Eye Spy by Tessa Buckley
Over the course of ten days, the lives of thirteen-year-old Alex Macintyre and his twin sister Donna will change forever.
When Alex and Donna set up Eye Spy Investigations and start looking for a valuable missing dog, they soon have an interesting assortment of suspects. There is the mysterious man in the fur hat; a gang of bikers who hang out at the Starship Café; and Crazy Kath, the bag lady, who may know more than she’s letting on.
But as they struggle to make sense of the evidence, the twins begin to uncover an even bigger mystery in their own family. As events spiral out of control, can Alex resolve a family crisis, save Donna from imminent danger, and return the missing dog to its rightful owner?
About the author
Tessa Buckley was an inveterate scribbler as a child, and spent much of her time writing and illustrating stories. After spending fifteen years working for architects and interior designers. She took up writing again when her young daughter complained that she couldn’t find enough adventure stories to read. This led, in 2014, to the publication of Eye Spy, the first in a series of detective stories for 9-12 year olds, designed to encourage reluctant readers. The second book in the series, Haunted, was a finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards 2017. She lives with her husband and a large white cat called Pippa in a town on the Thames estuary, which inspired the seaside setting for the novels. She also writes about family history, which has been her passion for many years.
Website: https://tessabuckleyauthor.com
Social Media Links –
https://www.facebook.com/Tessa-Buckley-Author-101751741568714
As part of this book birthday bash I have pleasure of being able to share an extract of the book with you!
In this extract Alex overhears a conversation which raises all sorts of puzzling questions about his mother, who died when he was a baby.
At two o'clock Donna and I headed off to the art room for our next lesson, but I dragged my feet. I'm rubbish at art, and I wasn't looking forward to an hour and a half listening to Miss Lovelace explaining viewpoint and perspective. By the time I reached the patch of muddy grass that separates the main building from the art block, the science block and the canteen, Donna was way ahead with a group of other girls.
Years ago, some history teacher with a sense of humour christened that patch of grass ‘the Somme’. Mr. Bull likes to call it ‘the quadrangle' as if Lea Green was some posh private school and not a rundown comprehensive. If anyone's going to try and rough you up in school, that's where they'll do it, because there are hardly any windows overlooking it, so the chances are that nobody will see. Even if you're lucky and don't get hurt, you end up covered in mud, so you get in trouble with both your parents and the teachers.
I lingered by the door to the quadrangle, pretending to look for something in my schoolbag and putting off the moment when I'd have to join the art class. Then I heard the sound of a window opening, and became aware of voices coming from somewhere above my head. Although I could hear their conversation, they couldn’t see me, because I was standing in a deep recess in the wall.
“Thank goodness! Fresh air at last! Do you think they’ll ever get the heating to run at the right temperature? It's like the Amazon rainforest in here.”
The voice belonged to Miss Wren, out IT teacher. I liked her because she made her lessons fun and she didn’t bawl at us the way a lot of the other teachers did.
“When you’ve worked at Lea Green as long as I have, you’ll get used to it.” That was Mr. Cohen speaking.
Miss Wren laughed. “How do you stand it here, Frank? The whole place is falling to pieces, and Bull is a monster.....”
“It's the people that make the place, Lucy, and some of the kids here really know how to use their initiative. Look at this - I took it off Alex Macintyre earlier." I groaned. Now Mr. Cohen and Miss Wren would make fun of us.
“A Private Detective agency?" Miss Wren said. "You’re right. That shows true entrepreneurial spirit!”
“With a mother like that, it’s probably in the genes.”
I nipped out of the recess and peered upwards, but the sound of their voices was already fading as they moved away from the window.
My head buzzed with questions. What was entrepreneurial spirit? Was it a compliment or a criticism? What had Miss Wren meant about ‘a mother like that’? And what was it that was in our genes? None of it made any sense, but I was already late, so I couldn’t think about it now. Shouldering my bag, I hurried off towards the Art block.
