point, Mr Dressing came over to direct the girls back to their seats.

“We’ll speak about you leaving my lesson at the end of school,” he said, “Now, leave Agatha alone and get back to your painting.  She’s right, you know, she hasn’t been out of my sight all lunchtime.  It wasn’t Ms Bartholomew who took your toys.”  Agatha Bartholomew grinned.  The girls poked their tongues out at her.

“But,” hissed Agatha Bartholomew so only the three could hear, “I will be the one who gets them after school, while your in detention!”  The three girls scowled and held their toys tight.

“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing, coming back over to the girls, “can you dish out the blue paint you brought over from the stationery cupboard, please, Agatha?”

“Yes, Mr Dressing,” said Agatha Bartholomew, all yes-sir-no-sir-three-bags-full-sir in her voice.

“Blue paint?”  Asked Natty.

“From the stationery cupboard?”  Asked Rachel.

“And, when exactly did you get the blue paint from the stationery cupboard?”  Asked Saffron.

“Um?”  Went Agatha Bartholomew.

“Ah, yes,” went Mr Dressing.

“Look,” said Saffron, “Look at her shoe!  It’s blue, and there’s paint down her leg too!”

“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing.

“We followed a trail of blue paint and it led us straight to our toys,” said Saffron.  The three girls folded their arms and tapped their feet in expectation.

“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing, “There was that one moment, just that one short moment, when I asked you to go and get some blue paint from the stationery cupboard, wasn’t there, Agatha?”
“Um?”  Went Agatha Bartholomew.

“Hur hur,” went Serena.  Agatha Bartholomew glowered at her friend and then turned her face back to Mr Dressing.  He was now standing and staring at Agatha Bartholomew along with the Saffron, Rachel and Natty.

“I was only gone a minute,” protested Agatha Bartholomew, “I couldn’t have made it to the school canteen and then across to the furnace and back without you noticing I was gone for ages!”  Agatha Bartholomew wailed.  The three girls’ faces turned to smiles.  Saffron went and got the bottle of blue paint and showed it to Mr Dressing.

“Is this the paint you were after, Mr Dressing?”  Saffron asked.

“It is,” replied Mr Dressing, “But look, most of it is gone already.”

“That’s because it’s all over the playground and the school grounds,” said Saffron, “and,” she continued, turning back to Agatha Bartholomew and grinning, “who said anything about the canteen anyway?”  Agatha Bartholomew was about to lash out and gnash at the girls when the sentence Saffron said sunk in. her mouth formed an ‘O’, and there was quiet.  Mr Dressing apologised to Saffron, Rachel and Natty.  He thought he could trust Agatha Bartholomew: what a silly mistake to make.

*

Saffron and Bruno, Rachel and Sofia and Natty and Jeremiah enjoyed the bus ride home.  So did the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew.  There were paintings everywhere, soon to festoon the walls of bedrooms and attics.  They were beautiful paintings too.  Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia had never looked better or more striking.  Stephen Number Nine was pleased with his portrait.  He said it caught his enigmatic smile to perfection.  Stephen Number Two was pleased with the orange and yellow and red and purple and blue swirls that framed his shocked expression; he thought the afternoon painting session had been a scream.  Stephen Number Four wondered why he’d been painted wearing an earring and Stephen Number Thirteen was tending to his eagle, and was still a bit confused.

As the bus pulled away from the school, Saffron and the others could see back into their classroom.  There, Agatha Bartholomew was cleaning desks.  She was cleaning paint off desks and off the floor.  She was cleaning paint off brushes and easels too.  The one place she hadn’t cleaned the paint off was from her shoe.  That, Agatha Bartholomew was thinking furiously, was annoying.  That one annoying thing saved those stupid stinky toys from the furnace, just that one frustrating thing: that one blue clue.

The Sixteen Stephens admired their handiwork with a paintbrush.