whatever-it-is comes when no one else is around, so surely if we piled into the utility room waiting for it, it would know we were there and stay away.’
‘Aaah, that’s where a bit of creative thinking comes in, Nigel,’ Fiona said in crisp and efficient tones. ‘Thanks to my job, I have considerable experience in catching people unawares – on camera.’ She paused for effect, leaning back against the kitchen worktop and cradling her steaming mug of coffee.
‘Oh. My. Goodness!’ squealed Jazz. ‘You really are going to bring, like, a
totally live camera crew
into this house?’
Fiona arched one eyebrow. ‘Not an entire crew, Jasmeena, no,’ she said condescendingly. ‘It would be a little . . . cramped. One man should do the job.’
‘Wow,’ said Dad doubtfully. ‘So you can rig up something to record any activity in the utility room and—’
‘—catch the culprit on film. Absolutely. Then we’ll know exactly what we are dealing with and we’ll be able to go from there,’ Fiona finished.
Typical Fiona, I thought, stealing the limelight. This had been Fergus’s idea, but she was doing all the talking. I stole a glance at him, but he simply shrugged. Fiona did have a way of getting things to turn out just the way she wanted, I supposed, and if it meant we could put an end to Jaffa being bullied, then I was prepared to let her get away with it.
‘I’ve already taken the liberty of checking I can get everything we need from work,’ Fiona was saying. ‘We have night-vision cameras, microphones, you name it. And I can get one of the technicians to come and set it up. I’m on extremely good terms with a chap who works on the
Naturewatch
series – they’re always doing this kind of thing when they want to film animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.’
Jazz started bouncing up and down on the spot, looking a whole lot like her younger brother, I thought. ‘A telly guy! Here!’ she kept saying, clapping her hands.
‘Genius,’ said Dad. He seemed at a loss for words.
Fiona nodded curtly. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said. ‘So we’ll come round in an hour. Nev said he should be free by then. It just so happens he was already filming in the area.’
‘Nev? In an hour?’ Dad repeated, looking pretty shell-shocked. He blinked and took his glasses off to clean them on the edge of his shirt. Then, finding his voice again, he mumbled, ‘Er, I’m not sure we can do this tonight actually, Fiona. You see, my f-friend is coming round and—’
‘Nonsense,’ said Fiona, waving a dismissive hand.
Dad blew his cheeks out and shrugged, a look of complete surrender on his face.
‘Fine,’ he said eventually. ‘Whatever. See you in an hour. With Nev,’ he added. Then he looked at me as if to say, ‘What on earth am I letting myself in for?’
14
Lights, Camera, Action!
F iona and Fergus returned as promised an hour later. Bex had arrived by then as well, and was engaged in a heated debate with Jazz over the takeaway she had brought with her. (According to Jazz, takeaway is not takeaway unless you get to go to the place yourself, see the menu with your own eyes and choose it in person. She was not impressed that Bex had made the selection without consulting her.)
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as Bex tried in vain to explain that she hadn’t known Jazz was eating with us. I knew Jazz was being rude, but there was something reassuring about seeing my friend being her usual confident self.
‘You so cannot have a curry without poppadoms!’ Jazz said, her face contorted in outrage.
‘OK, so next time I’ll get poppadoms,’ said Bex wearily.
‘And you’ve not got that
rank
naan bread with raisins in? Urgh!’ Jazz went on.
I left them battling it out and went to open the door. Fergus and Fiona were in the middle of an animated conversation with a man dressed in baggy combat trousers and an outsized brown jumper with frayed sleeves and holes in the
‘Aaah, that’s where a bit of creative thinking comes in, Nigel,’ Fiona said in crisp and efficient tones. ‘Thanks to my job, I have considerable experience in catching people unawares – on camera.’ She paused for effect, leaning back against the kitchen worktop and cradling her steaming mug of coffee.
‘Oh. My. Goodness!’ squealed Jazz. ‘You really are going to bring, like, a
totally live camera crew
into this house?’
Fiona arched one eyebrow. ‘Not an entire crew, Jasmeena, no,’ she said condescendingly. ‘It would be a little . . . cramped. One man should do the job.’
‘Wow,’ said Dad doubtfully. ‘So you can rig up something to record any activity in the utility room and—’
‘—catch the culprit on film. Absolutely. Then we’ll know exactly what we are dealing with and we’ll be able to go from there,’ Fiona finished.
Typical Fiona, I thought, stealing the limelight. This had been Fergus’s idea, but she was doing all the talking. I stole a glance at him, but he simply shrugged. Fiona did have a way of getting things to turn out just the way she wanted, I supposed, and if it meant we could put an end to Jaffa being bullied, then I was prepared to let her get away with it.
‘I’ve already taken the liberty of checking I can get everything we need from work,’ Fiona was saying. ‘We have night-vision cameras, microphones, you name it. And I can get one of the technicians to come and set it up. I’m on extremely good terms with a chap who works on the
Naturewatch
series – they’re always doing this kind of thing when they want to film animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.’
Jazz started bouncing up and down on the spot, looking a whole lot like her younger brother, I thought. ‘A telly guy! Here!’ she kept saying, clapping her hands.
‘Genius,’ said Dad. He seemed at a loss for words.
Fiona nodded curtly. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said. ‘So we’ll come round in an hour. Nev said he should be free by then. It just so happens he was already filming in the area.’
‘Nev? In an hour?’ Dad repeated, looking pretty shell-shocked. He blinked and took his glasses off to clean them on the edge of his shirt. Then, finding his voice again, he mumbled, ‘Er, I’m not sure we can do this tonight actually, Fiona. You see, my f-friend is coming round and—’
‘Nonsense,’ said Fiona, waving a dismissive hand.
Dad blew his cheeks out and shrugged, a look of complete surrender on his face.
‘Fine,’ he said eventually. ‘Whatever. See you in an hour. With Nev,’ he added. Then he looked at me as if to say, ‘What on earth am I letting myself in for?’
14
Lights, Camera, Action!
F iona and Fergus returned as promised an hour later. Bex had arrived by then as well, and was engaged in a heated debate with Jazz over the takeaway she had brought with her. (According to Jazz, takeaway is not takeaway unless you get to go to the place yourself, see the menu with your own eyes and choose it in person. She was not impressed that Bex had made the selection without consulting her.)
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as Bex tried in vain to explain that she hadn’t known Jazz was eating with us. I knew Jazz was being rude, but there was something reassuring about seeing my friend being her usual confident self.
‘You so cannot have a curry without poppadoms!’ Jazz said, her face contorted in outrage.
‘OK, so next time I’ll get poppadoms,’ said Bex wearily.
‘And you’ve not got that
rank
naan bread with raisins in? Urgh!’ Jazz went on.
I left them battling it out and went to open the door. Fergus and Fiona were in the middle of an animated conversation with a man dressed in baggy combat trousers and an outsized brown jumper with frayed sleeves and holes in the
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