Matty and Bill for Keeps by Elizabeth Fensham

home.’
    â€˜Disaster,’ said Mat.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Crispin. ‘Of course, everyone from the village knew Lord Greenthorpe’s car. The policeman ran to his own car and took pursuit. My father tried to speed away, but lost control and drove the Daimler into a ditch. The car was a write-off, as they say; there was no chance of escape, and Rupert and my father had some nasty bumps and cuts.’
    â€˜And then?’ asked Bill.
    â€˜The long and the short of it is that my grandfather gave the policeman free reign to punish both boys in any way he thought proper.’
    â€˜What did he decide to do to them?’
    â€˜He locked them in the village jail for two days.’
    â€˜Your father has done time, too?’ asked Bill.
    â€˜And a tough sort. Porridge for breakfast and bread and water for dinner. I overheard Daddy telling my mother it was terrifying. You see, the jail is five hundred years old and has a ghost that was a prisoner who died in there. A few times my father heard it rattling its chain.’
    The children shivered with fear. In the dimness of the attic, the lumpy suitcases and battered boxes seemed to take on human shape. Once again, the torchlight did strange things to Mat, Bill and Crispin’s faces. The lower halves of their faces looked brighter and bigger; their eyes were shadowy and hollow.
    â€˜Spooky,’ whispered Bill.
    â€˜You’d never forget an experience like that,’ said Mat. ‘I wonder if your father got PTSD.’
    â€˜What’s that?’ asked Crispin.
    â€˜Post traumatic stress disorder,’ Mat explained. ‘Soldiers get it and people who have been tortured or traumatised in some way.’
    â€˜Maybe he did get PTSD,’ said Crispin. ‘It would explain why my father didn’t get his driver’s licence until he was thirty years old. And he drives very slowly and carefully now. It also might be the reason why Mother is not at all warm and welcoming when cousin Rupert comes to visit.’
    â€˜So this Rupert is a bad influence on your father in the same way Maggot is with my dad,’ said Bill, almost speaking to himself.
    â€˜Precisely,’ said Crispin. ‘When cousin Rupert comes to stay, Daddy becomes rather silly. My family experience might just come in handy to assist you in your current predicament.’
    Waves of relief swept across Bill. It seemed all families have their problem relatives.

Matty used the word ‘elegant’ to describe the plans that the club had put together. There had been a unanimous decision to approach the Maggot problem from three angles. Matty set it out on a large piece of butcher’s paper.
    Part one: spy on Maggot and thus determine what his scheme is.
    Part two: (to be conducted simultaneously) remove the object from danger.
    Part three: disrupt and destroy enemy’s scheme.
    When the paper was pinned up on the sloping attic ceiling, it looked like a military plan of attack – the sort you see in war movies. Matty had arrows swirling down from part one to part two, and from part two to part one, and then from both parts one and two to part three. Bill was impressed.
    However, after a few minutes of gazing at Matty’s diagram, Bill realised that there was only one definite and achievable goal at this point in time – part two of the plan. The ‘object’ was Troy, Bill’s father. Removing him from danger meant ensuring that Maggot could not get in contact with him. Sending Pam up for her holiday with Troy would help with that.
    â€˜Right,’ said Bill. ‘Keep Dad away from Maggot. I get that. But do either of you have a clue how we’re going to find out what Maggot is up to? Part three of the plan is impossible to discuss unless we have completed part one.’
    â€˜That’s correct,’ said Mat. ‘But this plan is the overview. The big picture.’
    â€˜Absolutely,’ agreed Crispin. ‘Broad