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Literature Text
‘Beep beep beeeeeeep. Beep beep, beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.’
I groaned. I knew what that irritatingly chirpy tune meant. Without opening my eyes, I turned my head on my pillow and dared to pull my arm from underneath the warm confines of my bedcovers. My hand rummaged about my bedside table for the still ringing smartphone, only finding my empty coffee stained mug and a crumb strewn plate. I groaned again as I opened my eyes to locate the source of the noise.
That’s when the hangover hit me like a sledgehammer to my forehead. My brain felt like it was trapped in iron chains and my stomach churned as it desperately processed whatever sinful liquids I’d filled it with last night. Even trying to pull my head off my pillow took real effort. And all the while the phone continued its merry assault on my eardrums. Swearing under my breath, I reached over the side of my bed and finally my fingers established contact with my phone, placed where I’d dropped it on my floor last night. Without checking the caller ID I answered the call and grunted, “Yeah.”
“Wow you sound like death. What did you get up to last night?”
I smiled and yawned at the same time. Course she’d be the first to call.
“Given it was your big day yesterday, I’m surprised you’re sounding so upbeat,” I answered. “Why aren’t you sharing my pain?”
“Double lecture from 9am. Couldn’t afford to be indulgent.”
“Will that be rectified tonight?”
“Maaaaaaaybe…anyway, back on topic.”
“Yeah what?”
“Happy 21st birthday Sara Philips!”
I couldn’t contain my weary smile as I replied, “Thank you Rachel Simpson. And how was your 21st birthday?”
“Just a few drinks down the pub with some coursemates. Nothing like what you’re getting up to,” my oldest friend told me down the line.
“Do they not have Freshers Week down in Oxford?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, but I’m not a glutton for punishment,” Rachel replied. “I’m a third-year student now, I have to be responsible.”
Groaning as I rubbed my eyes and throbbing head I replied, “Maybe that was a good call. Not quite sure how I’m going to get through today without…bacon!”
“Bacon?” Rachel asked.
“Bacon!” Alice McCormick confirmed after barging through my bedroom door holding a plate holding the biggest bacon buttie I’d ever seen. Cut with the thickest white bread and dripping with ketchup and butter, my mouth was watering already as my auburn-haired, bespectacled housemate brought it over to my bedside table. “Thought I’d heard you rousing,” she remarked in her broad Scottish accent. “After your antics last night I’m surprised you aren’t comatose. And who could you be chatting with I wonder? HI RACHEL!”
“Tell Alice I said hi,” Rachel laughed as I recoiled from Alice’s exuberant exclamation.
Frowning I grunted. “How are you not suffering? You had just as much as me last night. What’s your secret?”
Alice just shrugged, “I’m Scottish. Anyways we need to be ready in an hour so get yourself up birthday girl, there’s more bacon waiting for you outside.” With that she gave me a friendly ruffle of my already messy hair, before scampering out of my bedroom as fast as she appeared.
“Sounds like you’re both having a good time anyway,” Rachel told me down the phone as I eagerly smelled my breakfast. “Listen, I’m nearly at my lecture so got to go, but have a fantastic day. I’ll call you before you make a disgrace of yourself tonight.”
“Not if you make a disgrace of yourself first,” I retorted.
“Honestly, would I do such a thing?”
“Totally!”
Rachel laughed before saying, “Happy birthday Sara. Have a great day.”
“You too Rach,” I finished before she hung up.
Now fully returned to consciousness, I gave a stretch before kicking off my duvet. Only then did I realise what kind of state I must have been in last night. I hadn’t even got changed into my pyjamas, instead only wearing the deliberately oversized orange ‘Freshers Crew’ T-shirt and dark tights that had been my party outfit during last night’s merriment. The denim hotpants and ankle strap high heels that had accompanied them now lay strewn across my messy bedroom floor. I sighed as I tried to shake off the dull throbbing ache in my brain, before I eagerly grabbed the bacon sandwich and took my first bite. Instantly a jet of ketchup splurged out and landed on my nylon covered legs. I tutted to myself, realising that a change of costume was now on the cards.
I rummaged through my drawers for a fresh pair of jeans. After pulling them out I took a moment to analyse myself in the tall, thin mirror hanging on my wardrobe door. I was now 21, officially an adult. Calling myself a ‘girl detective’ wasn’t exactly a suitable moniker now. Not that I did much detective work these days anyway. I ran my hands through my brunette hair, its length now reaching well past my shoulders and a lot messier than I’d have liked due to my erratic sleep. My green eyes were tinged with red. My skin still tanned from a recent summer vacation and relatively spot free. Every time I returned to my Grandma Marie she swore I was looking older, but in my mind I was still the 18 year old girl from Carrington who had endured one hell of a year.
…images of a white mask began to fill my minds eye…I shook my heavy head to repress these thoughts. Now was not a day to dwell on the past.
Instead I focused on changing into my jeans and brushing my hair to straighten it. Then, after a few more glorious bites of bacon, I exited my bedroom, straight into a rousing chorus of…
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
I couldn’t help but smile at my four flatmates, gathered in a tight ring about my bedroom door to ensure I couldn’t escape their happy returns. Alice was among them, holding another bacon sandwich adorned a solitary lit birthday candle. It was dwarfed by the 21 candles in the cake being held by Jaz Mobara, which she held up for front of me to blow out once their chorus had finished. It took me two goes, after which Jaz remarked, “Wow, last night left you right out of puff didn’t it?”
“Bit early for cake though isn’t it?” I asked her.
“Well firstly we’re all busy later so it’s now or never,” Jaz retorted in her chirpy East London accent. “And secondly, it’s never, EVER, too early for cake!”
“I second that emotion,” said Seb Raynor, another of my flatmates, giving me a friendly embrace before asking Jaz, “Can I have a corner slice Jaz? I need all the icing sugar you can muster.”
“I thought you were cutting back on sugar?” Jaz laughed as she took the cake back to our shared kitchen space to cut into slices.
“Well I’ve been up since 4am chatting to the chaps,” Seb explained, motioning with his head to his bedroom across from my own, where I could see his expensive computer set-up and the latest early access video game on his display, having streamed it live for a good few hours.
“Why the hell do you have to play at such ludicrous hours?” I asked Seb.
Seb, a guy my age with a wispy ginger beard the same shade as his short cut ginger hair, quite tall and with a body shape he described as being ‘cuddly,’ was a proud and happy nerd who seemed to operate on a different time zone to us all. At my comment he gave a shrug and said, “Come on SuperS1euth, you should know that’s prime time to catch that lucrative American market. Why don’t you give hello to the chat? They’ll be keen to wish you many happy returns.”
“Just tell them I said hi,” I replied as Jaz replied with assorted cake slides. I couldn’t believe my luck. Bacon and cake first thing in the morning. I took an eager bite and was instantly in heaven. “Jaz this cake is amazing,” I exclaimed with my mouth half full.
“You can thank my mum for it. You all know I can’t cook worth a damn,” Jaz told me as she took her own slice to our sofa and sat down to eat. Jaz, a mixed-race girl with a Nigerian father and Greek mother, was dressed in an incredibly classy peach coloured long sleeved top, short chequered skirt, dark nylons and brown flats. Her frizzy hair stuck out at all angles, and her makeup was already immaculate. I have to say, I always envied how glamorous Jaz could be, even first thing in the morning.
Alice, Jaz and Seb had been my flatmates from our first day of university almost two years ago exactly. Our other flatmate back then, Joel, had left us last year to start a year abroad in Spain.The vacancy had been filled by my fourth wellwisher, a guy a couple of years older than me with short cut dark hair and immaculately trimmed stubble, wearing a grey dressing gown over a red T-shirt and what I presumed were his boxer shorts. His name was Daniel Hart, and he had returned from a year abroad in China for his final year of studies. We’d only met a couple of days ago, but he seemed keen to break the ice by asking, “So, what are your plans for today then Sara?”
“She’s joining me for a day of further frivolity and fun,” Alice interjected before I could speak.
“Finishing off by attending my gig at the Union,” Jaz added with a wink.
“Wait, what gig?” I asked.
Jaz beamed at me, looking utterly delighted. “We got confirmation last night. The Jitterbugs will be playing support act for tonight’s main act after the other band dropped out at short notice. So the main stage beckons for yours truly!” She pointed at herself, before giving a contented giggle. Jaz was an incredible musician, not only having an amazing singing voice but also a talented piano, guitar and ukulele player. Music was her passion, so to see her getting herself such a large gig was amazing to see.
“Well Sara and me will definitely bring some fresher victims for you to torment,” Alice said as she finished her cake slice before moving on to her second bacon buttie. “So, you blokes going to show Jaz some support?”
“I suppose I could maybe give MOBA night on the stream a miss…” Seb remarked, to which Jaz gave him a playful kick accompanied by a contented laugh. She was used to his antics and smart-arse comments by now.
“Yeah sure I’ll come along,” Daniel said, sensing a chance to bond with his new housemates. “What’s your band perform? Rock, pop, soul?”
“Actually we specialise in Jazz fusion with influences from reggae, RnB and traditional Greek folk,” Jaz explained.
Daniel gave a nod. “…So a cover of Back in Black is out of the question?”
“Ask Sara. As birthday girl she gets one request of her choice,” Jaz smiled.
I took a moment to ponder my response before saying, “How about Journey’s ‘Don’t stop believing?’”
“NO! Anything but that,” Jaz retorted in abject horror.
I couldn’t help myself laughing at her reaction. I then took a bite out of my fresh sandwich as the banter of my flatmates washed over me. Today was going to be a great day, I could feel it!
So, you’re probably wondering what my life has been like since we last spoke. In a word…calm. No snooping through dusty warehouses tracking down rope wielding maniacs for me. Early morning lectures and tight deadlines were my enemies now. My life had been gloriously boring ever since coming here to White Rose University to study psychology.
Well, I say gloriously boring, but a lot has happened in my world since then. Dad got a big promotion at work and is now Chief Constable for the whole Carrington area. His work in defeating Mr White and dismantling the rest of his organisation in the aftermath had enhanced his reputation considerably. At the same time DI Sinead Connell, my mum’s literary creation, had made her small screen debut and was now a primetime TV hit. The success of both my parents meant they had decided to move house, and they were close to buying a gorgeous new place in the countryside just outside Carrington, meaning we would soon be leaving the only home me and my twin brother Chris had ever known.
And yes, my twin brother Chris is still an idiot, though a very happy idiot studying in Newcastle while lead guitarist with a newly formed band. And yes, he is still quite devoted to Rachel. And yes, she is still quite devoted to him. Weird to think they’ve now been together for well over two years. The long distance between them made things inconvenient, but they made up for it during holidays, meaning I pretty much only ever saw them as a loved-up unit now. I even once overheard them discussing plans to move in together once Uni was over.
As I followed Alice down the tarmac path leading down a steep, grassy slope that led from the student apartments down into the campus below, the late September sun surprisingly warm for this time of day and year, I found myself thinking of Rachel. It had been too long since we’d properly chatted. When she wasn’t with Chris she was busy with her degree at Oxford. She’d made quite a name for herself among the literary scene there, and her social media was filled with pictures and status updates from book readings and debates featuring some of her favourite authors. She was clearly having the time of her life.
But perhaps not as much as good a time as the next caller to wish me a happy birthday as I reached the foot of the hill. I almost had to hold the phone away from my ear, so loud was the cry of “Ahoy sexy legs,” from Harriet Palmer. If any of us had taken to student life it was Harriet. In addition to a new hairstyle where her previously long red locks had been cut to bob length, she had developed a wild streak, constantly going to raves and gigs in Manchester with her new circle of friends. She’d also fully embraced her bi-sexuality, to the point she was now also an activist with their LGBT society, campaigning for equality and awareness. This hadn’t really resulted in her finding a special someone though. She’d been in many relationships, both gay and straight, but none had lasted very long. It didn’t seem to bother her: she often joked that she’d spent far too much time in her teens being ‘tied down.’
Perhaps the greatest transformation of all had occurred for my next wellwisher. It was a simple text message I received as I passed by a tall willow tree positioned by the pond resting beside the student union, sent from Abigail Swan. The previously shy and reserved blonde (her hair now once again reaching past her shoulders in length) had made a real name for herself in London at fashion school, in part due to her snoop escapades. You see, we kinda became trendsetters with fashion vloggers who were inspired by our adventures to devise a new trend of clothing affectionately christened ‘Snoopwear.’ Shoes with a secret compartment in the toecap, skirts with a secret mobile phone compartment, hoodies that blended into the environment of a dark warehouse, that sort of thing. The idea being you can take it to the bad guys while being both practical and fashionable.
Abigail, with her plentiful experience in balancing fashion and crimefighting, spent much of her first year of fashion school coming up with her own ideas, and she got noticed. Not just by vloggers, but by bigwigs in the fashion industry keen to capitalise on this new trend. As a result, two years into her course she was offered a years’ work placement in a French fashion house in Paris with the great and good. It would mean the whole fashion world now beckoned for her.
Such opportunities had had their downsides. Abigail had split up with her boyfriend from college James after only a few months, and since then she too had struggled in the romance department, although we had noticed that since her arrival in Paris a couple of months ago she’d been spending a lot of time with a rather hunky Frenchman known only as Alphonse. It had also proved hard for her to reconnect with her new-found family in Edinburgh, though she travelled to spend time with her parents and younger brother Noah when she could.
She was also struggling to find time to spend with my next wellwisher, texting me as I approached the gym hall where all the newbies were gathered for the freshers fair and stalls for all the university societies set up. The perfectly punctuated text had come from Felicity, Abigail’s big sister and Carrington Private Investigator extraordinaire. Well I call her that; there hadn’t been much investigating for Felicity to do recently. She, like my dad, had been braced for the power struggle that would fill the vacuum which Mr White’s demise had created. But the criminal underworld fell silent, and all crime across Carrington and in the surrounding area declined dramatically. Soon Felicity was having to take on more benign cases, like investigating a mysterious ferret thief, to make ends meet.
In the face of such boredom, she decided to put the investigation business on hold and set aside six months to fulfil her lifelong ambition: Taking the round the world trip she’d always dreamed of. Accompanied by her boyfriend Simon, they set off last Autumn and journeyed the globe. For months her social media was filled with images of her doing incredible things, climbing a mountain in New Zealand, canoeing in the bays of Vietnam, posing in front of Machu Picchu…
And when she and Simon returned she was wearing an engagement ring on her finger.
Which meant now the Carrington girls had two weddings to look forward to. Coming first was the overdue wedding between Rachel’s big sister Louise and her fella Will, for which I was to be a bridesmaid. It was taking place just before Christmas in a country manor a few miles from Carrington and we couldn’t wait. Kavita was coming too, making it a full reunion. She was doing great too, devoting her time to studying medicine at Leeds. It’s not too far away from my campus-based university in the Yorkshire countryside, so she and I regularly meet at weekends for a catch up when we can.
So yeah, quite a couple of years for us ex-CGDA girls. Mine had been uneventful in comparison, but after my year in the spotlight I was more than happy that was the case. I had no desire to grab any unwanted attention.
Though the final Carrington girl I need to update you on still had a penchant for attention grabbing, as evidenced when, as I entered the gym and began perusing the society stalls with Alice at my side, I suddenly heard a holler of, “Oi, Philips!” I turned my head and was instantly dazzled by the repeated flashes of a camera as it caught me unawares.
“Bloody hell Vicky, you could’ve given me a warning,” I exclaimed as the photographer lowered her camera, revealing her freckled, pale face, brown eyes and long hair styled into bangs and dyed a jet-black.
Vicky Masterson gave a mischievous grin before saying, “Sorry, but you always get good shots when your target isn’t expecting it. Besides, you were always pretty photogenic.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked with my eyebrow raised.
Vicky laughed and replied, “Well it is your birthday isn’t it Philips? Come on, I’ll get a proper one.”
“Oooooh, make sure you get my good side,” Alice joked as she and I linked arms and smiled for the camera as Vicky took a couple of proper pictures. “Guessing this’ll be for the paper?” Alice remarked in between the flashes.
“Yeah I’ve just been made chief photographer and assistant chief reporter,” Vicky told us as she examined the images on her digital screen. “Still can’t tempt you to join the paper Philips? You’d be back to doing what you do best; nosing around making a nuisance of yourself.”
“I think I’m paid in advance in that department,” I replied, before adding, “But thanks for the offer.”
“Always open Philips. Look, got to dash. Thanks for the photos and have a good birthday now!”
“Thanks,” I called after her as she turned on the point of the high heeled boots she was wearing with dark jeans and a dark sleeveless top, camera in hand eager to get more snaps for this week’s edition. But before she disappeared completely she whirled around and shouted, “Oh, and check out stall 34. I think it’ll be to your tastes!”
Once alone again Alice leaned in to me and said, “I still find it weird that you both spent your entire teenage years at each other’s throats.”
I still found it remarkable how much things had changed between Vicky and myself. I wouldn’t say that she had a personality transplant but (and she’d probably kill me for saying this) she’s changed the most out of all of us. When she first arrived at White Rose University having not got her first choice of Cambridge she revamped her image, changing her wardrobe (though her love of black remained), her hobbies and indeed her hairstyle, dying her previously light blonde hair a shade of jet black and styling it into bangs which had got longer in length as the years progressed. She too had put snooping aside but had committed instead to a newfound love of photography and newspaper reporting.
When I’d found out she was coming here I feared we’d be stepping on each other’s toes all the time like back in Carrington. However, we barely saw each other, and when we did our conversations were amicable and respectful. I can’t say that we’d become friends or anything crazy like that, but our rivalry was effectively over. I was glad that it was. I mean, who’d have thought three years ago Vicky would be wishing me a happy birthday and meaning it?
In the company of Alice, we made our way through the stalls and chattering throng of students wondering which society to sign up to. Mostly this crowd consisted of first years just starting out, nervously and eagerly wondering what to sign up to, and third years wearing the same bright orange T-shirts Alice and I were wearing. These were members of the Freshers Crew, a team of third years who had signed up to direct the first years (aka ‘the Freshers’) during their first week and escort them on various activities. But to tell the truth, it was more of an excuse to join the Freshers in getting utterly plastered every night at the student union and party until the small hours, as I had done last night. Alice had been the one who had encouraged me to sign up and given my still tender head I was regretting it at that point.
“I think I have space for one more society, don’t you think?” Alice pondered as she found herself examining the Drama Society with a keen eye.
I laughed at my friend’s determination. “Alice you’re already part of the debating society, the folk music society, the book club society and the fine whisky society. If you join another one you won’t have time to study.”
“I’m doing English Literature. That only gives me eight hours of lectures a week. If I do all my studying in the library in the meantime alongside my dissertation, followed by occasional rest and refreshment…”
“You’re mental,” I laughed as we walked past a stall for the lacrosse society. “You’d barely have time to sleep.”
“Sleep is for the weak,” Alice replied with a cheeky grin, her hazel eyes shining behind her glasses. “Anyway what about you? Fancy taking on another hobby for your final year?”
“I dunno, I don’t think I could fit it in between my course and my…”
I trailed off as a gap appeared in the student strewn path and found myself facing stall number 34, the one Vicky had told me about. As I analysed the fairly plain banner unfurled on the tabletop I realised why.
It depicted a simple logo, a magnifying glass with a white rose in the centre, underneath which the acronym ‘W.R.I.S’ was printed. Further text underneath revealed this stood for the ‘White Rose Investigation Society.’
Two people were manning the stall. One a very tall guy with tanned skin and curly brown hair that seemed to stand out like leaves on a palm tree. He was deep in conversation with a couple of female freshers, showing them some of the printed merchandise this stall provided while beckoning with his hand to the sign-up sheet below.
With him however was a young woman, slightly shorter than me with a round face and a bob cut hairdo dyed with deep red highlights. On her pretty face was an expression of mild concern, biting her lip while analysing the passing onlookers. I examined her further, noting her outfit of a purple hoodie with the zip open revealing her bright blue T-shirt, denim hotpants and dark tights worn with grey coloured sneakers to be very similar to a certain outfit I’d once worn a good while ago.
I examined her for too long and her bright blue eyes locked onto mine. She had me. “You alright there?” she asked me, her accent broad and unmistakeably Yorkshire in origin. “Fancy having a look? We’ve got free brownies, I baked them myself.”
I hesitated. Whatever this group was it was giving me flashbacks to my past life. A group of individuals studying and investigating crime…no I couldn’t. I’d left that all behind me…
But Alice wasn’t turning down further cake. “Well that’s very sporting of you,” she said as she stepped forward and eagerly took a free sample. Her face contorted into an expression of delight as she said with her mouth half full, “Hmmmm these are delicious. Is that mint I can taste?”
“Sure is, me mum’s own recipe,” the young woman announced proudly. She then held out her hand for us to shake and said, “My name’s Lizzie by the way, Lizzie Worthington. You interested in joining our society?”
“I’ve never seen this society before,” I told her. “Is this a new one?”
“Me and Christiano have set it up ourselves,” Lizzie announced proudly, beckoning to her companion beside her, who gave us a brief acknowledgement before returning to his conversation with the two pretty freshers. “It’s a new society where we can meet up to discuss crime cases, formulate our own theories, maybe come up with our own hypothesise and, who knows, maybe solve a mystery or two.”
“What made you decide to set this all up?” Alice asked. I could sense that, like me, she was questioning the wisdom of setting up a detective agency in such a sleepy part of Yorkshire as this one.
Lizzie gave a happy sigh before saying, “Well, did you by any chance read the blog of a group of girls known as the Carrington Girl Detective Agency?”
Alice and I looked at each other at the exact same moment. My head went blank a I struggled to think of how to respond. Alice seemed keen to play along, eager to see where this was going. “Well, I can’t say that I have…”
“You totally should. I came across their blog when I was at school and they completely changed my life. Before then I felt powerless and ignored, like I couldn’t make a difference to the world. Those four girls and the courage and determination they showed, and the way they kicked the arses of some serious creeps…well they made me realise I had the power to take my destiny into my own hands.”
…Blimey. Had I really had that impact on people? I’d often wondered what people who had visited Rachel’s blog on our adventures actually felt about them. Never had I realised someone could have been moved so much as this Lizzie.
Alice’s grin was now incredibly wide. “Maybe you should invite these Carrington girls to your group for a talk or something. Their leader perhaps?”
Lizzie laughed. “Sara Philips, come here? Nah, she’s taking a well-earned break from her adventures. I doubt she’d have time to chat to people like me.”
I could feel my cheeks begin to flush from embarrassment, while Alice’s shoulders were shaking up and down as she did her best to not burst into hysterics. “And…” she said in a half wheezing tone, “If Sara Philips were to be here right now…how would you recognise her?”
“Well she’s about your age, a bit taller than me, and according to her bio she has green eyes and long, straight, brunette…………………………..OH MY BLOODY GOD!”
“Er, hi?” I said tentatively as Lizzie’s hands flew over her mouth in shock as the penny dropped. She seemed absolutely mortified, her cheeks flushing almost as red as her dyed hair. Alice finally took that moment to explode into laughter, which frankly didn’t help the situation. I attempted to diffuse the awkwardness by holding out my hand for her to shake and saying, “So yeah, I’m Sara, nice to meet you.”
“It…it’s nice…” Lizzie spluttered as she shook my hand back, before she said in a flustered voice, “It’s so amazing to like…meet you. I meant everything I said Sara; you’re an absolute inspiration.”
“I’m glad I was,” I replied graciously. “But seriously, I’m no heroine, I’m just a girl who likes getting in trouble…well, used to anyway.”
Lizzie had got a second wind, and now seemed determined to not let me go. “But you just have to come to our inaugural meeting. It would be incredible to have you as a member.”
I smiled as politely as I could and replied, “That’s a very kind offer, but I’m kinda retired now.”
“But you wouldn’t be snooping around warehouses or anything,” Lizzie insisted. “We’d just like to have you around to share your experiences, give us your insight on things, or even just treat it as a chance to meet new people and have a drink, what do you say?”
Alice came to my rescue when she checked her watch and saw what the time was. “Er Sara, we’re about to be very late indeed for our first activity of the day, we’d best get going.”
“OK look,” Lizzie said, her determination very admirable as she wrote her phone number down on a scrap of paper for me to take. “You make sure that you give me a call if you’re interested, OK?”
I hesitated for a moment. Was this really something I wanted to get myself back into? Even if it was just for a bit of fun? After all that’s how my previous adventures had started, and boy had that escalated. Still, Lizzie seemed very nice and enthusiastic, and I felt horrible about rejecting her completely. So I took the paper scrap and said, “I’ll see, depends on what happens over the next couple of weeks.”
“OK no worries,” answered Lizzie, beaming from ear to ear. “Soooo, where are you off to now then?”
“We’re just off to shoot some Freshers,” Alice retorted as if it was the most natural thing to say.
“I really don’t know if I’m ready to get back into that stuff,” I yelled to Alice as I fired off a volley of laser beams at a passing member of the blue team, before growling as instead of scoring a hit my own red coloured vest started flashing as it indicated someone had hit me instead.
“You heard what that Lizzie said, it’s just a bit of fun,” Alice pointed out as she scanned the battleground through the dry ice and low lighting, then firing off two rounds from her laser gun and scoring a direct hit on the sniper to have hit me, forcing them to retreat.
“I’ve been trying to make a clean break of the snooping stuff. I don’t want to go around waking up bad memories,” I answered as the arrival of blue reinforcements pushed us back, making us take cover by a pile of empty oil drums.
“But not all the memories were bad though, were they? You, Rachel and the gang had some good times,” Alice pointed out as she waited for her laser gun to recharge, having taken a hit herself as she ducked for cover.
“Yeah, and everyone I met or knew back then ended up getting kidnapped or tied up or imperilled at some point,” I retorted, hunching myself up so none of my body was visible to the searching enemy. “Maybe it’s best I…”
Alice held her finger to her lips, telling me to shut up. Someone was approaching our position. We could tell by the clopping sound of high heels on the floor of the battleground drawing closer. I readied my weapon and mouthed the words “One…two…three…” to Alice, before we then burst cover and like a pair of cheesy action heroes and began firing wildly.
The fresher who had been approaching our position didn’t stand a chance. The young woman could only gape at us as we burst forward and unloaded our laser beams into her body, the vest she was wearing over her dress beginning to flash wildly as we both scored direct hits. “Oh come on, not again,” I heard her yell over the sound of shrieking combatants as our laser tag battle drew to a close.
So far our team (the reds) were absolutely demolishing the opposition in this inaugural freshers week laser tag competition. That was largely due to Alice who was some kind of shooting demon, leading the field in both our matches so far. I was lagging well behind in the statistics, but as we analysed our scoresheets it seemed apparent that it was all coming down to an epic showdown between the yellows and reds, with the greens and blues left fighting for third place.
It was as I was sat in the laser tag café nursing another coffee to keep the hangover repressed, examining my frankly pathetic scoresheet, that I felt Alice nudge my elbow and say, “That lass we double teamed in the last match…does she look familiar to you?”
I carefully peered over my shoulder. Behind us was sat the girl we had indeed ganged up on. Now in a fully lit room I could see her properly, and the first thing I noticed was that she was utterly beautiful. A pale face with sparkling green eyes and incredibly long light blonde hair that fell past her face and shoulders to her waist with impeccable straightness. She was wearing a beautiful dark sleeveless red dress with nude nylons and expensive white ankle strap high heels. It was no wonder she was being flanked on all sides by five male members of the yellow team jostling for her attention as she checked her phone.
I did recognise her, very much so. At first I didn’t believe my eyes, but to confirm my suspicions I checked the scoresheet in my hand and sure enough, I saw her name right at the very bottom.
“Alice…that’s Megan Marshall.”
Alice stared blankly back at me. “…Who?”
“Megan Marshall, you know, Princess Claribelle in the Knights of Kironia film series?”
Alice wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that the weird sci-fi fantasy film from a few years back?”
Alice McCormick’s ability to be oblivious to anything not written on paper never ceases to amaze me sometimes. “It was only this mega blockbuster film series that took the world by storm. The final film was released last year. Me and Jaz went to see it. Did you not remember us discussing it?”
Alice shrugged. “If it ain’t in a novel, or ever wasn’t a novel, it ain’t for me.”
I gave a resigned sigh before returning my gaze to this young celebrity. Even though she no longer wore the flowing, glamourous dresses and warrior outfits of the films I had seen her in, she still retained an incredible sense of style. But her face betrayed little emotion as boys from the team swarmed around her, eager to impress. They’d clearly paid attention to the stories from the press regarding the much-publicised breakup she’d had with her teenager romance and co-star Charlie Poole.
“Are you going to the gig at the union tonight?” one of these blokes asked eagerly, sitting beside her.
“Yeah but it’s supposed to be some boring old jazz group performing,” another bloke interjected very quickly.
“I quite like jazz actually,” Megan retorted, not looking up from her phone.
“Oh well…I mean…not all jazz is boring. I’m a big fan of that…Lewis Armstrong guy,” the same bloke blabbered quickly to try and restore some dignity.
Seeing the way Megan was being pestered by so many shallow blokes made my stomach boil. After watching them try to ingratiate themselves with her further, with Megan making it quite clear she wasn’t interested, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I strode over to the gaggle and barked, “Hey, yellows, you’re up in two minutes, get to entrance and prepare to be annihilated by us reds or you’re disqualified.”
The blokes could tell from my tone that I wasn’t asking nicely. Gradually and with some reluctance they got up and left Megan alone, moving to where Alice was directing them. I then turned to see Megan was staring straight at me with a quizzical expression on her face. After a few slightly awkward seconds she spoke, in her lilting, classy Californian accent, “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks anyway.”
“Well, I know what it’s like to have people pestering over you when you just want to be alone,” I told her.
“Yeah…I can imagine getting constantly asked what it was like to be a famous girl detective must be quite irritating after a while, right Sara?”
My mouth hung open before I could close it again. “How did you know…?”
“Because I too have canny powers of deduction,” she remarked mysteriously, before a smile broke onto her face and she added, “That and I saw your name on the results sheet.”
I was still pretty stunned she recognised me. It was supposed to be the other way around. “But how did you know about the whole snooping thing?” I asked.
“You think Hollywood wasn’t going to notice the amazing adventures of some intrepid girl snoops?” Megan smiled at me. “You have some fans in high places. Take it from me, expect the first wave of girl detective movies to be out in a couple of years. As for me, well I like to keep a close eye on what’s happening near to my birthtown.”
I performed a second double take. “Wait, you know Carrington?”
“I was born in Herringford, then I moved to California as a kid. I still have some family there. Weird to think that had I not headed stateside I might have got involved in some of your cases.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I guess,” Megan sighed, “Though after five years of pretending to have adventures it would have been nice to have a real one.”
I laughed. “Trust me, boring old real life has its charms…you like jazz, right? Make sure you go to that gig tonight. My flatmate is lead singer, and she’s amazing.”
“I’ll make sure I do,” Megan replied with a smile. “Best of luck in the deciding match against those yellows.”
With that I said goodbye and returned to Alice at the entrance to the laser tag battleground. As we were handed out our rifles by the spotty faced attendant Alice remarked, “So…we have a celebrity in our midst now.”
“She seemed nice though,” I replied while sounding surprised, as if I’d expected her to be a complete Hollywood diva.
Alice seemed a bit more suspicious of her than I was. “Weird though. I googled her while you were chatting. Seemed like she had the entire world at her feet after her last film. Why’d she end up here?”
I didn’t answer. 18-year-old me would have found that mystery almost irresistible. Now 21-year-old me wasn’t fussed. Megan had her reasons, it wasn’t my business to pry.
The rest of the day passed by like a bit of a whirlwind. Following laser tag I returned to the university campus, grabbed a cheap sandwich and another coffee from the café, then attended my first lecture of the year, whereupon my lecturer issued a stark warning that this was the year where it all came together and I should be prepared to work my backside off. It spooked me a little; I was on course for a 2:1 level degree (the second best one available for those of you unfamiliar with the British system) and I wanted to keep it that way. However, such fears were allayed when I returned to Alice in the Freshers Crew and took part in the massive, inflatable obstacle course set up by the science laboratories.
Before I knew it, it was 4:30pm, giving me half an hour before my next appointment. I said a hurried goodbye to Alice, promising to see her at Jaz’s gig later that evening, and then ran back to our student flat. I passed by all the lecture halls and research labs of White Rose University as I jogged, all brand new and of sleek modern design. They seemed to stand out against the idyllic countryside that surrounded the campus, especially against the small village of Lower Owlton that resided at the foot of the hill on which the university had been built from scratch only a matter of years ago.
The only old building here was the converted manor house at the very top of this hill. When it had been bought by billionaire Jim Carlton it had been nothing more than a ruin left abandoned since the 1940’s since its last owner died. Now it had been converted into state of the art science facility, and its massive grounds turned into the White Rose University campus. Jim Carlton, a tech giant who had made obscene money selling accountancy software to international firms, had said it was his passion to inspire the new generation and give them all the opportunities they needed. He was a much-respected philanthropist and had been appointed a government education advisor as a result of his generosity.
It had been a home away from home for me for the past two years, meaning I knew every shortcut that would get me back to my flat in good time to pick up my stuff. But as I slide my keycard into the lock and entered my empty flat. I was suddenly struck by how silent it was…suspiciously silent. My snoop senses hadn’t become completely dormant. I could feel something wasn’t quite right.
“Is anyone here?” I asked tentatively. I had no response. The TV was turned right off, Jaz’s jacket off its hook, no sound of virtual gunfire coming from Seb’s room, and I knew where Alice was…
So why did I feel like I was being watched?
I took a shallow breath and stepped towards our sofa. The floorboards seemed to creak loudly with my every step, and the air felt thick enough to drink. I had left my backpack containing my stuff by the TV, and I knelt to unzip it and check I had everything. The silence however seemed to close in on me, like it was closing in on me, trying to warn me of imminent danger.
Then before I could react, I was grabbed from behind, with strong arms locking around my waist from behind, as a voice spoke into my ear, “Miss me gorgeous?”
I groaned. I knew what that irritatingly chirpy tune meant. Without opening my eyes, I turned my head on my pillow and dared to pull my arm from underneath the warm confines of my bedcovers. My hand rummaged about my bedside table for the still ringing smartphone, only finding my empty coffee stained mug and a crumb strewn plate. I groaned again as I opened my eyes to locate the source of the noise.
That’s when the hangover hit me like a sledgehammer to my forehead. My brain felt like it was trapped in iron chains and my stomach churned as it desperately processed whatever sinful liquids I’d filled it with last night. Even trying to pull my head off my pillow took real effort. And all the while the phone continued its merry assault on my eardrums. Swearing under my breath, I reached over the side of my bed and finally my fingers established contact with my phone, placed where I’d dropped it on my floor last night. Without checking the caller ID I answered the call and grunted, “Yeah.”
“Wow you sound like death. What did you get up to last night?”
I smiled and yawned at the same time. Course she’d be the first to call.
“Given it was your big day yesterday, I’m surprised you’re sounding so upbeat,” I answered. “Why aren’t you sharing my pain?”
“Double lecture from 9am. Couldn’t afford to be indulgent.”
“Will that be rectified tonight?”
“Maaaaaaaybe…anyway, back on topic.”
“Yeah what?”
“Happy 21st birthday Sara Philips!”
I couldn’t contain my weary smile as I replied, “Thank you Rachel Simpson. And how was your 21st birthday?”
“Just a few drinks down the pub with some coursemates. Nothing like what you’re getting up to,” my oldest friend told me down the line.
“Do they not have Freshers Week down in Oxford?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, but I’m not a glutton for punishment,” Rachel replied. “I’m a third-year student now, I have to be responsible.”
Groaning as I rubbed my eyes and throbbing head I replied, “Maybe that was a good call. Not quite sure how I’m going to get through today without…bacon!”
“Bacon?” Rachel asked.
“Bacon!” Alice McCormick confirmed after barging through my bedroom door holding a plate holding the biggest bacon buttie I’d ever seen. Cut with the thickest white bread and dripping with ketchup and butter, my mouth was watering already as my auburn-haired, bespectacled housemate brought it over to my bedside table. “Thought I’d heard you rousing,” she remarked in her broad Scottish accent. “After your antics last night I’m surprised you aren’t comatose. And who could you be chatting with I wonder? HI RACHEL!”
“Tell Alice I said hi,” Rachel laughed as I recoiled from Alice’s exuberant exclamation.
Frowning I grunted. “How are you not suffering? You had just as much as me last night. What’s your secret?”
Alice just shrugged, “I’m Scottish. Anyways we need to be ready in an hour so get yourself up birthday girl, there’s more bacon waiting for you outside.” With that she gave me a friendly ruffle of my already messy hair, before scampering out of my bedroom as fast as she appeared.
“Sounds like you’re both having a good time anyway,” Rachel told me down the phone as I eagerly smelled my breakfast. “Listen, I’m nearly at my lecture so got to go, but have a fantastic day. I’ll call you before you make a disgrace of yourself tonight.”
“Not if you make a disgrace of yourself first,” I retorted.
“Honestly, would I do such a thing?”
“Totally!”
Rachel laughed before saying, “Happy birthday Sara. Have a great day.”
“You too Rach,” I finished before she hung up.
Now fully returned to consciousness, I gave a stretch before kicking off my duvet. Only then did I realise what kind of state I must have been in last night. I hadn’t even got changed into my pyjamas, instead only wearing the deliberately oversized orange ‘Freshers Crew’ T-shirt and dark tights that had been my party outfit during last night’s merriment. The denim hotpants and ankle strap high heels that had accompanied them now lay strewn across my messy bedroom floor. I sighed as I tried to shake off the dull throbbing ache in my brain, before I eagerly grabbed the bacon sandwich and took my first bite. Instantly a jet of ketchup splurged out and landed on my nylon covered legs. I tutted to myself, realising that a change of costume was now on the cards.
I rummaged through my drawers for a fresh pair of jeans. After pulling them out I took a moment to analyse myself in the tall, thin mirror hanging on my wardrobe door. I was now 21, officially an adult. Calling myself a ‘girl detective’ wasn’t exactly a suitable moniker now. Not that I did much detective work these days anyway. I ran my hands through my brunette hair, its length now reaching well past my shoulders and a lot messier than I’d have liked due to my erratic sleep. My green eyes were tinged with red. My skin still tanned from a recent summer vacation and relatively spot free. Every time I returned to my Grandma Marie she swore I was looking older, but in my mind I was still the 18 year old girl from Carrington who had endured one hell of a year.
…images of a white mask began to fill my minds eye…I shook my heavy head to repress these thoughts. Now was not a day to dwell on the past.
Instead I focused on changing into my jeans and brushing my hair to straighten it. Then, after a few more glorious bites of bacon, I exited my bedroom, straight into a rousing chorus of…
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
I couldn’t help but smile at my four flatmates, gathered in a tight ring about my bedroom door to ensure I couldn’t escape their happy returns. Alice was among them, holding another bacon sandwich adorned a solitary lit birthday candle. It was dwarfed by the 21 candles in the cake being held by Jaz Mobara, which she held up for front of me to blow out once their chorus had finished. It took me two goes, after which Jaz remarked, “Wow, last night left you right out of puff didn’t it?”
“Bit early for cake though isn’t it?” I asked her.
“Well firstly we’re all busy later so it’s now or never,” Jaz retorted in her chirpy East London accent. “And secondly, it’s never, EVER, too early for cake!”
“I second that emotion,” said Seb Raynor, another of my flatmates, giving me a friendly embrace before asking Jaz, “Can I have a corner slice Jaz? I need all the icing sugar you can muster.”
“I thought you were cutting back on sugar?” Jaz laughed as she took the cake back to our shared kitchen space to cut into slices.
“Well I’ve been up since 4am chatting to the chaps,” Seb explained, motioning with his head to his bedroom across from my own, where I could see his expensive computer set-up and the latest early access video game on his display, having streamed it live for a good few hours.
“Why the hell do you have to play at such ludicrous hours?” I asked Seb.
Seb, a guy my age with a wispy ginger beard the same shade as his short cut ginger hair, quite tall and with a body shape he described as being ‘cuddly,’ was a proud and happy nerd who seemed to operate on a different time zone to us all. At my comment he gave a shrug and said, “Come on SuperS1euth, you should know that’s prime time to catch that lucrative American market. Why don’t you give hello to the chat? They’ll be keen to wish you many happy returns.”
“Just tell them I said hi,” I replied as Jaz replied with assorted cake slides. I couldn’t believe my luck. Bacon and cake first thing in the morning. I took an eager bite and was instantly in heaven. “Jaz this cake is amazing,” I exclaimed with my mouth half full.
“You can thank my mum for it. You all know I can’t cook worth a damn,” Jaz told me as she took her own slice to our sofa and sat down to eat. Jaz, a mixed-race girl with a Nigerian father and Greek mother, was dressed in an incredibly classy peach coloured long sleeved top, short chequered skirt, dark nylons and brown flats. Her frizzy hair stuck out at all angles, and her makeup was already immaculate. I have to say, I always envied how glamorous Jaz could be, even first thing in the morning.
Alice, Jaz and Seb had been my flatmates from our first day of university almost two years ago exactly. Our other flatmate back then, Joel, had left us last year to start a year abroad in Spain.The vacancy had been filled by my fourth wellwisher, a guy a couple of years older than me with short cut dark hair and immaculately trimmed stubble, wearing a grey dressing gown over a red T-shirt and what I presumed were his boxer shorts. His name was Daniel Hart, and he had returned from a year abroad in China for his final year of studies. We’d only met a couple of days ago, but he seemed keen to break the ice by asking, “So, what are your plans for today then Sara?”
“She’s joining me for a day of further frivolity and fun,” Alice interjected before I could speak.
“Finishing off by attending my gig at the Union,” Jaz added with a wink.
“Wait, what gig?” I asked.
Jaz beamed at me, looking utterly delighted. “We got confirmation last night. The Jitterbugs will be playing support act for tonight’s main act after the other band dropped out at short notice. So the main stage beckons for yours truly!” She pointed at herself, before giving a contented giggle. Jaz was an incredible musician, not only having an amazing singing voice but also a talented piano, guitar and ukulele player. Music was her passion, so to see her getting herself such a large gig was amazing to see.
“Well Sara and me will definitely bring some fresher victims for you to torment,” Alice said as she finished her cake slice before moving on to her second bacon buttie. “So, you blokes going to show Jaz some support?”
“I suppose I could maybe give MOBA night on the stream a miss…” Seb remarked, to which Jaz gave him a playful kick accompanied by a contented laugh. She was used to his antics and smart-arse comments by now.
“Yeah sure I’ll come along,” Daniel said, sensing a chance to bond with his new housemates. “What’s your band perform? Rock, pop, soul?”
“Actually we specialise in Jazz fusion with influences from reggae, RnB and traditional Greek folk,” Jaz explained.
Daniel gave a nod. “…So a cover of Back in Black is out of the question?”
“Ask Sara. As birthday girl she gets one request of her choice,” Jaz smiled.
I took a moment to ponder my response before saying, “How about Journey’s ‘Don’t stop believing?’”
“NO! Anything but that,” Jaz retorted in abject horror.
I couldn’t help myself laughing at her reaction. I then took a bite out of my fresh sandwich as the banter of my flatmates washed over me. Today was going to be a great day, I could feel it!
So, you’re probably wondering what my life has been like since we last spoke. In a word…calm. No snooping through dusty warehouses tracking down rope wielding maniacs for me. Early morning lectures and tight deadlines were my enemies now. My life had been gloriously boring ever since coming here to White Rose University to study psychology.
Well, I say gloriously boring, but a lot has happened in my world since then. Dad got a big promotion at work and is now Chief Constable for the whole Carrington area. His work in defeating Mr White and dismantling the rest of his organisation in the aftermath had enhanced his reputation considerably. At the same time DI Sinead Connell, my mum’s literary creation, had made her small screen debut and was now a primetime TV hit. The success of both my parents meant they had decided to move house, and they were close to buying a gorgeous new place in the countryside just outside Carrington, meaning we would soon be leaving the only home me and my twin brother Chris had ever known.
And yes, my twin brother Chris is still an idiot, though a very happy idiot studying in Newcastle while lead guitarist with a newly formed band. And yes, he is still quite devoted to Rachel. And yes, she is still quite devoted to him. Weird to think they’ve now been together for well over two years. The long distance between them made things inconvenient, but they made up for it during holidays, meaning I pretty much only ever saw them as a loved-up unit now. I even once overheard them discussing plans to move in together once Uni was over.
As I followed Alice down the tarmac path leading down a steep, grassy slope that led from the student apartments down into the campus below, the late September sun surprisingly warm for this time of day and year, I found myself thinking of Rachel. It had been too long since we’d properly chatted. When she wasn’t with Chris she was busy with her degree at Oxford. She’d made quite a name for herself among the literary scene there, and her social media was filled with pictures and status updates from book readings and debates featuring some of her favourite authors. She was clearly having the time of her life.
But perhaps not as much as good a time as the next caller to wish me a happy birthday as I reached the foot of the hill. I almost had to hold the phone away from my ear, so loud was the cry of “Ahoy sexy legs,” from Harriet Palmer. If any of us had taken to student life it was Harriet. In addition to a new hairstyle where her previously long red locks had been cut to bob length, she had developed a wild streak, constantly going to raves and gigs in Manchester with her new circle of friends. She’d also fully embraced her bi-sexuality, to the point she was now also an activist with their LGBT society, campaigning for equality and awareness. This hadn’t really resulted in her finding a special someone though. She’d been in many relationships, both gay and straight, but none had lasted very long. It didn’t seem to bother her: she often joked that she’d spent far too much time in her teens being ‘tied down.’
Perhaps the greatest transformation of all had occurred for my next wellwisher. It was a simple text message I received as I passed by a tall willow tree positioned by the pond resting beside the student union, sent from Abigail Swan. The previously shy and reserved blonde (her hair now once again reaching past her shoulders in length) had made a real name for herself in London at fashion school, in part due to her snoop escapades. You see, we kinda became trendsetters with fashion vloggers who were inspired by our adventures to devise a new trend of clothing affectionately christened ‘Snoopwear.’ Shoes with a secret compartment in the toecap, skirts with a secret mobile phone compartment, hoodies that blended into the environment of a dark warehouse, that sort of thing. The idea being you can take it to the bad guys while being both practical and fashionable.
Abigail, with her plentiful experience in balancing fashion and crimefighting, spent much of her first year of fashion school coming up with her own ideas, and she got noticed. Not just by vloggers, but by bigwigs in the fashion industry keen to capitalise on this new trend. As a result, two years into her course she was offered a years’ work placement in a French fashion house in Paris with the great and good. It would mean the whole fashion world now beckoned for her.
Such opportunities had had their downsides. Abigail had split up with her boyfriend from college James after only a few months, and since then she too had struggled in the romance department, although we had noticed that since her arrival in Paris a couple of months ago she’d been spending a lot of time with a rather hunky Frenchman known only as Alphonse. It had also proved hard for her to reconnect with her new-found family in Edinburgh, though she travelled to spend time with her parents and younger brother Noah when she could.
She was also struggling to find time to spend with my next wellwisher, texting me as I approached the gym hall where all the newbies were gathered for the freshers fair and stalls for all the university societies set up. The perfectly punctuated text had come from Felicity, Abigail’s big sister and Carrington Private Investigator extraordinaire. Well I call her that; there hadn’t been much investigating for Felicity to do recently. She, like my dad, had been braced for the power struggle that would fill the vacuum which Mr White’s demise had created. But the criminal underworld fell silent, and all crime across Carrington and in the surrounding area declined dramatically. Soon Felicity was having to take on more benign cases, like investigating a mysterious ferret thief, to make ends meet.
In the face of such boredom, she decided to put the investigation business on hold and set aside six months to fulfil her lifelong ambition: Taking the round the world trip she’d always dreamed of. Accompanied by her boyfriend Simon, they set off last Autumn and journeyed the globe. For months her social media was filled with images of her doing incredible things, climbing a mountain in New Zealand, canoeing in the bays of Vietnam, posing in front of Machu Picchu…
And when she and Simon returned she was wearing an engagement ring on her finger.
Which meant now the Carrington girls had two weddings to look forward to. Coming first was the overdue wedding between Rachel’s big sister Louise and her fella Will, for which I was to be a bridesmaid. It was taking place just before Christmas in a country manor a few miles from Carrington and we couldn’t wait. Kavita was coming too, making it a full reunion. She was doing great too, devoting her time to studying medicine at Leeds. It’s not too far away from my campus-based university in the Yorkshire countryside, so she and I regularly meet at weekends for a catch up when we can.
So yeah, quite a couple of years for us ex-CGDA girls. Mine had been uneventful in comparison, but after my year in the spotlight I was more than happy that was the case. I had no desire to grab any unwanted attention.
Though the final Carrington girl I need to update you on still had a penchant for attention grabbing, as evidenced when, as I entered the gym and began perusing the society stalls with Alice at my side, I suddenly heard a holler of, “Oi, Philips!” I turned my head and was instantly dazzled by the repeated flashes of a camera as it caught me unawares.
“Bloody hell Vicky, you could’ve given me a warning,” I exclaimed as the photographer lowered her camera, revealing her freckled, pale face, brown eyes and long hair styled into bangs and dyed a jet-black.
Vicky Masterson gave a mischievous grin before saying, “Sorry, but you always get good shots when your target isn’t expecting it. Besides, you were always pretty photogenic.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked with my eyebrow raised.
Vicky laughed and replied, “Well it is your birthday isn’t it Philips? Come on, I’ll get a proper one.”
“Oooooh, make sure you get my good side,” Alice joked as she and I linked arms and smiled for the camera as Vicky took a couple of proper pictures. “Guessing this’ll be for the paper?” Alice remarked in between the flashes.
“Yeah I’ve just been made chief photographer and assistant chief reporter,” Vicky told us as she examined the images on her digital screen. “Still can’t tempt you to join the paper Philips? You’d be back to doing what you do best; nosing around making a nuisance of yourself.”
“I think I’m paid in advance in that department,” I replied, before adding, “But thanks for the offer.”
“Always open Philips. Look, got to dash. Thanks for the photos and have a good birthday now!”
“Thanks,” I called after her as she turned on the point of the high heeled boots she was wearing with dark jeans and a dark sleeveless top, camera in hand eager to get more snaps for this week’s edition. But before she disappeared completely she whirled around and shouted, “Oh, and check out stall 34. I think it’ll be to your tastes!”
Once alone again Alice leaned in to me and said, “I still find it weird that you both spent your entire teenage years at each other’s throats.”
I still found it remarkable how much things had changed between Vicky and myself. I wouldn’t say that she had a personality transplant but (and she’d probably kill me for saying this) she’s changed the most out of all of us. When she first arrived at White Rose University having not got her first choice of Cambridge she revamped her image, changing her wardrobe (though her love of black remained), her hobbies and indeed her hairstyle, dying her previously light blonde hair a shade of jet black and styling it into bangs which had got longer in length as the years progressed. She too had put snooping aside but had committed instead to a newfound love of photography and newspaper reporting.
When I’d found out she was coming here I feared we’d be stepping on each other’s toes all the time like back in Carrington. However, we barely saw each other, and when we did our conversations were amicable and respectful. I can’t say that we’d become friends or anything crazy like that, but our rivalry was effectively over. I was glad that it was. I mean, who’d have thought three years ago Vicky would be wishing me a happy birthday and meaning it?
In the company of Alice, we made our way through the stalls and chattering throng of students wondering which society to sign up to. Mostly this crowd consisted of first years just starting out, nervously and eagerly wondering what to sign up to, and third years wearing the same bright orange T-shirts Alice and I were wearing. These were members of the Freshers Crew, a team of third years who had signed up to direct the first years (aka ‘the Freshers’) during their first week and escort them on various activities. But to tell the truth, it was more of an excuse to join the Freshers in getting utterly plastered every night at the student union and party until the small hours, as I had done last night. Alice had been the one who had encouraged me to sign up and given my still tender head I was regretting it at that point.
“I think I have space for one more society, don’t you think?” Alice pondered as she found herself examining the Drama Society with a keen eye.
I laughed at my friend’s determination. “Alice you’re already part of the debating society, the folk music society, the book club society and the fine whisky society. If you join another one you won’t have time to study.”
“I’m doing English Literature. That only gives me eight hours of lectures a week. If I do all my studying in the library in the meantime alongside my dissertation, followed by occasional rest and refreshment…”
“You’re mental,” I laughed as we walked past a stall for the lacrosse society. “You’d barely have time to sleep.”
“Sleep is for the weak,” Alice replied with a cheeky grin, her hazel eyes shining behind her glasses. “Anyway what about you? Fancy taking on another hobby for your final year?”
“I dunno, I don’t think I could fit it in between my course and my…”
I trailed off as a gap appeared in the student strewn path and found myself facing stall number 34, the one Vicky had told me about. As I analysed the fairly plain banner unfurled on the tabletop I realised why.
It depicted a simple logo, a magnifying glass with a white rose in the centre, underneath which the acronym ‘W.R.I.S’ was printed. Further text underneath revealed this stood for the ‘White Rose Investigation Society.’
Two people were manning the stall. One a very tall guy with tanned skin and curly brown hair that seemed to stand out like leaves on a palm tree. He was deep in conversation with a couple of female freshers, showing them some of the printed merchandise this stall provided while beckoning with his hand to the sign-up sheet below.
With him however was a young woman, slightly shorter than me with a round face and a bob cut hairdo dyed with deep red highlights. On her pretty face was an expression of mild concern, biting her lip while analysing the passing onlookers. I examined her further, noting her outfit of a purple hoodie with the zip open revealing her bright blue T-shirt, denim hotpants and dark tights worn with grey coloured sneakers to be very similar to a certain outfit I’d once worn a good while ago.
I examined her for too long and her bright blue eyes locked onto mine. She had me. “You alright there?” she asked me, her accent broad and unmistakeably Yorkshire in origin. “Fancy having a look? We’ve got free brownies, I baked them myself.”
I hesitated. Whatever this group was it was giving me flashbacks to my past life. A group of individuals studying and investigating crime…no I couldn’t. I’d left that all behind me…
But Alice wasn’t turning down further cake. “Well that’s very sporting of you,” she said as she stepped forward and eagerly took a free sample. Her face contorted into an expression of delight as she said with her mouth half full, “Hmmmm these are delicious. Is that mint I can taste?”
“Sure is, me mum’s own recipe,” the young woman announced proudly. She then held out her hand for us to shake and said, “My name’s Lizzie by the way, Lizzie Worthington. You interested in joining our society?”
“I’ve never seen this society before,” I told her. “Is this a new one?”
“Me and Christiano have set it up ourselves,” Lizzie announced proudly, beckoning to her companion beside her, who gave us a brief acknowledgement before returning to his conversation with the two pretty freshers. “It’s a new society where we can meet up to discuss crime cases, formulate our own theories, maybe come up with our own hypothesise and, who knows, maybe solve a mystery or two.”
“What made you decide to set this all up?” Alice asked. I could sense that, like me, she was questioning the wisdom of setting up a detective agency in such a sleepy part of Yorkshire as this one.
Lizzie gave a happy sigh before saying, “Well, did you by any chance read the blog of a group of girls known as the Carrington Girl Detective Agency?”
Alice and I looked at each other at the exact same moment. My head went blank a I struggled to think of how to respond. Alice seemed keen to play along, eager to see where this was going. “Well, I can’t say that I have…”
“You totally should. I came across their blog when I was at school and they completely changed my life. Before then I felt powerless and ignored, like I couldn’t make a difference to the world. Those four girls and the courage and determination they showed, and the way they kicked the arses of some serious creeps…well they made me realise I had the power to take my destiny into my own hands.”
…Blimey. Had I really had that impact on people? I’d often wondered what people who had visited Rachel’s blog on our adventures actually felt about them. Never had I realised someone could have been moved so much as this Lizzie.
Alice’s grin was now incredibly wide. “Maybe you should invite these Carrington girls to your group for a talk or something. Their leader perhaps?”
Lizzie laughed. “Sara Philips, come here? Nah, she’s taking a well-earned break from her adventures. I doubt she’d have time to chat to people like me.”
I could feel my cheeks begin to flush from embarrassment, while Alice’s shoulders were shaking up and down as she did her best to not burst into hysterics. “And…” she said in a half wheezing tone, “If Sara Philips were to be here right now…how would you recognise her?”
“Well she’s about your age, a bit taller than me, and according to her bio she has green eyes and long, straight, brunette…………………………..OH MY BLOODY GOD!”
“Er, hi?” I said tentatively as Lizzie’s hands flew over her mouth in shock as the penny dropped. She seemed absolutely mortified, her cheeks flushing almost as red as her dyed hair. Alice finally took that moment to explode into laughter, which frankly didn’t help the situation. I attempted to diffuse the awkwardness by holding out my hand for her to shake and saying, “So yeah, I’m Sara, nice to meet you.”
“It…it’s nice…” Lizzie spluttered as she shook my hand back, before she said in a flustered voice, “It’s so amazing to like…meet you. I meant everything I said Sara; you’re an absolute inspiration.”
“I’m glad I was,” I replied graciously. “But seriously, I’m no heroine, I’m just a girl who likes getting in trouble…well, used to anyway.”
Lizzie had got a second wind, and now seemed determined to not let me go. “But you just have to come to our inaugural meeting. It would be incredible to have you as a member.”
I smiled as politely as I could and replied, “That’s a very kind offer, but I’m kinda retired now.”
“But you wouldn’t be snooping around warehouses or anything,” Lizzie insisted. “We’d just like to have you around to share your experiences, give us your insight on things, or even just treat it as a chance to meet new people and have a drink, what do you say?”
Alice came to my rescue when she checked her watch and saw what the time was. “Er Sara, we’re about to be very late indeed for our first activity of the day, we’d best get going.”
“OK look,” Lizzie said, her determination very admirable as she wrote her phone number down on a scrap of paper for me to take. “You make sure that you give me a call if you’re interested, OK?”
I hesitated for a moment. Was this really something I wanted to get myself back into? Even if it was just for a bit of fun? After all that’s how my previous adventures had started, and boy had that escalated. Still, Lizzie seemed very nice and enthusiastic, and I felt horrible about rejecting her completely. So I took the paper scrap and said, “I’ll see, depends on what happens over the next couple of weeks.”
“OK no worries,” answered Lizzie, beaming from ear to ear. “Soooo, where are you off to now then?”
“We’re just off to shoot some Freshers,” Alice retorted as if it was the most natural thing to say.
“I really don’t know if I’m ready to get back into that stuff,” I yelled to Alice as I fired off a volley of laser beams at a passing member of the blue team, before growling as instead of scoring a hit my own red coloured vest started flashing as it indicated someone had hit me instead.
“You heard what that Lizzie said, it’s just a bit of fun,” Alice pointed out as she scanned the battleground through the dry ice and low lighting, then firing off two rounds from her laser gun and scoring a direct hit on the sniper to have hit me, forcing them to retreat.
“I’ve been trying to make a clean break of the snooping stuff. I don’t want to go around waking up bad memories,” I answered as the arrival of blue reinforcements pushed us back, making us take cover by a pile of empty oil drums.
“But not all the memories were bad though, were they? You, Rachel and the gang had some good times,” Alice pointed out as she waited for her laser gun to recharge, having taken a hit herself as she ducked for cover.
“Yeah, and everyone I met or knew back then ended up getting kidnapped or tied up or imperilled at some point,” I retorted, hunching myself up so none of my body was visible to the searching enemy. “Maybe it’s best I…”
Alice held her finger to her lips, telling me to shut up. Someone was approaching our position. We could tell by the clopping sound of high heels on the floor of the battleground drawing closer. I readied my weapon and mouthed the words “One…two…three…” to Alice, before we then burst cover and like a pair of cheesy action heroes and began firing wildly.
The fresher who had been approaching our position didn’t stand a chance. The young woman could only gape at us as we burst forward and unloaded our laser beams into her body, the vest she was wearing over her dress beginning to flash wildly as we both scored direct hits. “Oh come on, not again,” I heard her yell over the sound of shrieking combatants as our laser tag battle drew to a close.
So far our team (the reds) were absolutely demolishing the opposition in this inaugural freshers week laser tag competition. That was largely due to Alice who was some kind of shooting demon, leading the field in both our matches so far. I was lagging well behind in the statistics, but as we analysed our scoresheets it seemed apparent that it was all coming down to an epic showdown between the yellows and reds, with the greens and blues left fighting for third place.
It was as I was sat in the laser tag café nursing another coffee to keep the hangover repressed, examining my frankly pathetic scoresheet, that I felt Alice nudge my elbow and say, “That lass we double teamed in the last match…does she look familiar to you?”
I carefully peered over my shoulder. Behind us was sat the girl we had indeed ganged up on. Now in a fully lit room I could see her properly, and the first thing I noticed was that she was utterly beautiful. A pale face with sparkling green eyes and incredibly long light blonde hair that fell past her face and shoulders to her waist with impeccable straightness. She was wearing a beautiful dark sleeveless red dress with nude nylons and expensive white ankle strap high heels. It was no wonder she was being flanked on all sides by five male members of the yellow team jostling for her attention as she checked her phone.
I did recognise her, very much so. At first I didn’t believe my eyes, but to confirm my suspicions I checked the scoresheet in my hand and sure enough, I saw her name right at the very bottom.
“Alice…that’s Megan Marshall.”
Alice stared blankly back at me. “…Who?”
“Megan Marshall, you know, Princess Claribelle in the Knights of Kironia film series?”
Alice wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that the weird sci-fi fantasy film from a few years back?”
Alice McCormick’s ability to be oblivious to anything not written on paper never ceases to amaze me sometimes. “It was only this mega blockbuster film series that took the world by storm. The final film was released last year. Me and Jaz went to see it. Did you not remember us discussing it?”
Alice shrugged. “If it ain’t in a novel, or ever wasn’t a novel, it ain’t for me.”
I gave a resigned sigh before returning my gaze to this young celebrity. Even though she no longer wore the flowing, glamourous dresses and warrior outfits of the films I had seen her in, she still retained an incredible sense of style. But her face betrayed little emotion as boys from the team swarmed around her, eager to impress. They’d clearly paid attention to the stories from the press regarding the much-publicised breakup she’d had with her teenager romance and co-star Charlie Poole.
“Are you going to the gig at the union tonight?” one of these blokes asked eagerly, sitting beside her.
“Yeah but it’s supposed to be some boring old jazz group performing,” another bloke interjected very quickly.
“I quite like jazz actually,” Megan retorted, not looking up from her phone.
“Oh well…I mean…not all jazz is boring. I’m a big fan of that…Lewis Armstrong guy,” the same bloke blabbered quickly to try and restore some dignity.
Seeing the way Megan was being pestered by so many shallow blokes made my stomach boil. After watching them try to ingratiate themselves with her further, with Megan making it quite clear she wasn’t interested, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I strode over to the gaggle and barked, “Hey, yellows, you’re up in two minutes, get to entrance and prepare to be annihilated by us reds or you’re disqualified.”
The blokes could tell from my tone that I wasn’t asking nicely. Gradually and with some reluctance they got up and left Megan alone, moving to where Alice was directing them. I then turned to see Megan was staring straight at me with a quizzical expression on her face. After a few slightly awkward seconds she spoke, in her lilting, classy Californian accent, “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks anyway.”
“Well, I know what it’s like to have people pestering over you when you just want to be alone,” I told her.
“Yeah…I can imagine getting constantly asked what it was like to be a famous girl detective must be quite irritating after a while, right Sara?”
My mouth hung open before I could close it again. “How did you know…?”
“Because I too have canny powers of deduction,” she remarked mysteriously, before a smile broke onto her face and she added, “That and I saw your name on the results sheet.”
I was still pretty stunned she recognised me. It was supposed to be the other way around. “But how did you know about the whole snooping thing?” I asked.
“You think Hollywood wasn’t going to notice the amazing adventures of some intrepid girl snoops?” Megan smiled at me. “You have some fans in high places. Take it from me, expect the first wave of girl detective movies to be out in a couple of years. As for me, well I like to keep a close eye on what’s happening near to my birthtown.”
I performed a second double take. “Wait, you know Carrington?”
“I was born in Herringford, then I moved to California as a kid. I still have some family there. Weird to think that had I not headed stateside I might have got involved in some of your cases.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I guess,” Megan sighed, “Though after five years of pretending to have adventures it would have been nice to have a real one.”
I laughed. “Trust me, boring old real life has its charms…you like jazz, right? Make sure you go to that gig tonight. My flatmate is lead singer, and she’s amazing.”
“I’ll make sure I do,” Megan replied with a smile. “Best of luck in the deciding match against those yellows.”
With that I said goodbye and returned to Alice at the entrance to the laser tag battleground. As we were handed out our rifles by the spotty faced attendant Alice remarked, “So…we have a celebrity in our midst now.”
“She seemed nice though,” I replied while sounding surprised, as if I’d expected her to be a complete Hollywood diva.
Alice seemed a bit more suspicious of her than I was. “Weird though. I googled her while you were chatting. Seemed like she had the entire world at her feet after her last film. Why’d she end up here?”
I didn’t answer. 18-year-old me would have found that mystery almost irresistible. Now 21-year-old me wasn’t fussed. Megan had her reasons, it wasn’t my business to pry.
The rest of the day passed by like a bit of a whirlwind. Following laser tag I returned to the university campus, grabbed a cheap sandwich and another coffee from the café, then attended my first lecture of the year, whereupon my lecturer issued a stark warning that this was the year where it all came together and I should be prepared to work my backside off. It spooked me a little; I was on course for a 2:1 level degree (the second best one available for those of you unfamiliar with the British system) and I wanted to keep it that way. However, such fears were allayed when I returned to Alice in the Freshers Crew and took part in the massive, inflatable obstacle course set up by the science laboratories.
Before I knew it, it was 4:30pm, giving me half an hour before my next appointment. I said a hurried goodbye to Alice, promising to see her at Jaz’s gig later that evening, and then ran back to our student flat. I passed by all the lecture halls and research labs of White Rose University as I jogged, all brand new and of sleek modern design. They seemed to stand out against the idyllic countryside that surrounded the campus, especially against the small village of Lower Owlton that resided at the foot of the hill on which the university had been built from scratch only a matter of years ago.
The only old building here was the converted manor house at the very top of this hill. When it had been bought by billionaire Jim Carlton it had been nothing more than a ruin left abandoned since the 1940’s since its last owner died. Now it had been converted into state of the art science facility, and its massive grounds turned into the White Rose University campus. Jim Carlton, a tech giant who had made obscene money selling accountancy software to international firms, had said it was his passion to inspire the new generation and give them all the opportunities they needed. He was a much-respected philanthropist and had been appointed a government education advisor as a result of his generosity.
It had been a home away from home for me for the past two years, meaning I knew every shortcut that would get me back to my flat in good time to pick up my stuff. But as I slide my keycard into the lock and entered my empty flat. I was suddenly struck by how silent it was…suspiciously silent. My snoop senses hadn’t become completely dormant. I could feel something wasn’t quite right.
“Is anyone here?” I asked tentatively. I had no response. The TV was turned right off, Jaz’s jacket off its hook, no sound of virtual gunfire coming from Seb’s room, and I knew where Alice was…
So why did I feel like I was being watched?
I took a shallow breath and stepped towards our sofa. The floorboards seemed to creak loudly with my every step, and the air felt thick enough to drink. I had left my backpack containing my stuff by the TV, and I knelt to unzip it and check I had everything. The silence however seemed to close in on me, like it was closing in on me, trying to warn me of imminent danger.
Then before I could react, I was grabbed from behind, with strong arms locking around my waist from behind, as a voice spoke into my ear, “Miss me gorgeous?”
Guess who's back everyone!
Sara returns on her 21st birthday in a new setting with new friends and experiences to share. What has changed since we last saw her? Has she kept herself out of trouble? What will the future hold for her? The answers are coming soon.
A lot of exposition and character introductions in this chapter, but don't worry, the action comes soon. Let me know what your first impressions on Sara's new friends are, and also what you make of what has happened to her old chums in the intervening years.
Hope you don't mind me surprising you all like this
Sara returns on her 21st birthday in a new setting with new friends and experiences to share. What has changed since we last saw her? Has she kept herself out of trouble? What will the future hold for her? The answers are coming soon.
A lot of exposition and character introductions in this chapter, but don't worry, the action comes soon. Let me know what your first impressions on Sara's new friends are, and also what you make of what has happened to her old chums in the intervening years.
Hope you don't mind me surprising you all like this
© 2018 - 2024 Golavus
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Megan 😍
Reading this certainly put a smile on my face. Fun to see what's been happening with the gang in the two year abscence.
I love what Abigail is doing, may have to have Becky run across some snoopwear in a mall if that's cool with you.
I do like world building in my snoopverse.
Never thought it'd be so much fun seeing Sara on a sabbatical, quite a blast of life sliced stuff and getting acquainted with Sara's new chums.
She's enjoying normal life, and it feels earned(not that she deserved a rough time) so her reluctance to accept Lizzie's request feels very natural.
I should have figured she'd be this famous, I'll have to slip in references whenever it serves the story.
Great, light, fun start. I can read about Sara Phillips in non DiD just as much as DiD. Great character dude, and I'm loving the progression.
Reading this certainly put a smile on my face. Fun to see what's been happening with the gang in the two year abscence.
I love what Abigail is doing, may have to have Becky run across some snoopwear in a mall if that's cool with you.
I do like world building in my snoopverse.
Never thought it'd be so much fun seeing Sara on a sabbatical, quite a blast of life sliced stuff and getting acquainted with Sara's new chums.
She's enjoying normal life, and it feels earned(not that she deserved a rough time) so her reluctance to accept Lizzie's request feels very natural.
I should have figured she'd be this famous, I'll have to slip in references whenever it serves the story.
Great, light, fun start. I can read about Sara Phillips in non DiD just as much as DiD. Great character dude, and I'm loving the progression.