The Plot Thickens

  About the Book

  Friday Barnes is being attacked on all fronts!

  When Friday Barnes gets involved in her frenemy Ian Wainscott’s family dispute, it appears her knack for uncovering the truth may ruin their friendship once and for all.

  Highcrest Academy is no longer a fun place to be. Ian has declared war on Friday and she is thinking of leaving … for good. Meanwhile, there’s two new teachers to contend with – a celebrity artist whose intentions are somewhat unclear, and an over-enthusiastic PE teacher on a fitness crusade. Between them and Ian, it’s going to be one dangerous term. Can Friday repair her friendship with Ian, restore her perfect school–life balance and work out who is committing the blatant acts of vandalism around Highcrest? No one said high school would be easy!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Previously in Friday Barnes

  Chapter 1: Surely Not!

  Chapter 2: The Real Reason

  Chapter 3: A New Teacher

  Chapter 4: Too Far

  Chapter 5: Stuck

  Chapter 6: Binky’s Room

  Chapter 7: The Mystery of the Missing Time

  Chapter 8: Art Class

  Chapter 9: The First Lesson

  Chapter 10: Golf

  Chapter 11: Binoculars

  Chapter 12: The Red Sports Car

  Chapter 13: Fitness Tracking

  Chapter 14: Mural

  Chapter 15: Abduction

  Chapter 16: Breaking and Exiting

  Chapter 17: Heartbeat

  Chapter 18: The Great Unveiling

  Chapter 19: The Art Show

  Chapter 20: The Truth Revealed

  Chapter 21: In Conclusion

  Friday Barnes: Collect Them All!

  Nanny Piggins – Collect Them All!

  About the Author

  Also by R. A. Spratt

  Copyright Notice

  To Lachlan, with special thanks to all of Friday’s fans. Every time you buy a new book you support the arts, specifically the artist who wrote it (in this case, me), for which I’m extremely grateful.

  Previously in Friday Barnes

  As the sun rose over Highcrest Academy the entire student body was enjoying their second, and in some cases third or fourth, helpings of ice-cream. The Headmaster had even decreed that everyone could go back to bed and sleep in for the first two periods of the day, which had made Melanie leap up and kiss him on the cheek. It seemed like the perfect start to a new day on the heels of a very long one.

  Ian slid into the seat next to Friday.

  ‘I suppose thanks are in order,’ said Ian, with a rueful smile. ‘You cleared my name.’

  Friday smiled. ‘You don’t have to thank me. You were my client. I did it for payment.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Ian.

  ‘The deal was that I cleared your name and then you owed me a favour,’ said Friday. ‘That’s thanks enough. I’m going to enjoy having that favour up my sleeve.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Ian, starting to get irritated. ‘I saved your life. I found you on the cliff face.’

  ‘You fell on me,’ said Friday.

  ‘Then shared my jumper with you,’ said Ian.

  ‘You did?’ said Melanie. ‘How romantic. You didn’t tell me that, Friday.’

  ‘You didn’t bring a mobile phone or any way of attracting the attention of rescuers,’ said Friday.

  ‘She’s very particular about acts of heroism, isn’t she?’ Ian said to Melanie.

  ‘She’s just feeling vulnerable because you didn’t just rescue her physically but emotionally as well,’ said Melanie.

  ‘I am not!’ said Friday.

  ‘See how red her face is getting?’ said Melanie. ‘She’s embarrassed because I’m speaking the truth.’

  Friday stared at her bowl of ice-cream and tried to will her face back to normal colour.

  ‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Ian. ‘What’s going on?!’

  Friday looked up to see what had shocked Ian. It was a man she recognised.

  ‘Mr Wainscott?!’ exclaimed Friday. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The last time Friday had seen Ian’s father, he’d been yelling abuse at her as he was dragged away by police because she had just proven that he was guilty of bank robbery and insurance fraud. But now Mr Wainscott was completely composed as he calmly made his way across the dining hall, accompanied by a pale, thin man in a grey suit. As he drew close Friday noted that Mr Wainscott was tall, confident and unnervingly handsome, just like Ian.

  ‘I’ve come to claim custody of my son,’ said Mr Wainscott.

  Chapter 1

  Surely Not!

  ‘What’s going on here?’ demanded the Headmaster as he hurriedly made his way over to the group.

  ‘It’s perfectly simple,’ said Mr Wainscott, with a condescending smile to the Headmaster. ‘I want my boy back.’

  ‘But you’re meant to be in jail,’ said Friday. ‘You were sentenced to six years with a minimum term of three, because you assaulted a police officer while being arrested.’

  ‘I’d hardly call a wedgie an assault,’ said Mr Wainscott with a chuckle.

  ‘But you’ve got two years left on your sentence,’ said Friday.

  ‘I have been completely exonerated,’ said Mr Wainscott, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

  ‘How can that be?’ said Friday. ‘You admitted to stealing the diamond.’

  ‘I was under duress,’ said Mr Wainscott, with a shake of his head.

  ‘And the diamond was found in the light fitting of your office,’ said Friday.

  ‘Planted there by my enemies,’ said Mr Wainscott.

  ‘Who would ever believe that?’ asked Friday.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who believes it,’ said Mr Wainscott, a glint in his eye. ‘My conviction was overturned on appeal, due to a legal issue.’

  ‘What legal issue?’ asked Ian, speaking for the first time.

  ‘The judge was bonkers,’ said Mr Wainscott. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. This clearly delighted him.

  ‘It was discovered that Justice Heyton has been suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s disease for some time,’ said Mr Wainscott’s companion.

  Now that she looked at him, Friday realised that it wasn’t just the suit, the man was so totally dull that his face seemed grey as well.

  ‘He had been deciding cases based on where his budgerigar did droppings in its cage,’ Mr Wainscott’s companion continued.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘James Archer,’ said the dull man. ‘I’m Mr Wainscott’s lawyer. Here is the court order instructing you to release Ian Wainscott into the custody of his father.’ He handed the Headmaster several folded sheets of paper.

  The Headmaster flicked through them, quickly scanning each page.

  ‘You can’t allow this!’ said Friday. ‘What about Ian’s mother?’

  ‘According to this,’ said the Headmaster, ‘Mr Wainscott claims that she cannot provide a fit and proper home.’

  ‘There are too many vegetables, but it’s not that bad,’ said Ian.

  ‘It’s not the vegetables that are the problem,’ said Mr Wainscott sternly.

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Ian, looking confused.

  ‘You father is alleging that your mother is living with an unsavoury influence,’ said the Headmaster as he read further into the document.

  ‘What?’ said Ian.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Melanie. Being more emotionally intuitive, she was the first to put two and two together.

  ‘Uncle Bernie!’ said Friday in realisation.

  The Headmaster nodded.

  I
an was starting to look very angry. ‘So he moved right in as soon as I came back to boarding school. How convenient!’

  ‘This is why she is a poor influence,’ said Mr Wainscott with feigned regret. ‘Whereas I will provide you with a home that is a secure, stable environment.’

  ‘But you’re a convicted felon,’ protested Friday.

  ‘Not anymore,’ said Mr Wainscott smugly. ‘Now I am a respectable citizen with a full pardon. Ian is my son, and his place is with his father.’

  ‘But you’re the one who sent me to boarding school in the first place,’ said Ian, looking confused and hurt.

  ‘And I’m so ashamed of that,’ said Mr Wainscott, shaking his head sadly. ‘I used to be too career-orientated. But prison made me see the light. It made me appreciate what was truly important – my child. We’ve lost so much time together, and I want to make up for it. I want you to come home with me right now.’

  Ian turned to the Headmaster. ‘Do I have to?’

  The Headmaster frowned. ‘I’m afraid so. The paperwork is all in order, and he is your father.’

  ‘Come with me,’ said Mr Wainscott. ‘I’m sure the school will be happy to pack up your things and send them on to you.’

  ‘Actually, that’s not a service we usually provide,’ said the Headmaster.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll make an exception,’ said Mr Wainscott, with a steely glare. ‘It would look terrible in the newspapers if I told them you were withholding my son’s property.’

  The Headmaster sighed and muttered to himself, ‘Just once I’d like to make it through a day without one of the parents threatening me.’

  ‘Come on, son,’ said Mr Wainscott as he smiled at Ian.

  Friday noted that Mr Wainscott used the exact same smile Ian used when he was trying to be charming. The supernova smile that made his face radiate handsomeness.

  Mr Wainscott’s charisma seemed to lock Ian in a tractor beam and pull him forward. Ian took a step towards his dad. Mr Wainscott took Ian’s arm above the elbow and started walking quickly with him towards the door.

  ‘Let me see those papers,’ said Friday, taking the court order from the Headmaster’s hands. She started speed-reading through the pages.

  ‘There’s no use,’ said the Headmaster. ‘You can’t ignore a court order. You don’t want to end up committing contempt of court. Well, you might, but I don’t.’

  Friday flicked through to the last page, then looked up. ‘We’ve got to stop them!’

  ‘Why?’ asked the Headmaster.

  But Friday was already running for the door.

  Chapter 2

  The Real Reason

  As Friday burst out through the ornamental front door of the school, Mr Wainscott was sliding into the driver’s seat of his car. Ian and the lawyer were already inside and fastening their safety belts. Friday started running down the front steps. Mr Wainscott started the engine. Friday realised she wasn’t going to make it running (not her strength), so she leapt forward, flinging herself onto the bonnet of the car.

  ‘Friday! What do you think you are doing?’ yelled the Headmaster, who had just burst out of the front doorway himself, alongside Melanie.

  ‘Get her off my car!’ yelled Mr Wainscott through the windscreen, so he sounded rather muffled.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Friday, gripping hold of the windscreen wipers tightly. ‘Call the police, Headmaster. This court order is a forgery.’

  ‘It is not!’ said Mr Wainscott, getting out of the car. ‘Give it to me.’ He tried to snatch the court order from Friday, but she pulled it out of the way and stood up on the bonnet so it was out of Mr Wainscott’s reach. Ian and Mr Archer got out of the car too.

  ‘How do you know it’s a forgery?’ asked the Headmaster. ‘I’ve read a few court orders in my time –’

  ‘When the bailiffs come because of your gambling debts?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ said the Headmaster. ‘The point is, that document looked authentic to me.’

  ‘Yes, but the same can’t be said for the paper it’s printed on,’ said Friday.

  ‘Can’t you control this girl?’ demanded Mr Wainscott.

  ‘Not in the least,’ admitted the Headmaster. ‘But generally speaking, while she is extremely irritating, she is a force for good.’

  ‘I will sue you for the damage done to my car,’ said Mr Wainscott, ‘and the slander you’re allowing her to commit against me.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re really going to do that,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Friday, get down from Mr Wainscott’s car and explain what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, an explanation would be nice,’ said Ian, getting out of the car. ‘Is it so hard for you to believe that my father wants me back, just because your father doesn’t want to spend time with you?’

  ‘Oooh, that’s a really low blow,’ said Melanie. ‘Don’t judge him, Friday. He’s only lashing out because he feels vulnerable.’

  ‘Look at the court order. The font is wrong!’ said Friday. ‘It’s printed in Arial. But all government agencies use Calibri as a cost-saving exercise. It uses twenty-three per cent less ink, which equates to a saving of hundreds of thousands of dollars per calendar year.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Mr Wainscott. ‘She’s clutching at straws.’

  ‘I can prove I’m right,’ said Friday. ‘Mr Archer, may I borrow your lighter?’

  ‘What?’ said the lawyer.

  ‘I can tell from the smoky odour of your suit and yellow-stained fingertips that you are a cigarette smoker,’ said Friday. ‘May I borrow your lighter?’

  Mr Archer held it out to her.

  ‘Did you meet Mr Wainscott in jail?’ Friday asked.

  Mr Archer flinched. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘You are unusually pale and your head is sweaty,’ said Friday, ‘which suggests you’re suffering from vitamin D deficiency from too much time indoors. Add to that the fact that you clearly smoke like a chimney. Not a common habit amongst lawyers, but very common amongst prisoners recently released from a cigarette-free prison.’

  ‘Friday, what are you going to do?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘Perform a simple test on the paper,’ said Friday. She held up the court order, flared up the lighter and set the bottom corner of the document alight.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?!’ yelled the Headmaster.

  ‘I’m proving I’m right,’ said Friday.

  ‘Ian, get in the car, we’re going!’ snapped Mr Wainscott.

  ‘No, Dad, I want to hear what she’s got to say,’ said Ian.

  The court order was almost entirely reduced to ashes now. Friday hastily dropped the last burning corner when her fingers got too hot. The remnants of the page were just shrivelled pale-grey ashes on the gravel of the driveway.

  ‘She’s mad,’ said Mr Wainscott.

  ‘I’m right,’ said Friday. ‘Look.’ She crouched down next to the ashes. ‘The ashes are almost white.’

  ‘Friday, none of us understand the significance,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Explain yourself.’

  ‘This,’ said Friday, dramatically whipping another document out of her pocket, ‘is a real court order from the Swiss Government forbidding me from ever returning to Switzerland, unless I have a valid passport.’

  Friday flicked on the lighter again and set fire to the document. It quickly burned down to a pile of black ash.

  ‘Good gracious,’ said the Headmaster. ‘She’s right. They both looked the same, but their ashes are completely different.’

  ‘It’s because of the different carbon content and pH levels,’ said Friday. ‘Which brings me to the final reason I believe Mr Archer is a former criminal,’ said Friday. ‘He bears a striking resemblance to D. B. Hatton, who was on the most-wanted list for many years for forging passports.’

  Ian turned to confront his father. ‘You forged a court order to make me go with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said
Mr Wainscott, ‘I’ve missed you, son. I knew I would never get custody through the proper processes. I was desperate.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ said Melanie.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  ‘Sorry, that sounded really rude,’ continued Melanie. ‘But I know some people find it hard to tell when a handsome person is lying, especially if they are making eye contact, so I thought I’d point it out so that there’s no confusion.’

  ‘Prison changed me, son,’ said Mr Wainscott. ‘I just want to spend some time with you. Come on, we can go camping, or fishing, or to Disneyland – whatever you want to do.’

  Melanie fake-coughed while saying, ‘Big fib.’

  ‘I want to believe you,’ said Ian.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean you have to go with him,’ said Friday. ‘You’re happy here.’

  ‘Am I?’ said Ian.

  ‘Well, as happy as a sullen teen can be,’ said Friday. ‘Tell me, how many times did he write to you from prison?’

  ‘Never,’ said Ian.

  ‘Did he send you a birthday card?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I’m sorry if the prison shop didn’t have a good Hallmark section,’ said Mr Wainscott.

  ‘Actually, I know for a fact that prison shops always supply a fully stocked greeting card section because they realise that maintaining family relationships is key to a prisoner’s rehabilitation,’ said Friday.

  ‘He’s my dad, my only dad,’ said Ian.

  ‘But ask yourself – why does he want you to go with him?’ said Friday.

  ‘You find it impossible to believe that he might want to spend some time with his son?’ asked Ian.