I quickly closed my schoolbook and walked towards him. He was shaking his head and protesting in a jocular manner, as if the whole thing was just some unfortunate misunderstanding, but the policemen were being pretty insistent. The shorter of the two reached out and grabbed the lapel of his jacket and at that point Papa held up his hands, trying to placate them. But then the man very rudely stuck his hand right into the inner pocket and pulled out the notebook.
I reached them at that point, ignoring the fact that Papa started shaking his head even more when he caught sight of me and was trying to signal with his eyes that I should stay back. However, in the split second that I’d seen what was happening, I’d realised that if ever camouflage was needed, now was most certainly the time.
I didn’t have time to come up with any kind of a plan for saving Papa, but I knew I had to save him from being arrested. Poor Maman’s nerves were already frayed enough after last time and she’d only just begun to look a little more relaxed on our lovely holiday, so I desperately racked my brains for the right thing to do. That was when those words of Lord Peter Wimsey’s popped into my head about nobody ever believing it when you tell the truth.
I tugged at the sleeve of the short policeman who was holding the notebook and smiled my sweetest and most innocent smile. ‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ I said, opening my schoolbook and holding it out to him. ‘My papa is trying to help me with a project that my teacher has made me do, even though we’re supposed to be on holiday. You see, I have all these questions to answer about the geography of the harbour. Papa has promised me an ice cream when I’ve finished but it’s taking ages finding it all out. I don’t suppose you might be able to help us?’
There was a completely stunned silence from all three of them for a moment. The man holding Papa’s notebook looked at me and then leafed through a few pages. His colleague reached over and took the schoolbook that I was holding out to them and then he started to laugh.
‘It’s just a kid’s homework,’ he said. His partner was still suspicious, though, and glared at me in a most unfriendly manner.
I made my smile even sweeter. ‘Look, m’sieur, I have to count all these cannons and also the boats in the harbour. I don’t suppose you might have those figures to hand? It really would be the hugest help if you did and then we can go and get an ice cream much sooner.’
‘Are you joking?’ the short policeman asked. ‘You seriously want me to give you that sort of information?’ He was sort of spluttering the words because he was so angry and outraged.
I frowned, pretending to look puzzled, and then opened my eyes as wide as they’d go, as if realisation was dawning. ‘Oh, monsieur, I understand what you must be thinking! Of course, you must imagine I’m really a spy, on the lookout for strategic facts and figures that I’m collecting in my schoolbook.’ I was mentally crossing my fingers and counting on Lord Peter Wimsey’s wise advice to work.
The short policeman’s face was an absolute picture. And Papa’s turned an interesting shade of pale green.
I took my book back from the taller man and pointed to the open page. ‘Strategic facts like this . . .’ I began to read what I’d written: ‘The Portuguese arrived in Mogador in the 1500s and built the fortress at the entrance to the harbour. The islands offshore, which provide shelter from the ocean currents, are known as the Purple Islands because a dye can be made using the mucus from the glands of carnivorous sea snails, called murexes, that inhabit the islands, which the Romans used to use to colour the robes of their emperors.’
The tall policeman was laughing again now, even though the shorter one was looking extremely cross. ‘Come on, Régis, let’s give the poor kid a break. Holidays should be about having fun, not having to do schoolwork. You and I both remember what it’s like.’
The shorter one shook his head, but I could see he was wavering a tiny bit. ‘We should confiscate both of these’ – he waved the notebook in the air and grabbed my schoolbook from my hand – ‘and destroy them.’
I managed to look very disappointed then and my chin was trembling as I said, ‘Oh no, not my project. After all my hard work. I’ll be in terrible trouble with my tutor.’ A big tear fell from my eye and I wiped it away with the back of my hand.
That seemed to do the trick because he gave his colleague a very exasperated look and then handed me back my book.
‘All right, all right, you can keep your homework, I suppose. But I’m going to destroy this.’ He flapped Papa’s notebook in the air. ‘If it fell into the wrong hands this information could be misused. And also, while we can see you’re simply helping your daughter with her homework and you’re clearly not spies’ – he shot me another annoyed glance – ‘not everyone is as reasonable as we are. There are some who will shoot first and ask questions later.’