Matty and Bill for Keeps by Elizabeth Fensham Page B

of just Bill and me giving him some support.’
    Mr Slark rolled his eyes and was about to speak when the sergeant said, ‘Fair enough. Fire away, girl.’
    Matty opened her folder. ‘Isabelle,’ she said, ‘why were you outside in the dark all on your own with Crispin?’
    â€˜During dinner, Crispin said he liked my parents’ garden, that it reminded him of his uncle’s garden back in England and he asked if he could see it by moonlight,’ said Isabelle.
    â€˜Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones,’ asked Mat, ‘why did you let your daughter and Crispin go outside all by themselves?’
    â€˜He was our guest. Isabelle had wanted us to invite him. He comes from an apparently good family with a distinguished pedigree. You don’t expect guests to tie up your child,’ said Mr Farquay-Jones as if the question were ridiculous.
    â€˜I see,’ said Mat, ‘so Isabelle had liked Crispin enough to ask you to let him visit?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And you felt he came from a good family and trusted him enough to go outside with your daughter?’
    â€˜Yes, but—’ said Mr Farquay-Jones.
    â€˜Just “yes” or “no” please, Mr Jones,’ said Mat.
    â€˜It’s Farquay-Jones, you common piece of—’
    â€˜Trash,’ finished Mrs Farquay-Jones.
    â€˜Let’s watch our language!’ said Sergeant Smith. ‘Not in front of the kiddies, please. Is that all, Matty?’
    â€˜Just a couple more questions, sir,’ said Mat, looking down at her folder. Right there and then, the school secretary led Aunt Victoria into the office.
    â€˜Dreadfully sorry to be so late. Please continue with whatever I’ve interrupted,’ she said, seating herself in the chair she had been offered.
    â€˜Mrs Farquay-Jones, would you please tell us what you served for dinner that night?’ asked Matty.
    â€˜I object,’ said Mr Slark. ‘The question is irrelevant.’
    â€˜I intend to show you that it’s very relevant,’ said Mat.
    â€˜Answer the question then, Mrs Farquay-Jones,’ said Sergeant Smith.
    Mrs Farquay-Jones narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but her husband said, ‘Tell them, darling. They’ll see what a royal welcome we gave this thug of a boy, only to have him treat our Isabelle so violently.’
    â€˜We served oysters,’ sniffed Mrs Farquay-Jones.
    â€˜And how were the oysters cooked?’ asked Mat.
    â€˜This is very silly,’ said Mrs Farquay-Jones, but she explained. ‘As one does with the very best gourmet Hawkesbury River oysters, we did not cook them. We served them raw, in their shells. And the boy scoffed them down.’
    Matty wrote something in her folder. ‘Just a few more questions,’ she said politely. ‘Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones, after Isabelle and Crispin went into the garden, how many times did Crispin return inside?’
    â€˜Once,’ said Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘To tell us Isabelle wanted us.’
    â€˜And when you found Isabelle in the garden, what was she tied up with?’
    At this question, Isabelle fell to the floor in a fit of tears. She screamed, rolled, and beat the floor with her fists. It was hideous to watch the transformation of Isabelle from a blue-eyed, golden-haired beauty to this lobster-faced human tsunami.
    â€˜Look what you’re doing to our baby!’ yelled Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘As if she hasn’t been through enough trauma already.’
    â€˜She clearly can’t cope with the stress,’ said Mr Slark. ‘I suggest an adjournment.’
    â€˜Remove her, for goodness sake,’ said Aunt Victoria, looking down at Isabelle as she rolled about on the floor.
    Mrs Townsend rose from behind her desk and walked across to Isabelle. ‘Please get up, Isabelle. There’s nothing to worry about. If we find Crispin did, indeed, do this terrible thing, he will be expelled and you’ll