Leonora Bolt

  Contents

  1 A Little Test Run

  2 Non-Uniform Day

  3 School’s Out

  4 A Brown Cloud

  5 Echo Location

  6 A Fete with Destiny

  7 Cupcake Massacre

  8 Harbouring Fugitives

  9 X Doesn’t Mark the Spot

  10 Shipwreck Superhighway

  11 Sea-Life Disco

  12 Into the Deep

  13 Incredibly Lair-y

  14 Echo Chamber

  15 The Happiness Capacitor

  16 Missing Piece of the Puzzle

  17 Spanner in the Works

  18 A Saviour in Tweed

  19 Land Ahoy!

  20 Back to the Workshop

  About the Author

  Lucy Brandt (Author)

  Lucy grew up in Derbyshire and now lives in sunny Brighton with her husband and two children. When she’s not writing, she loves cajoling her family into walks across the Sussex countryside, or swimming in the sea.

  Lucy also likes inventing new words and trying to sneak them into conversation. You’ll need to listen out for that.

  Gladys Jose (Illustrator)

  Gladys Jose is an illustrator and storyteller. She graduated from the University of Central Florida in 2012, where she earned a Bachelors in Fine Arts degree, specializing in graphic design. Gladys is the illustrator of FRESH PRINCESS (HarperCollins, 2019), THE ELEPHANTS HIDE AND SEEK HANDBOOK (Sourcebooks 2020) LEONORA BOLT: SECRET INVENTOR (Puffin 2021) as well as a chapter book series for EPIC! Books.

  Gladys lives in the sunny state of Florida with her husband and daughter.

  Also by Lucy Brandt:

  Leonora Bolt: Secret Inventor

  Follow Lucy on Twitter and Instagram:

  @letlucyb #LeonoraBolt

  lucybrandt.com

  For my nieces and nephews

  1

  A Little Test Run

  It was one of those glorious September days when it feels like summer will never end. The sky was a giddy cartoon blue, the breeze was warm and smelled faintly of bonfires, and the countryside all around the little village of Snorebury-on-Sea glowed gold, as if King Midas himself had sneezed everywhere.

  It was the perfect day to launch a submarine out of a tree.

  ‘OK, let me see … batteries are fully charged, rudders are in position, periscope is down …’ Leonora Bolt muttered instructions to herself as she flicked switches on the large control panel in front of her. She was sitting inside the cabin of her six-metre homemade deep-sea explorer, the Aquabolt. It was wedged precariously in the remains of the treehouse at number 5, Primrose Lane.

  ‘Air pressure – check. Fuel levels – check. Otter seatbelt – oh no, hang on …’

  Perched on a cashmere cushion beside Leonora was her pet otter, Twitchy Nibbles. His bright eyes fixed her with a look of dismay. His nostrils flared. Leonora leaned over and tickled the pale bib of fur beneath his chin with her oily fingers. Then she strapped him in.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry, Twitch. This’ll be a piece of cake.’

  Twitchy let out a low, harrumphing growl and buried his head beneath his paws as Leonora completed her last-minute inspections. As she adjusted valves and clicked dials, she could feel excitement fizzing away inside her like a Jacuzzi full of sherbet.

  Everything was ready for the test run. She’d calculated all the angles and velocities. She’d rehearsed the route 327 times in her mind. The wind speed was low, and the tide was high. This was going to be absolutely perfect.

  Leonora couldn’t afford any more mishaps. Last night, when she’d been in the submarine up in the treehouse, experimenting with ultraviolet light, she’d made all the local squirrels glow in the dark.fn1 They’d lit up the little garden like Christmas lights. Of course, she’d turned the UV off again the moment she’d realized – but what if the neighbours had seen? It was a silly mistake. A close call. She had to be more discreet.

  Leonora turned the ignition and the diesel-electric engine roared to life. Great swirls of grey smoke filled the garden. Tree branches shuddered, launching leaves high into the sky. The motor made a strange HACK, HACK, HACK noise like a hoarse donkey coughing up hay … but then it sputtered off again.

  ‘Oh no, what is it this time?’ Leonora sighed and scrambled out of her seat. She turned and opened a large metal compartment behind her. ‘I’m so useless at fixing this,’ she mumbled, prodding the engine inside with a screwdriver. Her fizziness was starting to get flattened by anxiety.

  You see, Leonora wasn’t supposed to be launching a subaquatic vehicle out of a tree. Or illuminating the local wildlife. She was supposed to be doing the exact opposite of that – lying low, keeping her head down, blending in. For Leonora Bolt was a nine-year-old girl in hiding.

  Now, in fact, Leonora thought she was pretty good at this hiding malarkey. Not too long ago, she’d been hiding on tiny Crabby Island just off the coast. OK, not hiding exactly. More like being forcibly hidden, imprisoned there from the age of three by her ghastly uncle, Lord Luther Brightspark. He was a mediocre professor who’d become ridiculously rich and famous by stealing Leonora’s remarkable inventions. And he’d stolen her parents too, so that Leonora had grown up her whole life thinking she was an orphan.

  Recently, though, her life had been transformed. It had all started when Jack, a boy from Snorebury, which was on the mainland, had accidentally found himself marooned on her island. Together with Leonora’s housekeeper, Mildred, and the hapless ferryman Captain Spang, they’d escaped her uncle’s clutches. Then Leonora had discovered that her parents were alive and being held hostage at a mysterious ocean location. Hence the submarine. Leonora was going to get her family back and nothing was going to stand in her way.

  Leonora rubbed her forehead with her wrist, leaving a dirty smudge. Could the problem be the fuel injection pump, or clogged air filters? She’d need to investigate, which meant more delays.

  She shivered, refusing to think about the possibility of her uncle finding her before she’d finished. The last time she’d seen him, she’d scuppered his lifelong plans to own a powerful new technology – a human emotion formula. She’d banished him back to Crabby Island using an amazing teleporting machine she’d invented: the Switcheroo. Foiling his wicked schemes had been Leonora’s greatest-ever achievement. She swore she would never let him win. She knew, though, that if he was still alive, he was going to be angrier than a whole sackful of scorpions.

  That’s why Leonora was now living undercover in Snorebury (a designated World Weariness Site and Area of Outstanding Natural Monotony, winner of the Most Tedious Village award for 463 years running). It was a picture-postcard place, where people ironed their lawns, polished their dustbins and hoovered their children, a humdrum haven where she hoped her uncle couldn’t find her – although she worried that the dangerously boring residents might start to notice things like neon rodents adorning the hedgerows. Or marine vessels appearing out of the blue. The speed of light was 299,792,458 metres per second, which Leonora calculated was only half the speed of village gossip. In short, a few more failed attempts and her cover would be blown.

  ‘Well, I think I need some spare parts,’ she said, shutting the engine compartment again. ‘Looks like launch day’s postponed, Twitch.’

  Twitchy’s ears pricked up. His whiskers stopped wobbling. Leonora unclunked his seatbelt and gave him a cuddle. Then she pulled out a silver locket on a chain round her neck. Inside was a faded photograph of her parents. They were holding hands and smiling into the camera. ‘I’m coming for you,’ she whispered, pressing the picture to her lips, ‘no matter what.’

  Snapping the magnetic clasp shut again, Leonora stashed the locket next to her heart. ‘Looks like you’ll be starting school wi
th me tomorrow after all,’ she said, gently stroking Twitchy’s head. He squeaked, hopped from her arms and tried to burrow under his cushion.

  Leonora was just about to coax him out again when she heard something that made all the hairs on her neck SPROING! to attention. Footsteps were clanking overhead. Who could have got up there? she thought. She heard someone trying to prise open the submarine’s hefty steel hatch, and then suddenly a voice said, ‘Aha! Found you!’

  2

  Non-Uniform Day

  ‘Ooof, Jack, don’t sneak up on me like that.’ Leonora pushed open the submarine’s hatch to let him in. Her heart felt like it was performing a drum solo in her chest. ‘What happened to our special code – five short knocks?’

  ‘Oh, soz. Didn’t mean to make you jump,’ he said, following her down the ladder. He landed on the patchwork rug beside her with a soft thud. A bulging carrier bag swung from his arm.

  ‘I tried our knock but you couldn’t hear me over the engine,’ said Jack, ‘which you could probably hear in Australia by the way. Remember we talked about this, Leo? You’re supposed to be keeping your head down.’

  Leonora winced. ‘I know … I’m trying my best,’ she said.

  ‘Well, anyway, this is looking … cosy,’ he said, gazing about. He flashed her a lopsided grin that was more gap than tooth.

  Leonora smiled back. Her interior design style (if she had such a thing) could be described as ‘shabby U-boat chic’. Two comfy benches ran either side of the hull with pull-down bunks above. Shelves were lined with vintage tools (which looked like they’d been salvaged from Victorian times). And Captain Spang, an expert needle-wielder, had sewn cushions and throws in a range of luxurious fabrics.

  ‘I was preparing for the test run,’ said Leonora, wiping her greasy hands on a velvet quilt.

  ‘Is it ready for that?’

  ‘Nearly. Just need to fix the engine and finish the Shooter-Scooter 6.0.’

  ‘The shooter what?’

  ‘Just a little something I’ve built. I’ll show you.’

  Leonora moved through the main cabin and yanked open a door at the rear of the submarine. Behind it was a cramped storage space that contained a round contraption: a mobility scooter stuffed inside what looked like an oversized hamster ball.

  Jack frowned. ‘Hmm, what’s that?’ he asked, peering over her shoulder.

  ‘A submersible. It’s a sort of underwater boat that lets you go really deep in the ocean. Took a lot of waterproofing and a new engine and breathing system. Should be safe to a depth of 1,317.6 metres, give or take.’

  ‘OK. And how deep does the sub go?’

  ‘Crush depth approximately 528.5 metres.’

  ‘Crush depth?’ Jack’s voiced jumped an octave.

  ‘Yeah. That’s how far down you are when the hull collapses due to the immense water pressure. Don’t worry though. I’ve made depth gauges out of those digital alarm clocks I got at the charity shop.’

  ‘Depth gauges?’

  ‘They measure how deep the sub is diving, so it’ll be OK. The plan is, I’m going to roll her down Neat Street to the harbour, sail around Immaculate Bay, then I’ll hide her underneath the fishing boats.’

  ‘Wait … you want to drive a submarine through Snorebury?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘In broad daylight?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘With a – a pair of skateboards as wheels?’

  ‘We’ll take the back streets.’

  ‘Oh, no worries then!’

  Leonora finally noticed the hysterical edge in Jack’s tone. When he put it like that, she supposed it did sound a little … challenging. If the test run went well, they’d soon be sailing the sub hundreds of miles to a bleak and treacherous patch of the Unspecific Ocean. (She decided not to mention that bit yet.)

  ‘Look, it’ll be fine,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ve got peanut butter sandwiches and 6 kilograms of emergency jelly babies. I’m not totally bonkers.’ Leonora had only discovered the existence of sweets a few weeks ago and she’d built up a huge stockpile for the journey.

  Jack didn’t say anything. Why doesn’t he look more impressed? she thought. He was fixing her with such an intense look that she suddenly felt deeply unsure of everything. Of course, the plan was ridiculous. And dangerous. The whole idea was as sensible as trying to tickle a grizzly bear. But what other plan did she have? Her only link to her parents was the ocean coordinates she’d taken from Uncle Luther. She had to go there and search for clues.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I can do this on my own, you know.’

  Jack sighed. ‘No, Leo. You can’t go without me. We’re a team. I swore I’d help you find your family, just like you helped me get back to mine. Besides, you’ll need someone to calm him down,’ he said, pointing out of the viewport at Twitchy, who was now in the garden below, leaving another little otter deposit for Leonora to step in. It was something he’d been doing quite a lot lately, and she thought she knew why.

  ‘Twitch doesn’t want to come,’ she admitted. ‘He’s been picking up bad vibrations, weird undersea sounds, when he’s been swimming down in the harbour.’ Leonora removed a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Jack. ‘I made these read-outs using the tremors from his whiskers. Not sure what they mean though.’

  Jack stared at the wonky graph drawn on the paper, and they gave each other an uneasy look. ‘Beats me,’ he said, handing the paper back, ‘but something tells me we’re going to find out. Oh yeah,’ he added, ‘nearly forgot. Mum told me to give you these clothes from my sisters for school tomorrow,’ and he thrust the carrier bag into Leonora’s hand.

  Inside was a starched purple skirt, a purple jumper and a stiff orange blazer. They had all the style, comfort and practicality of the wooden trousers she’d once invented.

  ‘I’m not wearing those,’ she said, frowning. ‘Won’t I need a new lab coat? Safety goggles? Maybe a full-body thermal radiation protection suit?’

  Jack looked confused. ‘Umm, nope, don’t think so.’

  Leonora narrowed her eyes. So this was what he’d meant when he’d talked about a uniform. Jack had been extremely vague (some might say outrageously unhelpful) on all the details about school and, as Leonora had never been to school before, she had her own ideas of what it would be like.

  In her mind, she had conjured up a gleaming modern building staffed by the world’s greatest thinkers. At her imaginary school, every classroom was filled with the latest laboratory equipment and astonishing machines. She couldn’t wait to have her own workshop, with all the band saws, angle grinders and plunge routers a kid could wish for! Lessons would range from the fairly standard (you know, classroom tornado simulations, cyborg plant growth, rollercoaster design and testing, five-dimensional chess …) to the slightly more advanced (anti-gravity Thursdays, space-rocket test driving, time travel for beginners …). There would obviously be daily lectures on bending space-time, practical sessions involving the development of flying flip-flops and invisibility serums. And who would teach her? Leonora often thought about her mother’s favourite teacher, Professor Echo. Perhaps Leonora would be lucky enough to have a mentor like that too. Someone kind and incredible who would teach her all the wonders of the universe.

  ‘All right, I’ll wear it,’ said Leonora, feeling a fresh rush of anticipation, ‘but I’m making a few adjustments. And come on, what’s school really like?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘It’s like … forever.’

  Leonora grinned. That sounded perfect. As she set about altering the awful uniform, she pictured herself with her new classmates, learning loads and doing clever things. She heard the bright tinkle of approving laughter from her teachers, already saw the gold stars, the A-grades. Yes, Leonora was sure that school was going to be unbelievably, undeniably, totally amazing.

  3

  School’s Out

  ‘Laura Drumble-Splang? Laura Drumble? Oh, for heaven’s sake – LAURA!’

  Leonora was so dis
tracted she almost forgot to answer to her fake name.

  ‘Hmm … yep?’

  She had been busy reading the lesson timetable, aghast. It was the middle of morning registration (and somehow she was already in the middle of a big telling-off).

  ‘It’s not Hmm, yep! It’s Yes, Miss Clink!’

  Leonora turned back to the timetable. Was this what the children of Snorebury studied at school? Because Leonora was sure she’d never seen anything so eye-poppingly, teeth-itchingly, brain-rinsingly dull.

  9.00 a.m.

  Sitting Nicely

  10.00 a.m.

  PE – Expressive Ribbon Dance

  11.00 a.m.

  The History of Teapots 1819–1972

  12.00 p.m.

  Luncheon

  1.00 p.m.

  Delicate Handkerchief Embroidery Level 476

  2.00 p.m.

  Crayon Maintenance

  2.30 p.m.

  Colouring INSIDE the Lines

  Leonora looked up to find her new teacher, Miss Clink, glaring at her over half-moon spectacles. ‘Well, Laura? I’m waiting, young lady.’

  Chairs scraped back as her new classmates turned to gawk at her too. Leonora wasn’t used to people staring at her. She wasn’t used to people full stop (end of sentence).

  ‘Um, sorry, Miss Clink,’ Leonora stammered. She tugged at the starched collar digging into her neck. Her woolly jumper felt itchier than a bath full of gnats. And she could hear Twitchy grumbling where she’d concealed him inside her desk drawer. (She prayed he wasn’t leaving an otter deposit in there too.)

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said the teacher, hopping out from behind her desk. She was a small, sparrow-like woman with a beaky nose and permanently pained expression. ‘Now, class, I’m sure we want to make Laura feel welcome on her first day.’

  ‘Yeeesss, Miiiiss Clii-iinnk,’ came the chorus.