Masterminders

by Tara Basi

  His use of the term ‘we’ was much more comforting. With Bobby behind me how could I lose? When I told Bobby what I was thinking he started to list the ways I could lose. It was a very long list and worse, I didn’t understand most of the reasons for my likely abject failure. Thinking about the consequence of losing was just too horrible: expulsion from the Duo, exposed and alone in the yard, everyone’s prey, no one’s friend.

  Henry crept over later that morning to brief us on progress with preparations for the big match. “The nuns gagged on the idea, it’ll be announced at assembly tomorrow, as an educational exercise. Winner gets a rosary, almost enough to make me throw the contest.” Henry must have noticed the faint gleam of hope in my eye as he quickly added, “But we know the real prize, leadership of the Duo for me and banishment for two brain cells Terry, a prize worth fighting for, not that it’ll be much of a fight!”

  “Leadership?” Bobby spluttered.

  “Two brain cells?” I hissed. “Try doubling it moron,” I cleverly replied.

  After delivering his message and without bothering to acknowledge our comments Henry slinked off expertly. He was dressed up in his new poor uniform and scuffed shoes, skilfully gliding from one pool of shadows to the next. For a trainee half he really learnt very quickly.

  “This is war Terry, this goes way beyond your impending banishment. We’re fighting for the very integrity of the Duo, for my very leadership. We cannot fail, you cannot fail.”

  “What do you mean impending? You teach me and I’ll wop his donkey,” I defiantly replied.

  “Rocky Terry, the ultimate under-gerbil. We’re going to see the greatest fight-back since little fancied Aristotle knocked out Buddha in the 12th round,” Bobby squealed, getting quite carried away by the thought of seeing Henry well and truly stomped. “The only hurdle we have to overcome is: How?” Bobby said almost to himself as we strolled back into school at the end of the break.

  That night I had thoughts of myself chasing chickens and running heroically up the two steps to the town hall doors, bulging with huge muscles, waved on by hordes of adoring girls. Madge fighting her way to the front in the hope of catching a few drops of my hunky sweat. I did a quarter push-up and fell exhausted into bed. Tomorrow the gruelling training would start.

  When I arrived at school the next morning I was fully prepared for the effort required to be Arnie by Friday. I was surprised Bobby didn’t start injecting me with growth fertiliser and stereos straight away. Instead we talked.

  “Do you know what philosophical means?” Was how Bobby started, “and before you answer it’s nothing to do with cream cheese.”

  “Is it that feeling you get after being unexpectedly run over by a herd of wildebeest crossing the village square, a kind of, well that was unexpected but interesting?” I guessed.

  “And what’s a debate?”

  “That one I know, we did that for politics and is it shouting - yes it is - as loud as you can over and over again, till the other guy gives up. Or – no it’s not – depending on your point of view.”

  “Time?”

  “Five past ten, and I know that’s right because my Mickey Mouse watch is pretty accurate. Are we done?” I happily inquired.

  Bobby rolled his eyes, sighed and then stared at the tarmac of the playground for a while before he spoke.

  “We’re going to have to cheat.”

  Bobby didn’t say much more for the rest of the day. From the expression on his screwed-up face, the way he constantly chewed his lower lip and the endless fidgeting with his trousers, I knew he was working on the Henry problem. I wasn’t worried, it was only Wednesday, and we still had all of Thursday, plenty of time for me to swot up on whatever I needed to swot up on. As the day wore on and Bobby still hadn’t come up with anything for me to do, I started to worry.

  “Do you still have your Batman and Robin walkie-talkies?” Bobby unexpectedly asked at the end of the day.

  “Sure, but this time I’m going to be Batman!”

  Bobby only sighed and then added, “Just bring them to school tomorrow, we need to practice, and don’t let anybody see you with them!”

  Arriving the next morning with the walkie-talkies carefully hidden inside my big winter coat, I nonchalantly strolled into the playground, ignoring the little rivulets of sweat pouring off my head.

  Bobby dragged me behind the bins and explained his plan.

  “Discipline is essential, your call-sign will be Nietzsche and I shall be Descartes,” Bobby informed me.

  “I want to be Batman!” I indignantly replied.

  Bobby kind of growled and sent me to the other end of the playground. The walkie-talkie was hidden inside my coat with only a thin wire and the single earpiece visible.

  “Descartes calling Nietzsche, scratch your nose if you can hear me,” Bobby whispered in my ear.

  “Wow, they still work, aren’t they fantastic,” I shouted across the playground to Bobby. He playfully waved his fist at me and I waved back, this was going really well.

  Back together again behind the bins, Bobby seemed a little tense.

  “You can’t let anyone know what we’re doing. I’ll be at the back of the hall tomorrow morning. Just scratch your nose, subtly, to let me know you can hear me and I’ll whisper in your ear telling you exactly what to say during the debate. Just make sure Henry goes first. Got it?” Bobby fixed me with his intense stare until I said I had.

  “Right let’s have a proper test, call Madge over and remember just repeat what I whisper in your ear. I’ll be hiding right here behind the bins listening to everything,” Bobby commanded.

  “Madge, Madge, over here,” I nervously called out.

  “What do you want?” Madge charmingly spat at me.

  “Are you looking forward to the philosophical debate tomorrow?” I repeated Bobby’s whispered words.

  “I’d rather have a rabid dog bite my head off than listen to you and that other ugly nerd rabbit on and on,” Madge explained rather forcefully. “What’s that funny buzzing noise, and why do you have your coat on? It’s boiling. Are you keeping bluebottles under there?” Madge questioned suspiciously.

  “It’s my deaf aid, it sometimes does that and I have a cold, mum’s orders,” I hastily improvised without waiting for Bobby.

  “A mummy’s boy, deaf, ugly, sick and a nerd. You’re every girl’s dream aren’t you Terry?” Madge sweetly suggested.

  “You really think so, really?” I joyously replied, almost oblivious to Bobby’s increasingly urgent whispers until I remembered my instructions. “Time is an interesting subject, did you know for example that time and space are inextricably linked in the space-time continuum and both can be warped by gravitons?” I parroted.

  “What? You stupid, stupid little nerd, I don’t do poxy French,” were Madge’s only comments before she thumped me and stomped off.

  “Bobby, did you hear what she said, I’m every girl’s dream!”

  “Of course you are Terry, but can we concentrate on practicing for tomorrow. Quick thinking about the deaf-aid and the cold, we’ll use that tomorrow if anyone asks what’s in your ear and why you have your coat on.”

  For the rest of the day we used any free time we had to secretly practice. Tomorrow was going to be a walkover. With Bobby’s brains, my natural girl-dream charisma and flawless delivery Henry-Half was doomed to be humiliated.

  Henry and I were seated to the left and right of a big microphone, high up on the school stage at the front of the hall. The nuns were sat on both sides of the stage, and spread out before us was the entire school excitedly waiting for the debate to start but feigning boredom. Bobby was right at the back of the hall, on his own, hidden in the shadows near the main entrance.

  Mother Superior rose from her chair and walked to the microphone, “Well children, we’ve an exciting start to Friday: a debate on the nature of time. Let’s give Terry and Henry a big round of applause.” The clapping started and stopped almost instantly; it was more of a si
ngle lazy clap than clapping. “Both boys will speak for about 10 minutes and then I’ll confer with the sisters and we’ll decide who has given the most interesting talk and wins the prize. Now, who’d like to go first?”

  “As he’s the new boy Henry. Don’t you think?” I spluttered and then feigned a hacking cough.

  “You poor sick boy, you’re very brave to come in today and that’s a nice gesture, letting Henry go first.”

  “First, last, makes no difference. Your banishment is assured,” Henry whispered mockingly as he shook my hand for all he was worth, trying to crush my fingers. It felt like my hand was being dipped in warm custard. What a weed. He turned to the microphone and began.

  “Descartes to Nietzsche, scratch your nose if you can hear me,” Bobby whispered in my ear.

  I scratched my nose, then began taking notes while Henry warbled on, so no one would suspect what Bobby and I were up to. So far so good, but as Henry droned on Bobby sounded less and less confident.

  “Superb point, fantastic logic, amazing breadth of knowledge, oh my god not Hawkins as well,” were some of Bobby’s less than confidence building comments as he listened to Henry.

  When Henry finally finished he was met by stunned silence, even the nuns looked slightly gob-smacked. Then it was my turn. As I approached the microphone I could hear Bobby whispering, “Slower, walk slower, I need more time, he was good, very, very good.”

  I shuffled as slowly as I could but the microphone was only ten steps away.

  “Eureka Terry, I’ve got it. We just need to tell them what they want to hear,” Bobby excitedly shouted almost deafening me as I approached the microphone.

  And then an awful screech filled the entire hall. Everyone clutched their ears in pain trying to block out the terrible noise.

  “Oh my dear, it seems to be your deaf-aid Terry. Feedback I think, let me take that off you while you are speaking,” Mother Superior Beatrice kindly offered.

  Horror, we were un-done! No Bobby, no idea what Henry had been talking about and absolutely no clue what there was to say about the nature of time. Could I rabbit on for ten minutes about the big hand and the little hand? Bobby sat at the back of the hall, head in his hands, afraid to watch what was about to unfold. Bobby had said the secret was ‘to tell them what they wanted to hear.” Who were ‘them’? What did they want to hear? The audience in front of me were clearly bored out of their skulls and the nuns just looked stunned after Henry’s effort. Suddenly a little bomb went off between my ears. I knew what Bobby meant, but could I pull it off? I looked down at my notes and started to speak.

  “We’ve heard Henry very cleverly talk about quantum Meccano, quirky quarks, tacky tachyons, bouncy castle space-time, tense eternalism, unknown knowables and the knowable unknowns. But what does he conclude after all that? He doesn’t know what time is and no one else does either!”

  “Well Henry’s just plain wrong!”

  At that point I stretched my left arm straight out to my side.

  “The left hand of God stretches into an infinite past, before the Beatles even, and snuggled under his armpit is the Holy Ghost.”

  Then I stretched out my right arm.

  “The right hand of God stretches into an infinite future, beyond the end of the 32nd Doctor Who series, and sheltering under that armpit is the baby Jesus.”

  Concaving my chest, and pushing my chin forward I formed a circle with my arms, so the fingertips just touched on the other side of the microphone.

  “And God’s hands meet, embracing the entire universe and everything in it. Holding the faithful close, especially Catholics. And because we are closest to his bosom we always hear the true measure of time, God’s heartbeat. The others and the sinners, atheists, philosophers and scientists slip through his embrace and fall. C of E get to hang on to his knees, but the rest just keep falling, straight down to hell. There the demons wait to nibble the evildoer’s toes and attach red-hot steel clothes pegs to their nipples. Let me hear you say hallelujah!”

  For an instant there was complete silence and a sea of open-mouthed amazement from the school spread before me. I could vaguely make out Bobby, still too afraid to look, his head buried under his arms.

  Then came a tremendous cry that almost blew me off the stage. The nuns had jumped to their feet and almost screamed, “Hal-le-lu-jah!”

  My fellow pupils remained utterly silent, as baffled by my talk as they had been by Henry, but I could see Bobby at the back with a broad grin, silently bouncing up and down and repeatedly punching the air.

  “I think we’re all agreed that while Henry’s talk was quite fascinating in every way we feel that Terry just had the edge. Well done Terry,” Mother Superior concluded after a second or two of deliberation.

  I couldn’t believe it - I’d won! Henry stood stunned, his face getting redder and redder and then he erupted in a torrent of objections. At first the nuns seemed to be wilting under his verbal onslaught and indignation that they could choose my religious babble over his carefully constructed argument. Then Henry went too far and said something unpleasant about God’s armpit and the baby Jesus and was instantly and permanently excommunicated.

  “Terry you were magnificent up there if a little cheesy, quite extraordinary though. Our Duo reigns supreme, hallelujah!”

  It had been a wonderful day, despite collecting another rosary. It felt good that I hadn’t let Bobby down, that I had seen off the horrible Henry and, best of all, for once I’d done it almost all on my own.

  Chapter Six – Sex and Religion

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Bobby dreamily mused while gently rocking on his heels and smiling to himself.

  Bobby had been acting slightly concussed ever since he’d first seen Maria. Mother Superior introduced her that morning during assembly. She was a novice from Italy, who would be spending a few months with us before taking her final vows. Indeed she was absolutely gorgeous, even in her ugly long grey dress, frumpy cardigan and simple black headscarf. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. So I had some sympathy for Bobby’s condition but not a lot of understanding. It was a lovely day in the playground and there were schemes to be hatched, adventures to be had but Bobby was just standing with his back against the church, staring stupidly at little clouds and, worst of all, humming some terrible ballad.

  “No doubt she is lovely, and… duh? She’s never going to notice a pair of nerds like us. Miss Minogue is more likely to turn up at the school gates and whisk you away,” I helpfully pointed out.

  “Don’t you think she has a beautiful little nose and such bubbly blue eyes,” Bobby sighed.

  “She’s already married, to Jesus, so snap out of it!”

  “What did you say?” Bobby was suddenly alert.

  “She’s already a bride of Christ, she’s unlikely to want to be the bride of Frankenstein, no offence intended,” I hastily added.

  “Strictly speaking Maria is only dating Christ, engaged at best before she takes her final vows, but that does give me an idea,” Bobby mysteriously replied.

  “Maria is at least ten years older than you, don’t you think that might be a problem?” I was getting worried, Bobby was becoming unhinged. I would never let my feelings for Madge interfere with our Masterminder missions, much.

  “Age is a state of mind. Anyway, I see a way to her heart. She’s obviously keen on religion, so if I was keen as well…” Bobby mused.

  “Are you mad? Anyway, I thought we were atheists, above and beyond all that religious mumbo-jumbo,” I was still desperately trying to get Bobby to realise he was wasting his time. He had more chance with Maureen. And everyone knew that Maureen the turnip muncher was a closet librarian.

  “It didn’t stop you using religion to win the philosophy debate, hypocrite.”

  “Is that like the stuff that kills superman? Anyway, we won didn’t we?” I indignantly replied.

  “Exactly, all is fair in love and war,” Bobby said as he hitched up his trousers, a sure
sign of intense brain activity.

  After that Bobby just smiled and was lost in thought. This was no fun. We were the Duo, doing things together for the betterment of the Duo and mankind. Bobby pointlessly chasing Maria was a waste of brain cells and I felt left out. What was I going to do? Half of the Duo was getting ever more love sick; and Bobby would be excommunicated if he tried anything foolish in the erotica department with Maria. I folded my arms tightly across my chest, stuck out my lower lip and sulked aggressively.

  “Petulant Terry, did you think I’d forgotten you? Don’t you know that all women find religious zealots irresistible? Why do you think there are so many nuns? Remember Rasputin? Even Madge would succumb if we got this right!” Bobby suddenly had my attention, though I wondered what a rusty bin had to do with anything.

  “We need to demonstrate a fervent religiosity of such intensity that Maria will be unable to help herself,” Bobby went on.

  “And Madge,” I prompted.

  “Of course Maria and Madge, but how?” Bobby questioned.

  “How about a Joan of Arc type thing? See a vision, kill lots of people, then get burned at the stake, that’s pretty intense!” I suggested feeling quite proud of myself.

  “An interesting strategy, but perhaps we should start with something a little more traditional, and build up to self-immolation?” Bobby suggested.

  Obviously sex was the only thing on Bobby’s mind. How could he possibly think a rampant flash was going to impress Maria? This was just what I was worried about, his hormones leading him by the plonker to disaster.

  “We’ll start by joining the choir, going to confessional every day, attending bible studies, wearing a rosary and carrying a bible,” Bobby continued.

  Confession every day! Where was I going to get enough material, my life was not that interesting. Once a week was taxing my imagination as it was. Our desperate choirmaster though would take anybody. Even tone deaf Tom had managed to get into the choir and his singing was said to castrate cats. Horrible bible study was run by the old deaf nun in the back of the church after school. My me-time was being desecrated and it all meant more church, a lot more church. Staying awake at Sunday mass was already a challenge. During one particularly dreary sermon I’d tried taping my eyelids open and then couldn’t get the tape off. The rest of the day I’d looked like a startled Golem. Was Madge worth it? Was any girl worth it? Actually any girl at all, just once, before I died would be nice and most certainly worth it.