Lena Jones - Agatha Oddly

‘Night, Mum,’ I tell her, as I turn off the light.

I leap out of bed when my alarm goes off on Wednesday morning. My dreams have been filled with images of potential partners, from a very frail old man to a supremely bossy Hermione Granger, and even an Inspector Gadget. It takes a while for my sleep-fogged brain to realise they aren’t real.

Sliding my feet into my granddad-style tartan slippers and donning my dressing gown, I head downstairs.

Dad’s up already, urgently shovelling cereal into his mouth, as if it’s been several days since his last meal.

‘Morning,’ he says brightly through a mouthful of cornflakes.

‘Morning.’ I sit down at the table and reach for the Coco Pops.

‘What’s your schedule for today?’ he teases.

‘Oh, thought I’d go to school …’

‘Mmm, why not?’ He plays along. ‘And maybe try not to run off and solve any mysteries?’

‘Well, unless something comes up …’

He shakes his head. ‘A hopeless case,’ he says – but he’s smiling.

I finish my cereal and run upstairs to clean my teeth and get changed into my uniform. I’ve worked out that I have time to show my face at registration, before finding a way to leave again. If I get marked as present this morning, I can keep my attendance figures from sinking too quickly. I add a floral scarf and my red beret, then pull on my coat. Having a sudden idea how to get out of school, I rummage through my disguises and add some items to my backpack.

Finally, I stuff another change of clothes as well into my already bulging backpack – I have a feeling that school uniform would seriously undermine my credibility as an investigator.

Outside, the wind is still biting. I hurriedly fasten my coat right to the top and tighten the knot in my scarf. Then, despite my fatigue, I jog most of the way to school, keen to get out of the cold as quickly as possible. When I’m within sight of the school gates, I hear someone calling my name. Turning, I catch sight of Brianna. She’s not hurrying – Brianna rarely rushes anywhere – and she looks almost blue with cold.

‘Come on,’ I say, ‘I’m not staying out here any longer than I have to.’

One of the best things about St Regis is that we’re allowed to go straight in when we arrive. As soon as we get inside, we find a radiator to lean against. Shivering, I glance around and catch sight of Liam, standing close by. He’s talking to a girl I vaguely recognise from class. They seem to be discussing mathematical theories.

He grins at Brianna and me and says, ‘Tamsin’s also a fan of Fermat!’

‘Is that the one with the salivating dogs?’ asks Brianna.

‘That’s Pavlov,’ Liam and I say in unison, and we both laugh.

‘ Pierre de Fermat is considered one of the founders of the modern theory of numbers ,’ I quote, from a piece I read the first time Liam mentioned Fermat, when I’d had no idea who he was. ‘ He was born in the early 1600s and was one of the leading mathematicians of the first half of the seventeenth century .’

‘Who needs Wikipedia when they’ve got Agatha?’ says Brianna. She glances behind me and mutters, ‘Incoming!’

We hold our breath as Sarah Rathbone and her entourage pass by. Sarah doesn’t acknowledge us, thankfully, and we all breathe out with relief.

Without warning, a voice booms in my direction. ‘Remove your coat, hat and scarf at once, Miss Oddlow! You’re in school now!’ It’s our form teacher, the formidable Mrs Bodley-Finch, lurking in the corridor so she can jump out at unsuspecting students. I’m convinced she has chameleon powers and can blend in to the background.

‘Sorry, ma’am!’ I take off the offending articles, folding the coat and scarf carefully and placing them all in my backpack. Liam and I call a ‘See you later!’ to Brianna and walk towards our form room.

‘The professor’s given me a case,’ I whisper as we walk along. ‘I’m going over to the Guild after the register.’

His eyes go wide. ‘You went over there and asked her?’

I nod. ‘And she said she had something for me.’

‘That’s great! So how will you get out of this place?’

‘I’ve brought a disguise.’

Liam shakes his head and sighs. ‘Aggie, no offence, but you did get caught when you tried to impersonate a health inspector. And a tree surgeon.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘That’s why I’ve chosen a foolproof costume this time.’

We follow the other students into our form room, where I catch our teacher’s eye and smile innocently.

‘Morning, Mrs Bodley-Finch.’

She glowers and looks away. She has only two expressions: frowning and glowering. I wonder what it’s like to be her husband, forever waiting for a smile that isn’t going to come.

Liam and I take our usual seats in the middle of the room.

‘What’s your disguise?’ he whispers.

But Mrs Bodley-Finch frowns at him and says, ‘That’s enough talking, Liam!’

As soon as we’ve escaped from registration, I head towards the girls’ cloakroom to get changed. ‘Let Brianna know what’s going on, will you?’ I murmur to Liam in parting.

‘But wait,’ he says, ‘you haven’t told me your disguise!’ but I don’t reply.

In the cloakroom, I pull my outfit from my backpack. I only have one school skirt, so after I’ve taken it off I’m careful to fold it neatly before placing it in my backpack with the rest of my uniform. I’m especially pleased with my disguise, which is the uniform for St Mary’s School for Girls – the school just down the road from St Regis. I check in the mirror as I don my costume. With the addition of a blonde wig and blue-framed glasses, I’m unrecognisable. Better yet, I look uncannily like Meredith Atkins – this year’s director of the St Mary’s school play.

Let me explain. Every year, St Regis allows St Mary’s School for Girls to use its state-of-the-art theatre for their school production – and St Mary’s takes its annual production very seriously. I’ve seen Meredith coming and going, even in lesson times. She’s only two years ahead of me, and I’ve envied her the ability to leave school at whim. Now, with wedge heels that raise me to around her height, I’m going to borrow her freedom.

When I reach reception, the secretary barely glances my way before pressing the button to open the door. I march out, arms round a folder that could easily conceal the script of a play (but actually holds my maths homework). The walk across the playground feels longer than ever before. It reminds me of those prison films, where there’s a revolving light, picking out prisoners as they attempt to make a break for it. My heart’s pounding at the thought that I could get caught just as I’m about to escape. But, just as I reach the metal gate, it swings open at the secretary’s command, and I’m through! I take a deep breath of icy air and begin to walk, shivering without my coat.

At least I’ll soon be underground.

Over the past few months, I’ve been introduced to a number of routes to the Guild HQ that are far more comfortable than the one beside the Serpentine. I choose one now – a well-built tunnel, which has its entrance right next to Grosvenor Square Gardens. There’s a bike-hire rack close by, so I pay for a bicycle and wheel it over to the rhododendron bush, behind which the metal entrance door is sited.

Checking for onlookers, I dodge behind the large shrub and take my key from round my neck. It turns soundlessly in the well-oiled lock. I swing the door open, wheel the bike through and manage to close the door behind me. I’ve grown accustomed to bumping bicycles down steps into subterranean passageways. I use the torch on my phone to light my way to the bottom of the flight. Leaning my bike against the wall, I rummage in my backpack for yet another set of alternative clothes. It wouldn’t be my first choice of changing room, but needs must. I don black trousers, a white shirt, a pair of smart trainers, and I pull my red coat out from the bottom of my bag, and I’m set to go. Then I mount the bike, push off and let its self-charging lamps illuminate the tunnels. I feel a bit as though I’m flying, with my coat billowing out behind me like a cape.