Five Go Back to Kirrin Island

©2006 Enid Blyton Yahoo Group

Every once in a while, regular members of the Enid Blyton Yahoo Group join forces and write a Round Robin. If you've never heard of a Round Robin, well, in this case it's a brand new story written by a group of fans, with each member writing a chapter and making it up as they go along. Nobody knows where the story will lead; there's no plot to follow, and the direction of the next chapter is decided by the end of the last one. It's a lot of fun, and the result is either a wonderful new story—or a complete mess!

What follows is the Famous Five in a brand new exciting adventure. There are over 20 members uniting to write this story, so this section will grow one chapter at a time over the next few months...

Chapter 5: George goes missing
by Keith Robinson (February 11, 2006)

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At teatime the Five managed to demolish enough sandwiches for an army, plus three entire cakes, a hot apple pie with large dollops of ice cream, and all the remaining chocolate biscuits.

Joan started to clear away the plates and dishes, shaking her head in amazement. "I've never known the like," she said. "Honestly, anyone would think you kids were half-starved, the way you eat! I put three cakes out so you would have a choice of double-chocolate, strawberry sponge, or lemon cheesecake—but you didn't have to eat them all, you know."

"We felt obliged to," said Dick, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. "You can't expect to shove delicious cakes like that under our noses and expect to have any left afterwards, can you?"

"I'll help you with the dishes," said Anne, getting to her feet. "I didn't eat quite as much as the others. They look as though they won't be able to move for at least an hour."

Julian groaned. "I do feel very fat and heavy," he said, frowning. "Maybe I shouldn't have had that last biscuit. It seems to be loitering in my throat, unable to find room in my stomach."

George laughed. "You are an idiot. But I'm pretty full myself. Let's walk around the garden for a bit."

So the three of them left Anne to help Joan and staggered outside, feeling a little sorry for themselves. Timmy, who looked like he'd had a few too many sneaky tit-bits himself, trotted out after them.

The sun was beginning to sink by now, and the blue sky was becoming streaked with orange towards the horizon. A sudden chill made George shiver. "Brr! That's the trouble with living on the coast—the temperature drops so quickly in the evenings, even in the summertime."

"Let's talk about what we know," said Julian. "About this latest adventure, I mean. Now that Anne's out of earshot I think we can all agree that we've landed smack in the middle of something very mysterious indeed."

"There are certainly some strange things going on," Dick agreed. "Let's see: Pottersham has escaped from prison and rumor has it he's lurking about here somewhere, looking to make trouble."

"That is, according to Jo's father," said Julian. "But can his information be trusted? I still find it hard to believe that he's a changed man, looking out for us."

"I believe him," George said, surprisingly. "If Jo believes him, then so do I, because I trust Jo and her instincts."

Julian and Dick exchanged a glance. Then Julian shrugged. "Well, all right then. We'll assume Pottersham is about somewhere. What else? The mysterious lights we saw a couple of nights ago, over towards Arden Hall."

"And the strange figures in the darkness," Dick added.

"They seemed to be high up, didn't they?" said George, frowning. "I can't make that out. Were they on stilts, perhaps? They couldn't have been simply standing on stepladders, because they were moving about."

"It's a complete mystery," Julian agreed. "Strange figures in the darkness, hovering some way above the ground, shining bright lights across the moors... And they seemed to be wearing something thick, didn't they? Or was that my imagination? They seemed to be a queer shape, sort of rounded, like they were padded out with equipment or something."

"And then there's the wallet Timmy found at Arden Hall," said Dick, "with the bus and train timetables, and times of low and high tides, and that queer card with RED 0709 written on the back. A bus time, do you think? Nine minutes past seven in the morning?"

"The RED sounds familiar," said Julian, scratching his head. "George, wasn't that the message you left for us in a caravan, back when we first met Jo? Do you remember? You wrote RED or something on the wall, over and over. And 'Red' turned out to be one of the men Jo's father hung about with."

"I wrote RED TOWER, his nickname," George corrected him. "His name's Tower, and he has flaming red hair. I say—you don't think Red has anything to do with this, do you? He's supposed to be in prison, unless he's escaped and we don't know about it."

Dick was puzzling over the strange message. He could still see the words clearly in his mind. "RED 0709. I can't think what the RED could mean, but 0709 really could be a time of the day, as I said. It has to be a bus time. Maybe it's simply a red bus at just past seven in the morning?"

"Meaningless, then," said Julian, shrugging. "I must take the wallet to the police station in the morning; I'm sure someone's looking for it. Maybe we should take another look through, see if we can find some form of identification in there, maybe in a hidden pocket we didn't spot."

He dug the wallet out of his pocket and opened it. Dick and George crowded around him with interest.

"Here's the business card," said Julian, flipping it over. "The message is scrawled on the back, see? It's a funny looking business card, though—just a logo of some kind, but no name, address, or anything else."

They all stared at the card. It was clean and white, and in the center was a red and yellow logo: a yellow shield with a red snake wrapped around it. There was nothing else.

"It's most peculiar," said George. "It's hardly a business card at all. I mean, what use is it to anyone?"

"Maybe it's a pass card or something," Dick suggested. "A membership card."

"But a membership to what?" said Julian thoughtfully. "Some sort of club, perhaps? A secret organization? Or are we reading too much into this?"

He poked around in the wallet for a while longer. There were a couple of pound notes in there, but Julian left them alone. A small zipped pocket revealed nothing, and even the small pouch on the side was empty. "Whoever owns this isn't missing much," said Julian with a sigh. "A couple of pounds, and a membership card of some kind. This is worthless."

He tucked the wallet back into his pocket and they all stood staring out across Kirrin Bay, thinking hard. Another chilly breeze tugged at their clothes, but they ignored it, lost in thought.

Eventually they came back to the strange mystery of the floating people. Neither one of them could imagine what those dark figures had been up to, in the darkness near Arden Hall. How many had there been? Five? Six?

"I would say that's about right," Dick said. "Although it was very hard to tell in the darkness."

"What do you suppose Penny King was doing at Arden Hall this morning?" asked George. The others looked at her in surprise, and she frowned. "It was Penny King, wasn't it?" she said. "On her black stallion? She almost knocked us flat!"

"It must have been her," said Julian, nodding. "What an idiot I am! It's too much of a coincidence for it not to be her. Who else around here has a beautiful black horse like that?"

"I'd like to know what she was doing there, snooping about," said George again.

Dick shook his head and frowned. "Maybe nothing. Maybe she was just taking the horse for a ride and wound up there, in the grounds of Arden Hall. There may be nothing mysterious about that at all. Besides, didn't Mr Saunders say she was a marine biologist? What would a marine biologist want with an old, empty building?"

Anne appeared just then. She came towards them, rubbing her arms. "It's got quite nippy out," she said. "What are you talking about, so secretly?"

Julian, Dick and George looked at one another. Then Julian squeezed Anne's arm. "We think we have ourselves another mystery or adventure. We were just discussing all the funny little things that have happened over the last couple of days."

Anne groaned and went pale. "Oh, Ju! I did so want to steer clear of adventures these hols! Can't we just ignore all the funny happenings and pretend nothing's going on? I wanted to go to Kirrin Island tomorrow and have a picnic. Oh, George, do say we can go the island and spend the afternoon there!"

"No," said George shortly.

Everyone turned to her in surprise. "But, George—" started Dick.

George scowled. "Sorry, but I don't feel as though I can visit my island with all these horrible day-trippers going back and forth. I shan't enjoy it if I walk around and find litter everywhere, and people lazing about on the beach and pretending they own the place. It'll just make me mad." Her face grew quite red as she said this, and she finished off by stamping her foot.

"Oh, George," said Anne sadly. "Aren't you even curious about the tower? Joan was saying just now that it's almost an exact replica of the original—not made from aluminium at all, as we thought, but some very strong lightweight plastic, like last time. It's just that it's quite shiny and gleams in the sunlight, so looks like aluminium. It even has the glass room at the top. But she says the spiral staircase hasn't been installed this time, for safety reasons; you can imagine how many day-trippers would be clambering up there otherwise. Do you remember how the original tower blew in the wind when we went to the top that time?"

"That's right!" said Dick. "It did seem very flimsy. I'm not surprised the workers didn't install a staircase this time round. Can visitors go inside the tower at all?"

"Oh yes," Anne replied, nodding. "Joan says that you can go in and look up, but that's all. There's a ladder that runs up one wall, but the bottom section has been removed to prevent people from climbing up. But there are all sorts of displays and exhibits around the walls, explaining the purpose of the original tower and what those funny little wires were for, poking through the glass. It's all very interesting, apparently."

"I'd like to see it," Julian agreed.

"Sounds boring to me," George muttered, her face still dark. "I'll be very glad when it's removed and the island is back the way it was—empty and private."

Julian laughed and patted her shoulder affectionately. "Poor old George. It just eats her up that other people are daring to set foot on her precious island. But as long as that tower's there, day-trippers will pay to visit the island and read up on Uncle Quentin's brilliant work."

"Let's go in," said George sullenly. "It's getting cold."

#

George disappeared after that. When Julian, Dick and Anne got out the game of Monopoly and sat down at the table in the dining room, Aunt Fanny popped her head in the door and looked about. "Where's George?" she asked.

"Oh, probably gone to her room to sulk about the tower on her island," said Dick, rolling his eyes. "We were talking about it earlier, and her face went the color of beetroot."

Aunt Fanny sighed. "That girl. She's just like her father, obstinate and difficult. Well, I just came to say that your Uncle Quentin has a visitor in the morning, so would you mind making yourselves scarce around ten o'clock so they can talk in peace. You know how these scientists are, when they get their heads together."

"Oh, the visitor is another scientist?" asked Anne.

"Yes," said Aunt Fanny, nodding. "You've met him before—Mr Lenoir, from Castaway Hill?"

There was absolute silence around the table. Julian, Dick and Anne simply looked at one another in dismay. Mr Lenoir was not their idea of friendly company.

"What's he coming here for?" asked Dick at last, sounding disgusted.

Aunt Fanny came further into the room, looking bemused. "Well, naturally he heard about your uncle's award and wanted to drop by and congratulate him, and to see the island. Thanks to your uncle's clever idea to drain the swamps around Castaway Hill, the town there is thriving—and Mr Lenoir is keen to offer any assistance to Quentin if he can."

"Assistance with what?" asked Anne, confused.

But Julian knew the answer to that. "It's all this talk about building a causeway to Kirrin Island," he said. "I suppose Mr Lenoir might know more about that kind of thing than most other scientists, having lived at Smuggler's Top for so long, where the only way across was over the causeway."

"Right," said Aunt Fanny. "I get the impression you don't like Mr Lenoir very much? Look, I know there was some trouble when you went to stay with him, but—"

"It's all right, Aunt," said Julian, in his most grown-up voice. "We'll make ourselves scarce around ten in the morning, and leave the scientists to talk in peace."

Aunt Fanny smiled and left them to their game of Monopoly. The three talked awhile about their adventure at Smuggler's Top, and how horrible Mr Lenoir had been, with his cold, polite laugh and quick temper.

"Do you remember how the tip of his nose kept turning white?" Anne said with a giggle. "Every time he got angry. It was very funny."

"It's a shame good old Sooty isn't coming too," said Dick. "He's been a nightmare at school this last term, so I hear. A nightmare for the teachers, I mean. But I haven't seen much of him lately for some reason."

The evening slipped away and, when the clock struck nine, Anne yawned automatically. "I think I might turn in," she said. "It's a little early yet, but I've had a tiring day, what with walking around the grounds of Arden Hall, and all over the moors."

Her brothers laughed. All over the moors indeed!

"You go off to bed then," said Julian. "Dick and I will divide your Monopoly money and properties between us, and finish the game. I vote for Leicester Square and Piccadilly—I already have the other yellow one, so that'll give me a set."

"That's not fair!" Dick complained.

Anne smiled and left them to it. She yawned again as she climbed the stairs to the girls' bedroom. She quietly opened the door and peered in. The room was in darkness. George must be sound asleep, wallowing in her self-pity, most likely with Timmy curled up on her feet. But it was too dark to see if her cousin was lying awake or snoozing soundly, so Anne tiptoed into the room and felt her way past George's bed to her own. Her eyes would adjust to the darkness in a moment, so she should be able to undress without switching on the light and disturbing her cousin.

The window was slightly ajar, and the heavy curtain moved a little as a breeze crept through the gap. Anne shivered. What was George thinking of, leaving the window open on a chilly night like this? It might be summertime, but that didn't automatically mean it was warm out! She closed it gently, and locked it, then silently undressed and slipped between the cool sheets.

She lay there in the darkness, listening for the sounds of George sleeping. She heard nothing. Not even Timmy stirred.

"George?" she whispered.

Still no sound.

Anne squinted, trying with all her might to see through the darkness to George's bed. Was she there? She seemed awfully quiet.

She reached out to turn on the bedside lamp, just for a moment, just to make sure her cousin really was there, sleeping soundly with Timmy at her feet. But then she thought about how annoyed George would be if a blinding light woke her up. With her fingers paused by the light switch, Anne hesitated a moment longer.

Maybe she could pull back the curtain a little, and let the moonlight illuminate George's bed. But no—the moon was around the front of the house, over the bay, whereas George and Anne shared a room at the back, overlooking the dark moors.

Anne sighed and rolled over.

"Goodnight, George," she whispered.

#

It was past ten before Julian and Dick grew too tired to play Monopoly anymore. They put the game away, said goodnight to Aunt Fanny, who was reading in the living room, and headed quietly upstairs to bed.

Sleep came quickly to both boys, and soon there was no sound but Dick's gentle snores and Julian's occasional mumbling. Outside, an owl hooted once, twice. A breeze blew against the window frame, and it rattled gently.

Around midnight, Julian stirred as a door closed a little too loudly downstairs. Uncle Quentin was probably heading off to bed, he thought dreamily; his uncle often forgot that everyone else was already asleep by the time he finished his work for the night. In the daytime he always complained about people slamming doors when he was trying to work, but he seemed to forget that he was just as noisy at night, bustling about as he got ready for bed. Aunt Fanny's low, murmuring voice came, and the bustling noises stopped abruptly.

"Thanks, Aunt," Julian thought, and drifted back into his dream.

But then a sharp booming sound woke him again. He bolted upright, disoriented, as the windows rattled noisily. What time was it? Way past midnight by now. What could be happening?

BOOM!

There it was again—a sharp crack-boom in the far distance, followed by the violent rattling of his window moments later. This time he swore he felt the bed shake. What on earth was going on?

He leapt out of bed, calling for Dick to wake up. But Dick was already awake and bounding across the room to join him at the window. In the darkness they bumped into each other and jostled for the curtains. They pulled them back and stared out.

It was difficult to see anything. The coastline was a black, featureless shadow for miles around. But out to sea the moon hung bright over the bay, low enough that Kirrin Island stood out as a silhouette against the clear, cloudless sky beyond. Even the outline of the castle ruins was plain to see.

As they searched for the source of the booms, Julian and Dick became aware of tiny pinpricks of light sparkling around the center of the island, as if someone had a number of campfires going at once. They clutched each other and stared, bewildered.

Then the tiny firelights flickered and began to fade from sight—and the boys realized something tremendously shocking.

Julian glanced sideways at Dick. His brother's face was bathed in moonlight, and he looked just as astonished as Julian himself. "Do you see what I see?" said Julian, almost in a whisper. "Am I dreaming?"

"I see it," agreed Dick, his eyes wide with wonder. "Or rather, I don't see it. The tower has gone!"

"It collapsed," said Julian. "Those booms—the window rattling—those were explosions! The tower has fallen!"

The bedroom door burst open and the light snapped on. Julian and Dick turned to find Anne standing there, looking frightened. But before she could say anything, Julian hurriedly explained what had happened. "The tower's been demolished! Where's George? She'll love this! I don't know if it was an accident or not, but—it has to be sabotage, surely! How could an empty tower just explode otherwise?"

Anne's hand flew to her mouth.

"Someone blew it up!" said Dick, awed. "They must have planted explosives at the foot of the tower and set them off, and the tower just collapsed to the ground. Those booms sounded a bit like firecrackers, only much louder and deeper—"

"And there were a couple of them," Julian agreed. "Like two carefully-timed explosions, set to knock out a tall structure."

They all turned to the window once more. It was difficult to see anything now that the light was on, and Julian went to switch it off. Together they peered out across the bay.

"Where is George?" asked Dick suddenly. "She'd love to see this! The horrible tower—blown to bits!"

Anne swallowed. "That's what I came to tell you. The booms woke me up, and I switched the light on, and found George's bed empty. She hasn't slept in it at all tonight. She must have come up to her room earlier this evening to sulk, but snuck out the window somehow, perhaps down the ivy like that monkey Jo used to—and, Julian, I locked her out!"

"Wait—George isn't in her room?" Julian demanded, grasping his shaking sister firmly by the shoulders. "But then... where can she be?"

Together they looked out the window once more. The bay seemed unusually silent, and the strange firelights on the island had completely faded from sight. Perhaps they had been smoldering lumps of material, blown off in all directions, starting little bush fires here and there—but all seemed quiet and peaceful now.

In the distance a siren sounded, the sound of a police car.

"George has been acting strange lately," Anne said, tears coming to her eyes. Julian couldn't see her in the dark, but he knew she was pale and shaking. "Do you remember she slipped away a couple of nights ago, between teatime and supper? Suppose she went off somewhere then, too, sneaking out the window and climbing down the ivy? Oh, I can't bear the thought of her climbing down the wall like that. It's the sort of thing Jo would do, but not George!"

"Well, there's no way Timmy climbed down the ivy," said Julian sensibly. "Maybe she just snuck out the back door as she usually does. Maybe she just had the window open because she was warm."

"Or she was waiting for someone to meet her," said Dick slowly. "Maybe she was watching out the window for whoever it was. You don't think that George could have... planned this somehow? Blown up the tower?"

Julian scoffed and thumped him on the arm. "George? Don't be an ass, Dick. George has a temper, and she can be silly sometimes, but I hardly think she's likely to dabble with explosives!"

"No, not George personally," said Dick slowly, "but she may have slipped away a couple of nights ago to arrange something—with someone who does dabble with explosives."

"Like who?" Julian demanded, still sounding scornful.

Dick shrugged. "I bet Jo knows someone who knows someone."

For a long while, Julian and Anne stared at Dick through the darkness, the moonlight picking him out where he stood by the window. Anne started to cry, and Julian put his arm around her. "Let's go and tell Uncle Quentin and Aunt Fanny the news," he said. "I hear them moving about downstairs—they must have heard the explosions too. We'll have to tell them George is missing. For all we know George is out there, on the island."

Anne gave a gasp. "Oh, Julian! What if George didn't cause the explosion, but went over there anyway, for some other reason? What if she was hurt?"

"Even if she is responsible somehow," said Dick, "she still might be hurt. You don't mess around with explosives, and if whoever did it wasn't properly trained—"

"It wasn't her," Julian said firmly. "I refuse to believe she would have anything to do with this kind of thing. Not old George. No, maybe it was Pottersham getting his revenge, or—"

A call came from downstairs, and Julian went to the bedroom door. "Boys? Girls? Come down here. You won't believe what's happened!" It was Aunt Fanny, heading up the stairs. "It seems the tower has been demolished. Of all the things to happen! What is the world coming to?"

She stopped in the doorway and snapped on the light. She stared around at the three children, and her expression turned from disbelief to frightened bewilderment. "Where... where's George?"

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