Undercover Read online

  In the past the twins had gone to whichever school was closest to where they were living. They were always public schools and often underfunded, understaffed and in need of work. Max peered out at the emerald-green playing fields with their bright white markings. An ornate Victorian grandstand stood loftily on the side of a rugby pitch, where several teams of students in black-and-white PE kit were running through a series of drills. There was a white picket fence further beyond and a second grandstand.

  Song continued past several smaller sandstone buildings before they drove through yet another set of gates and pulled up outside what could only be described as a mansion. Glinting in the sunshine, the Georgian-style edifice was at first glance at least three storeys high and constructed from the same buttery sandstone that seemed to be the material of choice on campus. Kensy eyed a line of immaculately dressed girls streaming out from a set of double doors and gliding across a flagstone courtyard. She suddenly wished she’d brushed her hair like Max had told her to.

  ‘Is this the poshest school in Australia?’ Kensy grumbled. ‘And why is everyone wearing a blazer when it’s already thirty degrees?’

  ‘I told you it was compulsory,’ Max said.

  He had read the school handbook from cover to cover the day before. Kensy had flipped open the first page, but had abandoned it two minutes later. Now she was regretting the fact she’d left her blazer lying on the end of her bed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get in trouble with the headmaster before she’d even started.

  Fitz suppressed the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was happy for Kensy to learn the hard way. ‘I can tell you there are far posher schools in England. Your father and I both dodged a bullet growing up the way we did. Sons and nephews of newspaper barons usually attend institutions like Eton or Harrow. As lovely as they are, I’m rather fond of old Central London Free – there was something grounding about it.’

  ‘Undergrounding, did you say?’ Max sniggered at his own joke.

  Kensy rolled her eyes. ‘Was Magoo one of your friends when you were kids?’ She couldn’t imagine Mr MacGregor as a boy in shorts.

  Fitz tilted his head, considering the question. ‘He was in our class, although I’m not sure your father and I thought of him as a friend back then. He was a bit of an odd bod. I suppose he’s still a little strange now, but he used to get up to some seriously alarming things.’

  Song came to a stop at the flagpole drop-off area.

  ‘Like what?’ Max asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  ‘A story for another time,’ Fitz said with a grin.

  The three of them hopped out and stood on the driveway.

  ‘I guess this is it,’ Max said. ‘Mission Sydney Grey officially begins.’

  Kensy tightened her ponytail and retied her ribbon. She looked at Max and Fitz. ‘Come on then – let’s do this,’ she said with a decisive nod.

  Kensy and Max walked through the double doors into the reception area with Fitz behind them. A middle-aged woman with a blunt bob and pinched lips was sitting behind the desk. She had a string of pearls around her neck and matching earrings and didn’t look up from her computer screen. Kensy couldn’t help thinking how different she was to Mrs Potts at Central London Free School with her hand-knitted jumpers and broad smile. This woman looked as if someone had slapped her with a wet fish and then asked her to cook it for their dinner.

  ‘Hello,’ Fitz said. ‘We’re here to see Mr Thacker.’

  After what seemed an impossibly long time, the woman dragged her gaze from the screen. ‘And your name?’

  ‘Oh, of course, Gerald Grey,’ he replied. ‘And this is Ken–’

  ‘Mr Thacker is running late. Take a seat and he’ll be with you when he’s ready,’ she said in a clipped voice.

  Fitz peered at her name badge. ‘Thank you, Ms Skidmark.’

  The woman’s nostrils flared. ‘It’s Skid more,’ she barked.

  Kensy snorted and quickly turned away to hide her giggles, while Max stared at the floor and tried hard to think of something to keep the laughter at bay.

  ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry,’ Fitz said, before ushering the children to the chairs on the other side of the room.

  ‘I can’t believe you said that,’ Max hissed into Fitz’s ear.

  ‘Me either,’ the man replied, grimacing. ‘Might be time for glasses.’

  After forty minutes of waiting, Fitz walked back to the front desk, where he cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

  Ms Skidmore sighed heavily. ‘Yes?’ she said, not even trying to mask the disdain in her voice.

  ‘Do you have any idea how much longer Mr Thacker will be? You see, I think I have a class at ten and I’m sure the children should be in lessons.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ the woman said, her lips barely moving.

  Kensy bristled. Ms Skidmore clearly hated having to deal with people, which was pretty stupid for a receptionist. So far, she hadn’t looked anyone in the eye since they’d come in, exuding a complete disinterest and total lack of respect.

  ‘Ms Skidmore, I’m sure that the school values punctuality and I really don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with my students and colleagues,’ Fitz said with what he hoped was a winning smile. ‘Have you worked here long?’

  ‘Long enough,’ she said curtly.

  He tapped his forefingers together for a few seconds, then gave up and walked back to the twins, catching a glimpse of his startling reflection in the mirror. No wonder the woman was immune to his charms.

  It was another fifteen minutes before the door to the headmaster’s office opened and a man wearing a natty pinstriped suit emerged. Kensy and Max both thought he looked younger than they’d expected, presuming this fellow was the headmaster. His brown hair was parted at the side and lacquered to an unnatural sheen. He was followed by a young girl with a long auburn braid and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose. A thick-set man stood beside her. Mr Thacker guided the pair towards the front doors. There was much merriment among the group, with the headmaster fist-pumping the air and smiling like a manic clown. He even looked to be miming something at one point, which had the three of them in stitches. Kensy also noticed that, from the time the headmaster appeared, Ms Skidmore’s eyes never once left his face. The woman either really needed her job or she had a huge crush on the man.

  ‘Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Thacker,’ said the girl’s father. ‘I’m sure Lucienne is going to enjoy her time at Wentworth very much.’

  Max thought that was a weird thing to say at a school interview.

  Lucienne turned to her father. ‘Will I be able to buy a pony now, Daddy?’ she asked.

  The man smiled. ‘I don’t think we’ll have to stop at one, darling.’

  ‘First-world problems,’ Kensy whispered to her brother. ‘Seriously, could they hurry up? We need to get to class – we have people to surveil.’

  Max hushed her even though he was feeling much the same way.

  It was another ten minutes before the girl and her father left. The children couldn’t believe it when Mr Thacker turned and walked straight back to his office without a sideways glance. Minutes later, the external door opened and a tall woman with a brown ponytail and wearing a vibrant red pants suit entered the building. She was nursing a tower of folders, which she promptly deposited on the reception desk and hurried around to greet Fitz and the children. Unlike Ms Skidmore, this lady wore a beaming smile.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘Mr Grey, I presume? We’re terribly sorry to have kept you. I understand Ms Skidmore pencilled someone in ahead of your appointment at the last minute. I trust she’s been looking after you?’

  Kensy snorted. ‘Yeah right! She didn’t even offer us or Fi– I mean, Dad – a glass of water,’ she said tersely. Kensy cast a look at Ms Skidmore, who seemed to have a faint grin playing on her taut lips.

  ‘Goodness, I’m terribly sorry. Let’s rectify th
at immediately, shall we?’ The woman’s beaming smile melted quicker than an ice-cream on a summer’s day as she turned to Ms Skidmore. ‘Divorah, would you mind bringing some tea for Mr Grey and juice for the children and a plate of that lovely slice I’ve just seen catering deliver?’

  You could have cut the air with a knife as Ms Skidmore pushed her chair back noisily and stalked off without a word of reply.

  ‘I’ll check that the headmaster is ready to see you now,’ the woman said. ‘Oh, and I’m his assistant, Stella Black – that was terribly remiss of me not to introduce myself,’ she said with a smile and disappeared inside.

  ‘Finally, someone who isn’t related to Cruella de Vil,’ Kensy muttered.

  Following their interview, Fitz decided Thaddeus Thacker had all the warmth and charm of a brown snake – he was certainly no Magoo when it came to being student-focused either. The man spent most of the time talking about his own achievements and, strangely, only seemed interested in finding out whether or not Kensy and Max could sing. Apparently, the Wentworth Grammar choristers had won the Sydney Choral Festival a record five times since he’d been headmaster and he was aiming for a sixth title that year.

  Kensy and Max could both hold a tune, but neither of them was likely to have a career in music. Mr Thacker had asked them to sing a few bars of ‘Do-re-mi’ and was practically leaping out of his seat when they hit each note. His elation wasn’t shared by the twins, particularly when the man outlined the rehearsal schedule in extraordinary detail.

  ‘Okay, kids, I’ll meet you back here after school,’ Fitz said.

  Kensy and Max gave a wave and wondered where Miss Black had got to. She had told them to wait on the steps for her to show them to their classrooms, but the bell had just rung and there were children spilling into the playground from all over the place. Kensy glanced around and spotted a boy sitting under a tree with an open notebook on his lap. He was scribbling furiously and every now and then would stop to look their way as one might consider a zoo exhibit.

  ‘I wonder who he is,’ Kensy said.

  Max followed her line of sight. The boy seemed to be studying something intently, and that something appeared to be them.

  ‘Oh, that’s Curtis Pepper. He’s one of our Year Five students. Lovely boy,’ Miss Black said, materialising behind them. ‘I’ll introduce you.’ She motioned for the lad to join them. Kensy had barely blinked and he was standing right there in front of her. ‘Curtis, this is Kensy and her brother, Max,’ said Miss Black. ‘Would you be able to take them to their classes after recess?’

  The boy beamed as if he’d just won the lottery. ‘I’d be happy to, Miss Black,’ he said, nodding enthusiastically.

  The woman gave the children a wave and headed back inside.

  ‘Do you want to sit down?’ Curtis asked. ‘Even though it’s overcast, the UV rating is off the charts and I forgot my hat.’

  ‘Sure,’ Max said, wishing he’d thought to wear sunscreen.

  The three of them walked over to the bench under the shady tree. Max noticed pockets of children dotted around and felt plenty of pairs of eyes on them, which, having been a newbie at many different schools before, was a familiar feeling.

  ‘So, whose classes are you in?’ Curtis asked. He placed his notebook on the bench and took out a ziplock bag of apple slices from his pocket.

  ‘Mr Percival’s,’ Kensy replied. A smile tickled her lips at the sight of the words ‘TOP SECRET’ emblazoned across the front of the boy’s notebook. ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Oh, he’s awesome!’ Curtis enthused, swinging his legs back and forth. ‘He draws the most amazing cartoons. I’ve got Mrs Hogan – she’s even more incredible. She sings and paints and tells the most fantastic stories. Ours is the top class in Year Five.’

  Kensy’s eyes narrowed. ‘The top?’

  ‘Uh-huh. The classes are graded and you’re in the second one; it’s like the B class,’ Curtis explained with a smile. ‘Maybe you’ll get moved up if you do really well in the first exams. That’s happened a few times with new kids. What class are you in, Max?’

  Kensy’s mind raced. How was it possible that she could be in the second class? That didn’t make any sense at all.

  ‘Mr Hook’s,’ Max replied. From beneath his blond fringe, he was shooting his sister warning looks to keep calm.

  ‘Then you must be super smart,’ Curtis said, clearly impressed. ‘That’s the top class in Year Six. It’s my goal for next year.’ The boy nodded emphatically. ‘Mr Hook’s nickname is Right – as in Right Hook. We reckon he might have been in a few scuffles when he was younger. He’s got some interesting scars and he’s not a man you want to upset.’

  ‘But I’m just as smart as Max is,’ Kensy protested, unwilling to let it go. ‘And, if you must know, we’re tw–’

  ‘Twice as excited to be here,’ Max yelled, glaring at his sister over the top of Curtis’s head.

  ‘Oh!’ The lad jumped at the sudden spike in volume. ‘Oh, that’s good to know.’

  ‘Where do you live?’ Max asked in an effort to change the direction of the conversation.

  ‘McMahons Point,’ Curtis replied, chomping on an apple slice.

  ‘Well, that’s a coincidence. We do too,’ Max said. He kept one eye on his sister just in case he needed to put her in a headlock to shut her up.

  Kensy was seething. She stared across the playground, her hands balled into tight fists, until it dawned on her that she’d probably been placed in the B class because of Ellery.

  Curtis’s face lit up at the prospect of a friend who lived nearby. ‘Which street?’

  ‘Two Waiwera Street,’ Max said.

  ‘No way!’ Curtis gasped, almost choking on his snack. ‘I’m at number four, which means we’re next-door neighbours!’ The boy jiggled up and down in his seat. ‘No one’s lived there for ages, but they did this huge renovation recently. There must be some crazy rooms in that place.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Max asked, his curiosity piqued.

  ‘Some of the building materials were weird for a house. There were sheets and sheets of tungsten steel and all the windows are quadruple glazed, and there was this guy with a van full of hi-tech electronics who was on site for months. I tried to get him to take me on a tour, but he was really cagey and said the site was off-limits – it probably didn’t help that he caught me snooping in his van,’ Curtis said. His eyes widened. ‘You’ll have to show me around. I’ve been dying to get inside!’

  Max glanced at his sister, who this time met his gaze. Neither of them had noticed anything particularly strange about the house. He made a mental note to ask Fitz or Song when they got home. Perhaps there was more to 2 Waiwera than met the eye.

  ‘And we can catch the ferry together,’ Curtis carried on excitedly. ‘It’s the best way to get to school. There are a few of us who do. Van’s one of them.’ He pointed at a boy across the playground who was surrounded by a group of kids.

  ‘He looks like Mr Popular,’ Max said, taking note of the boy’s confident demeanour.

  ‘Van just got named cricket captain at assembly this morning. That’s kind of a big deal around here,’ Curtis said proudly.

  ‘Did you call him Van?’ Kensy asked, the name garnering her attention.

  ‘Yep, it’s short for Donovan. That’s his sister, Ellery, over there.’ Curtis gestured to a flawless-looking girl with dark hair. She was sitting between two other girls who were just as pristine. ‘She’s in my class and Van’s in Mr Hook’s.’

  ‘Ellery’s in your class? But I thought …’ Kensy looked at her brother. How was she supposed to keep an eye on Ellery if they weren’t even in the same class? She’d have to get Fitz to fix that straight away.

  ‘I can introduce you later,’ Curtis offered. ‘Would you like me to give you a tour of the neighbourhood this afternoon? There are heaps of cool places and some short-cuts you might find useful. I can show you where Ellery and Van live too.’

  ‘That sounds great
,’ Max said, and Kensy smiled her thanks.

  The bell rang and Curtis stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to your classrooms.’

  Kensy turned and glanced back at Ellery, who was giggling with her posse of gal pals. Surely, she wasn’t going to be too difficult to befriend.

  ‘Can you bring the donuts down here before you eat them all?’ Max asked his sister, who had just dashed back up to the kitchen to grab her third one.

  ‘Mmm, okay,’ Kensy replied, wiping her fingers on her school tunic.

  Her brother walked across the room to take a closer look at his handiwork. He’d scored three bullseyes to Kensy’s one.

  ‘Well done, Master Maxim,’ Song said. ‘The balance on that hunting knife is particularly tricky. I am very impressed.’

  Max grinned and pulled it out of the wall.

  ‘So, what is your new headmaster like?’ Song asked.

  ‘He’s a weirdo,’ Kensy declared, trotting down the steps. She tossed her brother the half-empty donut box.

  ‘What exactly do you mean?’ Song said.

  ‘Well, you know how Magoo’s eccentric but he’s also kind and funny?’ Kensy said, licking her fingers one by one. ‘Mr Thacker isn’t kind or funny. He loves himself to death and only cares about his stupid choir.’

  ‘Perhaps he will grow on you, Miss Kensington,’ Song said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  Kensy scoffed. ‘Yeah, like fungus.’

  Max was glad that Kensy’s mood had improved since this morning. She’d found out the classes were graded differently for Maths and that she was in the top group with Ellery, which had taken the edge off her being in the B class for everything else. Still, Kensy was counting on Fitz to have her moved before the end of the week.

  Kensy held the tip of the blade and lined up the target, releasing it just as the doorbell rang. Shooft! It flew through the air, landing with a thwack somewhat off-course.

  Song peered at the small security screen on the lounge-room wall. ‘There is a young man at the door,’ he said, and quickly pressed a button. A false partition descended from the ceiling, covering the timber practice board.