Thursday in Barbados was so gloriously sunny that even the hotel swimming pools looked as though they had been polished overnight by an army of extremely conscientious mermaids.
The sky was blue. The palm trees swayed gently. The sea glittered beyond the gardens. And the Brand family had reached that delightful stage of their holiday when nobody could remember what day it was without consulting a phone, nobody wanted to wear proper shoes, and Mr Brand had begun referring to his afternoon nap as a “strategic recovery period”.
“Today,” announced Mrs Brand over breakfast, “we are staying at the hotel. Swimming pools, lunch, perhaps a little relaxation.”
“Can we go on an adventure?” asked Barry.
“We are going to a swimming pool.”
“That’s not an adventure.”
“Yesterday you tried to appoint a crab as a pirate and declared a rock to be a sinking ship.”
“That was an adventure.”
“That was a geological misunderstanding.”
Marmaduke nodded in agreement with Barry. He was already wearing his swimming trunks beneath his shorts, because he believed that if he prepared early enough, the swimming pool might open sooner.
Alfie, meanwhile, had packed his book, a notebook and a pencil into a beach bag.
“Why have you brought stationery?” asked Mr Brand.
“I might want to write something down.”
“On holiday?”
“Yes, Dad. Some of us enjoy learning.”
“Some of us enjoy lying horizontally and not being asked to identify fish.”
Barry looked up.
“Kevin!”
“Kevin is a fish, not a holiday activity,” said Alfie.
“He could be.”
Mr Brand put down his coffee.
“I’m beginning to regret teaching you children about marine life.”
Before long, the family were heading towards the pools. There were several to choose from, including a large swimming pool, a shallower pool and a children’s area where the water was calm enough for little swimmers to practise without being swept towards the next parish.
Barry and Marmaduke had their armbands on.
They were not happy about this.
In fact, they were furious.
“I don’t NEED them,” Barry declared, puffing out his chest.
“You need them because you are four,” said Mrs Brand.
“I’m nearly five.”
“That’s wonderful. You’ll be nearly five with your armbands on.”
Marmaduke tugged at his own armbands.
“They make me look like a baby.”
“They make you look like a child who is being kept safe in a swimming pool,” Marjory replied.
“That’s worse.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Mr Brand adjusted Barry’s armband.
“Think of them as inflatable muscles.”
Barry inspected his arms.
“I already have muscles.”
“Of course you do. Enormous ones. These are just the emergency extras.”
Barry considered this. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but the prospect of having emergency muscles did appeal to him.
The boys were just beginning to negotiate whether the armbands could be worn around their waists instead when Esme and Jade arrived with their parents, Julia and William.
Jade and Alfie exchanged greetings and immediately began discussing swimming.
Esme, meanwhile, ran straight towards the pool, stopped at the edge when her father called her name, and returned at a speed that suggested she was only obeying because she had decided to do so voluntarily.
“Morning!” Julia said cheerfully to the adults. “Lovely day for it.”
“Perfect,” said Mrs Brand. “We’ve come for a peaceful morning.”
Marjory looked at her.
“You’re supervising Barry and Marmaduke.”
“Yes.”
“And Esme is here.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps we should manage our expectations.”
William laughed.
“I’ve brought snacks.”
“Excellent,” said Mr Brand. “A man who understands crisis management.”
The girls were already in the water.
Jade swam confidently across the pool, turning neatly at the far end. Esme followed, splashing energetically but keeping herself moving with the enthusiasm of a small motorboat.
Barry stared.
“They can swim!”
“Yes,” said Alfie. “That’s what swimming looks like.”
“Properly swim,” Barry clarified.
“That’s generally the aim.”
Marmaduke watched Jade glide through the water.
“How do they do that?”
“They practise,” said Marjory.
Barry frowned.
“Why?”
“To get better.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how you learn to swim.”
Barry looked at her with the wounded expression of someone who had just discovered that competence required effort.
“Seems a lot of work.”
Mr Brand leaned back in his sun lounger.
“Barry, that is the motto of your life.”
The girls were astonishingly good swimmers.
They swam lengths, dived down to retrieve toys in the shallow area and practised floating on their backs. Jade showed Alfie a neat way to push off from the wall, and he immediately wanted to try it himself.
Barry watched the whole performance with growing suspicion.
“Why are they so good?”
“They’ve had more practice,” said Mrs Brand.
“But I can swim.”
“You’re learning to swim.”
“I can swim in the bath.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Barry folded his arms.
“I can swim in the sea too.”
“You can paddle in the sea.”
“It’s wet. That’s swimming.”
Alfie looked up from the water.
“By that definition, a sponge is an Olympic athlete.”
Marmaduke giggled so hard that his armbands bobbed up and down.
Barry glared at him.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am. I just like the sponge.”
The girls began jumping into the pool from the side, one at a time, where the depth and designated area allowed it. They waited for the water to clear between jumps, and William reminded Esme to check that the area was safe before she went again.
“Can we do that?” Barry asked.
“You can jump in from the side where the lifeguard says it’s allowed,” Mrs Brand replied, “and only when an adult is watching.”
Barry immediately climbed out.
“Where are you going?” asked Mr Brand.
“To jump.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy watching my life flash before my eyes in a controlled environment.”
At the edge of the pool, Barry waited for the all-clear, then jumped in with a mighty splash that soaked Mr Brand from the waist down.
Mr Brand looked at his shorts.
“Wonderful. I’ve been in Barbados for four days and have already become a swimming pool.”
Marmaduke followed with a smaller jump, emerging with his hair plastered across his forehead and a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Again!”
“Again,” agreed Barry.
They jumped a few more times, carefully supervised, and soon the boys were beginning to feel that perhaps swimming pools weren’t entirely terrible after all.
Then the girls discovered the low diving board.
It wasn’t especially high, but to Barry it looked like the launch platform for a space shuttle.
Jade climbed the steps, walked to the end and made a neat jump into the water. Esme followed, bouncing slightly before launching herself with a delighted shriek.
Barry’s eyes widened.
“I can do that.”
Mrs Brand glanced at the board, then at her son.
“Let’s talk about it.”
“I can do it.”
“Barry, you are still learning to swim.”
“But I can jump.”
“Jumping and swimming are different skills.”
“Not if you jump into the water.”
Mr Brand made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Mrs Brand turned towards him.
“Do not encourage him.”
“I wasn’t. I was admiring the legal precision of his argument.”
Barry marched towards the diving board.
The lifeguard, who had been keeping a close eye on the pool, stepped forward and spoke to him kindly.
“Not yet, little man. The board is for swimmers who meet the pool’s requirements, and you need to be able to swim confidently without relying on your armbands before you use it.”
Barry stopped.
“But I’m a good jumper.”
“I can see that,” said the lifeguard. “You’ve got plenty of time to learn the swimming part first.”
Barry looked devastated.
It was a particular kind of devastation usually reserved for the discovery that the ice-cream machine was broken or that someone had eaten the last chocolate biscuit.
“But Jade can do it.”
“Jade has practised and developed the skills she needs,” the lifeguard explained. “You can work towards it too.”
Barry stared at the water.
“Do I have to practise?”
“Yes.”
He turned to Marmaduke.
“Swimming is a terrible hobby.”
Marmaduke nodded. “It makes you wet.”
“Finally,” said Mr Brand, “a considered and balanced review of the sport.”
The lifeguard smiled, but he didn’t budge. Barry was not going to be allowed onto the board simply because he had announced his intention with considerable confidence.
Eventually, Barry returned to the shallow area and practised kicking while holding the pool edge, with Mrs Brand nearby. Marmaduke followed, because where Barry went, Marmaduke generally went too, even when the destination was an activity they both considered deeply suspicious.
Jade swam over and offered to show them how she kicked her legs.
Barry watched carefully.
“Will I be able to jump off the board when I’m better?”
“If you learn the skills and the lifeguard says you’re ready,” Jade replied.
Barry considered this.
“Fine. But I’m going to be brilliant.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Alfie.
“I’m going to be more brilliant than you.”
“That’s a separate ambition.”
By lunchtime, everyone was hungry enough to eat the furniture.
Fortunately, the hotel had a buffet.
There were salads, grilled food, pasta, fresh bread, fruit, desserts and enough choices to keep a committee of very particular people occupied for several hours.
Barry took a plate.
Mrs Brand watched him.
“Remember, you can go back for more.”
“I know.”
“So don’t pile everything on at once.”
Barry nodded, then selected a small portion of pasta, a piece of chicken, some fruit, a roll, two slices of cheese and three desserts.
“Barry.”
“What?”
“You’ve taken three puddings.”
“They’re small.”
“They are not small.”
“They’re smaller than the plate.”
Mr Brand looked at the selection.
“Technically, he has a point.”
“Your support is not required,” said Mrs Brand.
Marmaduke had selected a plate of food with the concentration of a museum curator choosing objects for an exhibition. He had put a piece of watermelon beside a sandwich and was trying to work out whether they were allowed to touch.
Esme had taken a little of everything and was now asking whether she could have some of Jade’s.
“Have you finished your own lunch?” William asked.
“Nearly.”
“Then finish it.”
“But Jade’s looks nicer.”
William sighed.
Marjory leaned over.
“Don’t worry. It’s a phase.”
“What phase?”
“The phase where children believe someone else’s food is always better.”
William looked at her.
“Does it end?”
“I’m still waiting.”
Lunch was a success, although Barry insisted that his three desserts were a form of sporting recovery after being denied access to the diving board.
Nobody agreed with him.
He considered this unfair.
After lunch, the children were supposed to have a quiet period before returning to the pools.
This plan had been developed by adults, which meant it was always going to be vulnerable.
Alfie and Jade went to collect their books from the room. Esme discovered a large decorative plant in the lobby and wondered aloud whether it might contain a lizard. William explained that the plant was not an appropriate place to look for wildlife.
Barry and Marmaduke, meanwhile, wandered through a corridor beside the hotel’s ballroom.
They weren’t lost.
They were exploring.
There was a difference, Barry explained later, although it was not one that the adults found particularly helpful.
The ballroom doors stood open. Inside, the room was cool and quiet, with high ceilings, elegant chairs and enormous windows overlooking the gardens. It was set up for no event at that moment, although the concierge had explained earlier that weddings were often held there.
And at one end of the room stood a grand piano.
Barry stopped dead.
Marmaduke stopped beside him.
They stared at it.
“That’s a very big piano,” whispered Marmaduke.
“It’s for weddings,” whispered Barry.
“How do you know?”
“The concierge said.”
“Why do weddings need a piano?”
“To play wedding music.”
“What music?”
“Piano music.”
Marmaduke nodded. This was all perfectly clear.
Barry walked slowly around the piano, examining it from every angle.
Then he had an idea.
It was not a good idea.
But it was an idea.
“This,” he whispered, “is our secret headquarters.”
Marmaduke’s eyes widened.
“For what?”
“Espionage.”
Marmaduke was silent for a moment.
“What’s espionage?”
“Secret agent work.”
“Oh.”
He looked around the ballroom.
“Are we secret agents?”
“We are now.”
Barry immediately assigned their first mission.
“We need to find out what the adults are doing.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re always doing things without telling us.”
Marmaduke considered this.
“That’s true.”
“Exactly. We must investigate.”
“Can we have snacks?”
“Secret agents always need snacks.”
This was how the Grand Piano Espionage Operation began.
Barry designated the area behind the piano as the main intelligence station. Marmaduke was assigned to watch the ballroom doors. They decided that the piano bench was a communication vehicle, the music stand was a secret document holder, and the curtains were a place to hide if danger approached.
They did not touch the piano keys.
Barry had been told that the piano was valuable, and even he understood that damaging a grand piano might be a step too far, even by his standards.
Instead, he whispered into Marmaduke’s ear.
“Agent Marmalade, report.”
Marmaduke brightened.
“Agent Marmalade?”
“Yes. It’s your secret name.”
“What is yours?”
“Agent Barry.”
“That’s not very secret.”
“It’s a very good secret.”
Marmaduke accepted this.
“Agent Barry, I can see a man.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“He’s wearing a uniform.”
“Extremely suspicious.”
The man was, in fact, a hotel employee walking down the corridor carrying a stack of folded towels.
Barry watched him disappear.
“We must report this to headquarters.”
“Where is headquarters?”
Barry pointed at the piano.
“Here.”
“Right.”
Marmaduke crouched behind the bench and whispered, “Headquarters, headquarters, we have a towel situation.”
Barry nodded gravely.
“Understood. We may need reinforcements.”
They were just discussing whether the towel situation required a full security alert when a familiar voice came from the doorway.
“Well, well. What have we got here?”
The boys froze.
The concierge stood in the doorway, smiling broadly.
Barry recovered first.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” the concierge asked.
“Nothing secret.”
“Ah. That’s different.”
Marmaduke stood up.
“We’re secret agents.”
“So I see.”
“It’s espionage,” Barry explained.
“Very serious work,” the concierge agreed.
“We’re investigating the hotel.”
“Excellent. Have you discovered anything?”
Barry lowered his voice.
“There are towels.”
The concierge nodded thoughtfully.
“That is worrying.”
“And a piano.”
“Very worrying.”
“And grown-ups.”
The concierge glanced around the ballroom.
“Now that really is serious.”
Barry beamed. He liked this man. He understood the importance of the operation.
The concierge crouched down to their level.
“Tell me, agents. Have you had your afternoon snack?”
The boys looked at one another.
This was a question of national importance.
“No,” said Barry.
“Not yet,” said Marmaduke.
“Then I think headquarters needs provisions.”
The concierge disappeared briefly and returned with a small tray of child-friendly snacks and drinks, which he placed on a nearby table.
“Official agent rations,” he announced.
Barry looked astonished.
“Are these for us?”
“Of course. Secret agents cannot be expected to work on an empty stomach.”
Marmaduke selected a snack.
“I knew espionage was a good idea.”
The concierge laughed.
“Now, I must ask you to stay in this room and not wander through the hotel on your own. The ballroom is fine while I’m here, but you must tell your parents where you are. They will be wondering where you’ve gone.”
Barry hesitated.
“Will you tell them we’re secret agents?”
“I shall tell them that you’re conducting an important investigation.”
“Good.”
“And I shall keep an eye on you while you finish your snacks.”
The concierge spoke quietly into his radio, notifying the parents that the boys were safe and explaining where they were. He promised to keep an eye on them until an adult came to collect them.
It was a sensible arrangement.
It was also the first time in history that two four-year-olds had been supplied with refreshments by a hotel concierge for the purposes of espionage.
The parents arrived a few minutes later.
Mrs Brand reached the ballroom first, followed by Marjory and William. Mr Brand came behind them, looking curious rather than particularly alarmed, because he had learned that Barry’s adventures rarely involved anything that could not be resolved with a calm conversation and, occasionally, a mop.
“What are you two doing?” Mrs Brand asked.
Barry stood up proudly.
“Espionage.”
“Of course you are.”
“We’re investigating the hotel.”
Marjory looked at the piano.
“Why?”
“Because it’s suspicious.”
Mr Brand examined the instrument.
“A grand piano. In a ballroom. Used for weddings.”
“Exactly,” said Barry.
Mr Brand nodded gravely.
“An obvious front for international crime.”
The concierge laughed.
“I found them here a little while ago. They were very serious about their work. I thought they might need a snack.”
Mrs Brand looked at the tray.
“You gave them snacks?”
“Official agent rations,” Barry explained.
“Very kind of you,” Mrs Brand said, trying not to laugh.
The concierge smiled.
“They’ve been no trouble. I thought it best to let you know and keep an eye on them. They’re safe here, but I wanted to make sure you knew where they were.”
“Thank you,” said Marjory warmly. “We appreciate it.”
William looked at the boys.
“Next time, tell us where you’re going.”
“We couldn’t,” Barry explained. “It was secret.”
“Then next time, choose a secret that involves staying where we can see you.”
Barry thought about this.
“Can we have a secret headquarters in our hotel room?”
“Possibly,” said Mrs Brand. “As long as you don’t rearrange the furniture, touch anything dangerous or recruit the housekeeping staff.”
“Can we recruit the concierge?”
“No.”
The concierge put a hand to his chest.
“A terrible loss for the intelligence service.”
Marmaduke took one last snack.
“Can we come back tomorrow?”
“Perhaps,” said the concierge. “But only with an adult.”
Barry nodded.
“We’ll need to investigate the pool next.”
Mrs Brand closed her eyes.
“Of course you will.”
Later that afternoon, the families returned to the pools. Jade and Alfie practised swimming together, while Esme and William played a game in the shallower area. Barry and Marmaduke wore their armbands without complaint, partly because they’d become accustomed to them and partly because Barry had decided they were useful for secret-agent floating.
The lifeguard reminded Barry that the diving board would have to wait until he had the necessary swimming skills.
Barry sighed.
“I know.”
“Keep practising,” said the lifeguard. “You’ll get there.”
Barry nodded, then turned to Marmaduke.
“When I’m a brilliant swimmer, I’m going to jump off that board.”
“Me too.”
“And then we’ll investigate the ocean.”
“Will Kevin be there?”
“Probably.”
“Good.”
From her sun lounger, Mrs Brand watched the boys bobbing happily in the water.
“It’s been a peaceful day,” she said.
Mr Brand turned to look at her.
“Barry has established an espionage network in the ballroom.”
“Yes.”
“He’s been given snacks by the concierge.”
“Yes.”
“He believes the hotel is a front for international crime.”
“Yes.”
“And you call that peaceful?”
Mrs Brand smiled.
“Compared with the pirate ship incident, it was practically a spa day.”
Mr Brand considered this.
“Fair point.”
As the afternoon sun glowed over the hotel, the children played on, the adults relaxed, and the grand piano sat undisturbed in the ballroom.
For now.
Because Barry Brand had a notebook.
Marmaduke Jackson had a secret name.
And somewhere in the hotel, there were almost certainly more towels.
The investigation was far from over.
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