CHERUB: The Sleepwalker - Robert Muchamore Page 0,39

team, but you had the savvy to use the ditches and go after James’ buggy. Then you took a risk and rescued several of your team-mates. Mr Pike and I were hugely impressed.’

Lauren broke into a giant smile, but made a point not to tell the chairwoman that getting James’ buggy was more an accident of geography than part of any grand plan.

‘Thank you, boss,’ she beamed.

‘It also goes to show that you can shine, even when you’re with a group of the best agents on campus. You seem to have behaved yourself over the last couple of months and I’ve heard good things about your work helping out in the junior block. I spoke to little Coral this morning and she’s settling in brilliantly now.’

‘Cool,’ Lauren said. ‘She’s such a little sweetie and really clever too.’

‘Taking all facts into consideration, I’ve decided to notify the mission controllers that your suspension from undercover operations has been lifted. You’re now free to go on any job they pick you for.’

Zara stood up and offered her hand. Lauren grinned helplessly as she shook it.

‘Thanks, boss!’

A more serious look came across Zara’s face as she held on to Lauren’s hand. ‘Don’t let it go to your head. I’ll be keeping a close watch on your behaviour on campus. If I hear of any more scheming, plotting or stirring, I’ll be left with no option but to boot you out.’

Lauren’s smile had disappeared by the time Zara let go.

‘I know I can’t risk it,’ Lauren said seriously. ‘No more scheming on campus, I swear.’

*

Rather than use the shower in his en-suite, Fahim went down to the health studio on the ground floor and took a soak in the giant Jacuzzi. A quarter of an hour dunking his head underwater and mucking about with the water jets soothed him and he came out of the steamy bathroom dressed in a luxurious robe with a pink glow to his shrivelled skin.

Hassam was in his office and the cleaning lady was upstairs, so Fahim felt lonely as he padded barefoot down the marble hallway. A glance into the living-room surprised him. His father had righted the coffee table and replaced the magazines, but the rug was gone and when he stepped through on to the carpet he was surprised to find it damp underfoot.

Fahim curled his toes and a creamy foam of carpet shampoo squeezed up through the gaps between them. He enjoyed the novelty of this and did it again with his other foot. Remembering his mother’s bleeding nose, he figured his father had scrubbed the blood off the carpet and probably rolled up the rug so that it could be taken away and cleaned professionally.

As he turned to go back to his room, he noticed a white lump on the carpet next to the chunky base of a floor-standing lamp. He crouched forward, but recoiled when he saw that it was a tooth.

All Fahim’s life his mother had smiled at him with the same slightly crooked front tooth with three distinctive chips in the enamel. Now she was gone and she’d left part of her smile behind. It disgusted him at the same time as he felt an odd compulsion to examine it.

‘Are you doing something in here?’ Sylvia the cleaning lady asked.

Fahim was startled. He slipped the tooth into the pocket of his gown before spinning around. ‘Nothing much,’ he said.

‘I’ve changed your bedclothes. Now I’ve got to set to and clean up your father’s mess in here. If I leave that shampoo to dry in without diluting it, it’ll dry up as stiff as a board.’

‘Right,’ Fahim said awkwardly. ‘I suppose he doesn’t clean carpets very often. I was going back to my room anyway.’

The tooth was still a shock. Fahim desperately wanted to speak to his mum and check that she was OK. He dashed to his room, taking two stairs at a time, then sat on the clean bed and took his mobile from the shelf above.

After dialling his mum’s number he waited a few seconds. To his surprise he thought he could hear her distinctive ringtone. He stepped back on to the balcony overlooking the entrance where the ringing grew louder.

Fahim leaned over the railing to make sure nobody was coming before heading briskly down the hallway and through the open door of his mother’s dressing-room. It was a small room – at least by the standards of this house – with a sink, a dressing table and fitted wardrobes