Saffron & Bruno and The School Sport's Day

Saffron’s face was bright red.  She glistened with sweat and puffed out her cheeks, as she jogged on the spot.  She did five star jumps and then began to sprint around the house again, as fast as her legs would carry her.  Up in the attic, The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew watched her running.  The seventeen ghosts were mesmerised by her legs.

“Look at them go,” murmured Stephen Number Seven.

“They don’t half bend funny,” muttered Stephen Number Thirteen.

“Thump!  Thump!  Thump!  Thump!”  Went Stephen Number One, “I love the noise her feet make when they THUMP the ground!”  The Sixteen Stephens hands and noses were pressed up against the attic windows as they watched.  Of course, they were pressed against the window…they still hadn’t mastered walking through them yet.

“Oooh,” went Stephen Number Sixteen, “I wonder what she’s going to do with that sack?”  The Sixteen Stephens watched in focused fascination.

“She’s getting into it,” said Stephen Number Eleven.

“Is she going to post herself somewhere?”  Stephen Number Four wondered.

“She’s hopping around the house!”  Stephen Number Nine could not contain his amazement.  The ghosts absentmindedly mirrored Saffron’s action, bobbing up and down as they watched her bounce around the garden.

"She's hopping around the house!"

Saffron came in from her sports’ day practice and drank some juice.  She gave Bruno a high five, as she got her breath back.  She ran up the stairs all the way to the attic, to say hello to The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew.  When she opened the eggshell blue door, she was confronted by head-band and sweat-band wearing ghosts, all doing press-ups and sit-ups and pull-ups and press-downs and sit-downs and push-downs (because there wasn’t enough room on the floor of the attic for all Sixteen Stephens to exercise, and so some of them had floated up to the ceiling instead!).  Saffron giggled at the sight.

Push-ups, Sit-ups, Push-downs, Sit-downs!

In the middle of the attic Andrew hovered with a stopwatch in hand a concentrated look on his face.

“…and, that’s one minute, fifty-three seconds…”  he said, “ …and…stop.”  The Sixteen Stephens slumped in exhaustion.  Their breathing was laboured and the majority of them were crouched on their haunches trying to get as much air into themselves as possible.  The fact that they were ghosts and didn’t exactly need to breathe seemed unimportant right at this minute.  “Good job, team!  Great job!  Things looked a bit dodgy there, Stephen, when you got to that second press-up, but you powered through.  Well done.”  Andrew spoke rapidly and with encouragement.  Stephen Number Three nodded his head in recognition of the praise; that second press-up had been a difficult one.

“What are you all doing?”  Saffron asked.  The ghosts all turned to face her; they had not noticed her coming into the room.

“Oh, hullo, Saffron,” said Andrew, “We saw you practising running and jumping and climbing into sacks and we thought we’d better get into shape too.  Whatever adventure you’re about to go on, it seems like you need to be very fit for it!”  Saffron laughed.

“It’s not an adventure,” she said, “It’s school sports’ day.  I’m practising for all the events I’m going to take part in; the running races, the sack race, the egg and spoon race…”

“Egg and spoon race?”  Queried Stephen Number Two, “Well, that’ll be an easy one.  I reckon you can definitely run faster than an egg or a spoon.”

“No, no, silly,” said Saffron, “You have to run whilst balancing an egg on a spoon!”
“Oh,” said Stephen Number Two, “Well, that seems much more difficult to do.”

“Can we eat the egg?”  Asked Stephen Number Eight, always thinking with his belly.

“Can we whip the egg up with some other eggs, bake it as a custard pie and then throw it at someone?”  Asked Stephen Number Ten, always thinking of his food fights!

“No,” said Saffron, “You just race along the track with it and whoever gets to the finish line first, with their egg still on the spoon of course, wins the race.”

“Come on,” said Andrew, “Let’s get down the garden and practice.”

Saffron lined up alongside Stephens Numbers One, Five, Six and Thirteen.  The rest of The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew were gathered along the side of the impromptu racetrack they had fashioned in the back garden.  Each of the competitors had an egg and a spoon.  Saffron looked along the line.

“Hey!”  She called, “Stephen, that’s cheating!”  Stephen Number Six had an enormous spoon and the tiniest of eggs in his hand.  He looked suitably guilty and changed his equipment to the regulation size.  “And, you’re cheating too, Stephen, you’ve got your spoon upside down and the egg hasn’t fallen on the floor!”  Stephen Number Thirteen had the good grace to look embarrassed and then fixed his equipment too.

“On your marks!”  Called Andrew, “Get set!”  He continued, “Go!”  Saffron set off at an astonishing pace.  Stephen Number One dropped his egg on the floor and it broke and a small yellow bird flew out of it and he found himself chasing the bird all over the garden and trying to get it to balance back on his spoon.  Stephen Number Five and Stephen Number Six were doing their best to keep up with Saffron.  Stephen Number Thirteen continued to cheat and drove a small red car all the way to the finish line.

“Grrrrr,” went Saffron*, “You’re cheating again, Stephen!”  Stephen looked abashed and traipsed back to the start line to start over.  He still managed to finish ahead of Stephen Number One who was now up a tree and edging closer to the yellow bird as it perched on a branch.

“Great race, Saffron!”  Andrew congratulated her and they gave each other a high five.  Saffron high fived the rest of The Sixteen Stephens and then hurried back to the start-line.

“Ready for another race?”  She asked but, before anyone could answer her, Saffron’s mother was calling her to come into the kitchen.  Saffron shrugged to The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew and went inside to see what her mother wanted.  The ghosts followed her.

Saffron arrived in the kitchen to see her mother making a cup of tea.  Her mother looked up at Saffron and smiled.

“I’ve just been speaking with Auntie Margaret, on the phone,” Saffron’s mother said, “Guess who’s coming to stay with us for a while?”
“Auntie Margaret?”  Saffron guessed, without wishing to be too obvious.  Saffron’s mother shook her head.

“No,” she said, “Natalie is going to come and stay with us for a month or so.”
“Natty!”  Shouted Saffron with glee, “Oh, I haven’t seen Natty in ages!”  She rushed to her mother and hugged her.  Saffron looked up into her mother’s face, “Are they off an another adventure, again?”  She asked.  Saffron’s mother nodded her head.

“They are heading off overseas, they’re not sure where yet, but I said Natalie could stay with us while they were away.”

“Righto,” said Saffron, sounding very determined, “I shall have to go and rearrange the bedroom so we can fit another bed in there for Natty.  And, I shall have to reorganised my cupboards and toy boxes so we can fit her stuff in too.”  Saffron’s mother smiled at her daughter and ruffled her hair.

*

Saffron rushed down the stairs, paused, rushed back up the stairs grabbed Bruno off her bed, gave the room one last look over and then rushed back down the stairs again.  She had spent the morning in the attic with The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew watching for Aunty Margaret’s car to come down the road.  Sure enough, as soon as she saw the bright purple car pootle around the corner, Saffron was off with a cry of “She’s here!” echoing around the stairwell and a bunch of smiling ghosts looking down from the landing.

Saffron greeted Natty in the hallway with the huggiest hug she’d given anyone in quite some time.  It was even huggier than the hugs she gave to Bruno just before she went to sleep at night.  It was probably in the top five of all the hugs she had ever given.  Saffron and Natty tried to speak with each other but their smiles were so wide and so huge that they had difficulty forming words.  They decided to hug again and wait for the smiles to eventually subside.  When they did subside, the words came out in a tumble.

“It’s so good to see you!”
“I love your hair!”
“Hello Bruno!”

“You must see our room!”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you for yonks!”
“That’s a brilliant back-pack you’ve got!”
“Isn’t this a lovely village!?”

“I can’t wait to introduce you to my new friends!”  Saffron’s mother and Aunty Margaret gazed on in wonder as the two girls danced about each other and then raced up the stairs to inspect their new room.  The two sisters hugged and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The huggiest of hugs!

Saffron and Natty were bouncing on their beds and telling each other all about their latest gossip.  Saffron had told Natty all about Rachel and her new school and Natty had told her about a Guide Camp she had been on and all about her new best friend, Serena Stoutly.  They chattered and giggled and bounced and then Natty stopped and had a serious look on her face.

“I nearly forgot,” she said, and she quickly unzipped her backpack and took out a bright, pink elephant.  “This is Jeremiah,” she said and held his front foot out for Saffron to shake.  Saffron picked up Bruno and introduced him too.  The two friends laughed and Bruno and Jeremiah sat on the bed together and watched them.

“Come, on,” Saffron said, “I nearly forgot something too!” She took Natty by the hand pulled her along and up the stairs to the attic.  She swung the eggshell blue door open and there were The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew, all back vigorously exercising and doing all sorts of physical jerks…and all with an egg and a spoon each.  “These,” said Saffron with great affection in her voice, “are Andrew and Stephen and Stephen, Stephen and Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, Stephen and Stephen, Stephen, Stephen and Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, Stephen and Stephen!”  Saffron smiled.  Natty looked all around the attic and her jaw just about reached the floor.  “This, everyone,” said Saffron to the paused ghosts, “is Natty.  My cousin.”  There was a clatter as sixteen spoons dropped to the floor and a crunch as sixteen eggs cracked their shells and a rush as the seventeen ghosts gathered around the new girl to say hello.  Almost all of them were completely focused on Natty.  Stephen Number Eight was a little distracted by the sudden smell of sixteen hard boiled eggs in the room, but you would have had to have known him well to have worked that out.

“Hello, Natty,” said Andrew, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  We’ve heard all about you.”
“You have?”  Asked Natty.

“Most certainly,” said Stephen Number Fifteen, “Saffron has been bubbling with excitement ever since she knew you were coming to stay!”  Natty looked at her cousin and grinned.

“I can’t believe there are ghosts in the attic,” she said, “This is incredible!”  Then she paused and she looked a little confused.  “Um,” she said, “why were you all doing press-ups and sit-ups?  And why were you carrying eggs and spoons?”

“Oh,” said Andrew, “we’re practising for Saffron’s school sports’ day.  It’s this week and we really have to get better at the egg and spoon race or we’re never going to win a medal.”  The ghosts grinned, Stephen Number Thirteen grinned sheepishly; it had taken quite some time to convince him that the small red car was definitely against the rules.

“Sports’ day?  That’s great,” said Natty, “I’ve been practising for the sports’ day at my own school, too.”  The two girls smiled.  They could not wait to race against each other.

Formal greetings took place!

*

The duo of girls chattered and laughed as they waited for the school bus to arrive.  Rachel had shifted to the back of the bus and saved two seats for Saffron and Natty.  Mr Dressing was fulsome in his welcome and the girls happily spent the morning working on a science project.  The afternoon was going to be spent at sports practice, so the girls knew they had to have a healthy lunch.  Saffron, Natty and Rachel sat under a tree and ate their sandwiches.  The conversation was still going six to the dozen as the girls got to know each other.  Saffron looked a bit concerned when Natty suddenly went quiet and looked off into the distance.  She wondered whether either her or Rachel had said something to make her think about her parents and their adventure.  But no, Natty jumped to her feet and raced off to the other side of the playground shouting a name.

“Serena!  Serena!”  She shouted, “Is it really you?”  Saffron looked to where Natty was running.  She could not believe her eyes.  Natty was running straight towards where Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend were sat eating their lunches.

“Oh no,” said Saffron, “Look!  Natty’s going to get ambushed by Agatha Bartholomew!”  The two girls leapt to their feet and rushed across to follow Natty.  What they saw happen next made their run come to a stop.  Natty didn’t get ambushed.  Natty didn’t even run past Agatha Bartholomew and her round friend.  Natty ran straight up to Agatha Bartholomew, right next to her and straight into the arms of Agatha Bartholomew’s round friend.

“Serena!”  She cried.

“Hur hur!”  Cried the round friend now known as Serena.  They hugged and twirled around.  Agatha Bartholomew looked astonished.  Saffron and Rachel looked confused.

“This is Serena?”  Saffron said in disbelief, once she had caught up with her cousin.  Natty nodded.

“Yep,” she said, “This is Serena from Guide Camp.  She’s one of the nicest girls you could ever wish to meet!”  Saffron’s and Rachel’s mouths formed ‘O’ shapes and their eyes went wide.

“Nicest!”  Shouted Agatha Bartholomew, “Nicest!?  Serena, how could you!?”  Agatha Bartholomew was distraught.

“Who are you?”  Asked Natty.

“I’m Agatha.”  Said Agatha Bartholomew, “Agatha Bartholomew, and how dare say something like that about Serena!”  Saffron and Rachel giggled.  Agatha Bartholomew seized Serena, her round friend, by the hand and dragged her away from Natty, Saffron and Rachel.

Serena Stoutly!

The afternoon was spent practising the races for the school sports’ day, which was going to be on the following afternoon.  It was a most peculiar scene.  Saffron and Rachel were doing their best to concentrate on the events they were competing in but Natty was distracted by Serena being there, and Serena was distracted by Natty being there!  Agatha Bartholomew hissed and roared at her round friend time after time to remind her of the bullying and general foul play she should be focusing on.  It was, all in all, a most peculiar scene…as has been mentioned a little bit earlier in the paragraph.

A further distraction for Saffron was the appearance of seventeen ghosts during the afternoon’s practice.  They didn’t really get involved so much as observe; although Stephen Number Eight did get quite drooly when the egg and spoon race practice took place.  And, as Saffron was distracted, so Agatha Bartholomew planned and schemed and got ready for the following day.

That night, as Saffron and Natty were laying in bed, they discussed the day just gone.  Natty was a bit bewildered at finding out Serena was a school bully.  Saffron was confused too.  She’d never really paid much attention to Serena.  Serena has always just been the round friend of Agatha Bartholomew who always backed up the horribly bully.  Saffron thought about the races to come and was really desperate to do her very best the next day.  Natty thought about Serena and then thought about the adventure her parents were on.  After much chatter and conversation, the two girls fell sound asleep.

*

The day of the school sports’ day broke sunny and bright.  The girls nervously ate their breakfasts, although each was suffering nerves for two very different reasons.  There were muted hellos as they sat with Rachel.  They were nervously quiet on the bus to school.  The three girls walked in to class and sat ready for the first lesson.

Agatha Bartholomew and Serena Stout had got out of class the first lesson.  They had kindly volunteered to help Ms Crunches get the sports equipment ready for the sports’ day, later that afternoon.  Whilst Ms Crunches was pulling the high jump mats out into position, Agatha Bartholomew and Serena got to work on the sacks for the sack-race.

“What are you doing?”  Asked Serena.

“I’m sowing the ends of the sacks closed,” replied Agatha Bartholomew, “won’t it be funny when they run to get into the sacks and no one can get into one!  It’ll be hilarious!”

“Hur hur,” went Serena.  She watched as Agatha Bartholomew stitched the sacks closed and then laid them all neatly in a pile ready for the racing.  “What are you doing, now?”  Asked Serena.

“I’m putting itching powder all around he ropes for the three-legged race,” replied Agatha Bartholomew, as she carefully applied powder to each of the rope-ties.  “Won’t it be funny when they’re trying to race but all they’ll be able to do is scratch their legs because they so itchy!”

“Hur hur,” went Serena.  “What are you going to do next?”  She asked Agatha Bartholomew.

“Well,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “this one’s gonna be brilliant!  I’m going to wait until the egg and spoon race is announced and then I’m going to rub soap all over the handles of the spoons.  They’ll never be able to hold them, they’ll be too slippery!  It’ll be brilliant!  It’ll be so funny watching them trying to keep a hold of the spoons and dropping them all over the place!”

“Hur hur,” went Serena.  The malevolent planning was particularly masterful.

“Apart from that,” said Agatha Bartholomew, “I’m going to make sure I’m close to the outside lanes of all of the races so I can trip people over!”  Agatha Bartholomew grinned a wicked grin.

Agatha Bartholomew drew up her dastardly plans

*

The excitement in the air was electric.  The whole school gathered on the playing fields and the car park was full of parents’ cars…and one small red car: out of which The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew all got out, each waving “Come on Saffron, Natty and Rachel!” banners and cheering with thunder-sticks with the girls’ names emblazoned on them too.  The racetrack was marked out, the race equipment was ready and the prizes were all on display.  This was going to be a fierce afternoon of competition.

The girls were warming up for the first event.  As they contorted themselves into all manner of shapes, stretching and bending and generally pulling themselves all about the place, Saffron asked a question she’d been wondering about for a couple of days now.

“Natty, do you reckon your Mum and Dad will be all right?”  Natty paused a moment.  A series of emotions flickered over face and then she settled on a look of quiet assuredness.

“Yes,” said she, “They’ve done this for years, now.  I’m sure they’re going to be fine.”

“They’re on adventure?”  Asked Rachel.

“That’s right,” said Natty, “They’re off helping people.  They’re doctors.”  Rachel smiled and the three girls carried on with their warm up.

By the side of the racetrack, Saffron, Rachel and Natty were all getting ready for the first event: the 50 metres sprint.  Each of the girls were stretching and psyching themselves up.  The event announcer, Mr Dressing, called the competitors forward for the race.  The concentration on each of the girls’ faces was intense.

“On your marks!”  Announced Mr Dressing.  “Get set!”  Saffron looked down the track.  She only had eyes for the finishing line.  This was something of a shame, drawn in the outside lane she should have had eyes for Agatha Bartholomew who was lurking around the edge of the racetrack.  “GO!”  Went Mr Dressing, and go they went!  The grass pounded under Saffron’s feet and the wind whistled through her hair.  The cheers of all the other school children and the parents rang in her ears.  Andrew led a chorus of, “Two! Four! Six! Eight! Who do we appreciate?  SAFFRON!”  This boomed out over the school playing field.   Saffron looked across the other lanes and saw she was even with two of the other girls and in the lead.  Saffron was about to pump her legs faster when something caught her trailing right foot and she kicked the back of her own left leg and tumbled down onto the floor.  She roly-polyed, head over heels and came to a rest sprawled on her stomach.  What had happened?  No time to find out.  She quickly jumped back to her feet and raced after the other competitors.  It was too late.  She trailed in sixth and had to accept the commiserations at having such bad luck as to trip over herself.  Saffron was confused.  She was sure something had hit her right leg, something from off the side of the racetrack.  She looked back down her lane and, sure enough, there was Agatha Bartholomew with a wide-eyed innocent look on her face and a smirk barely hidden underneath it.  Saffron fumed.

“I’m sure she tripped me over,” she said to Rachel and Natty, pointing back down the racetrack to where Agatha and Serena were stood and where Agatha Bartholomew was enjoying a large laugh.

“Hmmm,” went Rachel, “I wouldn’t put it past her.  She’s such a bully!”  Before they could do anything more, Mr Dressing was announcing the next race: the three-legged race.

Saffron was certain something had hit her leg...

 Saffron and Rachel got ready, tying the rope-tie around their legs.  Natty grabbed Serena and announced that they were going to team up too.  The six pairs of competitors were all on the start line, ready for the off.

“Hey,” Natty said to Serena, “That wasn’t Agatha Bartholomew who tripped up Saffron in the last race, was it?”  Serena looked sullen.  She didn’t know what to do.  “Serena, how can you be mixed up in such horrible bullying?”  Serena looked very guilty.  “And, why is my ankle itching?”  Asked Natty, fighting the urge to bend down and scratch her leg.

“Ready!  Steady!  GO!”  Went Mr Dressing and go they went.  This time, though, it wasn’t just Saffron’s race that was brought to a halt.  All six pairs of competitors had barely got more than a few steps before they were all furiously scratching at their legs and ankles.

“That’s weird,” said Stephen Number Three, “I don’t remember us practicing a lying on the grass and wriggling around race.”  The ghosts looked on as the twelve competitors writhed and itched on the racetrack.  The parents and teachers all looked on perplexed.  Agatha Bartholomew was laughing like a drain and pointing at the mayhem she had created.

“Was this Agatha Bartholomew too?  Asked a furious Natty.

“Uh huh,” went Serena, blushing, “And it was me too.”

“You!”  Natty was suddenly even more furious.  “How could you?  You were so nice on camp!”

“I’m sorry, Natty,” said Serena remorsefully, “I just…I just…”  She didn’t know what more to say.

“What else has she got up her sleeves?”  Natty asked.  Saffron and Rachel had freed themselves from their itchy rope, now, and were stood behind Natty waiting to hear what Serena had to say.

“Um,” went Serena, “Well, she’s sewn the sacks closed for the sack-race and she’s going to make the spoons all slippery for the egg and spoon race and I’m ever so sorry, Natty, Saffron, Rachel.  I truly am!”  Serena looked exceptionally apologetic.

“Right,” said Saffron, “Let’s get this sorted out, shall we?”  She marched over to Agatha Bartholomew and began to confront her about all the horrid tricks she had played.  Mr Dressing saw the two girls arguing and hurried over to intervene.  He wouldn’t listen to either of the protestations but made them hush and hurried them along to the next event: the sack-race.

“But there’s no point,” complained Saffron, “You aren’t listening!”

“Don’t you get cheeky with me, young lady,” admonished Mr Dressing, “ Now, just you get along to the start line and let’s get the sports’ day going again.”  Saffron tutted and began to walk away from the teacher.  Then she had quite a brilliant idea and she hurried off to speak with Rachel and Natty…and, most importantly of all, with Andrew.

As the competitors lined up on the start-line, Saffron looked across at all of them and said, “Hey, just remember, when you get to the sacks, just believe your eyes and everything will be just fine!”  And she gave them all a thumbs up and turned to face back down the track.  At the side of the track Agatha Bartholomew and a meek Serena were stood watching and waiting for the chaos to commence.

“This is going to be brilliant,” Agatha Bartholomew muttered under her breath.  Serena looked sheepish.

“On your marks!”  Called Mr Dressing.  “Get set!”  He continued.  “GO!” and go they went!  Agatha Bartholomew put a hand to her mouth as the six competitors raced to the row of sacks.  She could not wait to see the looks on all their faces when they tried to get into the sacks only to find the ends sewn together!  She giggled a mean-spirited giggle. 

The competitors raced out and just as they reached the row of sacks something quite unusual seemed to happen.  The sacks shook themselves up and shook themselves open; except they weren’t the sacks that were shaking, they were six ghosts!  Six of the Sixteen Stephens flipped themselves on their hands and waited for their racer.  The competitors jumped into their ghosts and off they went!  Stephen Number One was running his hands along the ground, trying to get as much traction for his competitor as possible.  Stephen Number Two had his hands over his eyes; he couldn’t believe how fast he was going!
“I feel sea-sick,’ said Stephen Number Three as he bounced up and down.  Stephen Number Four had a fierce look of determination on his face.  Stephen Number Five was going, “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” every time his head hit the ground.  And, Stephen Number Six had come prepared with a space hopper and was quite happily bouncing all along the track.  Stephen Number Thirteen was on the side of the racetrack trying to work out how you could get the small red car into the action.  All six competitors crossed the line in a dead heat.  There was much cheering and lots of high fiving and poor Mr Dressing didn’t quite know what to do because he did not have six first place prizes for the sack-race.

The Sixteen Stephens helped foil Agatha Bartholomew's plans to stitch everyone up!

 Agatha Bartholomew stood on the side of the racetrack and fumed.  She couldn’t believe her meddling had not worked.  She stormed off to get her soap ready for the egg and spoon race.  She did not notice Serena scuttling along behind her.  And she did not notice Saffron, Rachel, Natty and The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew scuttling along after her, too.

Behind the boards displaying all the race times and all the names of the race winners, Agatha Bartholomew got her soap ready and pulled all the spoons out of her pocket.  This was going to be the best one ever; better than tripping Saffron over, better than the itching powder, and most certainly better than that lousy sack-race.  This was one was going to be perfect.  She began to soap the handles of the spoons.  She did not notice Serena walk around the edge of the boards.

“Uh,” went Serena, “What you doing there, Agatha?”

“You know what I’m doing,” spat Agatha Bartholomew, “And you’re being no help at all.  Come here and hold these spoons for me.”
“Ummmm, no,” went Serena.

“What did you say,” snarled Agatha Bartholomew, a malevolent look in her eyes, “ Come over here, now, Serena and hold these spoons!”

“No, thank you,” smiled Serena, “I’d rather not.”
“Why!?” screeched Agatha Bartholomew, “You get over here right-“ but she did not complete her screeching.

“NOW!”  Shouted Serena.  Stephen Number Four and Andrew lifted the boards out of the way so that the whole school, all the parents and all the teachers could see exactly what Agatha Bartholomew was up to.

“Gotcha!”  Shouted Natty.  Agatha Bartholomew looked up at the gathered throng and dropped the spoon and the soap she was holding.

“Looks like she thought she’d get clean away with it,” said Saffron.  Everyone groaned.

“I thought I was the one who did the awful jokes,” said Andrew.

“You, girl,” said the Head Mistress, who had arrived on the scene, “had better come with me.”

“Oh,” wailed Agatha Bartholomew, “But my Mummy and Daddy have come to watch me in the obstacle course race!”  The Head Mistress was having none of it and the wailing Agatha Bartholomew was marched off to the Head Mistress’ office.  There was much high fiving and back slapping.  Serena received her fair share of both and, for the first time since Guide Camp she had a smile on her face that felt warm and worthwhile.  Serena Stoutly didn’t know which way to turn.

The competitors lined up for the obstacle race.  Saffron, Natty and Rachel had determined looks on their faces, albeit determination decorated with smiles.  The crowd was cheering.  The teachers were smiling as well.  Mr and Mrs Bartholomew were wondering where their daughter had gone.  Everything was ready for the final race.  (The egg and spoon race having been cancelled due to a lack of eggs…and a slightly larger than normal Stephen Number Eight.)  Mr Dressing got the competitors to their marks one last time.

“GO!” And go they went; and just as they hit the first obstacle, Stephen Number Thirteen drove past in his small red car and honked his horn.

“Grrrrr!”  Went the girls and chased after him, ‘That’s cheating!”

* Thank you, Eddie Izzard