The Top Secret Diary of Davina Dupree (2 page)

But they stood and stared at us for nearly ten minutes. It was so
odd.com
. Miss Croaka, (they were wearing name badges), is taller than my Dad and about as wide as a bus. She has a face like a pork chop and messy black hair. When we eventually got started, she strode around the classroom, booming out instructions in her deep, manly voice. When she marched past me, I saw some beardy hairs on her chin and her breath smelt so strongly I had to turn my head away.
Yuk.com
.

The other art teacher, Miss Pike, is tiny. She was wearing men’s clothes – a country gentleman’s, green tweed dinner suit to be precise - and had an eye glass squashed in to her eye. She hardly spoke at all but when she did her words came out in a tiny, mousy squeak. What an unlikely pair!

But the weirdest thing is: neither of them are any good at art! When she actually decided to speak, Miss Croaka announced that we were going to paint self-portraits. She marched to the whiteboard with her tree trunk legs and said she was going to show us what to do. But the face she drew on the board was rubbish! It was what a three year old would draw. Actually that is insulting to young children, a three year old’s drawing would have been better. All she did was draw a circle that didn’t even meet, put two dots in for the eyes, a line for the nose, a wiggly half-moon for the mouth and some spikes for the hair. Can you imagine? An art teacher actually teaching us this! Well, I was shocked and there were a few gasps from around the class, (many parents would be shocked to know their high fees are paying for this kind of teaching, I’m sure), but as we’d already been given a detention for giggling nobody wanted to chance another one so we all kept quiet and got on with our work.

When I put my hand up because I needed some help with the eyes, Miss Pike came over. But do you know what she did? She rubbed out the eye I’d drawn - I’d been having trouble getting the shape of the eyelid over the eye but had put in some lashes - and she drew a dot instead. A dot! For goodness sake, they are supposed to be experts. I’m very surprised that a school like Egmont hired them in the first place. I’m quite tempted to write to Pip and Sally to ask them to complain as one of the only things I’d been looking forward to at boarding school was getting some good painting tips.

But that’s not the end of it. Arabella and I were washing our painting stuff at the sink near the end of the pointless lesson when we overheard a very strange conversation between the two odd bods. They were standing in the drying cupboard next to the sink where all the wet paintings go and didn’t know we were listening because they couldn’t see us.

‘How long have we got to put up with these wretched kids for?’ Miss Pike squeaked in her high voice. ‘They’re giving me a headache.’

‘You know the plan, Jacinta, so don’t get your knickers in a twist. There’s only six weeks until blast off and we just have to be patient until then.’ Miss Croaka growled back. ‘Play your part properly and we’ll soon reap the rewards.’ Arabella and I looked at each other in amazement when she said that. We didn’t understand what she was going on about, but it certainly did
not
sound good.

‘I don’t how those other poor idiots did this day in and day out.’ Miss Pike squealed crossly. ‘They must have been mad.’

‘Speakin’ of which.’ Miss Croaka growled. ‘Did you do the feedin’ this mornin’, Jacinta?’

‘Oh darn it to the moon and back, Chris, I forgot again.’

‘Are you completely useless?’ Miss Croaka’s voice got angrier and more rumbly. ‘We agreed, alive not dead. That is really important. I suppose I’ll have to do it myself after school. Where’s the key?’

‘Where it usually is, in my room under the notepad in the top drawer.’ Miss Pinta replied huffily.

They might have gone on talking for longer if I hadn’t dropped my brush and water pot in shock at that point. They came storming out of the cupboard to see who was there. It’s not my fault, you don’t expect to hear your teachers talking about ‘alive not dead’ in a lesson, do you? Arabella saved our skins by breaking in to a loud and convincing hum. She’d cheered up a lot during maths yesterday morning, because we’d been given a test to see what standard we all were and she got the highest mark in the class. She’s been much smilier and talkative ever since, which is a relief, I can tell you. When Miss Croaka and Miss Pike, or Little and Large as I like to think of them, came bombing round corner, I gave them a fake grin and started humming too. They stared at us for a minute or two with faces as angry as thunder clouds, obviously trying to work out if we’d heard anything, but we kept up our tunes and in the end they went away.
Phew.com
.

Arabella and I talked it over for ages yesterday evening before watching a hilarious film about talking dogs on our gigantic TV. We got all wrapped up in our fluffy duvets and drank hot chocolate with marshmallows in it! Totally delish. It’s not such a hard life at boarding school actually, although I do still miss Carrie.

Anyway, basically, we both think that Croaka and Pike are highly suspect and we’ve decided to keep an eye on them by doing some serious detective work. I mean, what on earth were they going on about? Blast off? Reap the rewards? The feeding? Alive not dead? The Key? For goodness sake, something is so not right about that pair.

Arabella suggested we try and find the key that they were talking about, because it might give us a clue as to what they are up to. I was quite impressed with her for that. After all, if they are up to something really bad, the school ought to know. The only trouble is, Miss Pike said it’s in her bedroom and all the staff have rooms in the south wing of the school, where pupils are strictly
not
allowed.

I have to go now Diary, because Mrs Fairchild - the headmistress - is going to give a talk to all us new girls in the hall.

Thursday, 5
^th
September

Hi Diary,

Mrs Fairchild is such a lamb! She actually looks like one, with her snowy white hair all curled into ringlets against her head. Also, she has the sweetest nature. I thought she looked so tiny, standing up there on the big stage, a little white dot on a sea of polished wood, smiling away like a little child and welcoming us new arrivals to the school. I’m not sure how old she is, maybe sixty five or seventy, so she’s doing really well for her age. But to be honest she
did
start laughing at a few random things and at one point she started singing and twirling around on the stage and none of us really knew what she was doing, but I thought that was rather sweet anyway.

Clarice and Cleo didn’t though. They’re mean girls and kept sniggering whenever Mrs Fairchild said something a bit odd, which really annoyed me and Arabella, so we poked them in the back to make them shut up. But then Clarice turn round, flicking her long blonde hair in my face and said, ‘Oh look Cleo, it’s the nerds,’ and Cleo giggled and pulled a face at us. I mean honestly, how rude! It’s not our fault that we do more work than them and get better marks, is it? If there was a ‘staring in the mirror’ class, Clarice and Cleo would be top of it, I’m sure. I think I’m going to suggest to Arabella that we stay out of their way from now on, because they’re clearly
badnews.com
.

A letter arrived from Carrie today, so I wrote back at once, telling her all about Arabella, our room (I didn’t mention the television), Clarice and Cleo and Mrs Fairchild. She said she’s missing me a lot and that her arthritis is hurting her wrists and knees badly. She’s going to come and see me in a couple of weeks, whoopee!

I’m going to meet Arabella in the lunch hall now, Diary. She says she has an idea about how we can get in to Miss Pike’s room without being caught and she’s going to tell me about it over our smoked salmon and olive multigrain pitta breads.

Saturday, 7
^th
Septmber

Oh dear, Diary,

We have to put Arabella’s cunning plan in to action this afternoon and I’m REALLY, REALLY NERVOUS! She explained it all to me yesterday in the lunch hall – which has canaries in gold cages hanging from the ceiling by the way, they make one big racket while we’re eating - and although it is a brilliant plan, I’m REALLY worried in case something goes wrong.

Basically, after lunch today, everyone in the whole school – INCLUDING THE TEACHERS - are going to have their picture taken. It’s going to be one of those enormous, long, group photographs. We have to be down by the hanging garden next to the tropical fish pond, at two o’clock sharp, just after lunch. Some men from a photo company have already arrived to build a massive stand that they are going to position all the girls and the teachers on. Arabella and I saw them putting it up while we walked back to school after feeding our baby chicks on the school farm. Each girl from Sapphires, Rubies and Emeralds has been given one of the new hatchlings to look after. Can you imagine? What a treat! Mine is sooo sweet and I’ve named her Lemony because, you’ve guessed it, she’s the colour of a pale lemon. I hope I can still look after her when she’s a hen.

Anyway, Arabella’s brilliant and scary plan is that just as everyone is being positioned for the school photo, she’s going to come over all weak and sickly. We’ll ask to be excused, (I’ll have to make sure I go too, to “look after her”), then when we’re back in the school and sure no one’s watching we’ll rush over to the south wing and have a quick nosy around Miss Pike’s room. The good thing is that none of the teachers or pupils are ever allowed to lock their rooms – it’s a fire hazard, apparently - so what could possibly go wrong? Aggghhh!

I’ll report back later, Diary, if I haven’t been caught and expelled by then that is…

Saturday, 7
^th
September (Midnight)

Diary!

I can’t quite believe it, but we actually got away with it, (by the skin of our teeth), and it’s a good thing too, after what we discovered.

Today, after we’d had lunch, (I could only manage a small pumpkin seed roll because I was so nervous), Arabella and I went down to the hanging garden with everybody else. It’s really beautiful there, with crimson, gold, violet and pure white flowers drooping out of lots of hanging baskets that are attached to a high overhead frame. The garden smells how Turkish Delight sweets taste: totally scrummy. There’s a blanket of grass underneath the hanging baskets where all of us first years sat, with Mrs Honeysuckle taking the register, waiting to be directed on to the enormous stand. All the other years in the school had their own special waiting areas.

Arabella, (who I’m now best friends with, by the way), had made a big show of feeling ill over lunch, so that everyone around us heard her moaning and groaning about wanting to be sick. She was so funny that I had to try hard not to laugh. I kept saying, ‘Oh you poor thing’, stroking her hair every time she collapsed dramatically across the lunch table. Melody, who was sitting with us, looked shocked and offered to fetch Matron from the Infirmary – a small hospital wing where we go if we’re sick – but Arabella said not to worry - she was sure she’d feel better soon.

Clarice and Cleo, who were sitting on a table next to ours, looked beyond disgusted. It was completely fab! After listening to Arabella making nearly sick noises for the tenth time, they got up and flounced off, with Clarice saying loudly over her shoulder that she didn’t want to “catch a filthy plague from a swotty nerd”. I hope she hits herself in the face with her hairbrush, mean creature.

By the time the men were in the process of positioning us on the different levels of their complicated stand in height order, Arabella handily took a turn for the worse and half collapsed, saying she thought she was really going to be sick this time. I took up my acting roll and - with my heart beating so fast I could hear it in my ears - said loudly, ‘Come on you poor thing, I’d better take you to the Infirmary. Stand back everyone, we’re coming through.’ I don’t think I should ever be an actress because I sounded quite wooden but no one seemed to bat an eyelid.

We’d made sure that Croaka and Pike definitely
were
away from the south wing - we’d seen them standing silently together, giving off their weird, laser like stare, at the back of a group of teachers. Even the domestic staff were there, with the French chefs and waiters looking very dashing in their aprons and hats.

Once we were through the grand back door of the school, we raced down the corridor, turned right, raced down another corridor, skidded round the corner and came face to face with a sign that said, “SOUTH WING. TEACHER’S QUARTERS. STRICTLY NO ENTRY TO PUPILS”. We checked over our shoulders, took deep breaths and walked past the sign.

I now know that the teachers’ rooms are all off softly lit corridors where twinkly music plays from hidden speakers.
Veryposh.com
. We soon saw we’d hit a problem when we realised that all thirty three of the teachers’ doors look the same – none have name tags or anything on them. At that point, I honestly had no idea how we were going to find Miss Pike’s room quickly and for a moment it looked like our plan was doomed.

We were walking up and down the first teachers’ corridor, (there are six altogether) checking each door again and again like headless chickens, when I noticed a silvery outline of something glowing from the door nearest me. I stopped to look and saw that it was actually the exact shape of Mr Drumlin the history teacher, complete with his sticking out paunch. Thank goodness we’d a history lesson for the first time yesterday or I wouldn’t have recognised him! Someone very clever must have painted it on with shining paint.
Cunning.com
.

‘Brilliant!’ Arabella whispered. ‘Trust this school to do
this
rather than have common old name tags. All we have to do now is find the glowing outline of Miss Pike, get in to her room and find the key before the teachers start coming back from the photo.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ I whispered with wide eyes and she grinned. In a spilt second, we were off, working our way along opposite sides of every corridor, stopping to stare closely at each door in turn.

Arabella found Miss Pike’s door down the sixth corridor we trawled along. Her door was next to the one that had the giant outline of Miss Croaka on it, which was so large, both feet and half the head had been left off. A very strange shape for a woman, I thought. Miss Pike’s outline, on the other hand, was so small it only took up half the door. What an ODD PAIR! I stood on guard while Arabella knocked softly, just in case. No one answered, so she opened the door.