Saffron & Bruno and the Holiday...part one!

Saffron looked out of her bedroom window and smiled.  Summer was here and the garden was in full bloom.  Flowerbeds ran alongside the path a buzz with yellows and reds and purples and pinks and oranges.  The water in the pond glistened and the ducks were all in need of sunglasses.  The sky was blue and the clouds near non-existent; those that were there were candyfloss fluffy and being gently puffed along by the lightest of breezes.

Saffron turned to her bed and carried on packing her suitcase.  It was holiday time and she was very excited.  Sat next to the suitcase was Bruno, and he was patiently listening to all the wonderful things Saffron had planned to do whilst on holiday.  As she spoke Saffron heard the daily walking through walls practice start, so she grabbed Bruno and went up to see the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew.

The ghosts were dutifully practising when she walked in through the attic door.  Not one of them had mastered the art as yet and the bumps and “Ows!” were constant.  Poor Stephen Number Eight’s nose was so sore he had tied a bandage around it.  Stephen Number Eleven’s nose was redder than a tomato.  Andrew was stood in the middle of the attic offering encouragement.  He turned when he heard the door open, “Hello, Saffron.”

“Hello, Andrew. Hello, Sixteen Stephens,” Saffron called.  The Sixteen Stephens “hello’d” back, well they gave a range of greetings from “hello” to “heddow”…depending on how sore their noses were.

“I just thought I’d come up to tell you Bruno and me are going on holiday,” beamed Saffron.

“Holiday?”  Andrew said, “That’s nice.  Where are you going?”

“Oh, we’re going on a round the world trip,” Saffron replied.  A few of the Stephens had stopped bumping their noses to listen.  “We’re going to Egypt and Italy and China and America.  We’re going to see the pyramids and the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Great Wall of China and the Grand Canyon.”

“Wow!”  Said Andrew, “That sounds exciting.”  Saffron noticed with some surprise that each of the Stephens was suddenly wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a sun hat and each of them carried a suitcase and Stephen Number Nine was holding a bucket and spade; Stephen Number Four even had a rubber ring and armbands on; and Stephen Number Seven was applying suntan lotion.

“You do look funny,” said Saffron, “Why are you all dressed like that?”

“We’re coming with you,” said Stephen Number One, “We’ve always wanted to go on a holiday and this one sounds out of this world!”  And he led the Stephens out of the attic, all in a conga line, singing their holiday song.  It was quite a repetitive holiday song.  It went: “Holi-holi-holiday!  Holi-holi-holiday!” and on each “day!” out thrust the hips to the left and to the right.  Saffron joined on the end and conga’d out to the car ready for the holiday to commence.

*

Saffron, Bruno and The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were stood outside the Great Pyramid at Giza and were all staring at a sign.  There was quite a lot of head scratching going on and every now and again someone would trace under the writing with their finger trying to work out exactly what it said.

“It’s in hieroglyphics,” said Saffron, “That’s the way Ancient Egyptians used to write.”

“Step out of the way,” said Stephen Number Ten, “I know all about Highryglyfics, all about them!”  He pushed his way to the front of the group and paused at the indecipherable writing.  “Hmmm….” He pondered, “Ah, yes,” he announced and cleared his throat, “What this says is, ‘bird, squiggle, owl, squiggle, two lines, a feather, squiggle, squiggle, a man running, squiggle, owl, bird’.  Simple.”  He nodded his head.

“Yes,” said Stephen Number Three, all exasperated, “but what does it say?”

“I’ve told you,” Said Stephen Number Ten, “it says, bird, squiggle, owl, squiggle, two lines, a feather, squiggle, squiggle, a man running, squiggle, owl, bird’.  Easy.”

“What it actually says,” interrupted Stephen Number Fifteen, his nose in a guide book, “is that “This is the tomb of Toot-And-Come-In!  Beware all who enter here!”

“Toot-And-Come-In?”  Stephen Number Ten was incredulous.

‘S’what it says.”

‘Toot-And-Come-In?”

“Look right here,” said Stephen Number Fifteen pointing at the page, “Toot-And-Come-In.”

“Don’t be ridiclious,” said Stephen Number Ten, “I can’t see any car horns in these pictures, just lots of birds and squiggles and running men and owls and squiggles and that.”

A terrific argument ensued.  Stephen Number Ten insisted his reading was right.  Stephen Number Fifteen kept pointing at his book and disagreeing.  All the other Stephens joined in too.  They enjoyed a good bicker.  Andrew, Saffron and Bruno watched and rolled their eyes.

“Will you all be quiet!?” Yelled a voice from up above them, “I’m trying to get some sleep here!”

They all looked up.  A bandaged head was sticking out of a gap in the blocks of the pyramid and looking down at them.

“Four and a half thousand years I’ve been asleep and along you lot come spoiling the peace with all your shouting and hollering!”

“What’ve you done to you head?”  Asked Stephen Number Eleven.

“…Shouting and screaming and howling and bawling and….eh?  What do you mean, ‘what have I done to my head?’  Nothing!”

“It’s all bandaged up.  Have you given it a good bang?”

“I have not given it a good bang.  I am a mummy.”

The Sixteen Stephens took in what had just been said.

There was a pause.

Quite a long pause.

 “You don’t look like a mummy.”  Said Stephen Number Two.  “You look like you’re accident prone, more like.”  There was much nodding and murmuring of agreement.

“Ooooooooh!”  Said the Mummy and ducked back inside the pyramid.

“He looked like he’d bumped his head.”

“And his arm.”

“And his chest and shoulders.”

“Terribly accident prone, he must always be falling over or walking into things.”

“He should turn on a light.”

*

“I am so excited,” said Stephen Number Ten, “I’ve never seen a leaning tower of pizza before!” And he began to sing, “Pizza, pizza, pizza!”  It was, as you know, much like the Sixteen Stephens’ holiday song…except about pizza.

“It’s not the ‘Leaning Tower of Pizza’!” said Saffron, giggling, “It’s the Leaning Tower of Pisa!”

“The Leaning Tower of Peas-err?”  That sounds unlikely,” replied Stephen Number Ten, “I doubt you could make a tower out of peas.”  Saffron rolled her eyes and waited for them to see.  Stephen Number Ten carried on singing the pizza song, just in case.

The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew all stood in front of the leaning tower and tilted their heads to one side.  Next to them Saffron, holding Bruno by the hand, was itching to get to the top of the tower.

“It’s broken.”  Said Stephen Number Seven.

“No wonder it’s collapsing if it’s made out of peas.”  Said Stephen Number Four.

“Do you think that’s where it got its name?”  Queried Stephen Number Eleven “The Leaning Tower of Peas-err-we-shouldn’t-have-used-vegetables-to-build-a-tower!”

“You mean,” asked Stephen Number Ten, “And then they shortened it?”

“Yeah, from ‘peas-err-we-shouldn’t-have-used-vegetables-to-build-a-tower’ to just ‘peas-err’.”  Saffron giggled.  They were the silliest of ghosts.

Saffron stood at the top of the tower and waved down to the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew.  They were all stood at the bottom looking up and waving back.  The view from the tower was spectacular and even if you had an extra special bar of smile-wipe, you would not have been able wipe the smile off Saffron’s face.  She took pictures and hugged Bruno.

The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew stopped their waving and then there was a pause.  Quite a long pause.  It was the sort of pause that once it got going you really knew it was going to be a pause that ended up with something quite silly being suggested at the end of it.  Andrew closed his eyes and waited for one of the Stephens to start the silliness.

“You know what?”  Andrew didn’t have to wait long.

“You know what?”  Repeated Stephen Number Twelve, “I reckon this tower would get loads more visitors if it was a proper tower that stood up properly.”

“I think you’re right, you know,” nodded Stephen Number Fourteen, “I reckon if this tower was a proper tower that stood up properly loads more people would come and see it.”

“I think,” said Stephen Number Ten quite studiously, “I think that if we were to fix this tower, I reckon we’d be on for some sort of award.”
“Yeah!”

“Like a medal.”

“Or a certificate.”

“Or a helicopter!”

“Eh?”

“Or a badger!”

“Yeah, what?”

“Right,” said Stephen Number Ten, rubbing his hands together and taking charge of the situation, “What we need is a plan to fix this tower and I think I know exactly just what to do.”  Fifteen pairs of eyes stared at him expectedly, and one pair of eyes remained shut.

“Yes?” Stephen Number Two asked expectantly and a hush descended on the group.

“I think we need to pour a setting liquid into the foundations of the tower, correcting the lean and making it stand up straight again!”

“A brilliant plan!”  Cheered Stephen Number Sixteen.  Even Andrew opened his eyes and looked at Stephen Number Ten in wonder.

“Yes,” continued Stephen Number Ten, “ And we all know the best setting liquid in the world?”  The Stephens looked at each other and wondered.  There was a silence.  They thought.  They grasped about inside their minds for an answer.  Eventually one of their number raised a hand to speak but before he could open his mouth Stephen Number Ten went on, “That’s right: custard.”

“Custard?”

“Sets as hard as rock and is terrible to shift.”  Stephen Number Ten looked smug.  Andrew closed his eyes again.

‘BRILLIANT!” Chorused the Stephens and off they set to work.

Saffron came down from the tower to see the Sixteen Stephens in high-visibility vests and hard-hats, getting to work with a raft of diggers and cranes and tankers.  Stephen Number Sixteen was guiding Stephen Number Twelve as he reversed a gigantic tanker full of custard toward the base of the tower.  The truck moved slowly and Stephen Number Sixteen went “Beep! Beep!” because all trucks going backwards should go beep beep.

Saffron’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.  Stephen Number Ten picked up the hosepipe at the back of the tanker and turned the valve.  Custard flowed from the hose and into the basement of the tower.  Stephens Eight, One and Fifteen repeated the action on either side of the tower.  Custard was going everywhere.

“More power!”  Shouted Stephen Number Ten.  On his hose, Stephen Number Eight turned his valve and the custard flowed fast.  On his hose, Stephen Number Fifteen turned his valve and the custard flowed faster.  On his hose, Stephen Number One turned his valve and the custard flowed fastest!  Stephen Number Ten looked at what was happening and frowned.  This was his idea.  There was no way the others were going to have faster custard than him!  “Maximum power!”  He shouted and turned the valve all the way open.  Rivers of custard flowed out of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  People were slipping and sliding.  People were being carried away on a torrent of thick yellow dessert.  Stephen Number One fought his hose for as long as he could; suddenly, he lost control and a jet of custard hit Stephen Number Ten straight in the face.  That was it.

“FOOD FIGHT!”  Shouted Stephen Number Ten and fired his hose at all the other Stephens, managing to catch tourist after tourist as he turned and spun around.  Saffron and Bruno ducked behind a corner and laughed.  All the other Stephens joined in.  Custard went everywhere.  There was fountain of the stuff coming out of the top of the tower.  Saffron fell on her back and laughed and laughed.  Stephen Number Ten was desperately trying to hit everything that moved, and Stephen Number Eight ran around trying to catch as much custard in his mouth as he could.

The curator of the Leaning Tower of Pisa came around the corner and stood, staring at the custardy mess with a look of shock on his face.  Andrew sighed.  He clicked his fingers and the mess was gone.  The Sixteen Stephens were stood, spick and span, and the tower was its pristine self once again.

“Oh,” Said Stephen Number Ten spotting a street sign, “It’s because the town is called Pisa.”

Saffron giggled.

She could not wait for the second week of her holiday.

Toot-And-Come-In's Mummy gets a wake up call!

The best setting liquid in all the world: CUSTARD!

Saffron & Bruno and Tricks and Japes

The sun was still shining on a wonderful summer.  It had been a few weeks now since Saffron, Bruno and their family had moved to their beautiful new house.  Saffron’s bedroom was now untidy with books and festooned with pictures and drawings all around the walls.  She appeared to have a particular favourite subject she liked to draw: ghosts.  Not just any ghosts, of course.  These ghosts bumped into walls, sang songs about pizzas and had food fights, and they were specific in number. The ghosts in the pictures were the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew and Saffron was delighted to have discovered these funny fellows living in her attic.

Saffron was sat on her bed reading a book and cwtching Bruno.  She was thoroughly enjoying her book.  It was about a group of children and a tree and all the adventures they had climbing up it and sliding down it.  Saffron had just got to a particularly entertaining bit of the book when she realised she could hear nothing.  This, she thought, was odd.  She checked the clock on her bedside cabinet.  There was most certainly something odd.  It was quiet when it shouldn’t have been quiet.  The clock on Saffron’s bedside cabinet read time-for-the-Sixteen-Stephens’-walking-through-walls-practice.  And there was not a noise to be heard.

Saffron put the book down on her bed.  Keeping Bruno tucked in under her arm, she walked over to the door and opened it.  There on the landing was a huddle of ghosts.  There were all peering over or through the bannister railings and were trying to suppress their giggles.  Every now and again, one of them would look at the others and manage a “ssssh!” through the giggling and then would instantly turn his head back to look at whatever was holding their attention.  Saffron walked over to the staircase and looked over the heads of the ghosts.  Down in the hallway, three other ghosts were balancing on each other’s shoulders and resting a bucket on a slightly opened doorway.  They leaned the bucket just so, so when the door was next opened, down it would fall and the contents would land on the poor person who opened it.  Saffron was aghast.  What a terrible trick to play.  She quickly rushed down the stairs and shooed the ghosts away.  She rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a chair, hurried back and just got the bucket down and the chair returned before her mother opened the door and, unknowingly, escaped a soaking of, what turned out to be, raspberry flavoured jelly.

Climbing back up the stairs, Saffron twitched her nose and scowled a little at the errant ghosts.  They looked at where their feet might have been if they had any feet and then they swiftly floated back up toward the attic.  After them went Saffron.

Sixteen very bashful faces greeted Saffron when she walked through the door to the attic.  Andrew was looking quite stern.  There was a little bit of nervous shuffling and perhaps a sniff from one or two of the Sixteen Stephens.
“Well?”  Said Andrew after a while.

“We’re sorry we nearly covered your Mum in raspberry jelly,” chorused the Sixteen Stephens in a sing-song fashion.

“The bucket could have bumped on her head!”  Said Saffron.  Stephen Number Eight held out a “We’re Sorry” card that had quickly been made from a piece of paper and some crayons.  Saffron noticed that Stephen Number Ten was almost fit to burst.  He was going a funny purple colour and shaking.

“But we’re so bored!”  He moaned, “You’re forever reading your book and we keep practising walking through walls and you never come to see our red noses and watch us go bump.”

“Oh,” said Saffron.

“What if one of us finally managed to walk through a wall?  You wouldn’t be here to see it!”  Stephen Number Ten went on.

“Oh,” said Saffron again.

“And we all love tricks and japes and we haven’t done any for such a long time and we thought that since you were reading we would go and get a jolly good trick played on someone.”  Stephen Number Ten had gone a little bit blue now, as he tried to get all the one long sentence out in just one single breath.

“Oh,” said Saffron for a third time.  “I love tricks and japes!”  She added, “But if you’re going to play a trick or jape on someone you must play it on my dad!”  The ghosts smiled smiles of the complicit.  Stephen Number Ten rubbed his hands with glee.  It was time to play some tricks and japes.

*

Saffron’s Dad went out to his shed to enjoy a cup of tea and a read of the paper but, most important of all, Saffron’s Dad went out to the shed to enjoy some peace and quiet.  He opened the shed door, walked inside and closed the door. Nothing.  Not a noise.  Not a whisper.  Not even gentle birdsong.  Quiet.  Saffron’s Dad gave a satisfied sigh at the tranquillity, and he sat down.  PARP!  There was the loudest parping sound you have ever heard.  Saffron’s Dad shrieked with fear and jumped up in the air!  This was immediately followed by the laughter of Sixteen Stephens, and Andrew and a Saffron and Bruno.  Saffron’s Dad stood up with a fright and went straight back into the house.  The lounge looked quiet.  He walked in and listened.  There was only the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.  He sat down in an armchair.  PARP!  The sound rang out again.  The laughter rang out again.  PARP!  PARP!  Every seat gave off a tremendous parping sound whenever Saffron’s Dad sat on one.  At last, he lifted the cushion of the latest offender and saw the whoopee cushion.  He giggled.  Saffron and Bruno, Andrew and the Sixteen Stephens had tears streaming down their faces they were laughing so hard.

*

Saffron’s Dad had pulled on his welly boots, picked up a trowel and was off out into the garden to plant some bulbs in the flowerbeds.  It didn’t take him long to get his hands and knees dirty and his back into his work.  He whistled a merry tune as he planted.  Soon, the promise of daffodils and tulips in the coming spring had planted a smile on his face as well.  Saffron’s Dad looked up as he heard footsteps on the path.  Saffron was stood in front of him with an outrageously gorgeous flower in her coat lapel.  The bright yellow and orange daisy sat on her coat all ripe for smelling and Saffron’s Dad couldn’t resist.  WHOOSH!  A stream of water splashed over his face.  Saffron laughed and the sound of the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew’s laughter echoed her own.  He bent down again, a little more cautiously this time, but the result was the same.  WHOOSH!  The water hit him right on the nose!  Saffron jiggled her feet, she was laughing so much.  The ghosts roared with laughter too, Stephen Number Five was rolling on his back laughing.  Stephen Number Eleven lay on his stomach and pounded the floor with laughter.  Saffron’s Dad giggled.

*

Saffron’s Dad got the ladder out of the garage, filled the bucket with warm soapy water and picked up his chamois leather.  Whistling once more, he carried his equipment to the front of the house and set the ladder up.  He climbed the ladder and, with the water and the chamois, began cleaning the windows.

Down below, at the foot of the ladder, the Sixteen Stephens quickly manoeuvred a bucket of custard into place.  And then they watched and waited.

Down the ladder came Saffron’s Dad.  Step, step, step, step…SPLOOSH!  He stood in the bucket of custard.  The bucket skidded out from underneath him.  He slipped over on to his bottom.  His legs went high in the air.  The bucket somersaulted up and over, up and over and dropped its contents all over Saffron’s Dad’s head.  Before the bucket landed, PLOP, Saffron’s Dad could hear the laughter of his daughter once again.  The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were laughing too.  This time, Saffron’s Dad giggled a bit and then he stopped.  And he had a little think.

*

The night sky was clear and bright.  The stars sparkled and the moon glowed.  If you looked closely enough, you could see a milky way up there.  A mug of hot cocoa was stood on the garden gatepost.  Next to it stood Saffron’s Dad.  He was looking up to the sky through a telescope and a satisfied smile was on his face.

Saffron walked down the path and stood next to her Dad.  She had a mug of cocoa too.  She looked up into the sky to see if she could tell what her Dad was looking at.

“I’m sorry we played so many tricks and japes on you today,” she said.

“That’s ok, sweetheart,” Saffron’s Dad replied.

“I’m glad you found them funny.”  Saffron said.

“Yes,” said Saffron’s Dad, “Although that last jape was quite dangerous.  You need to be careful when people are up heights or on ladders, you know.”

“I know,” Saffron said, “We just couldn’t resist.  And you did look ever so funny with the custard all over you and the bucket on your head.”

“I imagine I did,” Saffron’s Dad agreed.  “Um,” he added, a little confused, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Oh,” Saffron said with a start, “Why, Bruno and me, of course!”

“Ah, of course,” nodded Saffron’s Dad.  He looked back at the stars and put the telescope back to his eye.

“Can you see anything interesting, Dad?”  Asked Saffron.  Saffron’s Dad didn’t reply, he just handed his daughter the telescope and pointed to a bright, bright star way up in the night sky.  Saffron put the telescope to her eye and looked.  “I can’t see anything.”  She said.

‘Look harder,” her father instructed.  Saffron squeezed the telescope against her eye and stared furiously.  There was nothing there, she was sure.  “Try the other eye,” suggested her father, “you might have better luck with that one.”  Saffron switched eyes.  Her father giggled.  And then he laughed.  And he laughed and laughed.  Saffron took the telescope from her eye.

“What’s so funny?”  She asked.  Saffron’s Dad, through the laughter, pointed for her to look in the window and see her reflection.  Saffron did so.  Around each eye was a perfectly formed black circle.  Saffron looked like she was trying to do a panda impersonation or like she was wearing inept face-paint.

“Gotcha!”  Laughed her father, his belly and shoulders shaking with mirth.  Saffron started to laugh too.  She had fallen for one of the oldest tricks and japes in the book: boot-polish on the telescope.  How embarrassing.  Through the laughter came the sound of the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew joining in the in the fun.  Saffron’s Dad paused for a moment, sure he could hear someone else laughing along with him and his daughter.  He shook his head.  There was no one else about.  He must have imagined it.

*

Saffron climbed the stairs to the bathroom and washed her face.  It had been a tremendous day of tricks and japes.  The whoopee cushions, the fake flower and the bucket of custard…not to forget her dad getting his own back on her.  Saffron couldn’t remember laughing quite so long and quite so hard for ages.  The muscles in her belly were still aching from all the laughter.  She smiled and dried her face with a towel.  What a day it had been.

Saffron climbed into bed, pulled the duvet up under her chin and gave Bruno a big cwtch.  These Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were proving to be lots of fun.  Saffron wondered what other adventures she would have with them.

As she started to drift off to sleep, she heard the soft bump of the first nose hitting a wall.  Walking through walls practice was getting underway.  Saffron closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

That raspberry jam could land right on Mother's head!

 

Saffron and The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed!

Saffron & Bruno and the First Day at School

There was a tingly feeling in Saffron’s stomach.  She was feeling a curious mixture of emotions: excited and nervous.  She hurriedly got dressed and, picking up Bruno, dashed downstairs to eat her breakfast.  She knew she was hungry but, for some reason – she blamed the excited nervous feeling she was feeling – Saffron didn’t really eat much of her toast and cereal.  She gave Bruno and extra hard squeeze; then she stood up, checked her school bag and got ready to go out and catch the bus.

Up in the attic, the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew crowded around the window and watched as Saffron waited.  She had come up to tell them about starting school the night before and they were just as excited and nervous as she was.  Well, they were just as excited and nervous once Saffron had explained what school was and why it was such an important thing.  As they watched Saffron waiting an idea started to form in the minds.

“You know,” said Stephen Number Sixteen, “I’ve never been to a school.”

“Me neither,” said Stephen Number Five.

“Nor me,” said Stephen Number Eight.  This sentiment was echoed by all the Stephens.

“I remember school,” said Andrew with eyes all misty and lost in nostalgia, “It was a long time ago and I’ve probably forgotten nearly everything I learned there.”

“Forgotten everything you learned?” Queried Stephen Number Seven.

“Except for how to walk through walls,” prompted Stephen Number One.

“Without going through a door,” said Stephen Number Ten, “That’s just cheating.”

“Yes,” said Andrew, “Except for walking through walls, I’ve nearly forgotten everything I learned.”

“I wonder what school is like?” mused Stephen Number Twelve.

“I know,” said Andrew, “Let’s go and find out.”  After much nodding and smiling the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew hurried down to the front gate and waited with Saffron for the school bus to arrive.

“What are you all doing here?”  Saffron asked.

“We’re coming with you,” announced Stephen Number Ten.

“We’re coming to school,” said Stephen Number Four with a grin.  Saffron grinned too, secretly happy she was going to have some friends with her.

The school bus arrived and the smiling driver opened the door to let Saffron on.  She turned to wave goodbye to her parents, who were watching from the kitchen window, and then she stepped onto the bus.

“Bags me the back seat!” Yelled Stephen Number Eleven, and the whole gaggle of ghosts rushed to the back and jostled with each other to see who could get the best seat.  Saffron giggled a little, the first laugh of the day.  She looked around and saw a young girl, about her age, who was offering her a seat.  Saffron smiled and sat down.

“Hello,” said the girl on the bus, “my name’s Rachel.  Are you Saffron?”

“Yes,’ replied Saffron, a little surprised that the girl should know who she was.

“Mr Dressing said I was to be your buddy,” Rachel said, “and so I thought I’d start straight away.”  She smiled.  Saffron smiled back.

“Thank you,” she said.  The girls were soon lost in conversation whilst the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew waved out of the windows and drew funny faces in the condensation.

“So,” said Rachel, finishing her description of the school, “it’s a really fun place so long and you stay away from the custard and jam roly-poly and leave Agatha Bartholomew alone.  She’s quite horrible.”

“Right,” said Saffron, “no custard or roly-poly and no Agatha Bartholomew.”  She gave Bruno a tighter squeeze and prepared for her first day to start.

“I like your frog,” Rachel said with a smile.

“He’s Bruno,” said Saffron.

“Hi Bruno,” said Rachel.

The classroom was big and square.  It had lots of colourful pictures and pieces of work on the walls.  There was a row of coat pegs and cubby-holes along one wall.  At the front of the room the whiteboard had the day’s date and, in big bright writing, “Welcome Saffron” written in capital letters.  Saffron smiled.  Rachel took her hand and sat her down next to her.  The girls were sat at table large enough for four students.  Soon the rest of the class came in and two girls sat opposite Saffron and Rachel.

“Hello new girl,’ said one of the girls, the other one just sniggered.

“Hello,” said Saffron, “I’m Saffron.”

“We know, new girl,” said the girl, “it’s written on the board.”  The other girl just sniggered again.

“Oh, yes,” said Saffron.

“I’m Agatha Bartholomew,” said the girl, “ and you’d better not upset me!”  Saffron looked at her and gulped a little.  Agatha Bartholomew had spiky hair, spike ears, spiky teeth and, somehow, spiky eyes.  Her accomplice, who was still sniggering, was round.  They didn’t look like a good match.

“Leave Saffron alone, Agatha Bartholomew,” Rachel said, “You don’t scare us you horrible girl!”  Agatha snorted and went into her hag for her books and pens.  

Just then Mr Dressing, the teacher, walked into the room and the class stood up to greet him.

“Good morning, class,” said Mr Dressing.

“Good morning Mister Dressing,” said the class.  Mr Dressing sat down, shrieked and jumped up again.  A pin had been placed on his chair.  Saffron heard and giggle.  She looked around.  Stephen Number Ten was shuddering with laughter, as were the rest of the Sixteen Stephens.  Andrew had a concerned look on his face.

“Who did that!?”  Bellowed the teacher.

“It was the new girl!”  Agatha Bartholomew called out.  Saffron froze.  What a mean girl Agatha Bartholomew was!

“That isn’t a very good start to the day,” said Mr Dressing and he gave Saffron a very stern look.

*

The morning went well, after the bad start.  The class did some sums and some writing and were working on a new art project when the bell for morning teatime went.  Out in the playground, Rachel introduced Saffron to some of her friends and she had a great time playing tag, hide and seek and skipping.  Saffron especially found it funny watching the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew trying to master the skipping rope.  It was almost as funny as watching them trying to learn how to walk through walls.  Every other rotation of the rope led to one of them falling on their bottoms.  It was very funny.

“What’s that?”  Agatha Bartholomew sneered out the question, pointing at Bruno.

“That’s Bruno,” said Saffron, a little taken aback by the rude interruption in her playtime.

“Hey, everyone!”  Agatha Bartholomew called out, “The new girl’s brought a toy doll with her to school!  What a baby!”  She laughed and her round friend sniggered.  The rest of the school children ignored her but Saffron felt her cheeks going red with embarrassment.  The bell rang and it was time to go back into class.

Mr Dressing walked into the classroom eating his morning tea.  It was a bright green apple, it looked like a Granny Smith’s.  He placed the apple on his desk and spoke to the class.

“Now,” he said, “I’ve been looking at the pictures you’ve been drawing and I must say some of them are fantastic!”  He smiled and so did the whole class.

“Thank you, Mister Dressing,” they chorused.

“I particularly enjoyed your picture of the sheets on the washing line, Saffron,” said Mr Dressing, “very clever the way you’ve given them faces and made them look like they’re alive.”

“Oh no,” said Saffron, “They’re not sheets, they’re…” Before she could finish Agatha Barthomew shot her hand in the air and began to speak over the top of Saffron.

“Do you like my picture of a dog, Mister Dressing?”  She said loudly.

“Why yes,” Mr Dressing said, “I especially like how you’ve capture the dog barking.  He looks very angry, Agatha.”

“Yes,” Agatha Bartholomew agreed, “he is.”  Saffron gulped a little.

Mr Dressing went back to his desk and, without really looking, picked up his apple and took a big bite.
“Ow, my jaw!” He yelped.  The apple wasn’t an apple anymore.  The apple was now a bright green tennis ball.

“Who did that!?”  Bellowed Mr Dressing.

“It was the new girl,’ shouted Agatha Bartholomew, a broad grin on her face.

“Well,” said Mr Dressing, “This isn’t the sort of first impression I expected you to make.”

“But…”  But Mr Dressing wouldn’t let Saffron speak.  He shook his head and sat down at his desk.

PARP!

The class roared with laughter.  Mr Dressing jumped in the air.  On his chair was a large, round, red whoopee-cushion.  His face went crimson.

“Who did that!?”  He bellowed for a third time that day.  Before anyone else had time to react Agatha Bartholomew’s hand was in the air and waving about.  She pointed at Saffron and, for the third time that day, yelled, ‘It was the new girl, sir!”  Saffron could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.  She could hear the laughter of the Sixteen Stephens but was confused as to why they would want to get her into trouble.  She looked around.  The ghosts were collapsed on the floor in paroxysms of laughter, they were doubled up, they were rolling around, they were pointing at Agatha Bartholomew’s bag and gesturing for Saffron to look.  Saffron caught sight of something poking out of Agatha Bartholomew’s school bag.

“Please, Mr Dressing,” she said in a quiet voice, “It wasn’t me, sir.  Please, sir, check Agatha’s schoolbag, if you don’t believe me.”  Agatha Bartholomew gasped in outrage.  Her round friend stopped sniggering long enough to gasp too.  Mr Dressing marched over and opened the bag.  He reached in and pulled out a box of drawing pins, a tube of tennis balls and the empty wrapper for a “farty-fartpants whoopee-cushon”.  He went crimson once more.
“Agatha Bartholomew, I think you’d better come with me to the Head Mistress’ office!”

“But…but…” Agatha Bartholomew began, but to no avail.  Off she was taken to see the Head Mistress.

*

At lunchtime, Saffron, Rachel and some of their friends were sat eating in the school cafeteria.  They had avoided the custard and jam roly-poly and were talking about the tricks and japes that had happened in class during the morning.  A plate of custard slammed down on the table, little droplets bounced out and splatted on the table-top.

“Don’t think you’ve got away with this, Saffron and your toy frog.  I’ll get you, don’t you worry,” snarled Agatha Bartholomew.  The girls at the table fell quite.  Saffron stood up.  She looked around the room; she saw a nod of a head, and then she smiled.  Then she giggled.

“What’s so funny?”  Sneered Agatha Bartholomew.

“Two words,” replied Saffron, “Two words are quite funny.”

“What two words?”  Said Agatha Bartholomew suddenly not quite so sure of her self.

“FOOD FIGHT!”  Yelled Stephen Number Ten, and he picked up Agatha Bartholomew’s custard and jam roly-poly and poured it all over her head!  Saffron giggled.  The room was filled with food.  Custard was everywhere.  Jam roly-poly was everywhere.  The dinner lady, Gladys Wight had the right pip, she had only cleaned the canteen that morning…she shrugged, picked up a plate of custard and flung it at her colleague Gloria Waynor

“Did you just try to get me with your pie?”  She asked and they laughed and joined in with all the food-fun.  The door to the canteen opened and Mr Dressing and the Head Mistress took in the scene.  They saw Agatha Bartholomew pick up a pie.  They saw Agatha Bartholomew fling the pie at Saffron.  They saw Saffron duck.  They also saw the pie heading straight toward them.  They did not see Stephen Number Eight catch the pie in his mouth, lick his lips and mumble the words “oooh, blueberry, my favourite” as he went about the room catching as much food as he possibly could, his belly expanding by the second.  And they could not quite work out how they had not been splatted by the food.

“AGATHA BARTHOLOMEW!”  The Head Mistress yelled out.  The students and dinner ladies froze. “AGATHA BARTHOLOMEW FOLLOW ME THIS INSTANT!”  Screeched the Head Mistress and she turned on her heal and stormed out of the canteen.

Gladys and Gloria picked up a mop each.  They heard the click of some fingers and they smiled.  The canteen sparkled and there wasn’t a drop of custard to be seen anywhere.

“Nice to have you back, young Andrew,” Gladys called out to the room.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your touch,” Gloria smiled.

“You’ll have to introduce us to your new friends, one day,” Gladys said.  Andrew smiled.  He’d always enjoyed custard and jam roly-poly.

*

Saffron lay in her bed.  She was too awake to try and fall asleep.  What a day it had been.  How nice it was to meet Rachel and her friends.  How horrible Agatha Bartholomew had been.  Tomorrow was the second day at school.  She wondered if all her days at school were going to be like this one…and secretly, she kind of hoped they would be.

It was Agatha Bartholomew all along!