Golden Spy by Jill Marshall

Author:Jill Marshall [Jill Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-230-71405-2
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK
Published: 2010-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

It was time to part. Her father set the coordinates and zoomed off by Satispy, closely followed by G-Mamma and Titian Ambition. Leaf and Alfie were already involved in a hot debate about where they should start looking for Copernicus.

‘He must have a Spylab in the Everglades,’ Alfie was saying.

‘We should go to the ocean.’ Leaf crossed his arms belligerently. ‘That is where we saw him last.’

‘Right,’ said Alfie. ‘So we go to the ocean, in the middle of the night, in the pitch black, with at least eleven killer whales . . . what am I not liking about this?’

‘You are scared, I think.’

‘No, not scared,’ said Alfie slowly, as if he was talking to an idiot. ‘Wise. Sensible. Not keen to be whale food.’

‘Boys!’ snapped Mrs Halliday in her best headteacher voice. ‘Let’s argue about this later. First of all we need to get Janey and Jean back home, safe and sound, and that means you and I, Alfie, will have to go too to avoid suspicion. We’ll zap back as quickly as possible. Go and wake your mum up, Janey. It will be dawn soon.’

Janey nodded. Dawn. A new day. She wondered how she would explain to her mum that they had to leave suddenly, but that miraculously a plane would be laid on just for them, and all their transport home would be completely organized.

‘Why can’t I just tell her the truth?’ she grumbled as she vaulted through the French windows into her own bedroom. Her dad had made it sound like one day it would be possible. But when?

The sun was just peeking through the blinds as Janey pushed open her mum’s door. ‘Are you awake?’ she said softly.

She pushed the door fully open, and then her knees gave way.

Her mum wasn’t there. The bedside table was overturned and the bedclothes were tangled across the floor as though someone had dragged her mother from her bed, but that wasn’t the worst thing.

Janey looked in horror at the black tar-like writing plastered like graffiti across the far wall, over the glass door, on her mum’s dressing gown hanging on its hook – everywhere. The message said:

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