Free The Top Secret Diary of Davina Dupree by SK Sheridan

a catnip factory.
    ‘Chris!’ She yelled. ‘The little worms have escaped.’
    ‘Run!’ Arabella yelled. I didn’t need telling twice. We joined hands and ran towards Pike in unspoken agreement, bashing her out of the way as we pelted through the doorway. She tried to grab us but fell sideways as we ran on. A deep roar and pounding footsteps that sounded worryingly close came from the Orange Room. Croaka was obviously not a happy bunny.
    We sprinted down corridor after corridor, past priceless paintings from around the world. A terrible stitch started in my side but somehow I kept going. We didn’t know where we were going, we just ran and ran. But Pike was gaining on us and from the growly insults being yelled, Croaka wasn’t far behind. What with all the coughing and spluttering, neither of them sounded very fit.
    Suddenly, we hit a dead end. The corridor we were on just ended with a wall. We flattened ourselves against it, as Pike and Croaka wheezed and spluttered to a standstill.
    ‘I’ve had just about enough of you two.’ Croaka’s eyebrows were knitted together with anger. ‘Jacinta, grab them. Their luck just ran out.’
    Pike stepped forward and took Arabella and I roughly by the arm. But just as she started to drag us towards Croaka, a familiar voice echoed down the corridor.
    ‘Unhand them this minute, Miss Pike.’ I looked up and saw the most welcome but unexpected sight of Mrs Fairchild. This time, the tiny old lady wasn’t dancing, twirling or doing yoga. She looked deadly serious – rather cross in fact - as she walked towards us, eyes flashing. Pike loosened her grip on us, but Croaka laughed.
    ‘How exactly are you going to stop us doing exactly what we want, old lady?’ She jeered. ‘Hit us over the head with your handkerchief?’ Croaka tuned to grin at Pike. That was her big mistake because while her head was tuned, Mrs Fairchild, who’d arrived next to the art thieves, hitched her skirt up, crouched down, twisted, then whopped Croaka in the stomach with her foot – VERY HARD. And she was wearing high heels – ouch!
    ‘No, but if you paid attention to anyone but yourself you would have noticed me taking kick boxing lessons every Tuesday. Do keep up.’ She said calmly. In a split second she’d repeated the process on Pike. Both art thieves were now rolling around on the floor, clutching their stomachs. Arabella turned towards Mrs Fairchild, who was pulling a roll of thick string from her handbag.
    ‘But how come you’re here? I thought you didn’t believe us?’ she asked.
    ‘I didn’t at first,’ Using the heel of her shoe, Mrs Fairchild pushed Croaka flat on to her stomach. ‘Do grab her arms and pull them behind her back, there’s a good child,’ she said to me. ‘I’m going to tie her up. You, don’t even think about moving.’ She said sharply to Pike, who was looking scared. I dropped to the floor and did what she asked straight away. Mrs Fairchild bent down and in a trice had bound Croaka’s hands together behind her back in a knot a sailor would be proud of. ‘Yes, to start with, I thought you were playing a game with me, exercising your active imaginations.’ She went on. ‘But then little things began to catch my eye.’ She pushed Pike to the floor and Arabella grabbed her arms without being asked. Mrs Fairchild produced another expert knot. ‘Now do sit on their backs, dear children. It’ll stop them escaping until the police get here. I phoned them when my worst fears were confirmed, just before I came and found you two. I saw the Van Gogh painting hanging off the wall with tools under it. Shocking. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you earlier.’ She looked at us sadly.
    ‘You just saved our lives, Mrs Fairchild,’ I said. ‘So please don’t apologise.’
    Screechy police sirens suddenly filled the air outside. Croaka, who I was squashing as much as I could, began to wriggle and squirm when she heard them, but a quick, (rather hard) tap from Mrs