‘Er, I’m Ben Pole,’ said Ben peering past the professor. All four of the academy girls were sitting at a table taking their pink notebooks from their yellow satchels and arranging them neatly beside their glittery felt-tip pens. ‘I was, um, hoping to join your history club.’
‘Oh. Ah, yes.’ Professor Pickering sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Well, it’s only a small club and as you can see—’
‘It’s just that my mum works at the museum,’ said Ben. ‘As a security guard.’
‘Does she really?’ interrupted the professor. ‘How marvellous! We were just now planning a field trip to the museum, weren’t we, girls?’
‘Yes, Professor Pickering,’ said the girls eagerly.
Professor Pickering put a friendly arm around Ben’s shoulder and drew him into the classroom.
‘You know, perhaps your mum might help us arrange our little field trip?’
‘Ooh,’ squeaked a girl with ginger braids that bounced as she bobbed up and down with excitement,
‘Now then, girls, calm down,’ said Pickering, turning to Ben. ‘Let the boy speak.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Ben smiled. ‘I’ll ask Mum. She’ll be happy to help.’
‘Well, that’s settled then,’ said Pickering, patting Ben on the shoulder. ‘I’m sure we can make room in our little club for one more. Come and meet the girls.’
The girls clapped their hands and made space for Ben at the table.
‘Your timing is perfect,’ said Pickering. ‘We were just about to open a packet of chocolate biscuits and chat about the invention of explosives by the Chinese back in the tenth century.’
The History Club was fun. Not as fun as mucking about in the woods, but it wasn’t a bad way to spend the afternoons.
Yes, it might have had something to do with Professor Pickering’s habit of handing out chocolate biscuits willy-nilly, but he was full of exciting stories too, about pirates, thieves and scallywags throughout history.
Coo would enjoy these, thought Ben, chomping into a Double-Chocolate Crumblie, especially the one about Fizz-Bang Fitzwilliam the Inventor Thief, whose clockwork gang terrorized Victorian London.
What’s more, there was never a dull moment with the professor and his wonky eye. Up close Ben could see that it was a fake. It wasn’t even glass. It was a ping-pong ball with a black dot drawn on it. Most of the time you wouldn’t notice, but now and then it would dry out and get stuck at a funny angle so he would be looking at Ben with one eye and staring at the ceiling with the other.
Then Professor Pickering would lick the tip of his pinky, poke it in his eye and swivel it back into position with a wet sqrweek sound. It was hilarious! Revolting, but hilarious!
The girls were friendly too. They fussed around Ben, offering to paint his nails glitter pink and spritz him with puffs of Princess Pony perfume. It was a bit much, but Ben didn’t mind. Even Petal, the shy girl in the group, warmed to him, offering him a sniff of her strawberry-scented pencil-topper.
As promised, Ben’s mum arranged a tour of the City Museum and on Wednesday afternoon Ben gave his club mates the good news.
‘It’s all set for tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The trip!’
The professor was delighted. The girls squealed with excitement.
‘Excellent!’ said Professor Pickering. ‘I’ll arrange for a bus to pick us up. Don’t be late! It’s going to be marvellous!’
CHAPTER SIX
On a bright Thursday afternoon, the school minibus shuddered to a halt in front of the museum.
‘Yoo-hoo! Ben!’ Mrs Pole waved from the entrance at the top of the steps.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Ben, trotting up to meet her. ‘This is Professor Pickering.’
‘Mrs Pole, my dear lady,’ said Professor Pickering, stepping forward and shaking Mrs Pole’s hand. ‘Thank you so very much for arranging this field trip for our little club. We are awfully grateful, aren’t we?’ he added, shoving the girls forward.
‘Yes, professor, thank you, madam,’ they said all at once, curtsying awkwardly and fluttering their eyelashes.
‘Oh, er, that’s quite all right. I’m happy to help,’ said Mrs Pole, giving Ben a sideways smile and raising an eyebrow.
Mrs Pole led them on a tour of the museum, pointing out her favourite exhibits. They walked through galleries filled with huge skeletons and stuffed creatures from all over the world, along corridors lined with glass cabinets gleaming with polished suits of armour and swords, and into crypts where dazzling butterflies and green-gold beetles the size of dinner plates glittered and flashed under the spotlights.
Horrible shrunken heads dangled from hooks and shrivelled hands lay in silk-lined boxes. Paintings and tapestries covered the walls and mannequins wearing silver crowns and velvet gowns stood in every corner.
They wandered the length and breadth of the museum, and just as Ben began to feel that it must be time for a rest, a glass of lemonade and a bun, Mrs Pole stopped beside a pair of enormous doors and turned to the little group.
‘I’ve saved the best until last,’ she said, smiling with anticipation. ‘This weekend our latest and greatest exhibition opens to the public here in the Treasure Chamber. As a special treat, you get to have a sneaky peek before anyone else. It’s still being set up, I’m afraid, but I think you’ll like it. Here it is,’ she said, opening the doors.
The enormous chamber was being prepared for the exhibition. Fake jungle creepers clung to the pillars, and in the centre of it all were piles of packing cases stuffed with riches.
‘I say!’ gasped Pickering. ‘How wonderful!’
‘The Mummy’s Gold belongs to the tribe of the Blue-foots, so-called on account of their blue feet,’ explained Mrs Pole as the little group looked around.
‘What an extraordinary story,’ said Professor Pickering as he circled the room with Ben and the girls, gazing at the wonderful treasures they could see
