Saffron was excited.
Every time she walked passed Bruno, who just sat there on the bed and
watched her, she gave him a smile and a glance and, sometimes, a tickle on the
tummy. Once she was dressed and ready
for school, she picked Bruno up and took him down stairs to the kitchen.
On the landing, she met Natty and Jeremiah, Natty’s pink toy
elephant. The girls smiled at each other
and grinned.
Saffron’s mother was listening to the radio and packing
Saffron’s and Natty’s lunchboxes.
Saffron gave her mother a hug and a kiss good morning and sat at the
kitchen table to eat her cereal. Natty
did the same. Bruno sat on the chair
next to Saffron and Jeremiah sat next to Natty.
Every now and again, in between mouthfuls, Saffron would smile at Bruno
and chuck him under the chin; Natty would stroke Jeremiah’s head.
Saffron checked her bag.
She made sure she had all she needed for her day ahead. Her schoolbag contained her pencil case, her
schoolbooks, her library book, her lunchbox and her drinks bottle. Natty checked her schoolbag too. Both girls picked up their respective toys
and headed out of the door to wait for the school bus. Both girls smiled big smiles.
In the attic the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were just
getting their morning walking through walls practice going when they noticed
the girls heading out of the house for school.
The girls looked up at the attic window and waved. The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew waved back.
“They look ever so happy, this morning,” said Stephen Number
Four.
“Well, of course they look happy,” said Stephen Number
Twelve haughtily, “they are off to school; a place of learning, a place where
they will multiply their erudition and become learnéd scholars.”
“What was that you just put on the ‘e’?” Asked Stephen Number Four.
“’Learnéd’?” repeated Stephen Number Twelve, “I merely accentuated
the ‘e’ with an acute accent.” There was
a pause as the rest of the Stephens took this in. Andrew smiled. He knew what was coming.
“You didn’t sound very cute,” said Stephen Number Four.
“That’s right,” said Stephen Number Six, “you were using
your normal accent, not your cute
one.”
“Yeah,” agreed pretty much all the rest of the
Stephens. Stephen Number Twelve tutted
in despair and turned back to the window.
“I do wonder, however,” he said,” what is causing them to
look quite so happy, today?”
“I reckon it’s got something to do with the fact they’re
taking Bruno and Jeremiah to school with them,’ said Stephen Number Fourteen.
“You could be onto something,” said Andrew, “Saffron hasn’t
taken Bruno to school for ages.” The
Sixteen Stephens and Andrew looked at one another and a single thought shifted
between brains.
“Shall we go to school, today, to see what’s making the
girls so happy?” Asked Andrew.
“Yes, let’s!”
Chorused the Sixteen Stephens, and they all trooped off to wait for the
bus with the girls.
The school bus arrived.
Saffron and Bruno and Natty and Jeremiah got on and sat with Rachel and Sofia,
her rainbow coloured Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The three girls grinned at each other.
The grins became tinged with laughs as the girls listened to the Sixteen
Stephens arguing about who sat on the back seat, who had sat on the back seat
last time and whose turn it was to sit on the back seat this time and that
everyone knew that I (Stephen Number
Seven) always sit on the back seat so
why was there an argument about it?
Before the girls new it, the bus arrived at school and before the
Sixteen Stephens could settle the argument about who was going to sit on the
back seat, it was time to get off the bus again.
 |
| The girls giggled as the argument over the backseat erupted! |
*
The bell rang for the start of the school day. The three girls rushed into class, hung
they’re bags on their coat pegs and sat on their seats. Each of them placed their toy on their
desk. Around the classroom the girls
could see all their other classmates doing the same thing. Libby had brought a bright green and purple
crocodile; Sebastian had brought a Spaceman action figure; all around the
classroom dolls, cuddly toys and action figures of various shapes sizes and
names were on display. Even Agatha
Bartholomew had brought in a toy; a plastic spider she insisted was called
Killer Fang, and Serena had brought in a doll that looked like a purple girl
after she had eaten a sweet that wasn’t quite ready to be eaten. She said her toy’s name was Violet.
Mr Dressing entered the room, carrying a toy of his own; an
old, threadbare bear. He plonked the
bear on his desk and asked for quiet.
The classroom hushed. All the
students were looking at the ancient bear sat on their teacher’s desk. The bear had no fur at the elbows and one of
his eyes was a different colour to the other one…and slightly larger. Mr Dressing introduced Duncan and explained
how this bear had been in his family for generations, passed from one child to
the next until he received it when he was child. Up until recently, he explained, Duncan only
had one eye! Mr Dressing had fixed this
up but could only find the green one that was a bit bigger than the brown one
already on the bear’s head. That was ok,
explained, Mr Dressing because being a bit different and not all looking the
same was a good thing, and made life much more interesting than boring. The students listened and agreed, an
interesting life was much better than a boring one.
The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were arranged at the back of
the classroom and were staggered by the variety, colour and shapes and sizes of
the toys arranged around the room. They
wondered what on earth they could be for.
Their question was promptly answered.
“Right,,” said Mr Dressing, “We won’t need the toys til this
afternoon and our art class. We have a
special guest teacher coming in to show us some special drawing and painting
techniques and we’ll need our models then.”
He gave the instruction for all the toys to be placed by the bags and
the coat pegs. Natty was really
excited. She couldn’t wait to send her
picture to her mum and dad. Saffron
smiled at her cousin. The class hurried
to complete the instruction and then they all got down to some really
fascinating mathematics.
*
Morning tea came and Saffron, Natty and Rachel headed off to
the canteen to get a cream bun and a carton of juice. It was a Tuesday, and this meant that the
cream buns not only had cream, they had a black currant jam filling too; and
this made Saffron very happy indeed.
“I love black currant jam!”
She said as she held her bun and stared at it approvingly. The other two girls giggled. They too thought black currant jam was
delicious, especially the way Gloria Waynor and Gladys Wight served it up, but
they weren’t quite as enthusiastic about it as a bun filling as Saffron. The two dinner ladies looked up from their
counter and wiped their hands on their tabards.
“We’d better get some more buns out,” said Gloria, “The boys
are here.”
“So they are,” smiled Gladys, “ I do enjoy it when they pay
us a visit.” The Sixteen Stephens and
Andrew patiently waited their turn, even Stephen Number Eight – who had brought
an extra large tray to carry an extra large amount of cream buns on. Stephen Number Ten was casually spinning a
custard pie and wondering whether the cream bun was as aerodynamically
efficient as a pie. He looked around the
room and saw that this was exactly the right size and sort of room for a
prototype exploration of this theory.
“Just you wait on, young Stephen,” said Gladys, who might
have been a bit of a psychic when she was younger. “There’ll be plenty of time for potential food
flinging before the day is out, you mark my words.”
“Did you just read my mind?”
Asked Stephen Number Ten, “Are you a Medium?”
“She’s an extra-large, and don’t you believe a word she says
otherwise,” chimed in Gloria Waynor.
“You cheeky thing,” laughed Gladys. “It’s not too difficult to read your mind, Stephen, when all I can see
you doing is twirling a custard pie, closing one eye and aiming at the far end
of the room and then going “whoosh!” with your very own mouth!” The dinner ladies chuckled to their selves.
“I’ll have a cream bun then, please,’ said Stephen Number
Ten, and he went and sat and ate it and only thought about throwing it at
someone six times.
On their way back into class, the three girls checked in on
their toys. Bruno, Jeremiah, Sofia and
all the other toys sat waiting patiently for their starring role in the art
class to begin. Saffron could not help
herself but to rush across and give Bruno a bit of cwtch before heading into
the classroom. There she was met by Mr
Dressing and an intriguing Geography activity.
*
For the first time the girls could ever remember, they spent
their lunchtime wishing it would go faster so they could get back into the
classroom and get drawing their playtime companions. The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew spent their
lunchtime in a variety of ways. Stephen
Number Eight spent it trying to get the better of Gladys and Gloria in the
school kitchens. He failed. Gladys and Gloria found that very funny.
Stephen Number Eight’s belly was a lot emptier than he had hoped it
would be. Stephen Number Twelve spent
lunchtime in the school library pretending he completely understood all of the
books in there. Stephen Number Ten spent
his lunchtime working out the potential flying qualities of each of the
foodstuffs on sale in the canteen.
Andrew spent his lunchtime catching up with Gladys and Gloria, in
between their foiling of Stephen Number Eight, of course. Andrew had a lovely lunchtime. The rest of the Stephens enjoyed their school
dinner and then enjoyed playing tag around the playground. The bell for the end of lunchtime saw the
Sixteen Stephens and Andrew hurry back to the classroom, too.
“Now then, class,” said Mr Dressing, “I would like you to
all go and get your models ready for art.”
The classroom emptied as the students rushed to get their toys. Soon, all but three of the students were back
in their seats. Saffron, Natty and
Rachel were not back in their seats.
They were still standing by their coat pegs. There was no sign of Bruno, Jeremiah or
Sofia. None whatsoever.
“Saffron?
Rachel?” Mr Dressing was calling
from the classroom for the girls to come back in.
“They’re not there, Mr Dressing,” said Saffron, as the girls
came back into the room.
“Who aren’t there?
Where?” Asked Mr Dressing, a
little confused.
“Bruno and Sofia and Jeremiah,” said the girls, “They’re all
gone!”
“What do you mean?”
Mr Dressing was not being very quick on the uptake today.
“Our toys, Mr Dressing,” said Saffron, “They aren’t where we
left them.”
“They been taken,” added Rachel.
“Oh, now girls, check again.
They’ve probably just got moved about during the day,” said Mr Dressing,
trying to be reassuring.
“No,” said Natty, coming into the classroom and holding a
note, “They’ve been taken. Look!” She held the note out for Mr Dressing to
see. Before he could take it, Saffron
looked over Natty’s shoulder and saw what was written on the paper.
“YOUR TOYS HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED! MAYBE ONE DAY YOU’LL SEE THEM AGAIN!”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Saffron, “Poor Bruno!”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Saffron, “Poor Bruno!”
“Poor Jeremiah!”
“Poor Sofia!” The girls slumped in their chairs hopelessly upset at the disappearance of their beloved toys. Naturally all eyes turned to the one suspect whom everyone suspects: Agatha Bartholomew. Agatha Bartholomew sat with her round friend, Serena, looking as wide-eyed and innocent as a person could wish to look. This only made the three girls even more suspicious. Nonchalantly and then with growing amazement that all eyes were on her, Agatha Bartholomew looked up and then around at the accusing stares of the three toyless girls. She grinned, and even though you could tell she was happy, the grin was a joyless one: the grin of a shark. Mr Dressing intervened.
“Poor Sofia!” The girls slumped in their chairs hopelessly upset at the disappearance of their beloved toys. Naturally all eyes turned to the one suspect whom everyone suspects: Agatha Bartholomew. Agatha Bartholomew sat with her round friend, Serena, looking as wide-eyed and innocent as a person could wish to look. This only made the three girls even more suspicious. Nonchalantly and then with growing amazement that all eyes were on her, Agatha Bartholomew looked up and then around at the accusing stares of the three toyless girls. She grinned, and even though you could tell she was happy, the grin was a joyless one: the grin of a shark. Mr Dressing intervened.
“I’m afraid,” he said, “you can take your eyes off Agatha. She was helping me and the Head Mistress all
through lunch hour.” The three girls did
not avert their stare. Agatha
Bartholomew’s grin widened. “This is
most peculiar, girls,” he said, “most peculiar, indeed.” Mr Dressing turned and walked back to the
front of the classroom. The three girls
slumped further in their chairs.
“Poor babies,” hissed Agatha Bartholomew under her breath,
“I wonder what will ever become of your baby toys, poor babies?” The faces of the three girls were red with
upset. Their eyes filled with
tears. They slouched further still and worried
about their missing toys. They looked at
each other. What were they going to
do? Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia weren’t just toys, they were their friends! They knew they had to find them. They knew they had to make them all safe
again.
 |
| There they were...gone! |
The three girls stared with glumness and rage at the three
artist model dolls Mr Dressing had plonked on their table. Absentmindedly, lines of varying strengths of
grey were drawn on their pages. Outlines
of shapes were forming and lines etched on the paper but the minds of the girls
were not on their work at all.
“We have to find them,” said Saffron, “we simply have
to.” The other two girls nodded their
agreement. They all wore determined
looks on their faces.
“Look at Serena,” said Natty, “She knows something. She knows we know she knows something. She won’t even look at us.”
“We need to get her away from Agatha Bartholomew,” Rachel
said, “She won’t say a thing if that bully is around.”
“Andrew?” Said
Saffron without even missing a beat, “Can you help get Serena away from that
Agatha Bartholomew?”
“Leave it to us,” said Andrew, who had appeared at Saffron’s elbow.
“Leave it to us,” said Andrew, who had appeared at Saffron’s elbow.
Andrew had a struggle to get the Sixteen Stephens away from
their preening and posing. Stephen
Number Seven rested his palette against his easel and Stephen Number Thirteen
rested his palette against his eagle (who was thankful for being able to rest
the wings he’d been holding the canvas up with) – Stephen Number Thirteen had
been a little confused about the requirements for being a proper artist and was
currently distracted by the enormous floppy splotch of a hat Stephen Number
Seven was wearing on his head.
“What is that?”
Stephen Number Thirteen asked.
“A beret,” answered Stephen Number Seven.
“No,” said Stephen Number Thirteen with conviction, “what I
have on my head is a ‘beret’. I don’t
know what on earth you’re wearing.”
“What you have on your head is a berry,” said Stephen Number Seven.
Stephen Number Thirteen took the small piece of fruit off his head and
sniffed.
“Right,” said Andrew, “The girls want to get Serena away
from that Agatha Bartholomew. We have to
come up with a plan. Any ideas?” There was a pause, and then a look of
enlightenment appeared on Stephen Number Twelve’s face.
“We could lay a trail of small but precious jewels from
Serena’s desk, this would lure her to a cage, a disguised cage, mind you, then
we could trap her in the cage, put the cage on a train and transport her to a
remote lair where the three girls would lie in wait and be able to question her
without that Agatha Bartholomew anywhere around.” There was a pause.
“What would you disguise the cage as?” Asked Stephen Number Five.
“A badger,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “No one would suspect
a thing.” There was pause.
“Well,” said Andrew, “Thank you for that suggestion,
Stephen. I was thinking of something a
little less complicated than that.”
“Right, right,’ Said Stephen Number Twelve, “Gotcha.” There was a pause.
“We could dangle a lasso…”
“Simpler than that.”
There was a pause.
“We could hypnotise everyone in the …”
“Simpler.” There was
a pause.
“If only we had a polar bear…”
“No.” There was a
pause. Stephen Number Three put up his
hand.
“Yes, Stephen?” Said Andrew.
“Yes, Stephen?” Said Andrew.
“Why don’t we just knock that cup of water she’s got on her
desk on to her? She’ll have to go to the
bathroom to dry herself off and the girls could speak with her there.” He stopped speaking and looked around the
group in case he had just said something wrong.
“Ah, yes,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “I could ricochet a
tennis ball off a camel onto the table and knock it…”
“Stephen,” said Andrew.
“Hmmm?” Said Stephen
Number Twelve.
“You can stop speaking now.
Great idea, Stephen,” Andrew said to Stephen Number Three. Stephen Number Three beamed.
Andrew materialised next to Serena’s desk and knocked the
cup of water all over the poor girl. The
water cup she’d been using to wash paint off her brush flowed brown and cold
all over her lap.
“Hur no!” She called
out, “My lap!” Agatha Bartholomew
pointed at her friend and laughed.
Serena jumped to her feet and rushed to the bathroom. Before Mr Dressing could say anything,
Saffron, Rachel and Natty all followed her.
Agatha Bartholomew saw exactly what happened and rose to her feet, a
nasty snarl forming on her lips. Andrew
appeared in Serena’s chair. Agatha
Bartholomew’s eyes fell open and her mouth shot shut.
“Boo,” said Andrew, “Remember me?” Agatha Bartholomew managed to move her hands
enough to be able to rub her eyes and try and wipe away the ghost who was now
sat opposite her and speaking with her.
It didn’t work. For a moment, she completely remembered this ghostly apparition...
“Now,” said Andrew, “We’d be grateful if you retook your
seat.” Over his shoulder Stephen Number
Ten appeared, custard pie twirling away on one ghostly finger. “Now,’ Andrew continued, “I know what you’re
thinking; has he thrown all but one of his pies or not? To tell the truth, in all the excitement, I
kinda forgot myself. But, as this is a standard made custard pie, short crust
pastry with a cream, egg and vanilla based filling, and could cover your face
in one throw, you’ve gotta ask yourself one question. ‘Do I feel lucky?’” Andrew smiled, “Well, that and ‘can anyone
else see these ghosts in the classroom, or is it just me?’ …So, two questions. Punk.”
Stephen Number Ten mimicked throwing the pie at Agatha Bartholomew and
she instinctively ducked.
“Are you alright, Agatha?”
Asked Mr Dressing, “You’ve gone all white.”
“One false move,” said Andrew, “And you’ll go all
yellow.” And he winked and nodded his
head toward the custard pie twirling on Stephen Number ten’s finger. Agatha Bartholomew went a little bit whiter
and gulped.
In the bathroom, Serena was doing her best to dry her top
when she realised the room had a few more people in it than just her. She stopped and slowly looked up to see
Saffron, Rachel and Natty with their arms folded across their chests or on
their hips. They had very determined
looks on their faces. Serena took her
turn to gulp, too.
“What have you done with them?” Saffron spoke first.
“Where are they?”
Rachel spoke second.
“Serena,” Natty spoke third and more soothingly than the
other two, “What’s going on?”
“Hur, erm…” Serena looked down and her feet and fidgeted
with her fingers.
“Do you know where the toys are?” Natty asked.
Serena nodded, and continued fidgeting with her fingers.
“Well?” Asked
Saffron, impatiently. Serena quickly
glanced up, met Saffron’s eyes and then looked back down again. She shook her head.
“Come on, Serena,” said Natty, “You know you have to tell
us. It’s the right thing to do.” Serena looked up again. Guilt and confusion were spelled all over her
face. She did indeed know she had to
tell the girls but what about Agatha Bartholomew, what would she do to her if
she found out she’d said something?
Serena looked back down at her hands again. She looked back up, her mouth gaping like a
goldfish. The three girls waited with
bated breath.
“Hur…” Serena said, “hur… They’re in the rubbish bins behind
the school canteen. Agatha put them
there and said they’d get taken to the rubbish dump with all the other rubbish
and she laughed and said I wasn’t to say anything to you, but I did say something to you, please don’t
tell Mr Dressing on me! Please don’t
tell Agatha on me, neither.” Serena’s
bottom lip quivered a bit and wobbled and big tears formed in her eyes.
“Don’t you worry,” said Natty, “we won’t tell, will we
Saffron, Rachel?” The girls shook their
heads and rushed off to the bins behind the school canteen. Natty left with a smile and squeeze of
Serena’s arm. Serena went red again,
embarrassed but pleased at having done something good.
Saffron, Rachel and Natty sprinted to the bins. The canteen bins were three in number and
green. They were also quite smelly and
quite full. One, in fact, was
overflowing from today’s lunch, fish pie.
“Aw, phew!” Said
Saffron, “it stinks!” The girls
approached with caution. Gingerly,
Rachel reached out and lifted one of the bin lids.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” The girls spun around in surprise. There stood Gladys and Gloria. Gloria had a wagging finger going on. “I simply cannot believe that good girls like
you would be here, now, in class time…”
“We’re sorry, Gloria,” interrupted Saffron, “but we had to…”
“Tut tut,” said Gloria, taking her turn to interrupt, “such
manners! We don’t care what ‘you just
have to’. You’re not just having to do
anything without the proper safety equipment on for dealing with school canteen
bins!”
“That’s right,” said Gladys, “Health and Safety would have a
fit if they saw you out here now without the right protective gear on!” Against all their protests, the three girls
were taken into the canteen.
“Right,” said Gloria, “here you go.” She handed each girl a clothes peg and Rachel
a speaker system. The girls looked
confused, one of them even said “huh?” Gloria
Waynor and Gladys Wight looked pleased with their selves.
“Right you are,” said Gladys, “One peg for the wearing on
the nose of, to protect you from the horrendous niff of the school bins; and,
one anti-cat tannoy system just in case any of your are allergic to cats.” The girls looked extremely puzzled, “It’s
fish pie day, isn’t it?” Said Gladys
with a shrug of her shoulders, as if to say ‘everyone knows you have to have an
anti-cat tannoy system on a fish pie day’.
The girls slowly and with a steady measure of puzzlement walked back out
to the bins. Before they could open the
first one, Saffron halted them and pointed.
“Look,” she said, “that note up there.” Natty reached up and pulled it down. The girls read it together.
“I KNEW YOU’D GET THAT BLUBBERING BLABBER MOUTH TO TELL YOU
ABOUT THE BINS! TRY AGAIN, STINKY,
STUPID GIRLS!”
“What are we going to do now?” The girls looked on in disbelief. Rachel set off the anti-cat tannoy and a
slinking ginger Tom slunked away.
Back in the classroom, Mr Dressing was becoming increasingly
worried at the whiteness of Agatha Bartholomew’s appearance. He was also increasingly worried at the
redness of Serena Stout’s appearance. He
was also increasingly worried at the
lack of Saffron, Rachel and Natty’s appearance.
Where could those girls have gone?
As he distracted himself in his worry, Andrew took this cue to
disappear, as did Stephen Number Ten.
Agatha Bartholomew regained her composure and kicked Serena under the
table.
“I bet you told them stupid girls where their toys were,
didn’t you?” Serena refused to look
up. She went a bit redder and tried to
carry on with her painting. “Well,” said
Agatha Bartholomew, “It doesn’t matter because their toys aren’t even in the
school bins! I knew you’d tell them, so
I’ve hidden them somewhere else. They’ll
never find them now!” Agatha Bartholomew
laughed an evil laugh. Serena Stout’s
redness did not ever seem to want to end.
Saffron, Rachel and Natty were stood by the bins. The ginger Tom had left. They were determined not to give up on Bruno,
Jeremiah and Sofia.
“We should look for clues,” said Saffron, “She obviously has
been here, otherwise the note wouldn’t have been there for us to see.” The girls spread out around the bins and the
back of the canteen. Silently and
patiently they looked about. The Sixteen
Stephens and Andrew decided to join in the search. Stephen Number Four appeared wearing a
deerstalker hat and holding a gigantic magnifying glass. He fell to all fours and began to scrabble
about on the floor, looking closely at the ground.
“That’s a funny hat,” said Stephen Number Thirteen, still
smarting from the beret incident, “what type of hat is that?”
“It’s a deerstalker,” said Stephen Number Four, “The famous
detective, Sherbet Holmes, used to wear one of these. I’m hoping it will inspire me and help me
find a clue!”
“Sherbet?” Enquired
Stephen Number Eight, “I do like sherbet, yes.
I could go a bit of sherbet…” he trailed off as he realised there was no
sherbet.
“It was Sherlock
Holmes,” said Saffron irritably, “he
used to wear a deerstalker hat and was a famous detective.”
“I know a good joke about deer,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “What do you call a deer with no eyes?”
“I know a good joke about deer,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “What do you call a deer with no eyes?”
“Blind?”
“Unlucky?” Came the
various replies.
“A poor deer?”
“Alan?”
“Alan?”
“I give up,” said Stephen Number Twelve and went back to
searching for a clue.
“Look!” Exclaimed
Natty. She was pointing at the floor, a
little way away from the back of the school canteen. Saffron, Rachel and The Sixteen Stephens and
Andrew rushed over. They looked. They could see, on the floor, a trail of blue
paint heading away from the canteen and across the playground.
Saffron, Rachel, Natty and the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew
followed the trail. Stephen Number Four
was still staring through his magnifying glass but it wasn’t needed to be able
to see the bright blue line of paint as it wended its way across the
playground. The group followed the paint
which every now and again took on the appearance of paint that had run on to
someone’s shoe and dribbled off again, leaving a random foot-shaped mark on the
ground every so often. The paint led the
group all the way across the playground, past the climbing frame and the
goalposts, to the caretaker’s shed. The
paint took them past the shed and on to the school furnace. The school’s heating was still powered by a
fuel burning furnace and there, atop the fuel-pile, sat a dusty old sack; and
poking out of the dusty, old sack were three colourful, cuddly best friends in
the whole wide world. The three girls
rushed forward. They snatched their toys
up and gave them some of the finest cwtches ever witnessed.
“I thought I’d never see you again!” Exclaimed Saffron, throwing Bruno up into the
air and catching him. Both Rachel and
Natty were doing similarly euphoric things with Sofia and Jeremiah too. The gang headed back to class and to a
showdown with the school bully, Agatha Bartholomew.
*
Agatha Bartholomew sat painting and alternatively being
exceptionally angry at Serena for caving in to those stupid girls so easily and
being frightened that that ghost may suddenly reappear at any second and make
her go all white again.
Serena was slightly less red than she had been. She was focused on the drawing of her toy dog
and was quite happy with the way she had managed to capture the cheeky but
loveable face on the page when the page was obscured by the arrival of three
other toys. Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia
sat on the table and stared at Agatha Bartholomew. Their glare was met with a radiant smile and
a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“Oh look,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “You’ve got your stinky,
baby toys back. Aren’t you lucky?”
“No,” said Saffron, “we’re not lucky, we’re clever. Cleverer than you, anyway.” The three girls stood accusingly over the
bully. Agatha Bartholomew smiled again.
“Mr Dressing?” She called, “It looks like the truants have
come back to class.”
“Truants!?” Exclaimed
he girls.
“We’ve been looking for our toys, which you stole and then
tried to hide in the fuel-pile so they’d get burned in the furnace,” said
Saffron with a snap.
“You’re the lucky one,” said Rachel.
“Yeah,” said Natty, “Lucky we found them otherwise you’d be
in real trouble.”
“Why would I be in
trouble,” laughed Agatha Bartholomew, “I’ve not been anywhere near your stupid,
stinky, baby toys.” The girls
seethed. At this point, Mr Dressing came
over to direct the girls back to their seats.
“We’ll speak about you leaving my lesson at the end of
school,” he said, “Now, leave Agatha alone and get back to your painting. She’s right, you know, she hasn’t been out of
my sight all lunchtime. It wasn’t Ms
Bartholomew who took your toys.” Agatha
Bartholomew grinned. The girls poked
their tongues out at her.
“But,” hissed Agatha Bartholomew so only the three could
hear, “I will be the one who gets
them after school, while your in
detention!” The three girls scowled and
held their toys tight.
“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing, coming back over to the girls,
“can you dish out the blue paint you brought over from the stationery cupboard,
please, Agatha?”
“Yes, Mr Dressing,” said Agatha Bartholomew, all
yes-sir-no-sir-three-bags-full-sir in her voice.
“Blue paint?” Asked
Natty.
“From the stationery cupboard?” Asked Rachel.
“And, when exactly did you get the blue paint from the
stationery cupboard?” Asked Saffron.
“Um?” Went Agatha
Bartholomew.
“Ah, yes,” went Mr Dressing.
“Look,” said Saffron, “Look at her shoe! It’s blue, and there’s paint down her leg
too!”
“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing.
“We followed a trail of blue paint and it led us straight to
our toys,” said Saffron. The three girls
folded their arms and tapped their feet in expectation.
“Ah, yes,” said Mr Dressing, “There was that one moment,
just that one short moment, when I asked you to go and get some blue paint from
the stationery cupboard, wasn’t there, Agatha?”
“Um?” Went Agatha Bartholomew.
“Um?” Went Agatha Bartholomew.
“Hur hur,” went Serena.
Agatha Bartholomew glowered at her friend and then turned her face back
to Mr Dressing. He was now standing and
staring at Agatha Bartholomew along with the Saffron, Rachel and Natty.
“I was only gone a minute,” protested Agatha Bartholomew, “I
couldn’t have made it to the school canteen and then across to the furnace and
back without you noticing I was gone for ages!”
Agatha Bartholomew wailed. The
three girls’ faces turned to smiles.
Saffron went and got the bottle of blue paint and showed it to Mr
Dressing.
“Is this the paint you were after, Mr Dressing?” Saffron asked.
“It is,” replied Mr Dressing, “But look, most of it is gone
already.”
“That’s because it’s all over the playground and the school
grounds,” said Saffron, “and,” she continued, turning back to Agatha
Bartholomew and grinning, “who said anything about the canteen anyway?” Agatha Bartholomew was about to lash out and
gnash at the girls when the sentence Saffron said sunk in. her mouth formed an
‘O’, and there was quiet. Mr Dressing
apologised to Saffron, Rachel and Natty.
He thought he could trust Agatha Bartholomew: what a silly mistake to
make.
*
Saffron and Bruno, Rachel and Sofia and Natty and Jeremiah
enjoyed the bus ride home. So did the
Sixteen Stephens and Andrew. There were
paintings everywhere, soon to festoon the walls of bedrooms and attics. They were beautiful paintings too. Bruno, Jeremiah and Sofia had never looked
better or more striking. Stephen Number
Nine was pleased with his portrait. He
said it caught his enigmatic smile to perfection. Stephen Number Two was pleased with the
orange and yellow and red and purple and blue swirls that framed his shocked
expression; he thought the afternoon painting session had been a scream. Stephen Number Four wondered why he’d been
painted wearing an earring and Stephen Number Thirteen was tending to his
eagle, and was still a bit confused.
As the bus pulled away from the school, Saffron and the
others could see back into their classroom.
There, Agatha Bartholomew was cleaning desks. She was cleaning paint off desks and off the
floor. She was cleaning paint off
brushes and easels too. The one place
she hadn’t cleaned the paint off was from her shoe. That, Agatha Bartholomew was thinking
furiously, was annoying. That one
annoying thing saved those stupid stinky toys from the furnace, just that one
frustrating thing: that one blue clue.
 |
| The Sixteen Stephens admired their handiwork with a paintbrush. |
