How to Be Brave Read online

  Mr. Richardson glanced at Calla and then back at the headmistress. “It’s a bit of a thing to be making up, surely? And then there’s the word of the Good Sister here—”

  “It’s all true,” said Good Sister Christine firmly. “These girls were locked up in their room. She’s been chasing them ever since they got out. She has plans—”

  The headmistress laughed. “You don’t have proof of anything,” she said. “This is all made up. They’re wasting your time.”

  But then somebody else spoke, and that somebody was Gareth. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to understand what was happening in the school, and when that effort had failed, he had paid attention to what was being said in front of him for perhaps the first time in his life. Dear Gareth is a complex individual, but he is no liar, nor does he run from what he has done. When he heard the headmistress tell her untruths about everything that had happened, he could not stop himself from saying, “But what about all of those papers you asked me to burn? And how you got me to lock up that girl? And how we tried to kidnap her mum in Brazil? What about that?” And when he had finished speaking, he felt the happiest he had felt for months. He walked over to Mr. Richardson and held out his hands helpfully. “I think you should arrest me. Honestly, I haven’t felt right about any of this since I got here. I just wanted to be a decent security guard and make the occasional macaron.”

  “You can have a job here when you get out,” said Good Sister June. “We can always find a place for a good chef.”

  “He is a liar,” spat the headmistress. “There’s no evidence for any of this.”

  It was perhaps unfortunate for her that that was the moment Calla remembered that the papers she had picked up in the study were still in her pocket. “But there is,” she said, and she must be forgiven for taking an immense amount of pleasure in the moment. “It’s in my pocket. A list of phone calls to Brazil plus a list of some of the things you bought online.”

  Mr. Richardson grinned at Calla and then, quite before the headmistress had realized what was happening, handcuffed her. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of false imprisonment,” he said with some satisfaction. “And also attempted bodily harm, general nefarious deeds, and much more besides.”

  He looked at Good Sister June. “I assume you’re able to step in again as headmistress?”

  Good Sister June smiled. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

  And that, as they say, was that.

  A BLESSING OF NUNS

  At least, that was almost that.

  After Magda and Gareth were handcuffed and placed in the back of Mr. Richardson’s car in a firm Behave or else I’ll set the first-years on you sort of manner, the entire school streamed out of the front door to welcome back their beloved headmistress. You may not be surprised to know that it took quite some time for order to be restored and this was because nobody really wanted anything like that to happen. This was a party, and a party that has not been planned is the best sort of party in the entire world. Good Sister Honey produced a tray of freshly baked profiteroles, whilst Good Sister Robin led the school choir in several overexcited renditions of the school song, and some of the oldest girls began to let fireworks off on the roof under the careful eye of Good Sister Gwendolyn.

  But Good Sister June saw none of this, for she was too busy watching Calla North. It was the look on her face that worried the nun the most. It was the same look that Elizabeth had given her all those years ago when she had told her that she had to give her dog away to Mrs. Fraser.183 It was a look that said that there was something else going on, and so Good Sister June walked over to where Calla stood and placed her hand on her shoulder.

  “Calla,” she said softly, “is there anything else you need to tell me? What don’t I know?”

  “My mum’s in Brazil,” said Calla. “They tried to kidnap her and now she’s missing and I have to go for her. I have to bring her home. I have to go now.”

  “Of course you do,” said Good Sister June.

  And the simple honesty of her reply made Calla have a Tiny Cry of Relief.

  “But,” said Good Sister June, wrapping her arms around Calla and holding her close, “unless you’ve been taking a lot of extracurriculars this term that I’m unaware of, then you’re nowhere near ready to fly a jet yourself.184 A helicopter, maybe, but not a jet. So, that leaves us with a dilemma and that is this: Do you know what we call a group of nuns?”

  Calla wiped her eyes and looked up at the nun. She had expected Good Sister June to do a lot of things at this point, but not this. “You’re … telling me a … joke?”

  “A group of nuns is called a blessing,” said Good Sister June. “And the staff of the School of the Good Sisters is more of a blessing than most. Good Sister Honey is both an excellent chef and former combat pilot. I imagine she could fly a plane whilst making a soufflé, and I suspect she probably has. Good Sister Christine is, as you know, the former childhood best friend of your mother and is one of the few people, other than myself and Elizabeth, to have seen Mallardus Amazonica in the wild. A relevant point, I think you’ll admit. And then there’s me, and I admit that I don’t have any particularly special skills for rainforest navigation nor habitat identification but I am a headmistress.185 Also, I can rappel from a helicopter in an emergency. So no, I am not telling you a joke. I am telling you that we are going to Brazil with you, Calla, and we’re going to find your mother.”

  “We are coming too,” said Edie, appearing out of nowhere with that remarkable skill of hers. She gave Good Sister June and Calla a wide grin. “I am told that Brazil does a custard tart which is almost as good as a macaron, and this is something I would very much like to try.”

  Hanna walked up to join them. “Also, I’ve read a lot of Eva Ibbotson and if you think I’m passing up the opportunity for a trip to the Amazon, you are super mistaken about that. It’s practically part of my education.”

  Good Sister June nodded. These were both very good educational reasons, after all. “These are very good educational reasons,” she said, and then she turned back to Calla. “Your mother is so strong,” she said softly. “You need to realize that this isn’t a rescue mission. Elizabeth has just got lost, Calla, as we all do, and we’re going to find her. Together. And if you’re ready, then we’ll go right now.”

  Calla looked at them all. “I’m ready,” she said.

  Together, she thought, together.

  ELIZABETH NORTH, SCIENTIST

  It takes just over nineteen hours to fly from London to Manaus, which is more than enough time for me to tell you about what had happened to Elizabeth. The most important thing that you need to know is this: She was still alive.

  But only just.

  When Elizabeth realized that she had been kidnapped by the very people she had turned down before, the people who wanted Mallardus Amazonica for all the wrong reasons, her only thought had been to keep the duck safe. So she had, with a skill that had surprised even her,186 managed to escape her kidnappers and steal their plane. She had gone deep into the rainforest with nothing but a backpack full of biscuits, which were enough rations for a week and no more, and flown toward the coordinates she had written down in her notebook all those years ago. Her plane had run out of fuel partway, and when a plane does that, they do tend to land. It is particularly fortunate that the trees in the Amazon are the sort of trees that can cradle a light aircraft and make such a landing more of a landing than an actual crash.187

  Once she had landed, Elizabeth had gotten out. She knew she could not stay with the plane for they would find that soon enough, and so she walked, and walked, and kept walking. She walked into the world that she had spent years longing to visit and she had been there ever since, looking for her duck and just trying to survive another day.

  And after a while, something strange began to happen to her. She forgot the time, and the date, and in a way, she forgot herself a little bit as well. The rainforest was the kind of place where that sort of thing di
d not seem to matter, and so she did not let herself think of it. Instead, she rationed out her water and her food, and she studied the landscape she had spent her life dreaming about.

  One day, she dreamed that she could hear people.188 She knew that it was a dream because, even though she was awake, this world had seen nobody but her for years. Centuries, even. The tree canopy in this part of the forest was woven so tightly that nothing but the finest slits of light got through, and the undergrowth was so tall and thick that it came up to her waist. There was nobody here but her, and so the sounds of others meant that she was dreaming. There was no other option.

  And she became even more convinced that she was dreaming when she saw a small girl with bright yellow hair and three freckles in the precise outline of a mallard’s tertial feather, standing before her and holding a small brown duck in her arms.

  The girl smiled at her and said, “Mallardus Amazonica migrates along the Marañón River, before working its way into the Amazon basin. After that, it reaches a nesting point somewhere up the Amazon River. Nobody knows where this nesting point is, but it has to be somewhere near to a valley and fresh water. It has to be somewhere so safe, and so distant from civilization, that nobody has ever found it. But people wrote about it—and somebody really smart worked it out. Back when she was a kid, she knew. She knew that it had to be where the flowers bloom at midnight, and the east and south winds can meet and twist into the sky as though they’ve been longing for each other all their lives. She knew that the birds didn’t migrate, but every now and then—maybe once in a generation—a bird leaves to find a friend. The sort of friend that would spend their life trying to keep it safe.”

  And when her mother didn’t move, a slow, teary smile crept across Calla’s face. “It’s you,” she said. “Mum, it’s you. The duck found you and even though it couldn’t talk or tell you anything about it, you figured it out. You figured out where it came from and you kept it safe and you did that when you were just a kid. It found you. It found the one person in the entire world that would keep it safe.” She was crying now, unable to stop herself. “And you—you found it and you kept it safe. And now, I’ve found you.”

  And at long last, Elizabeth understood.

  She reached inside her pocket and produced something very small, very melted, and very precious. “I saved you a biscuit,” she said.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my family for everything, always.

  Thank you to Bryony Woods for your faith, appreciation of duck- and bun-based puns, and ability to spot a plot hole at a hundred paces. Thank you to Alli Hellegers for being a super-supportive voice in my corner. Thank you to Laura Godwin and all her team for helping the girls come to America and making the process all so lovely. And a very special thank you to Trisha Previte for designing, and to Flavia Sorrentino for illustrating this gorgeous cover. It makes my day every time I look at it.

  Thank you to all of the bloggers, librarians, teachers, and booksellers out there who shout about children’s literature each and every day. You’re absolute stars.

  Thank you to Francesca Arnavas, Alison Baker, Claire Boardman, Polly Faber, Matt Finch, acqueline Grant, Mélanie McGilloway, and Clara Vulliamy for being lovely and inspirational human beans.

  Thank you to Alison Waller, Richard Walsh, Clémentine Beauvais, and Vanita Sundaram for helping me realize how much I enjoy a footnote.

  Thank you to Angela Brazil, Elinor M. Brent-Dyer, Eva Ibbotson, and Philippa Pearce for inspiring me, eternally.

  And finally, thank you for reading.1

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Daisy May Johnson is a writer, researcher, chartered librarian, and former A14 Writer in Residence with the University of Cambridge. She writes a blog about children’s literature at Did You Ever Stop to Think, tweets as @chaletfan, and even sends the occasional TinyLetter. When she’s not doing any of that, you’ll find her curled up with her favorite school stories, or baking the world’s best chocolate brownies. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  This is a Story About Three Things

  Introducing Elizabeth

  A Temporarily Wonderful Childhood

  How it Happened

  What Mrs. Fraser Said

  After the End of the World

  The Woman Who Looked a Little Bit Like a Penguin

  At The School of the Good Sisters

  Introducing Ducks

  The First Friend of Elizabeth North

  The Value of a Very Good Library in Times of Need

  The Other Person in the Library

  Rainbow Sponge and Chocolate Custard

  A Few Words About Magda Dewitt

  An Enemy is for Life, Not Just for Christmas

  Saying Goodbye

  A Brief Note from Your Narrator

  Like a Cold Kale Smoothie with a Side Order of Brussels Sprouts

  Life Lessons Courtesy of Linda and Frederick

  But Then Everything Changed

  The Way it All Began

  Belinda Freeman

  Mallardus Amazonica

  The Unexpected Strength of Calla and Elizabeth North

  A Sunny Day in March

  Goodbye, Charlie North

  The 11:33 Train to Little Hampden

  Encountering the Local Penguins

  Good Sister Christine

  In Which Calla North Forms a First Impression

  The New Headmistress

  The North Tower Bedroom

  Introducing Edmée Agathe Aurore Berger and Hanna Kowalczyk

  The Importance of Stories

  In Which Calla Meets Somebody Very Important

  The Difficulties of Staring at Strangers

  Ladies and Smaller Ladies, Your Attention, Please

  The Second (and Most Important) Speech

  An Ending and a Beginning, Too

  The Promise of Good Sister June

  The First Morning

  A Day Like No Other

  In Which Things Go from Bad to Worse

  A Midnight Trip Over the Roofs

  The First Problem

  Realizing an Absence in the World

  The Secrets of Good Sister Christine

  The Length of a Distraction

  Another Missed Call

  An Unfortunate Reality

  The Third Day of Edie Berger’s Glorious Revolution

  An Unexpected Gift

  Reading Something Long Forgotten

  A Notice on the Bulletin Board

  A Telephone Call is Answered by Somebody Unexpected

  Thank You for Your Call

  In Which Calla North does Not Have a Nice Day

  To Think is to Act

  Discovering the Truth of Magda DeWitt

  In Which a Villain’s Speech is Made

  Calla’s Brief and Well-Timed Flashback

  Doing What is Not Expected of You

  An Inevitable Truth

  The Opportune Arrival of Edmée Berger

  Going Behind the Walls

  The Inevitable Consequence of Hiding

  A Lightning Bolt in the Dark

  What Calla Read

  In Which Edie Berger Delivers on her Promise

  The Great Idea of Hanna Kowalczyk

  Thirteen Bright Yellow Wigs

  In Which Battle Commences

  Meanwhile, Gareth

  The Diplomatic Qualities of Ganache

  The Beautiful Sacrifice of Edie Berger

  Living to Fight Another Day

  A Further
few Words from Your Narrator

  What Gareth Saw Next

  Inside the Headmistress’s Study

  The Fall of the North Tower Bedroom

  The Rise of the North Tower Bedroom

  The Finding of Elizabeth North

  Being Brave

  The Highest Point of the School of the Good Sisters

  Good Evening, Eloise Taylor

  Lighting the Fire

  A Brief Note from Your Narrator

  Introducing Edie

  Another Brief Word from Your Narrator

  In Which Edie Gets to the Point

  What That Person Heard

  The Tying Up of Loose Threads

  What to do with Uninvited Guests

  What Gareth did Next

  The Benefits of Helicopter Maintenance

  Rappelling is an Important Skill

  Flying Nuns and a Very Confused Police Officer

  A Blessing of Nuns

  Elizabeth North, Scientist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021 by Louise Johnson

  Henry Holt and Company, LLC

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  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021906633

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  First hardcover edition 2021

  eBook edition 2021

  eISBN 978-1-250-79609-7

      1  You figured it out! Well done. Now go back up there and finish the rest of that paragraph. Off you pop. You’ll be back here soon enough.