"I loved it! Its terrific energy and unfaltering funniness makes its appeal as ageless as that of Asterix and old Beano annuals. Serious points? It must make children enjoy the sound of words with its frequent use of alliteration, assonance, and rhyme."

The Sunday Times

"Positively brimming with exuberance - a strikingly original mixture of genres. Absurd happenings are matched with inventive prose, gathering speed until the triumphant ending." The Guardian

Tried and Tested

Times Educational Supplement

The Guardian

Books for Keeps

School Librarian

Books for Keepss

London Evening Standard

Have you seen this one?

The Gestapo man had unbuttoned his leather coat and placed his Tyrolean hat on the kitchen table next to the teapot. He shook Flint by the hand. "So," he smiled. "You must be Benedict." "Yes," replied the boy nervously. "Good, said Vogler with a merry twinkle. "Sit yourself down," he pulled a chair towards the stove. "And tell me about yourself." "I live in the pillbox with Alfie," explained Flint. "It's a Type 28." "A Type 28?" "Yes." Vogler had taken out his pipe and was stuffing it with tobacco. "You were working down by the sea this morning?" "Yes." "What were you doing?" "Spreading dung." "What did you see?" "I was standing near the cart forking dung. I wasn't facing the sea. I was looking the other way. I heard shots - and I turned round and I saw this lady running down the field with no shoes on. She must have kicked them off - so she could run faster - and there were soldiers chasing after her." "Did she see you?" "She must have done. I was standing by the cart in the middle of the field." "The middle of the field?" "Yes." "Did she run towards you?" "No - she ran past." "Did she say anything to you?" "No." "Was she holding anything?" "I don't think so." Vogler's pipe was alight now. He puffed at it like a friendly uncle and gave the boy one of his sympathetic smiles. "Good," he murmured. "Excellent - that puts you in the clear. You may go Benedict. You may return to your Type 28." He relaxed, puffing contentedly, and watched as the boy jumped off his chair and darted to the door. "Just one thing before you go. The soldiers who were giving chase - they reported that when they entered the field the suspect was running in an odd direction." He paused to let this sink in. It sank in. "They say she was running away from your cart - not past it." He watched the boy with a kindly expression on his warm and cheerful face. "And one of our patrols reported that there was a fire tonight down on the beach," he continued gently. "Did you light that fire?" "Yes." "Why?" "To keep warm - and to attract fish." "Attract fish?" "Yes." Vogler fiddled with his pipe. It was a Sherlock Holmes style Calabash pipe so it took a lot of fiddling with. "OK," he looked up cheerfully. "The terrorist was seen running from your cart and a few hours later you light a fire near to where you met her. A suspicious sort of person might conclude, Benedict, that you were burning something important. Do you know what that means?" "No." "It means trouble!"

Vogler's pipe was alight now. He puffed at it like a friendly uncle and gave the boy one of his sympathetic smiles. "Good," he murmured. "Excellent - that puts you in the clear. You may go Benedict. You may return to your Type 28." He relaxed, puffing contentedly, and watched as the boy jumped off his chair and darted to the door. "Just one thing before you go. The soldiers who were giving chase - they reported that when they entered the field the suspect was running in an odd direction." He paused to let this sink in. It sank in. "They say she was running away from your cart - not past it." He watched the boy with a kindly expression on his warm and cheerful face. "And one of our patrols reported that there was a fire tonight down on the beach," he continued gently. "Did you light that fire?" "Yes." "Why?" "To keep warm - and to attract fish." "Attract fish?" "Yes." Vogler fiddled with his pipe. It was a Sherlock Holmes style Calabash pipe so it took a lot of fiddling with. "OK," he looked up cheerfully. "The terrorist was seen running from your cart and a few hours later you light a fire near to where you met her. A suspicious sort of person might conclude, Benedict, that you were burning something important. Do you know what that means?" "No." "It means trouble!"

"An action-packed adventure that will have you on the very edge of your seat until the very end..." THE PRIMARY TIMES Chicken House - ISBN 978-1-908435-37-8

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