The rights to Rex Milligan belong to the late Anthony Buckeridge. Those to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. Those to the Dana girls, Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys and others to the Stratemeyer Syndicate. Other rights belong to Marvel Comics, DC Comics/Warner Brothers/Hanna-Barbera, Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz, the BBC, Chelsea Cain, Terrance Dicks, the estates of the late Enid Blyton, the late Charles Addams, the late Malcolm Saville, the late Ian Fleming, the late Peter O'Donnell and more. I own nothing and make claim to the same nothing.
Mid-June 2018, The Dana House, Oak Falls
As I am sure you all know, dear readers, I am now married to a lovely brunette with the most gorgeous pair of soft brown eyes. Louise Milligan nee Dana and her irrepressible blonde sister Jean have been two of my best friends since the mid-1960s. She is the smartest, bravest, most kindly and most loyal woman I have ever met, as well as being by far the most beautiful. Her sister tends to be more adventurous and less scholarly than her elder sister, but is also smart, brave, kind, loyal and beautiful.
Louise and I have adopted a daughter we renamed Harriet Jean Luna Milligan. She is a pretty, lively girl of six, of mixed Haitian, African, French and British ancestry. I love hearing her call me "Daddy".
Since my previous memoirs have been a success, I thought I would tell of how a long friendship would develop into love. This time, not only myself but Louise and Jean shall be providing annotations as necessary.
So, here how a Londoner won the heart of an American sweetheart. As before, these reports were contemporaneous, so the annotations may clarify muggle, historical or American terms or references. So, let's begin at the beginning. [Boy, are you getting lucky tonight! LM. Marrying you was all the luck I needed. RM. You two are so sweet together! JD.]
Milton Abbas, Dorset, April 1967
There are few places more delightfully West Country than Milton Abbas. Neat thatched cottages all evenly spaced on either side of a single winding road, it is a vision of beauty.
Nancy Drew had contacted the Paranormal Investigations Bureau from the United States. "A couple of Americans in some place called Milton Abbas…"
George smiled delightedly. "It's in my native Dorset! Beautiful place!"
"Neat! They were excavating near St Catherine's Chapel…"
"Do you have any further information?"
"None. Only that some phantom horseman and steed are chasing them off.
"We would be coming over in a couple of days, but Ned, Frank and I are busy on another case alongside Joe and Iola. I've asked Louise and Jean Dana to join you. They, Doris Harland and Evelyn Starr should be arriving at London Heathrow tomorrow night your time."
"They are still Dana?" Jigger queried. "Weren't they dating…?"
"Louise and Jean parted amicably from Ken Scott and Chris Barton after they graduated from boarding school. Both Ken and Chris were later killed in action at D-Day. Neither Dana has dated since."
"The poor dears!" Penny gasped. "I would go spare if Jon died!" Given that she and Jon are happily married, I can't see them separating in any other way. Plus, that Royal Jelly Honey keeping us young pretty much indefinitely should mean that it'll take something drastic to part them. I'm sure that they have several decades together left to come. [They celebrate their fifty-third wedding anniversary next week and they are still as madly in love with each other as they were at their wedding. That will be us in nearly fifty-three years, love! RM. I'm sure Louise would have interjected, but she's too busy making out with Rex! JD. We were just kissing, Sis! LM. Your tongue was halfway down his throat, Sis! JD.]
"As I would if you did, my dear Newpenny," Jon replied. George sighed happily. There's a romantic under that tomboy somewhere! Jigger and I just smiled and helped ourselves to some more ginger beer.
"Well," came Nancy's voice again over the speakerphone, "I'll tell them you are expecting them."
"We are," I assured her. "It sounds like some faked haunting to steal the treasure."
Well, I was right, but it proved to be a more dangerous adventure than I thought…
At Heathrow Airport the following day, we greeted four ladies, all also kept young by the Royal Jelly Honey. Louise Dana is a brunette, tall, slender, pretty and with soft brown eyes. Her sister Jean, just over a year her junior, is a blonde, only slightly shorter than her sister but just as willowy, and with a cheerful manner that is most infectious. Doris Harland is a good-natured blonde and Evelyn Starr a shy brunette. I think that you would like them all.
I wonder what they made of us. George Kirrin is still the tomboy, preferring shirts and trouser suits to blouses and skirts, with her brunette hair in a short boyish cut. Jon Warrender is a lanky beanpole of a man, bespectacled and with untidy fair hair. Penny is a feisty redhead with sparkling grey eyes and a smile so megawatt it could power the national grid for a week. Jigger Johnson is another redhead, short, stocky in build and with a face that is no oil painting. Finally, there's me. I'm dark-haired and tall, with pen and notebook ever present in my hands. [You omitted handsome! LM. Thank you, my love. RM.]
"You must be the Paranormal Investigations Bureau," Louise began. "Nancy told us all about you."
"And you still came?!" George quipped.
"It was all good," Jean assured us, with a smile as bright as Penny's. "Nancy thinks very highly of you."
"As we do of her," I noted.
"Nancy said one of you lives somewhere near this Milton Abbey place?" Evelyn asked shyly.
"Milton Abbas," George corrected her, "although Milton Abbey Church and School is nearby. It is a pretty village. Well-worth a visit if you like thatched cottages."
"Neat! Well, are we going straight there?" Jean wanted to know.
"Via our centre at Kirrin Island on the Dorset coast," George noted. "We have some equipment there that might come in useful…"
Kirrin Island has been in George's family for years, as has Kirrin Island on the mainland at Culver Bay opposite. In addition to the old ruined castle, there was now a purpose-built centre for our work. The Famous Five's rumbustious tomboy has grown into a fine chemist, in the same way Jon, the Lone Pine Club's resident walking encyclopaedia has become a top physicist and Jigger, my best friend ever since we started secondary school at eleven, an ace biologist. Penny is here as Jon's wife and I as the team's trusty chronicler. As I sometimes joke with Penny, most of our job is keeping the three with supersonic brains topped up with tea! She always retorts that she is on holiday from her day job as manager of the Gay Dolphin Hotel in Rye Royal, East Sussex, when she joins us (her staff can look after the old family business for a few days). Jon can make his own hot drinks, she adds indignantly.
The four ladies seemed most impressed. George has really made the most of the place, with a fully stocked laboratory, a cosy lounge, a large library, a couple of spacious offices and a kitchen diner, plus bedrooms and all the necessary facilities. As Penny and I kept the ladies topped up with coffee (Penny is a hotelier after all and she loves serving guests), George, Jon and Jigger gathered their equipment. This took some time.
"So, Mr Milligan and Mrs Warrender," Jean began, "your team look professional. I can see why Nancy rates you so highly."
"Firstly, Miss Dana, I'm Penny and this is Rex."
"In which case, I'm Jean and these are Louise, Doris and Evelyn. For one thing, Louise is also a Miss Dana!"
"Thank you, Jean. Secondly, my husband and our other friends were inspired by a team from the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Development. They are scientists and investigators first and foremost. As such, they ensure they are as professional as possible."
"According to Nancy, you are a former teen sleuth and a former school reporter, right?" Doris asked.
"That's right. Penny caught criminals and I recorded how mad school life could be.
"Jon, George and Jigger should be with us shortly…"
"Rex," Louise enquired, "why do you call him Jigger?! Surely his parents didn't…?"
"He has three Christian names with the initials J.I.G. Ever since he started Sheldrake Grammar School with me at eleven, he has been referred to as Jigger or Jig.
"British schools have a reputation for daft nicknames. Another old schoolmate with the initials A.B.C. was renamed "Alphabet". We still call him "Alfie" even though the A isn't for Alfred…"
"I see." Louise's tone suggested that she didn't but was willing to accept the explanation.
At that moment, our three brainboxes turned up with backpacks full of equipment that would… Well, I'm the first to admit that I don't have a supersonic brain. My three friends have explained most of their equipment to me several times. They might as well have been speaking in Swahili!
"All ready," George said cheerfully. "I've even packed a picnic hamper. There's cheese and pickle sandwiches, cheese and onion crisps, Dorset apple cake, clotted cream and lashings of ginger beer…"
Our merry band had just arrived at Milton Abbas. As I've said before, it is a lovely village, built by one Joseph Damer (later Lord Milton and subsequently the first Earl of Dorchester) for his tenants between 1773 and 1780. That would have been very good of him if it wasn't for the fact that most of them had previously lived in the nearby town of Middleton. Damer had had this town demolished because it spoilt his view from Milton Abbey. Yes, really. He must have been an odious oik of the highest degree. [You could do that?! JD. He could then. I doubt he would get away with it now. The Human Rights Act should prevent current squires from behaving in that appalling manner. RM. Quite right too! JD.]
After a short walk past the thatched cottages and the church of St James, we ascended the hill towards Milton Abbey. Now a public school that costs an arm and a leg to send your children to, it was built as a Gothic Revival manor house for our old friend Joseph Damer on the site of an abbey first founded in 934 by King Athelstan. [For the benefit of American readers, a public school is a private school and a state school a public one. RM. Why not just call the public schools private ones then? JD.] Following the Reformation, the land was sold to Sir John Tregonwell, partly as a favour for being one of Henry VIII's divorce lawyers. [Anne Boleyn still complains that she would get married to the one man who could have you beheaded for non-existent adultery the day after having the marriage annulled… RM. No wonder she gave me the third degree when we got engaged, darling! The man was a brute! Not that I could ever betray or abandon our love. LM. I know, darling. Thank you. Me neither. RM.] The property was subsequently possessed by the Damer and Hasbro families, before eventually becoming the school in the 1950s. The Abbey Church, restored in 1865, serves as the school chapel, whilst being publicly open as a music venue and a tourist attraction. If you find yourself nearby, it is well worth a visit.
Halfway up the slope, however, we diverted eastwards to St Catherine's Chapel. This is surrounded by an ancient earthwork embankment called King Athelstan's Encampment. Apparently, the Anglo-Saxon King gathered his army there before a battle with the invading Danes. That's the local legend anyway.
St Catherine's Chapel is a Norman structure, built around 1190, possibly on the site of an Anglo-Saxon Minster and traditionally on a spot where King Athelstan had his vision of victory over the Danes the following day. Something of a family tradition that, as his grandfather was King Alfred the Great. At any rate, the chapel itself is a stone building with Norman arches and medieval tiles probably left over from an abbey restoration and recycled for the chapel.
George had brought her beloved dog Timothy with her and Jigger his monkey Ranji. The rest of the latter's menagerie of dogs, cats, rodents, fish and birds of all varieties were left in the care of our old friend from Sheldrake Boko Phipps. Good chap, Boko. You can trust him with your live – and those of your pets, more to the point.
"Ah, you must be those people Nancy Drew was sending," said a tall man, so skinny that you could practically see his bone structure and wearing a monocle. "I'm Professor William Harper Littlejohn…"
"Doctor Savage's long-term aide?" I enquired. "Why not call your friends in? I mean, your boss was a pupil of Sherlock Holmes and Craig Kennedy."
"Nancy's father Carson was an esteemed associate of Ham Brooks," replied the man universally known as Johnny of Doc Savage's Fabulous Five. Not to be confused with the Famous Five, which of course is George, her three cousins and Timothy the dog. "My legally-minded colleague volunteered to open an exchange of communications to ascertain if the aforementioned investigator would be available to pursue this vexatious series of incidents. Since she was engaged in matters of greater urgency, she endeavoured to procure substitutes of proven competence and integrity to undertake enquiries on her behalf.
"All of you assembled here at this current chronological instance are thus delegates on Miss Drew's behalf. Hopefully, her estimations are grounded on an assessment of the statistical probability of the matter being resolved to our mutual satisfaction. I shall endeavour to expostulate the particulars of…"
"Holy cow, Johnny!" boomed a hearty loudhailer of a voice that reminded me of the Frizzer, our old modern languages master from Sheldrake Grammar. The figure that emerged was also like the Frizzer in being a giant of a chap with massive fists. Unlike my old teacher, however, he had a decidedly glum expression, no handlebar moustache and an American accent. "You don't have to test them with your long words!"
"Thank you, Renny," replied Professor Littlejohn rather testily. Our new arrival was obviously Colonel John "Renny" Renwick, another of the Fabulous Five. The professor is a wizard archaeologist and anthropologist, whilst the colonel is just about the best construction engineer money can buy. [In this context, "wizard" means "superb" and not "mage", for the benefit of our wizard in both senses readers. RM.]
"Colonel Renwick," Jon asked politely, "perhaps you can clarify exactly what the situation is that your colleague was about to describe to us? After all, Nancy's father was a close acquaintance of your old associate Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks, presumably from their legal careers. Professor Littlejohn was expressing a hope that we lived up to Nancy's belief in our abilities in her absence on graver matters." Trust Jon to be able to follow the torrents of florid verbiage the professor is famous for! ["Torrents of florid verbiage"?! JD. Now, Jean… LM. Sorry, Sis, Bro. JD. Don't mention it, Sis. Professor Littlejohn must have influenced me more than I thought. It also sounded better than "several long words" … RM.]
The giant engineer gave a great bellow of a laugh, reminding me again of the Frizzer. "Johnny and I were sent by Doc to investigate rumours of a team of treasure hunters being scared off by a phantom horse and rider. We have seen these spectres, with the rider wearing attire that Johnny dates to about the tenth century AD..."
"The time of King Athelstan," Jon noted, "which would fit with the area's history. Given the reputation of Professor Littlejohn and yourself, Colonel Renwick, this must be something more than a chap and his steed in phosphoric paint?"
"Both my celebrated colleague and myself have conducted a comprehensive investigation of this hill with the principle objective of unearthing any interventions stemming from malicious intent."
"Fair enough, Professor. Well, let's see…"
Jon was cut off by the sight of a luminous glowing grey-white something moving at speed nearby. The spectral form seemed to be a man in primitive chainmail seated atop a warhorse. After a minute at the most, the vision vanished.
Louise looked in the direction the vision had first appeared in. "If someone faked that, they must be nearby still. Let's have a look! Coming, Sis?"
Jean agreed. Penny, Evelyn, Doris and I decided to join them. George, Jon and Jigger could set up their equipment and have all the lengthy scientific discourse they could want without us getting in the way.
"Do you think we'll find anything?" Evelyn asked. "I mean, those two are…"
"An engineer and an anthropologist, not detectives," Jean answered brightly.
"I don't know, Jean," Louise demurred. "The exploits of Doctor Savage and his men are celebrated for a reason.
"Rex, Penny, do you think we'll find something?"
"Well, we are heading away from both school and village," I noted. "I believe that there are some…
"Penny, what is that light just over there?"
"It is a movie projector," Jean answered instead, reaching it first. "One that is pointed at the chapel!"
"There is a cable running in the direction of yonder farmstead," I added.
"Let's go and have a look," Louise finished. "Aren't adventures grand?!"
"At this rate, this one won't last until supper," Penny noted.
We reached the farmstead. The cable led towards an old barn. Since the coast appeared to be clear, we all entered the barn. The floor was covered in hay and there was evidence of a horse having been kept there until recently, as well as an old generator that the cable was plugged into.
Jean saw a ladder up to a hayloft. "I wonder if they keep anything up there? I'll go up…"
"I should go first…"
"You aren't trying to protect us are you Rex?" Evelyn demanded. "We have proved ourselves…"
"Petrified Paintpots! No! You ladies are in skirts. It would be most ungentlemanly for me not to go up the ladder first. I never have this problem with George!" Given George's preferences for shorts or trousers, this never comes up. [For the record, George doesn't have gender dysphoria. She certainly isn't a lesbian and is due to marry Jupiter Jones in just over a fortnight. RM.]
Now reassured that I didn't not rate them for being female, they let me go up the ladder first. All I could see was hay at first, but then I spotted something under it. "Fossilised Fishhooks! Ladies, I've found something!"
"What is it, Rex?" Penny asked, climbing into the hayloft.
"Several packets of cigarettes, all with foreign labels. Smuggled, I would imagine.
"If there is to be a major dig nearby, their operation could be in jeopardy…"
"We have a mystery solved, Rex! Before our three boffins have their equipment out, too!"
Our four new friends had joined us. Louise and Jean agreed that our solution had the case solved.
At that point, our luck changed. The sound of a large engine was heard, followed by voices sounding through the skylight. "'Ere, there be signs of new people at the dig. We must scare 'em off! Prepare the projector…"
A dog barked. "Something 'as Bonny Lass spooked. What be a-doing? We 'ad better get the stuff from upstairs…"
As footsteps entered the barn, Louise, Evelyn and I pulled up the ladder. "'Ere, there be people up in the loft! What do we do now?"
"Bolt the door and burn the place down! We'll cut our losses! With the death penalty suspended, we won't swing for murder if we are caught." [The death penalty for murder was suspended in 1965 and abolished in 1969. Admittedly he would have been facing an automatic life sentence. It would have been some years at least before he saw daylight again. I don't think it would have been worth it. Mind you, I'm rather biased in that I now regard all five of the ladies as my family. Louise and Jean of course are my family. The former has a ring and plenty of paperwork to prove it. RM. I can speak for Penny, Doris and Evelyn as well as Jean in saying we all feel the same about you, my darling. LM.] The barn doors slammed shut and we heard a bolt slide into position, with a distinct smell of burning petrol following soon thereafter. The engine roared into life again, before fading into the distance.
"We need to get out of here!" Doris gasped. "Quickly!"
"Funnily enough, getting burned alive wasn't on my to-do list either," Penny snapped.
"Arguing isn't helping," Louise noted. "Any ideas?"
"The fire seems to be at the front of the barn from the smell. Shall we climb out of the skylight and see if we can find a means of descent?"
"Capital, Rex!" Penny beamed. "Lead the way! For all your protests, you do have the supersonic brain when you need it!"
I clambered out onto the roof, before extending a hand to help Louise out. She did the same for Jean in her turn. Once we were all out, Penny spotted a haystack behind the barn. The five ladies took it in turn to leap into it, before I followed their example.
A familiar joyous bark sounded as we walked back towards the camp. Timmy led George and Jon to meet us. Once Jon and Penny had finally finished kissing, we told them what had happened.
Shortly afterwards, the whole party of us arrived at the farmstead. We had of course found a phone box in the village, dialled "999" and asked for the fire brigade. They would be arriving shortly to put out the fire. Colonel Renwick performed his party trick of smashing in the panels of the front door of the main farmhouse with his bare hands. The man has fists like battering rams! Remind me not to anger him.
"We need to look for any clues that they may have left to where they might be now," Louise said. "I want these smugglers caught. They seem capable of anything."
Jon quickly found an old map in a back room. It showed what seemed to be the smugglers' distribution route. We packed ourselves into Jon's, George's and Jigger's cars and the one Colonel Renwick and Professor Littlejohn had rented and headed off towards Culver Bay. A small cottage (ironically, a short walk from Kirrin Cottage) seemed to be important, so we headed there.
The cottage had a large lorry parked nearby. Louise and I volunteered to try the door to see if anyone answered. We went up the path towards the cottage together, Louise surprisingly taking my arm. Once we reached the front door, I rang the doorbell.
"What do you want?" growled a gruff voice from within. It sounded exactly like the chap who ordered the burning of the barn earlier. We had clearly found our smugglers!
"Our car broke down nearby," I said. "We wondered if we could use your telephone…?"
The door opened, and a tall, muscular chap came out. His clothes stank of petrol. What a surprise!
"No! There is another cottage over there…"
"That's a shame," Louise noted. "We were caught in a barn fire a little while ago, near Milton Abbas. It hasn't been our lucky day…"
"Fossilised Fishhooks! Louise, get down!" I had spotted the man reaching into his pocket quickly. Not sure what he was reaching for, I dived down, pulling Louise with me. A bullet went over our heads by half-an-inch at most! The man collapsed unconscious, Professor Littlejohn firing a tranquilliser called a "mercy bullet" from a rapid-fire automatic pistol, both items designed and built by Dr Savage himself. The man doesn't approve of his aids using lethal weapons. As I helped Louise to her feet, the rest of our party came running up.
"Sorry about that," I apologised. "I saw him reach for his pocket. Not knowing what…"
"Never apologise for preventing me getting shot, Rex!" she smiled in reply. As she looked at me, I saw into those beautiful brown eyes and felt a sudden feeling of connection with my new friend. [And that I now believe is the moment that I lost my heart to Louise Dana. RM. I believe I fell in love with you at that exact same second. LM. Aww! JD.]
We joined our friends in the cottage. With Colonel Renwick charging about like a hyperactive bull and Professor Littlejohn having seeming inexhaustible reserves of strength (many lanky people do; Jon is stronger than he looks too), they quickly mopped up the rest of the smugglers present with little help required from the rest of us. A call to the authorities later, and we were taking a quick boat trip to Kirrin Island for a debrief.
A couple of days later, we were saying goodbye to our new friends at Heathrow. We all agreed that we would keep in touch and try and visit each other whenever we on the other's side of the Atlantic.
"Goodbye, Rex," said Evelyn, shaking my hand firmly. "It was good to meet you. See you again."
"Goodbye, Evelyn."
My farewell to Doris went along similar lines. Jean, however, surprised me by pulling me in for a big hug. "Good to meet you, Rex. See you again soon, I hope!"
There is something irresistibly infectious about being embraced by the irrepressible Jean Dana! A hug from her would make anyone feel cheered. "Likewise. I hope so too! Bon Voyage!" [Aww, keep him, Sis! JD. I fully intend to, dear. That's why I married him! LM. Another hug would have sufficed, Jean. RM. OK, Rex. Here it is! JD. Thank you. RM.]
Louise also hugged me tightly, then gave me a soft lingering kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for your quick thinking, Rex. Au revoir!"
"Au revoir!" There is something about Louise Dana that I can't quite put my finger on. You can't help liking those four ladies all the same. [You know, Sis, it was the look on your face after you had kissed Rex goodbye that made me realise that you were a woman in love. JD. Shame I didn't realise that for over half-a-century… LM. I didn't realise that I was a man in love either, dearest. RM.]