Game Play - Hazel Edwards Frequent Flyer Twins Mysteries

Скачать книгу

But sometimes they just played up. And Wilhemina, the goat, had snack-attacks.

      ‘Two hours to wait on the ground. Can we have a look around Cairns Airport?’

      The flight attendant looked worried. ‘We’re supposed to keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t you like to sit in the Unaccompanied Minors’ Lounge? Or in our office?’

      ‘Two more hours of sitting? No way,’ muttered Christopher. They’d been in the plane all night.

      ‘Sometimes we take Y.P.T.A s into the control room,’ suggested the attendant. ‘It depends who’s looking after you.’

      The twins weren’t old enough to be Young Passengers Travelling Alone yet. Until twelve, you had to be an UM and the airline people looked after you ALL the time.

      ‘We’ve been in there before,’ said Amy politely.

      Mrs Gold and Mrs Silver were listening eagerly. Amy hoped they wouldn’t offer because the twins liked to be on their own. Mysteries found them then.

      ‘We’ll just walk around. We’ll check in with you every half hour. Christopher likes to draw. We need to walk after all that sitting. We’ll stay in sight.’

      The flight attendant looked relieved. ‘One of our people will stay near you. Are you’re sure you won’t get into trouble?’

      She didn’t know that the twins were always in trouble. They were always solving mysteries or getting involved when things went wrong. Especially at airports. Just then the flight attendant tripped over the outstretched leg of Mr Muscles. He was sitting across the aisle from Amy.

      ‘Sorry, sir.’

      ‘My fault. Hard to fit my legs in this small space.’

      Mr Muscles looked like a balloon man. His arms were double balloons. So were his thighs. Even his head was round. The seat was too small for him. A great shape to draw. Christopher took out his sketchbook again. Since Singapore, he’d sketched several passengers.

      As the crew collected the meal trays and got ready for landing, Amy chatted to Mr Muscles. He’d been asleep most of the flight. His snores were proof of that. His snores had kept her awake. And he was a mega snorer. But now he wanted to talk.

      She didn’t realise then, how important that chat might be, later.

      Chapter 2

      Muscle Bound

      ‘Is this your first visit to Cairns?’ asked Amy politely. He was so big that both his legs stuck out into the aisle. His track pants were tight across his legs.

      ‘Yes. A working holiday. Mixing business and pleasure. I’m a body builder.’ Mr Muscles moved his legs restlessly.

      ‘What sort of bodies?’ Amy pictured a panel beating shop where they fixed car bodies. Perhaps he was a mechanic?

      ‘Car bodies?’

      ‘Human,’ laughed Mr Muscles.

      Amy fiddled in her bum-bag for her stickers. Amy collected stickers, coins and clues. She found the BODYWORKS sticker.’ The Mouth gave it to me on the flight to Singapore.’

      Mr Muscles looked at the sticker. ‘He’s the pop singer, isn’t he?’

      Amy nodded. ‘If you’re a body builder, are you a doctor? Or a designer?’

      Mr Muscles shook his head. His thin hair was going bald from the front. But his skull was tight underneath.

      ‘Just build my own body. And the bodies of the people who come into my gym.’

      Amy noticed he had eaten everything during the flight meals.

      Bread roll. Chicken Mysterious, as Christopher called it. Broccoli.

      Mashed potatoes. And especially the creme caramel. Mrs Silver and Gold offered their sweets and he ate them, too! He woke up for every meal. He also had a bottle of vitamins on the flight table which was still folded down. Perhaps it was a brand name, thought Amy. It was wrongly spelled as VITTAMINS.

      ‘How do you build your body?’ she asked. ‘With exercise?’

      ‘Plenty of good food. I run and lift weights and ...’ Mr Muscles paused. ‘Get a little bit of help.’

      ‘What sort of help?’ Amy was firing questions again. Her favourite hobby when she wasn’t collecting phone cards, stickers or stamps, was collecting answers. ‘A coach? Or a trainer?’

      ‘Er...’ Mr Muscles looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Stacking.’

      He had a rolled up newspaper sticking out of his hand luggage.

      Christopher wondered why he bothered. Often the airline supplied newspapers for passengers to read.

      Before Amy had a chance to ask about ‘stacking’, he showed them his photographs.

      ‘I’ve been Mr World, you know.’ His wallet was stuffed with photographs. They were all of him. Usually he was bare chested with tiny bathers. Amy pushed her rainbow glasses back on her nose. His muscles looked like giant bubbles.

      ‘You look like Arnold Schwarzenegger,’ said Christopher.

      Mr Muscles looked pleased.

      ‘Are you here for the International Games?’ asked Christopher.

      ‘Yes. There’s going to be a body-builders’ contest, too.’

      Christopher looked around the plane. Judging by the shoulders, there were a few body-builders on board.

      ‘Sports teams on board, too,’ added Amy who often knew what her twin was thinking.

      The flight attendant collected empty juice glasses from several seats of team track suits.

      ‘I’m on the juice,’ said Mr Muscles. His skin had bumps and purple patches of acne. He also had a squarish jaw.

      ‘Have my orange juice then,’ offered Amy. ‘I’m not thirsty.’

      That’s not exactly what he meant. Amy didn’t understand until much later.

      At home, Amy was called Jet Jaws. She talked a lot but she also listened. That’s one reason she liked flying. Passengers loved talking about themselves. Since leaving Singapore, she’d learnt about antique jewellery from Mrs Gold and Mrs Silver and body building from Mr Muscles.

      Amy wondered if Cairns had any Talking Games this week. She pictured the team of Mrs Gold and Mrs Silver talking against Mr Muscles. With Aunty Viv as the compere. That would be a noisy event.

      Amy flicked the pages of the inflight magazine. She’d read ‘This Sporting Week in Cairns’ by Tom Savvas and ‘Sporting Drug Dangers’.

      She’d done the crossword. She had already finished her book and all the magazines. Being a super fast reader was a problem on long flights.

      ‘Excuse me.’ She leaned across the aisle. ‘Could I read your newspaper please?’

      But that’s when Mr Muscles went all strange. Until then, he’d been chatting to them in a friendly way.

      ‘Haven’t read it yet myself,’ he grumped rolling it more tightly and cramming it deeper in the bag at his feet.

      Amy watched him later. From the time she asked to borrow the paper until touch down, Mr Muscles did NOT read his newspaper. The flight attendant did ask him to put up his table when the seat belt sign went on again. Maybe he liked to spread his paper out on a table?

      Perhaps he was just one of those grumps who didn’t like lending things?

      Or

Скачать книгу