This really happened – he was – but without evidence I had to drop my investigation. Plus, Dad grounded me.
‘Two – you tried to miss lessons by convincing the groundskeeper that you were an apprentice tree surgeon who needed to scale a tree near the boundary wall … and just so you could get out of school …’
I zone out. I’ve always found this easy – like switching channels on TV. If I want to watch something more interesting, I just imagine it. I call it my ‘Change Channel’ mechanism.
The headmaster’s desk is very shiny and if I look down I can see my own reflection in the caramel-coloured wood. I’m wearing my red beret – Dr Hargrave hasn’t even started lecturing me on this breach of uniform rules yet. My bob-cut hair frames my face, and my eyebrows are knitted together as though concentrating on his lecture. And, just like that, my reflection shimmers, shifts and becomes someone else. A small man in a hat and a bow tie looks back up at me. Smoothing out his moustache, he steps out of the desk, hops neatly to the floor and stands behind the headmaster.
‘How long do you think le docteur Hargrave will go on this time?’ he asks in a soft Belgian accent.
I zone back in to hear what my headmaster is saying now …
‘Four – you installed a listening device in the wall of the staffroom …’ – and then I glance back to where Hercule Poirot, famous detective, is looking at the clock.
‘Your headmaster has already been talking for twenty-two minutes.’ Poirot raises an eyebrow, as though daring me to do something about it. ‘He might break his record of twenty-seven, no?’
Actually, I reckon the headmaster is almost done – his stomach just rumbled, and it’s long after lunchtime. My eyes flicker around the room, details lighting up my mind like a pinball machine.
‘Twenty-four,’ I say out loud.
‘What?’ The headmaster looks up from his notes.
‘Nothing.’ I clear my throat.
Poirot nods in recognition – I have made my bet.
‘Are you listening to me, Agatha?’
‘Absolutely, sir. You were saying that impersonating a health inspector is a criminal offence.’
‘Yes, I was. Do you not take that seriously, Agatha?’
I nod seriously. ‘I do, Headmaster. I was just starting to worry.’
‘Worry? Worry about what?’ The headmaster’s eyebrows furrow.
‘That you’d be late for lunch with your wife.’
A look of confusion creases his face at the change of tack. ‘My … wife?’
‘Yes. You’re wearing a very nice shirt, sir. And aftershave. And I couldn’t help notice the box of chocolates on your table, clearly a gift for a lady …’ I smile, pleased with my investigatory skills.
‘Aha, yes,’ he splutters, ‘my wife.’ He looks at the clock on his wall. The words hover in the air like fireflies. ‘As you were saying, I’m going to be late for lunch … with my wife.’
‘Well, sir, I wouldn’t want to make you late,’ I say.
Dr Hargrave stands up, brushing invisible crumbs from his suit. ‘Yes. I’d better get going.’ He glances around, as though looking for the exit. ‘As for you, Agatha, I would advise you to think about … um … everything I’ve said.’
‘I will, sir.’
Dr Hargrave seems to be sweating as he shows me to the door where Poirot stands, smiling with approval. Poirot looks at his pocket watch.
‘Twenty-four minutes – you were right, mon amie.’
I smile as Dr Hargrave opens the door for me.
‘Bien sûr,’ I say.
‘What was that?’ asks the headmaster.
‘I said, enjoy your lunch, sir.’
He presses his lips together, as though holding something back, then mutters – ‘Be careful, Agatha Oddlow. Be very careful.’
Liam Lau, my best friend, is pacing the corridor outside when I come out of the office. He turns to face me, his face all scrunched-up-serious. It takes me a moment to remember why. Ah yes – Liam knew I was in trouble and thinks I’m going to be expelled. In fact, Liam has been expecting my expulsion from St Regis since the day we met – only this time he’s sure that this latest adventure will be my last. Wanting to draw out the suspense, I pull a sad face.
Liam covers his face with his hands. ‘What did I tell you?’ he wails. ‘Who will I eat lunch with now?’
It’s true, Liam and I do eat lunch together – every day, in fact – at least whenever we cross over after lessons. We sit on ‘Exile Island’ – the table in the refectory where all the weird kids sit.
‘Liam …’ I start.
‘I know I shouldn’t moan,’ he groans.
‘Liam …’
‘Expelled …’ He groans again. ‘Oh, Agatha, maybe we can get him to reconsider? Maybe if we get your dad to write a letter—’
‘Liam!’ I shake him by the shoulders. Finally, he stops to listen.
‘I’m not going to be expelled,’ I say again.
He freezes. ‘You’re …’
‘Not. E-x-p-e-l-l-e-d.’ I spell the letters out, one by one, and examine my nails, painted forest green and bitten to the quick.
A smile smooths the worry lines from Liam’s face. He grabs me and gives me a massive hug. ‘What did Dr Hargrave say?’
I give him a sideways glance from under a fallen strand of hair. ‘I’ll tell you all about it. Come on – or we’re going to be late for chemistry.’
‘That’s not a superpower.’
‘I’m just saying – not getting expelled would be a pretty useful superpower.’
‘But superpowers are stuff like invisibility, or levitation. “Not getting expelled” is just what normal people do.’
The school day is over, and Liam and I are meeting back in our form room.
‘Normal people don’t have as much fun as I do.’
Liam imitates the school librarian, looking disapprovingly over his glasses, and I can’t help but smile. He always manages to cheer me up. He never judges me for Changing Channel, or for talking to people who aren’t there. ‘So, did you find any more clues about the caretaker?’ he asks.
I shrug. That’s why I was in trouble in the head’s office in the first place – for dressing as a health inspector to check up on the caretaker who has been acting suspiciously for weeks. I’ve wanted to be a detective since I was young and love putting on a disguise. Mum always encouraged me. She liked setting me trails of clues to follow and solve. But, as you know, after several, ahem, incidents, I’ve been – well, I’ve been banned by the headmaster from doing anything that might be called ‘snooping on innocent people’. Liam isn’t as passionate about being a detective as I am, but he does enjoy solving puzzles and cracking codes. That’s why we’ve set up the Oddlow Agency (no ‘detective’ in the title, to avoid annoying the headmaster).
‘So