Matty and Bill for Keeps by Elizabeth Fensham

proportion,’ said Mat. ‘A thousand years of family history is nothing.’
    â€˜Nothing?’ asked Crispin amazed.
    â€˜Nothing,’ repeated Mat. ‘On Nan’s side, my family goes back at least forty thousand years.’
    â€˜Good gracious!’ said Crispin. ‘A longer lineage than mine.’
    â€˜Yours would be as long if they’d kept oral records. And anyway, you can’t account for all the branches and twigs of a family. There’d be relatives all over the place letting the family name down,’ said Matty.
    â€˜Just like my dad did,’ said Bill.
    â€˜But then you’ve got your mum,’ Mat pointed out. ‘Pam’s a real hero. That’s what families are like – goodies and baddies all over the place.’
    â€˜But families keep quiet about the baddies,’ said Bill. ‘That’s why sometimes people never hear about them or, at least, not for a hundred years.’
    â€˜It’s called a “skeleton in the cupboard”,’ explained Mat. ‘You can be sure the de Floriettes will have plenty of skeletons.’
    Crispin’s face brightened, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. But then he looked anxious again. ‘I don’t want to be the family’s skeleton. I’d like to restore our honour, so to speak.’
    â€˜You will have the chance to face up to things when the Farquay-Joneses, the police officer and the lawyer speak to you on Monday,’ said Mat. ‘If you get sent to prison and go bravely without whingeing, your aunt will be proud of you.’
    Crispin went pale. ‘I suppose that is my chance to redeem myself,’ he said sadly.
    â€˜But you’re not going through this alone,’ said Mat.
    â€˜I’m not?’
    â€˜Me and Bill will be going into that office with you,’ announced Mat.
    â€˜We will?’ asked Bill.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Mat firmly.
    â€˜That would be wonderful, but I can’t imagine the grown-ups letting a couple of children join the meeting. I mean, if you’d been involved in what happened to Isabelle, that would be different, but you weren’t,’ said Crispin.
    â€˜I have a plan,’ said Matty.

‘Run along children,’ said Mrs Farquay-Jones, flicking the back of her hand at Mat and Bill as though she were shooing away annoying dogs. She was sitting in the waiting room of the Principal’s office with Isabelle (dressed all in pink), her husband, a policeman and a long-nosed man in a pin-striped suit who carried a briefcase. The children guessed he must be the solicitor.
    Isabelle squirmed away from Mat and Bill as if they smelt. She clung to her father’s hand.
    â€˜I don’t think you have any place being here,’ added Mr Farquay-Jones in a stern voice.
    â€˜Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones,’ said Mat politely, ‘Bill and I are here to represent Crispin de Floriette.’
    â€˜Represent?’ asked the man with the long nose.
    â€˜In an official capacity,’ said Mat, tapping a folder she held under one arm.
    â€˜And what would that be?’ asked the man with a sneer.
    â€˜I’m here to give legal advice and Bill is the Union representative,’ explained Mat.
    Bill was sure the policeman’s shoulders shook; he looked like he was trying not to laugh. He put his hand to his mouth, turned away and coughed. Bill wished he could pull Mat away. Being ordered to leave as well as being laughed at was embarrassing. But then the policeman turned back and faced the group. ‘I think they should be allowed to stay,’ he said with authority. ‘At the very least, the kids might throw some light on the situation.’
    â€˜But—’ began the long-nosed man.
    â€˜They can stay,’ said the policeman.
    Mrs Townsend opened her office door. She seemed surprised to see Mat and Bill standing there.
    â€˜We’re not at all happy about Sergeant