Tup and Stern and the Skipping Rope Scandal.
At Tampin's Stern Mystery.
Written by S.
D.
Hudson Performed by Stephanie Poppins.
Chapter 1 St Ethelburgh's Boarding Academy for the financially gifted was a large school.
In fact,
It was the grandest school in St.
Steeple Bloodstead,
That quintessentially English village that saw generations pay over market value to be within walking distance of an overpriced hairdresser and a popular gastropub.
Its headteacher was,
Philosophically speaking,
Far more free-range than battery.
And this suited both girls and staff in equal measure.
In everything else,
However,
St.
Ethelberg's was behind the times.
A converted 17th-century manor house with more turrets than local Lord Heffingway's castle,
St Ethelburgh's hid century-old secrets,
Year-old scandals,
And the occasional week-old corpse,
According to how many highly polished prefect badges happen to be marching past at any one particular time.
Tuppence Stern was the school clown,
Or resident English professor,
As stated on the school staff list.
She'd been boarding for a while now and was pleased to call St Ethelberg's her home.
Well,
What else was she going to do?
Two years divorced from a man who still insisted on sending her poems he clearly didn't write.
And three years shy of half a century.
Tuppence Stern had long since made up her mind.
If she was to stay at Steeple Bloodstead,
It would have to be St.
Ethelburg's.
That would keep her out of mischief.
Well,
It would keep her out of the way of her ex-husband anyhow.
And that amounted to much the same thing.
A smaller-than-average woman,
Tup and Stern had been called many things in her time.
Pocket rocket,
Half pint portion,
Little legs.
The list went on.
All by eager men with less than eager reading habits.
What was it with men who didn't read?
She had blonde hair that was thinning,
But looked cute when it was bunched up.
And she was happy to see she'd been hit with more than generous genes,
As far as looking your age went.
It was 8am on a cold December day and all the maids were a-milking.
The Tesco's delivery girl had just turned up with hole in semi skimmed.
And the remnants of the morning's bacon and eggs wafted through the ground floor corridor at warp speed,
Unfazed by the advancing team of domestics.
Tup and Stern stepped out onto the long gravel drive,
Looking very pleased with herself.
She just bagged a 3 for 1 on mini bottles of Chianti and she contrived the perfect plan to smuggle one into a hollowed out copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Bart was gasping,
He said.
And Tuppence Stern would do anything for Bart.
As for the other two bottles,
They'd remain in her bike's basket till light's out.
Thanks for the lift,
Rita.
No problem.
All in a day's work.
With one energetic tug,
Tup and Stern wheeled her broken bike out from the back of the van.
I think that's it.
You'll have to get a new one.
No!
" said Tuppence.
I'll fix it in no time.
Nothing will come between me and this bike.
And there waving wildly from over in reception was Bartholomew Bowman right on time.
Do you get it?
Staff meeting's going to start in a minute and Weed's doing it.
They better hurry up.
Tuppence dumped her bike into a nearby bush and rushed to join him.
Job done.
She declared triumphantly,
Handing him his copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Let's go!
Bartholomew Bowman was Tuppence's best friend and a gourmet guru who just hit upon hard times.
Much to his dismay,
He'd been forced to leave his hometown.
But thanks to Tuppence,
He was now well and truly ensconced in the domestic science department.
And didn't Tubman always keep him entertained with her devil-may-care attitude and foolhardy ways?
Every cloud had a silver lining.
You never guess what.
Said Tuppence as they ran towards reception.
I just thought I saw Derek's car and I fell into a ditch.
You've got to be more careful,
Toppins.
Now there's no harm done.
I'm still in one piece,
Aren't I?
But while I was there,
Sitting in the ditch,
I cracked the metaphor in Darcy's wet shirt scene.
Oh yeah?
Bart smiled.
Go on then.
It represents a shedding of a reserved exterior and a glimpse into his more natural,
Informal self.
Well,
If you're going to hire Colin Firth,
You've got to get your money's worth,
Haven't you?
Bartholomew Bowman scound his best friend from head to toe.
She was wearing her favourite tweed blazer with pink ruffle trim.
It had a reassuringly snug fit and suited her small frame very well.
But the freshly painted door she'd just walked into begged to differ.
How many more times,
Tea?
Bart opened his packet of school wet wipes.
Thanks to Tuppence,
They were now a permanent fixture.
Not again,
Moan Tubbins.
Why do I always do that?
Bart chuckled.
There was something reassuring about Tuppenstern.
She never changed no matter what.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn or winter,
She was there with her large doe eyes and even larger messy hair bun.
He might miss the banter of late dinner service and even later night drinking,
But being at St.
Ethelberg's kept him entertained.
And there was a lot to be said for that.
You better stash that book quick,
Whispered Tuppence conspiratorially,
Otherwise Weedle grasses up.
She'll be here any minute.
Tuck it away in your man-bag or something.
Tell me again why the deputy head has to be on the board of governors?
No idea.
Only she can answer that.
She's got fingers in all sorts of pies.
Stupid cow.
Bard did as he was told,
While tuppence followed him up the wide carpeted stairs.
Hear no evil,
See no evil,
She whispered.
Uh,
Isn't that supposed to be the other way round?
You're the English teacher.
But before tuppence could reel off another back-to-front quip.
The school alarm system fired off,
Making them jump out of their skins.
Not even first lesson,
It's already started,
Moaned Bart.
Whenever there's a gap between the electricity and the generator,
It's the same.
The old tuppence.
I'll log it later.
It all helps in our campaign for more funding.
There's no way Lord Hefingway can turn down sponsorship now.
He's the Chair of Governors after all.
Where's the caretaker?
It's so loud!
Bart covered his ears as Tuppence scanned the corridor.
Looks like no one's about.
That means time to play Hero.
Bart looked at Tuppence in disbelief.
Not again!
But she was downstairs and already halfway across the drive before he could catch up with her.
Slow down Pocket Rocket!
In less than a minute they were standing together outside the old stone building that was holding the bright red box flashing wildly on its outside wall.
There's the alarm box,
" said Tubbins.
How are we going to get up there?
There's no ladder.
Puffed bart.
You get the lights and I'll sort it,
" yelled Tuppence.
I think the key for the control panel's inside.
Bart yanked back the large door and peered in.
The gym was a huge space,
But the long thin windows let in very little light.
And the long dark beams cast gothic shadows over the gym floor.
God,
I hate the dark!
" he moaned.
God's sake Bart,
You're such a diva.
Stand aside then.
Ye olde tuppence.
Then she dived in without a second thought and made her way straight to the far wall,
Where she began feeling around for the light switch.
It's in here somewhere I'm sure of it!
She cried.
She reached the right,
Then to the left.
Until finally her fingers rested on something that vaguely resembled what she was looking for.
Is that it?
No,
Maybe not.
She moved on.
Tuppence?
It ain't spiders is it?
Tell me it's not spiders.
No,
You're safe,
Indiana Jones.
Stay cool.
Hold on a minute,
Maybe it's higher up.
She reached out again.
Just come out!
" yelled Bart.
Malcolm will be here soon.
He can do it.
He's tall,
Isn't he?
Malcolm?
Who's Malcolm?
A marshal,
You know,
The PE bloke.
Mr Olympia 2010 or something.
Oh yeah,
Thanks to weed there's such a fast turnaround here.
I never know one gym guru from the next.
Both Tuppence and Bar chuckled at this.
Not only was Alice Weed deputy head,
She was also the recruitment officer and everyone knew she had a penchant for a bit of beefcake.
She insisted she was just keeping up the standards.
But Miss Weed was known for her trademark stalker vibes.
No one was ever really sure who she would take on next.
But guaranteed it was always some random bloke she'd found online.
Tuppence tried again.
Is this it?
She pressed down hard at this time,
And with one flick,
The fluorescent tubes flashed into action.
Then on again.
Tuppence shielded her eyes to prevent triggering a migraine,
But Bart had seen the whole thing,
Skipping rope and all.
What is it,
Bart?
Tuppence drew back her hand reluctantly.
And there,
As the lights kept flickering on and off like something out of a cheap horror film,
Lay the beefy body of Malcolm Marshall,
Spread-eagled in his naked glory,
With a school skipping rope tied round his neck.
Not again!
You just can't get the staff these days.
Tap and stern?
" said Bart.
What?
I don't know,
The odd,
Oh my God,
Maybe,
Or how did he get there?
Then all at once the alarm stopped and a crowd of staff and students appeared from nowhere to see what was going on.
You gotta cover him up quick.
Bart hissed as Tuppence yelled,
Back off people there's nothing to see here.
But the damage was already done.
There was screaming,
Crying and moans about what this meant for the upcoming Five Aside.
These kids have got no heart,
Bart whispered.
But Tuppence had to admit they had a point.
The untimely death of Malcolm Marshall didn't bode well for inter-school relations.
The village curse strikes again.
She said,
Shaking her head.
This will be his last beauty contest.
And from behind her,
A deep voice agreed.
Seems not even Mighty Marshall gets away with it.
Something surged up from the pit of Tuppence's stomach.
She wasn't sure if it was excitement or the vindaloo she had the night before.
But chances are it was the former.
This was Martin Bonus,
And he was standing right next to her,
All six foot four of him.
Move aside,
Please,
He cried as the crowd began pushing and shoving.
Teacher with absolutely no medical training coming through.
Can you give the headteacher some space?
Protested Bart.
Give Sir some space.
And slowly but surely,
The hordes of schoolgirls backed away.
Is he,
Ventured Martin,
100% dead?
Yep,
No doubt about it,
Said Tuppence.
It looks like Malcolm Marshall's been laying here since late last night.
