How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant by Elen Caldecott Page A

Thomas gardens,’ said Dawn, thinking quickly.
    â€˜Lift. Third floor. Three doors down.’
    Inside the lift, Kirsty pushed the button marked ‘3’. She knew she was too old to be bothered about pushing the buttons in lifts, but somehow today she felt quite young. It was something to do with the queasy feeling in her stomach. My first proper crime , she thought; setting off the alarm had just been an accident.
    â€˜We’ll not get caught, will we?’ Kirsty asked.
    Dawn shrugged. ‘Well, if we do, you’re too young to go to prison. Me and Ben might have to face justice, I suppose.’
    â€˜Really?’ Ben’s voice sounded squeaky.
    â€˜No, dummy. All we’re doing is adding a made-up name to a list. We’re not stealing the Mona Lisa .’
    â€˜Then why am I so frightened?’ Ben whispered.
    Dawn snorted. ‘You’re always frightened.’
    The lift doors opened. The corridor stretched out for miles in front of them. The square ceiling tiles and the square carpet tiles seemed to come together at some far point in the distance. Kirsty thought it was like looking down a well.
    Dawn went ahead, walking with her head up and her back straight. She looked so brave, Kirsty felt better just being with her. They could hear the muffled sounds of phone calls and typing coming from behind most of the doors. Nameplates told them who was working behind each one. The third door on the right had a small metal plaque with ‘Mr Thomas’ engraved on it. Below, someone had added a Post-it note with ‘gardens’ written on it.
    â€˜There’s nowhere to hide,’ Kirsty whispered.
    â€˜I can see that,’ Dawn said.
    â€˜We have to hide.’
    â€˜Thanks again for stating the obvious.’
    â€˜Dawn, don’t be mean.’ Ben said.
    â€˜Sorry.’
    Ben moved past Mr Thomas’s office to the next door. There was no nameplate on it, just a lighter patch of wood where a plaque had been. He pressed his ear to the door and stood still. Then he turned back and waved. ‘In here.’
    Ben tried the handle and the door swung open. The room was empty. The light was dim. Kirsty and Dawn followed Ben inside.
    â€˜This is good,’ Dawn whispered. ‘You’ll hear when you can come in and get to the computer.’
    â€˜How will we know?’ Kirsty said.
    â€˜Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. You’ll know.’
    Dawn slipped out and closed the door behind her. Ben and Kirsty crouched down to wait.
    The office was small. There was just enough room for a desk and a chair and Kirsty and Ben. The wall which divided it from Mr Thomas’s office had a map of the city on it, dotted with drawing-pins, as though it had measles. The walls were thin enough for them to hear Dawn knock on Mr Thomas’s door. They heard his gruff reply. It was difficult to make out what was being said – it was too muffled – but they could hear the rumble of the conversation through the walls.
    â€˜What if she can’t get him to leave?’ Ben whispered.
    â€˜She will. Just wait.’
    They sat crouched up against the wall for what seemed like an age. They could hear a kettle boil and the sound of Mr Thomas stirring a drink. He gave short answers to Dawn’s questions. The moments passed.
    â€˜She’s not going to do it,’ Ben said.
    â€˜Shh.’
    Suddenly a shriek sliced the air. They heard a chair fall and then a frightened whimper.
    â€˜It’s Dawn,’ Ben gasped. ‘She’s hurt.’
    â€˜Did he hurt her? Does he know?’
    â€˜Dunno.’
    Mr Thomas’s door opened; they could hear him clearly now. ‘Come on, we’ll get cold water on that. There’s a first-aid station, a first aider. This way.’ Then the sound of Dawn sobbing moving off down the corridor.
    â€˜He’s out of the office!’ Kirsty grinned. ‘Come on. Now!’
    The coast was clear. They