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    But after a couple of weeks, the mystery of his true identity began to unravel and life as he knew it would never be the same. Lucas had just spent his first term at Fayle School for Boys on the other side of the village to Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale Academy for Proper Young Ladies, the school Alice-Miranda, Millie and Jacinta attended. Fayle was fantastic as far as Lucas was concerned, and within a very short time he felt as if he’d been there forever. His new best friend and room mate, Septimus Sykes, had arrived just before him and the two lads had quickly become as close as any brothers. Lucas could hardly believe how good life was.
    Septimus Sykes was a lovely lad, with a rather unfortunate immediate family. His sister Sloane had for a brief period been Jacinta’s room mate at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale, until she was caught up in some very nasty business with her mother, September. Septimus had steadfastly refused to leave school, where for the first time in his life he felt he truly belonged. His sister and mother, on the other hand, had departed the village in such a rush there were still tyre marks in the school driveway. They’d fled to Spain where Sep’s father, Smedley, who knew nothing of what had gone on, was doing very well with his new property developing business. Apparently the Sykeses were very happy with their new life in the sun.
    Millie and Jacinta joined Lucas, Sep and Alice-Miranda as the ship lurched away from the dock. Aunty Gee, to the horror of Mrs Marmalade, was busy distributing streamers from her apparently bottomless handbag. Family and friends waved at the dockhands down below as shouts of ‘goodbye and farewell’ were carried away on the breeze.
    Below deck, Neville Nordstrom was jolted awake by the blasting ship’s horn. Groggy and somewhat confused, Neville took a moment to remember where he was. At least the ship was moving, he thought to himself.
    In the suite opposite, Ambrosia Headlington-Bear was having a terrible time deciding what to wear. She had come aboard in black but feared that was far too French for a Spanish send-off. Three multicoloured outfits lay across the bed. She really didn’t know what to do. Without Henri, her stylist, getting dressed was rather more difficult than she remembered.

'I can’t believe your brother was invited to that wedding without us,’ September Sykes whined as she sat up to rub suntan lotion on her overcooked shoulders. ‘And he wouldn’t even tell me where they were going. Said something about it being a secret to make sure that it was all private. Who wants to have a private wedding, anyway? I’d have sold the whole thing to Gloss and Goss magazine to pay for the honeymoon. Sloane? Are you even listening to me, Sloane?’ September growled as she glanced over at her daughter.
    Sloane, lying metres away on a matching sun lounge, rolled away from her mother and turned the music in her ears up louder. An unopened letter fell out of the magazine she was thumbing through. Addressed to ‘Miss Sloane Sykes, Villa Del Mar, Castelldefels, Spain’, the envelope, just like the two she’d received earlier in the month, felt like silk.
    Typical, Sloane had thought. She probably has her own silkworm factory just to provide her stationery.
    Sloane had been more than a little surprised to receive the first letter. It had sat under the jewellery box on her dressing table for a full week before she decided to open it. And when she did, it wasn’t at all what she had imagined. But then again, Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones was hardly normal now, was she? Instead of the sound telling-off Sloane had expected, Alice-Miranda had prattled on about what a pity it was that she had left school and she was sure they could have worked things out with Miss Grimm and it really wasn’t Sloane’s fault and probably there were lots of circumstances that had