Thief! Read Free Page A

cup has been stolen.’
    An audible gasp filled the hall. Lydia’s mouth dropped open. She looked across at Anne but Anne was looking straight up at the stage.
    ‘Who’d fleece that dusty old piece of tin foil!’ Frankie scoffed.
    Lydia had to fight to breathe normally. All at once, she was burning up.
    ‘Now, as it was only that cup and no other which was taken, I’m inclined to believe that it was the work of someone from this school, rather than a professional thief. BUT I WANT IT BACK.’ Mr Simmers’ cheeks puffed out as he spoke. ‘If the perpetrator of this . . . this perfidious act owns up to his or her transgression immediately after assembly, then they will not be dealt with too severely. If, however, they do not own up and I find out who it is . . .’ Mr Simmers left the unfinished sentence dangling ominously in the air. Not a sound could be heard. Not a murmur, not a whisper.
    Without warning one of the assembly hall doors was flung open. Everyone jumped. Lydia, along with everyone else, turned to see what was happening. Mrs Irving, the history teacher, entered the hall and took a quick look around before almost running up the stage steps. Lydia’s stomach churned. She chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she watched Mrs Irving whisper in Mr Simmers’ ear. Mr Simmers scanned the hall as if he had suddenly developed X-ray vision.
    Trembling, Lydia glanced across to the cup cabinet again before returning her gaze to the stage. Mrs Irving was off the stage now and heading for the door.
    ‘Could Julie Morgan, repeat Julie Morgan of class 4B, please report to the school secretary immediately after assembly. Thank you.’ The school secretary’s voice rang out over the school’s public announcement system, making Lydia jump.
    ‘Frankie, I’m . . .’ Lydia began.
    ‘Assembly dismissed.’ Mr Simmers’ icy voice effectively halted Lydia’s words.
    ‘Frankie, I need to talk to you,’ Lydia whispered.
    She turned with the rest of her row and they all stood, waiting for their turn to troop out of the hall.
    ‘What about?’ Frankie asked, turning her head to face Lydia.
    ‘Would Lydia Henson please stay behind.’
    It was an order, not a request. The headmaster’s words stopped all whispers in the hall. Lydia was suddenly drowning under the weight of the speculative stares of those around her. She felt totally sick. She looked around dismayed, then across the hall to where Mr Simmers stood. Why had he asked her to stay behind? What was going on? Lydia tried to catch Anne’s eye, but Anne looked straight ahead as she waited for her row to be allowed to leave the hall.
    ‘I’ll see you later, Lydia,’ Frankie frowned, puzzled.
    Lydia waited for the rest of the school to amble out. She kept her head bent, unable to meet the curious glances directed at her. Then she moved slowly down to the front of the hall. Mr Simmers stood on the stage, towering over her like a New York skyscraper next to a beetle. He glowered at Lydia until his heavy, bushy eyebrows met over his nose. His lips pursed in an intense frown, he walked over to the side of the stage and marched down the steps.
    ‘Do you have something you wish to tell me, Lydia?’ he asked.
    Lydia’s ‘No, sir’ was stuck somewhere between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She shook her head slowly.
    ‘Follow me,’ Mr Simmers commanded.
    The headmaster strode out of the hall, not bothering to look at Lydia. Lydia followed him – she could do nothing else. Why had he picked her out? If only Lydia could have spoken to Anne – just for a minute. She longed to know what was going on but who could she ask? Certainly not Mr Simmers. He looked as if his head was about to explode. Maybe he knew about her being in the hall late the previous afternoon after school. Maybe Old Baldie had told him and Mr Simmers just wanted to talk to her about who else she might have seen around at the same time.
    To Lydia’s surprise, Mr Simmers didn’t