Lena Jones - Agatha Oddly

Downstairs, I scribble a note to Dad, in case he finishes early:

Gone jogging.

Back by 6.

I use a magnet to fix the message to the fridge, while Oliver winds himself round my ankles, meowing to be fed. At last, I take pity on him (after all, he was Mum’s cat, and I’m weak where he’s concerned) and spoon a small portion of food into his bowl.

‘Stinky fish for you,’ I tell him, as I plonk the dish on the floor. Then I leave the house and head over to the locked grille beside the Serpentine – at a jog, so my message to Dad won’t be a lie.

It’s time to head underground.

Unlocking the grille with my key, I slip inside. The smell that hits me is like seaweed mixed with rotten cabbage – but it’s still far better than when the polluted algae had taken over. Fitting my head torch, I switch it on, and the bright LED beam illuminates the gloomy, uneven space. I hate this passage to the network of tunnels that run under much of London, but it’s my nearest entrance. The low headroom means I have to stay at a crouch throughout. At least experience has taught me to protect my hands with gloves, and to free them up by using the head torch.

I shuffle along as quickly as I can to get through the narrow corridor to the cave at the end. But being in darkness always makes a difficult journey seem slower and I’m soon feeling as though I’ll never get out of this place. I have to stop a couple of times to rub my cramping calves. When I do, the reality of where I am crowds in on me – deep underground, and no one knows I’m here – and I have to slow my breathing and focus on my destination.

At last, I see the passage open out ahead, so I speed up. Reaching the cavern, I stretch and groan, easing out my neck and legs. Then I walk over to the brick wall, where the familiar big cast-iron door is almost fully camouflaged. It opens readily with my key and I step through on to the welcome mat that protects a plush red carpet. I’m inside the headquarters of the Gatekeepers’ Guild.

Professor D’Oliveira’s office is one of many down a long corridor. Along the way, I pass doors bearing other staff members’ names and it occurs to me – not for the first time – how many people are involved in the organisation. I haven’t even met most of these agents and administrative staff, yet they’re clearly an integral part of the Guild. I start to feel quite small by comparison – and I’m not comfortable with the feeling.

At the door marked PROFESSOR D. D’OLIVEIRA, I knock and she gives a brisk ‘Enter!’

Inside, the ‘little old lady’ (her own words, which really don’t do her justice) looks up from a document on her desk and raises her eyebrows.

‘Agatha? I wasn’t expecting you today …?’ Her Caribbean accent is slightly stronger when she’s surprised – it’s the only ‘tell’ she has – the only clue to her real emotions.

I shake my head. ‘I know,’ I say, ‘but I was hoping to talk to you.’ It’s strange how much less confident I feel, now that I’m faced with the professor. She has a big presence for such a small, neat person, and it’s hard not to be … intimidated.

‘Have a seat.’ She gestures to one of the curved wooden chairs in front of her desk, and I sit down.

‘Thank you – I was just …’ I hesitate.

‘You were just wondering when we were going to give you that much-anticipated first case?’ she suggests.

I nod. ‘I just … I feel …’ I take a deep breath: ‘I’ve saved London twice now but you haven’t trusted me with a case of my own yet.’ It sounds slightly childish, but at least I’ve said it.

She surveys me. I can’t read her expression, and I look down at my hands. My purple nail varnish needs a retouch. At last, she sits back in her green leather chair and folds her hands in her lap.

‘You are very young, Agatha …’

‘But I’m more than capable!’

She holds up a hand. ‘Please don’t interrupt. What I was about to say was that, despite your youth and relative inexperience, it has been suggested to me that you might be able to help out with a case I’ve received. We’re short of available agents at the moment.’

Please, please don’t say I’ve ruined it by whining like a spoilt brat …

‘Really?’ I say, holding my breath.

She nods. ‘I would have placed Sofia Solokov on this investigation, but another agent is on sick leave, so Sofia’s had to take over their cases and won’t have time to start on this one.’ She checks her watch. ‘Your new partner is not currently in the building. Please come in at nine thirty tomorrow morning and I’ll introduce you.’

New partner? I’m so shocked, I have to blink back tears. ‘My … partner?’ I stammer. ‘I didn’t realise I’d have to work with someone else …’

‘That is what I meant, when I said that you’re still very young, inexperienced. It will be beneficial to your skillset for you to learn to work as part of a team.’

I flush. ‘Oh, right. Yes, I see …’ I move to stand up. Then I remember my mum – an agent in the Guild herself. I know she didn’t die when her bike collided with a car, which is what the police told Dad and me seven years ago. ‘Professor?’

She’s already gone back to reading a document. ‘Hmm?’

‘Have you heard any more … about who took my mum’s file?’

She looks up. ‘No, Agatha, I’m afraid not. I was really hoping we’d have some answers by now. It troubles me to think of the Guild as vulnerable in this way – that a file could go missing. I hate having to mistrust so many people—’ She stops abruptly, as if she’s giving too much away. ‘But I do have some of my most trusted agents working on finding your mother’s missing file and, I promise you, as soon as we have any information, you’ll be among the first to hear about it.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Goodbye, Professor.’

‘Goodbye, Agatha. See you tomorrow, at nine thirty.’

‘Yes, see you then.’

Heading out of the area housing the offices, I reach the main corridor. From here, I can proceed to any part of London. I check my watch. It’s only quarter to five. I didn’t make it to kung fu training yesterday, so I decide to head to the dojo – the gym where I learn with my sifu (master teacher), Mr Zhang.

It’s not far to Soho from here, so I set off, jogging along the tunnels as both a warm-up and a continuation of my promise to Dad. As I run, I think back to the day I was accepted into the Guild – and then the discovery that my mum’s dossier was missing from the file rooms. I’d spent so much time believing that, when I found out who or what she’d been investigating, I’d finally have some answers, but without the file all that information was gone …

I wipe away an angry tear as I think about it again and focus on my breathing, drawing strength from the pumping of my lungs and heart. I will find out. I will find out , I think, in time to the pounding of my feet.

Back above ground, Mr Zhang’s granddaughter greets me at the door of the Black Bamboo restaurant.

‘Agatha, hi!’

‘Hi, Bai! Is your grandfather busy? I was hoping to train.’

‘He’s downstairs. Do you have your gi ?’ She’s referring to my white training tunic and trousers.

I hold up my backpack. ‘Always.’

I change in a tiny room at the back, leaving my clothes neatly folded on a chair. There’s a framed Chinese symbol on the wall that represents the name for a dish called biang biang noodles. I study it for a moment. It’s famous for being hard to write, and even my near-photographic brain has trouble remembering every ink mark.

‘ Sifu .’