“Welcome! Welcome to my castle!” exclaimed Mr. Smyle, “There’s only one rule here; you can do exactly what you like – as long as you do it with a SMILE.”
Perched on the top of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic, the Castle of Smyle’s was an astonishing place. White with a hint of pink, and set amongst acres of magnificent gardens, it offered panoramic views from every direction. To the west, sea; to the east, vineyards and orchards; to the north, meadows and forests; yet none of these were quite as spectacular as the view from the south with its orange grove, lakes and waterfalls, perfectly framed by gently rolling hills.
The interior of the castle was no less impressive. On arrival, the children and their companions were led into the main hall, made entirely of marble, its creamy floors, walls and enormous staircase flecked with gold and polished to a mirror of a shine. The domed ceiling was elaborately carved and decorated with a zillion tiny gems so that it sparkled overhead and, in the middle of the floor, was a sunken pool, capped with an impressive fountain.
“Awesome!” Odi gasped.
“Welcome! Welcome to my castle!” exclaimed Mr. Smyle, marching ahead of his guests into the magnificent lobby. “There’s only one rule here; you can do exactly what you like – as long as you do it with a SMILE. Smile, smile, smile!” And he contorted his face into an enormous grin, which almost caused his ears to disappear.
Casually, he tossed his cloak towards an apple-cheeked lady (who also smiled a lot), skipped halfway up the staircase, turned to face his audience and flung his arms out.
“Consider this your home for as long as you wish. Mrs. Bennett will show you to your rooms and, afterwards, no doubt you’d like to explore. I’d give you a tour myself but, as always, I am very, very busy.
‘Any questions?” Without waiting for a response, he skipped back down the staircase and made for one of the doors which led from the lobby. “Good! I’ll be in the library, Mrs. Bennett, looking forward to a cup of tea and a slice of your excellent cake. Ten o’clock precisely, Mrs.. B!”
But, before his host disappeared completely, Miles plucked up the courage to speak. “Can we see our parents?” he blurted.
Mr. Smyle stopped, turned and stared blankly at Miles, as if he’d no idea what the boy was talking about.
Worried in case he may have sounded impolite, Miles added the magic word, “Please?”
Mr. Smyle’s eyes flickered with realisation. “Ahh, your parents, yes!” He exclaimed. “Your parents. Now here’s the irony; since you went missing, they’ve been travelling extensively in their search for you and, at this precise moment, I’ve no idea where they are. Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll track them down eventually. Be assured, I will give the matter my urgent attention.” With that, he gave a final nod to Mrs. Bennett who clapped her hands. Immediately, a swarm of servants appeared, or ‘aides’ as Mr. Smyle preferred to call them, all dressed in smart red uniforms and smiling broadly as they guided the new arrivals up the staircase.
“Hey, it’s show time, campers!” cried Odi, “All we need now is the Big Nose contest, and we all know who’d win that, don‘t we?” and he smirked at Alice.
To everyone’s astonishment, especially Odi’s, the aides began to laugh – not just titter, mind, or chuckle politely behind their hands, but positively howl with mirth, doubled up with laughter, tears running down their cheeks.
“Ooooh, Master Odi, you are a wag!” cried Mrs. Bennett, stressing the point with a friendly shove, “You’ll have us all in stitches! Someone pass me the tissues, quick!”
“Wasn’t that funny!” muttered Odi, modestly, “although you’ll have to get some man-sized tissues for my lady here!” and set the aides howling all over again.
Alice would normally have answered this jibe with her usual, disdainful glare, but she too was taken aback by the servants’ reaction, and by now they’d reached their rooms.
Each room had a jewel theme. Alice had the sapphire suite, which Mr. Smyle later claimed matched her ‘wonderful blue eyes’, (the fact that Alice’s eyes were green having apparently escaped him). Miles was allocated the emerald suite, while Joe and Odi shared the turquoise room which, to their delight, had beds so springy you could bounce as high as the ceiling.
No such luxury was offered to Roots, who, being an unexpected and basically unwanted guest, was assigned to a tiny room in the attic with nothing but a metal-framed bed and a cupboard. Laurel fared rather better with the Oyster room, as she apparently reminded Mr. Smyle of a Botticelli painting. Although, like Roots, she hadn’t actually been invited, Mr. Smyle was extremely welcoming. “Exquisite!” he sighed, to Laurel’s embarrassment, “Venus emerging from a shell!”
“Isn’t he wonderful?!” exclaimed Alice. “So kind, so friendly. And this house…..I must be dreaming!”
“Like being in a fairy tale,” said Roots, dryly. “Grimm!”
“Aw, you’re just jealous ‘cos you’ve got the dog’s room!” Odi remarked. “But you can share our bathroom, if you like. It’s got a power shower, and a sauna, and a jacuzzi big as a lake…..”
“So’s mine!” yelled Miles running from one suite to the other. “And it’s even got a basin for my feet!”
Roots sniffed, decidedly unimpressed. “I’m not struck by all this consumption, me! Far too conspicuous by half. Give me a kennel any time – at least you can trust your neighbours!”
“Aw don’t be like that, Roots,” said Alice. “We won’t be here for long, so we might as well enjoy it.”
Roots was about to launch into his anti-capitalist spiel but was interrupted by the butler. “Lunch is served.” He announced grandly and a procession of men in white jackets carried silver platters full of food into Miles’ bedroom. There was a mouthwatering choice of dishes, vegetarian, West Indian, and traditional English favourites such as beef burgers, beans, fish fingers, chips and curry.
“Wow!” said Odi, appreciatively. “What a welcome!”
Chapter 17
“A grozbach, Odi, is the deadliest snake on the planet. Why, one zillionth of a milligram of its venom can cause instant paralysis and almost certain death!”
The next morning, the guests awoke to a beautiful day and leapt out of bed to explore, only to find their clothes had disappeared! All they had to wear were the fluffy, towelling bathrobes they’d been given the night before.
Roots was particularly upset. “Someone’s stolen my stuff!” he raged. “I’ve only had those strides a year or two….and I got them from a really posh skip in Bakewell!”
“Perhaps we should ring for the housekeeper,” Alice suggested. She was already enjoying her new way of life. Mrs.. Bennett arrived, warm and friendly and efficient. Their clothes had been taken to the laundry, she explained, but there were plenty of garments in their closets if they cared to investigate.
“They were flown in from Paris last night,” she ,, “and, I took the liberty of hanging them up in your dressing rooms while you slept.” To demonstrate, she calmly opened a door in Alice’s room and swept a hand over an eye-boggling array of clothes for every occasion, immaculately pressed and coded in every conceivable colour. “Will there be anything else?”
“When’s breakfast?” Odi enquired. “Whenever you’re ready, Sir,” came the reply.
Too excited to care about food, Alice ran to the enormous walk-in wardrobe and started rifling through the clothes, examining the labels on each item. “Wow!” she yelled. “Gaultier….Yves St. Laurent……Givenchy……Chanel….Versace…”
“Check the ID on these threads!” Odi hooted, now examining his own stash. The boys’ clothes were more ‘street’ but no less expensive. Sportswear, jeans, sweats, shirts, trainers……dozens and dozens of trainers! Trainers with flashes, trainers with lights, trainers with blades, silver trainers, purple trainers, trainers of every hue – there were even trainers encrusted with diamonds!
Laurel too had a fabulous new wardrobe and, despite her initial lack of materialism, found them hard to resist. “They all fit perfectly!” she exclaimed, impressed yet not wanting to show it. “Do they REALLY think I’d actually wear THIS?!” She held up a glittering, sequined gown that wouldn’t look out of place at a movie première. Her mouth pursed with distaste, as she decided not to try is on……until nobody was looking!
It was the same for everyone – everyone, that is, but Roots. Roots had to be content with a couple of jumpers, two pairs of jeans, Doc Marten boots and an anorak from Asda.
“That’s not fair!” protested Joe, yet Roots insisted he didn’t mind. “What on earth would I be doing with designer clothes? You can’t dig tunnels in Armani.”
With all this finery, it was an amazingly well-dressed group who graced breakfast that morning. Odi and the Hadwins hoped Mr. Smyle could tell them more about their parents, but their host didn’t appear that day, nor did they see him for another two weeks and neither Mrs. Bennett, nor the butler – nor indeed, any of the staff – were able to help. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Smyle,” was the constant response. “Can we see him today?” begged Alice.
“Quite impossible,” said Mr. Soames the butler. “Mr. Smyle has temporarily left the country, although I am assured of his impending return.”
When the master of the house did return, it was with an unusually long face.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” he sighed. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Smyle?” Alice wanted to know. “Is it about our parents?”
Mr. Smyle nodded sadly. “Bad news, I’m afraid.” He beckoned the children into the library. Waiting for his guests to be seated, he stood with his back to the fireplace, holding his gold cane in front of him. “They’re in Australia,” he announced.
“Australia!?” the Hadwins repeated. “But, why?”
“It seems your father went out there on a wild goose chase, a false trail, which I suspect was laid by a dastardly confidence trickster, intent on using your disappearance as a means to bamboozle your parents into paying an enormous ransom, for which, in order to acquire, they sold your house, your car, the entire contents of your DVD rack and all their insurance policies. Upon paying the required sum, they were then informed that you, their children, had been taken to Australia and duly embarked to the said continent in order to find you. I warned them not to go, but they wouldn’t listen, and now….oh dear, oh dear!”
“What!?” cried Miles.
Mr. Smyle shook his head. “The worst thing imaginable. Apparently, they’d been given a map that led them into the far reaches of the bush, a terrain so barren, so desolate, indeed so hot, that into its burning cauldron even the most intrepid aborigine would never dare venture. So, what happened was an inevitable and sadly unavoidable consequence.” He sighed again and put a comforting arm around Alice’s shoulders. “You poor, dear children!” Once again, he shook his head while one by one Miles, Joe and Alice began to sob uncontrollably. “They can’t be dead! They just can’t be!”
“Oh, you poor, dear children!” exclaimed Mr. Smyle, “Of course they’re not dead! Not yet, anyway. The last I heard from your mother, your father had been bitten by a grozbach.”
“What’s a grozbach when it’s at home?” asked Odi.
Mr. Smyle fixed him with a meaningful stare. “A grozbach, Odi, is the deadliest snake on the planet. Why, one zillionth of a milligram of its venom can cause instant paralysis and almost certain death!”
“Oh no!” shrieked Alice and the boys began to wail.
“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Smyle reassuringly. “My most recent information is that they were able to find the antidote, so he may just survive. In fact, I’m sure he will…..yes, let’s hope so.
‘I almost decided not to tell you about this unfortunate state of affairs at all. The only reason I mention it now is because, knowing how desperately you want to see your parents, I thought it might serve as an explanation as to why you can’t – for a while. But cheer up!” he jollied, “everything is going to be fine. Absolutely fine!”
“What about Mum?” asked Alice. “Is she okay?”
“Oh yes,” replied their host with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Yes, I’m as confident as it is possible to be that she is, considering the danger she’s in. Of course, as a dutiful wife, her place is currently by your father’s side and even if – sorry, when, he recovers, he’ll be laid low for a considerable time. But don’t look so crestfallen. At least now you know they haven’t forgotten you completely and will doubtless be in touch at the very first opportunity.”
He leaned forward and smiled broadly, showing his ultra-white teeth. “Of one thing you can be certain – as long as you’re with me, you’ll lack for nothing. I’m a very generous man, very, very generous. In fact….I’m feeling so generous, I’d like to do something for each one of you, something really, really special. So, go away and think about what you’d like most in the whole world – and just see if I can’t make it happen!”
“I want my Mum and Dad,” said Joe immediately. It was the first time he’d spoken since his arrival and his remark was unexpected.
“Well, that’s understandable,” replied Mr. Smyle. “But I mean something else. Something you may have longed for all your life, something you’ve always dreamed about.”
“I want my Mum and Dad!” Joe insisted, causing a flicker of impatience to cross his benefactor’s face.
“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve…..” He paused briefly, taking a moment to calm himself before continuing. He wasn’t terribly good with youngsters and realised that these particular specimens were highly distressed. A little tact was called for. “You will see your parents, I promise you, Joe. But for the foreseeable future, that occurrence is beyond even my formidable powers. For now,” he repeated, lowering his tone, “I’d like you each to have something really special. Now, what is it to be?”
“Do you mean anything?” prompted Odi. “Anything,” promised Mr. Smyle, prompting the boy to shrug obligingly. “Sounds good to me.”
“And will you be able to find my people too?”
Mr. Smyle nodded encouragingly, “Eventually. Yes, I’m sure I shall.” He promised and patted Odi on the head.
“In that case, I’ll have my own sound system with double base, mixer, everything….”
“Could I have a quad bike?” asked Miles, hardly able to believe his luck.
“Just a minute” said Mr. Smyle and he drew out a notebook and started scribbling in it. “I need to make a list. Now then…mixer desk, quad bike…What about you Alice?”
Alice blushed. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble….”
“My dear Alice!” protested Mr. Smyle. “For you, nothing is too much trouble! Now, what would you like?”
“Could I…” she stammered, “I mean, there’s someone I’d really like to meet. He’s going to be giving a concert at Wembley next week and….”
“No Alice! Mum would go spare!” Miles glared at his sister disapprovingly before turning to Mr. Smyle. “She wants to go and see some manky rock singer and she’s not even supposed to listen to his songs ‘cos they’re so horrible!”
Alice glared back and put her hands on her hips. “Well, I like that!” She snapped. “And you’ve got the cheek to ask for a quad bike when you’re not even allowed to skateboard on the road!”
“Oh, come now, Miles,” Mr. Smyle chuckled, “don’t be such a stick in the mud. I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I know a lot of people in the music industry, so consider it done! Right, next!” He cupped a hand to his ear and leaned towards Joe expectantly. “Now what would you like, young fellow? Just pretend I’m Father Christmas and see what I can’t come up with.”
Joe thought hard. He didn’t want to offend his host, but, other than seeing his parents, he really couldn’t think of anything. Several moments later, Mr. Smyle was still waiting, his grin now looking a little frayed at the edges.
“Well?”
Eventually, Joe had an idea and his eyes lit up. “I’d like a tree house!” he exclaimed. “It doesn’t have to cost anything – me and Roots can make it together!”
“What?!” gasped Mr. Smyle, who was obviously taken aback. “Roots?! Oh, no, no, no, no. You already spend far too much time with that unfortunate hippy. Think of something else.”
But Joe had made up his mind and folded his arms defiantly. “I don’t want anything else!” he growled. “If I can’t have a tree house, I won’t have anything!”
“You,” observed Mr. Smyle, “Are a very rude, sullen little boy and I’m going to ring for Mrs. Bennett to remove you forthwith.” Seconds later, the housekeeper appeared.
“Mrs. Bennett, please escort our guests to their rooms. They need to freshen up a little, and at least one of them has some serious thinking to do.” This last remark was directed at Joe who was still standing firm, chin jutting with determination. “Now run along children.”
However, as his guests began to shuffle off, Mr. Smyle placed a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Not you Miles. There’s a small matter on which I trust you can enlighten me.” Once they were alone, Mr. Smyle settled into his leather armchair and pointed to a nearby footstool. “Park yourself there, young man.”
As Miles sat down, he became the focus for Mr. Smyle’s attention and the man’s eyes pierced into him, noting every twitch of his expression.
“Now, I already have an outline of your circumstances and the events leading up to your contacting me, but I confess to being somewhat puzzled. You see, there are a few gaps here, ones I’d like you to fill in for me, if you would.” He stared even harder at Miles, with his laser-ray eyes. “Are you a truthful boy, Miles?”
Miles nodded weakly. “I think so, Mr. Smyle, at least, I try to be.”
Mr. Smyle continued staring at him for several moments, humming to himself and tapping the top of his cane until, satisfied by Miles’ answer, he relaxed into his chair and smiled. “Good. That will make this so much easier. You see, what I want to know is, how did you manage to evade the macs – the men in macs – because if they are who I think they are, it’s remarkable you managed to escape. You do know who they are, don’t you?”
Miles half-shook his head. “Well, they seemed like policemen or something, only not very nice ones.”
“Indeed, not very nice,” agreed Mr. Smyle darkly. “Heaven help anyone who falls into their clutches! They’re agents working for the Global Order Brotherhood, of which you’ve already heard, I dare say. Dreadful people! In fact, there’s one in particular who is notoriously ruthless and efficient – let’s pray, Miles you and your siblings never meet him! Knowing his reputation makes me wonder all the more: How didyou escape? When those men came for you in Fernilee Forest, where did you go? Who helped you? And why?”
Miles tried to remember the sequence of events since his parents were arrested, but it had all been so harrowing, he could only recall the way his heart throbbed and the aching in his legs, so most of his account was sketchy, although he did go into quite a lot of detail about the Judith Rose and the purple cave, which seemed to fascinate his host. Mr. Smyle was also keen to learn all he could about Uncle Jeff.
Warming to his subject, Miles began to describe his Uncle and how clever he was with computers yet thought it best not to mention his uncle’s alter ego, Bevis. After all, he didn’t want him getting into any trouble with the authorities and Mr. Smyle was obviously a man of some influence.
“What a remarkable fellow!” exclaimed Mr. Smyle. “I’d like to meet this Uncle Jeff of yours. How can I get in touch with him, do you know?”
“No,” replied Miles sadly, “He travels about most of the time and we only see him occasionally.”
“Well, he was certainly looking out for you on the barge!” said Mr. Smyle. “Such care and kindness must be rewarded – that is, if it was kindness to keep you trapped underground like that for weeks on end…?” He glanced slyly at Miles to gauge the effect of this remark, “But of course it was kind, what am I thinking! Yes, I shall take steps to find your Uncle and make sure he gets exactly what he deserves!”
Suddenly, they heard a high-pitched bleep coming from one of Mr. Smyle’s computers.
“Ahh, a message from my investment department!” Mr. Smyle exclaimed. “Are you interested in finance, Miles?”
Miles was veryinterested in the computer. It had a flat-screen built into the mahogany wall of the library and its contents were projected as holograms into the middle of the room.
Obligingly, Mr. Smyle pointed out all the special features, allowing Miles to explore them.
“Come on, Miles. Let’s see how good a financier you are. We’ll just log on here, take a look at our prospects and…..Eureka! We’ve bought a company.”
“Wow!” If Mr. Smyle was trying to impress, he was certainly succeeding. “Just like that?” said Miles.
“Just like that,” said Mr. Smyle. “The ultimate reality game, one that earns you millions with a single click. Here, you try.”
Miles needed no persuading. Five hours later, he was still there, having acquired several corporations and bought and sold most of the top computer games in Europe. Mr. Smyle was delighted. “You have a definite flair for the market, Miles!” he remarked encouragingly. “I’ll have to make you a director.”
Certainly, life with Mr. Smyle was never going to be dull.
The next day, Miles, Joe and Alice were summoned down to the hall by Mr. Smyle shouting into a huge megaphone. He was wearing a pair of old-fashioned jodhpurs and had a visor over his face. “Cue Hadwins! Cue Odi! Time for your close-ups! And, guess what? Christmas has come early this year. Da-Da!” Stepping to one side, he flung out an arm towards a mound of presents arranged neatly in the corner.
“Right, now don’t dilly-dawdle, open them! I’m just dying to see your faces!”
There was no need to ask twice. Within minutes, the hall was virtually covered with colorful wrapping paper, prompting Mr. Smyle to tut-tut at the clutter and reach for his cane, an accessory that had some very unusual features. Mr. Smyle had only to press a particular button and out sprung a mechanical prong with which he kept prodding one piece of paper after another before depositing the offending litter into several large bin bags obligingly held open by his minions. “There we go, everything tidy! That’s the key to good organisation.” But his comments were drowned out by the ‘Ooos’ and ‘Wows’ and gasps of astonishment that accompanied the opening of each gift.
As well as the required quad bike, Miles had a state-of-the-art-laptop and a mobile with all the trimmings; Odi got his mixer-deck, a huge plasma home cinema unit for his bedroom, and all the latest DVDs; and Alice got an envelope. “Oh, thank you Mr. Smyle!” she squealed and leapt up and down with joy, kissing the cherished ticket to Ricky Retch’s next concert.
However, the warm glow coursing through Mr. Smyle’s veins at the pleasure he’d provided ebbed away when he glimpsed Joe, standing apart from the others, his arms folded defiantly once more.
“What’s the matter, Joe? Aren’t you going to open your presents?” Mr. Smyle asked, trying hard not to show his annoyance.
“No!” came the reply.
“Come with me!” commanded Mr. Smyle and, taking Joe’s arm, marched down a corridor, with Soames in close pursuit, through the conservatory and out into the garden. From there, he made his way towards the vast woodland that shielded the castle from envious eyes, where trees had been planted in perfect rows and so carefully trimmed, regardless of type, that not one straggly twig nor rebellious leaf dared to show its face. Eventually, the party stopped beside a huge oak tree and Mr. Smyle pointed upward with his cane.
“Look!”
On lifted his eyes, Joe saw an enormous wooden house perched amongst the tree’s stout branches. A structure of finest timber, two storeys high, with proper windows and doors, carved to resemble a very swish, Swiss cottage. It even had a balcony!
“Well?” said Mr. Smyle. “What do you think? I had it flown in specially from Switzerland and three time-served joiners have worked throughout the night to assemble it – at great expense!” Typically, there was no answer. “Well, what do you say?”
“Don’t like it” said Joe, flatly.
“You don’t like it?! You don’t LIKE it?! Of course, you like it! See, look! There’s a ladder right there against the tree.”
Joe stared blankly into the distance.
“Well, the least you can do is climb up it!” said Mr. Smyle.
Seeing that Joe was not about to show undying gratitude, Mr. Smyle exploded. “You said you wanted a tree house!”
“No, I didn’t!” yelled Joe. “I said I wanted to makea tree house! I wanted it to be a proper tree house like the ones in Fernilee! I wanted to make one for myself!”
“But that would look untidy!” Mr. Smyle protested, his voice rising with frustration. “This one’s a marvellous house – it has a bed, table and chairs, a proper cooker, its own little sink; it’s got everything! What’s the matter with you!?”
“I don’t like it!” Joe repeated. “It’s horrible, like your horrible castle, and I hate it, I hate it!” With that, Joe started to run off, but was intercepted by Mr. Smyle’s butler.
“Oh, take him back inside, Soames!” Mr. Smyle sighed. “There’s just no pleasing some people. But I’ll guarantee you one thing, young Joe!” he added with a wink. “You’ll like my next surprise, I promise you!”
Back inside the castle, Mr. Smyle ushered the children into a large room in the basement, set up like a proper film studio.
“Now then, children!” he announced. “First the good news! I’ve had a report from your parents and, miracle of miracles, your father’s on the mend. Yes,” he cried above the children’s ‘hoorays’, “he’s going to get better! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“What’s the other news?” asked Miles, once the cheering had died down.
“Well!” replied Mr. Smyle, “You’re going to be film stars for the day? We’re going to send a special message by satellite to your Mum and Dad in Australia. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes!” was the chorus. Mr. Smyle clapped his hands and, instantly, half a dozen people scuttled in with lights, cameras and sound recording equipment. There was even a man with clapperboard, just like a real film crew.
“Okay, children, gather round,” urged Mr. Smyle who obviously intended to direct the proceedings, as well as being the star. “I’ll sit right here in the middle while you take turns to say ‘hello’ to your Ma and Pa….and don’t forget to Smile!”
Once the cameras were whirring, Miles, Joe and Alice gave a simple message from scripts provided by Mr. Smyle. They each said how much they missed their parents, how they looked forward to seeing them very soon, and that they really, really loved them. Then, after they’d said their piece, Mr. Smyle waived them away while he added a short message of his own. “Go back to your rooms, kids,” he said, “what I have to say is private.” Then he winked mischievously. “After all, someone’s birthday’s coming up soon.”
Alice blushed. In a couple of months, she’d be 16 and it was typical of Mum and Dad to arrange a special surprise for her. “Maybe they’re planning to be back by then,” she thought.
But, in the meantime, there were so many things to do. Thanks to Mr. Smyle, every night was packed with invitations – apart from the rock concert, there were fashion shows, premières, charity dinners, launches, parties for every occasion. And, without the worry over her parents, she could really enjoy them. It seemed Mr. Smyle knew everyone who was anyone and he loved to take the children wherever he went, especially Alice who came to be seen at all the smartest places. In fact, it almost became a daily event to see herself gracing the gossip columns. “My, my, my!” said Mr. Smyle, as he scanned the Sunday papers, “You’re becoming quite the little socialite these days! A genuine ‘It’ Girl!”
“Nit girl, more like!” muttered Odi, who got more annoying by the day. Alice merely sniffed and put it down to jealousy; she was far too busy to care.