Jolly Foul Play: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery by Robin Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

does not stand by and allow injustice …
laaaaaaamb of God, on England’s—
Oh, Elizabeth still manages to poison everything, even from beyond the grave. I – we – simply must work out what happened to her, so we can save Jones.’
    ‘But what if we can’t?’ said Kitty. ‘Miss Barnard’s a grown-up. She can do what she likes –
pleasant pastures seeeeeeen
.’
    ‘Detectives,’ said Daisy, and her eyes were very blue as she stared at us. ‘This is not an acceptable attitude.
Bring me my spear!
Hazel and I have solved
three
murder cases, which is exactly three more than most grown-ups ever manage. We can do anything we put our minds to.’
    ‘
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I’m only being practical,’ Kitty said.
    ‘So am I,’ said Daisy darkly. ‘
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand!
We have to go and speak to Jones immediately. This is crucial!’
    ‘All right,’ I said. ‘We’re with you!
England’s green and pleasant laaaaaaand.
’
    ‘Hm,’ said Daisy, and I felt her gaze on me, as though I was a wriggling little animal under a microscope in Science. ‘Are you sure, Hazel?’
    ‘Of course I’m sure!’ I said. ‘Straight after Prayers! All of us!’
    ‘All of us!’ said Beanie.
    ‘All of us,’ sighed Kitty.
    ‘I suppose,’ grumbled Lavinia, and the hymn ended.

3
    As soon as Prayers was over, and the lines of us were streaming out of the Hall, we ducked and dodged from form to form, Daisy in the lead, on our way to find Jones. We were heading towards the North Lawn, but we did not have to go so far – we came upon him in Library corridor. He had on his usual stained old overalls, but the scowl on his wrinkled face was unusually heavy, and his lazy right eye was more off-true than I had ever seen it. There was a bag on his back, and a rolled-up bit of canvas in his arms, and he was wearing his hat indoors.
    Daisy blinked at him. ‘Jones!’ she cried. ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘I’m leaving, Miss Daisy,’ said Jones, his shoulders hunched, and his lazy eye shifted uncomfortably. ‘Headmistress’s orders.’
    ‘But … you can’t!’ said Daisy shrilly, not worried about being overheard, although we were in the middle of a stream of girls, and speaking to the handyman so familiarly is a terrible breach of Deepdean etiquette. ‘It wasn’t your fault that the rake was there!’
    ‘I’m afraid it was,’ said Jones.
    Beanie gasped, and I felt upset, as though a rug had been pulled from under me. Was Jones admitting it had been his mistake after all?
Had
Elizabeth’s death been an accident, and had we merely been imagining the murder?
    ‘I don’t remember leaving that rake there,’ Jones went on sorrowfully. ‘I used it to sweep up some leaves on the field yesterday afternoon, before I built the bonfire, and I could have sworn I left it leaning against the pavilion before you all arrived. But then, there it was, next to Miss Elizabeth. I must be going cracked, and there’s no use for a cracked handyman at Deepdean, is there? Like Miss B says, perhaps I oughtn’t to be around you all. So I’ve agreed to go quietly. No hard feelings.’
    ‘No hard feelings!’ Daisy cried. ‘But … Jones—’
    ‘Now, Miss Daisy, don’t fret,’ said Jones. ‘You won’t even notice I’m gone. It’s kind of you to pretend, but I must be getting on. Miss Daisy. Girls. Er.’ He tipped his hat at Daisy, nodded at Kitty, Beanie and Lavinia, and stared awkwardly at my ear, and then he carried on down the corridor, towards Old Wing and the way out of Deepdean.
    Daisy was left gasping in shock. For once she was not even pretending. Jones matters to her, both as part of Deepdean and (I know, although she has never said it) in his own right.
    ‘This is dreadful!’ she burst out. ‘This – it isn’t right! It wasn’t his fault – how can he be punished for it?’
    ‘Daisy,
do
you have a heart after all?’ asked Kitty.
    ‘I have a conscience, and so should you,’ said