Chapter 1
Call in the dark
When most good people were asleep, a black telephone rang on a Saturday night at 11 o’clock in 1957…
“Tring-tring,” it sounded loudly into the dark from its prime position on a wooden hallway table in the southern tip of Africa.
The telephone table’s four carved lion claw legs dug firmly into the floor as Aunty Avril raced in, wearing her sensible green and black tartan pyjamas.
The young woman answered in the fanciest voice she knew.
“Good evening,” she said breathlessly, “Watts family residence.”
“Code?” snapped back an officious London voice, quietly clearing his throat to add, “… please.”
She politely replied, “Marmalade,” successfully disguising her excitement.
“Expect a package tomorrow,” the voice instructed and abruptly finished the call.
Secret bank assignment
Flicking the telephone cord sideways before setting handset on its cradle, Aunty Avril looked up to see her parents inquisitively peering at her from their bedroom door.
“It’s just the bank,” she said dismissively, brushing aside her brown curls. “Special assignment. I will know more tomorrow.”
“Strange hour for a special bank assignment,” sniffed her father disapprovingly, before retreating back to bed
“Indeed,” agreed her mother, following his footsteps.
Whiskey, the family’s much-loved black Scottish Terrier, threw Aunty Avril a sleep-disturbed look of displeasure.
Trustworthy
puzzle-solving
bank teller
People thought Aunty Avril was a trustworthy bank teller, who was rather good at unravelling twisted mathematics, solving puzzles of any kind, and liked to look longingly at the moon.
That is, people other than tubby Mister Philby, who trusted no one except his three cunning cats.
Thumping a heavy bag of money on Aunty Avril’s teller’s window every week, Mister Philby would demand, “Count the coins three times, notes six times, and check the total nine times.”
Slipping Aunty Avril’s hand-written bank deposit slip into his tweed jacket pocket, Mister Philby walked briskly to his stone house atop the town’s hill, where the Russian Blue cats waited.
Everyone was too polite to wonder where Mister Philby obtained such sizable amounts of money, which matched his equally sizable nose.
Why did a city of tea parties and silent bronze lions, telephone, Aunty Avril’s home in the dark, where real lions roared, and the sun and water teamed up to paint magnificent rainbows?
The answer was a tightly kept secret.
Aunty Avril’s puzzle-solving brain was a confidential global asset.
Working under the disguise of bank teller, she was helped important Londoners unravel perplexing clues to solve big puzzles.
Meeting Vinny for first time
Sunlight the next morning zoomed into Aunty Avril’s bedroom, chasing away nervous spiders, bouncing light bubbles off the walls, and nudging her out into the hallway.
There, waiting patiently on the little table, was a brown envelope.
The very official instructions were regally approved with a cat’s paw print, and signed by someone named Marmalade.
The note told her exactly where to go.
When she reached the street, a shiny Vespa was waiting, its smooth lines glowing and its black leather seat looking ready for adventure.
Aunty Avril blinked — if scooters could wink, this one surely did.
She placed her hands on the handlebars
“Hello, Aunty Avril,” said Vincent the Vespa cheerfully.
Aunty Avril smiled knowingly.
Together, they were about to begin a global puzzle race of a lifetime.
And needed to arrive in London by September 1957, in time for proper afternoon tea with Marmalade.
Meanwhile, in London,
Marmalade listened to the BBC on his transistor radio, gently swaying his ginger left forepaw to a 1956 recording of the London Philharmonic Orchestra performing Gustav Holst’s “The Planets” in Russia.