Bumface

by Morris Gleitzman

  Angus’s head spun with horrible thoughts. The viewers wouldn’t want to watch her any more, not if they thought she was a fake. The network would sack her. There’d be no money for food or rent or nappies …

  I’ll write to the magazine, thought Angus desperately. I’ll explain the sort of hours TV soap actors have to work and how their families really don’t mind except for husbands and little kids.

  Angus’s frantic eyes focused on the page Mum was staring at. Hang on, that photo wasn’t of him cooking Leo and Imogen’s dinner. It hadn’t been taken by a journalist hiding outside the kitchen window in the compost bin. It was a shot of Mum at an Awards night with Number Four.

  ‘… not fair,’ Mum was saying. ‘Just because two people work together, why shouldn’t they have a relationship? Why should the media make it into some sort of scandal? Gavin’s a single director, I’m a single actress, OK, a divorced actress, why shouldn’t we fall in love? Why shouldn’t I have a chance at fourth time lucky?’

  Feeling crept back into Angus’s body. A sort of giddy tingling. He swallowed and found his voice. ‘Why will you probably lose your job?’ he croaked. ‘TV stars don’t lose their jobs for being in love, do they?’

  Mum ran her hand through her hair and grinned at him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was just being dramatic. OK, the network doesn’t like me being in magazine photos they haven’t arranged, but I’ll flutter my eyelashes at a few bosses and it’ll be right.’

  Angus leant against the table, weak with relief.

  ‘Sorry if I scared you,’ said Mum. ‘You know I get carried away a bit sometimes. It’s my emotional, creative, passionate nature. Where Gavin’s concerned, I’m like a three-year-old with a new bike.’

  She jumped up and hugged Angus again.

  ‘Sorry I’m getting home so late these days,’ she said. ‘When I finish taping there’s always more chores to do. Interviews. Autographs. Drinks with the sponsor. Still, at least you’ve got Dad to give you a hand. I know he’s pretty hopeless, but his heart’s in the right place. Are you sure you’re coping OK, the two of you?’

  Angus didn’t blink.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Angus,’ she said, kissing him on the head. ‘My Mr Dependable.’

  Angus glowed through his tiredness.

  Mum went to say goodnight to Leo and Imogen.

  Angus wandered wearily into the kitchen. As he picked up Mum’s coat, he hoped Mum hadn’t spotted any signs of exhaustion.

  It was hard enough for a woman to be the star of a very demanding TV series and provide a roof over her family’s head single-handed without having to worry about whether her son was suffering from a bit of fatigue.

  Angus told himself not to fret. She wouldn’t have noticed anything. After all this time, one thing he was good at was pretending.

  A thought hit him.

  Of course. That’s why the school play was so important to him. That’s why it was the only part of his life where he could really have fun.

  I’m the same as Mum, thought Angus with a weary smile.

  I love acting.

  5

  Bumface swung across the deck of his submarine on a gym rope and, with a single blow of his flashing cutlass, sliced the top off a coconut.

  Greedily he gulped down the sweet milk, not caring that half of it was splashing onto his pirate waistcoat. With a growl of satisfaction he threw the empty shell on the floor. Then he sliced the tops off the crew’s coconuts and drank those too.

  Let ’em go thirsty, he thought. Pack of hairy, lice-ridden thugs.

  He threw the crew’s empty coconuts on the floor, except for one with a bit of milk left in it which he saved for the ship’s cat who’d been looking a bit under the weather lately. He wondered if she’d been injured in battle, or was possibly even pregnant.

  ‘Come on, Angus,’ yelled Ms Lowry across the school hall. ‘Speed it up.’

  Angus sighed. I bet Mel Gibson doesn’t get interrupted like this in rehearsals, he thought. And I bet he gets a real cutlass and real coconuts to work with instead of having to mime everything.

  Angus dived back into character and soon forgot that the bare school hall didn’t look anything like a submarine.

  Bumface grabbed a leg of roast beef, took a couple of big bites, tossed the rest into the sink with the dirty dishes, noticed the toast was burning, snatched it out of the toaster, scraped it with his cutlass, didn’t even care that the burnt bits went all over the clean washing basket, smeared jam on with his fingers, decided he didn’t feel like taking the crew to training school this morning, got back into his hammock with his boots on, and started daydreaming happily about making Russell Hinch walk the plank in his underwear.

  ‘Angus,’ yelled Ms Lowry, striding towards him across the stage. ‘This scene is going on about a week too long.’

  Angus blinked at her.

  ‘It’s a very simple scene,’ said Ms Lowry, ‘Bluebeard has breakfast before he goes into battle. I put it in to show how we need a nutritious start to the day.’

  Angus sighed. How many times had he told her his name was Bumface? Even at the very beginning, when she’d announced that the school play was about history and geography and he’d asked if it could have pirates in it and she’d said yes, he’d told her his pirate was called Bumface.

  This is what always happens, thought Angus gloomily. When a kid has an idea and tells it to a grown-up, the grown-up takes over.

  He knew because he was always doing it to Leo.

  ‘My name’s Bumface,’ said Angus quietly to Ms Lowry.

  ‘No it is not,’ said Ms Lowry. ‘And I don’t want to hear that word again.’

  Angus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He reminded himself that sometimes adults had trouble imagining things.

  Ms Lowry turned to the rest of the class. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘I want to run through the battle scene to see if I’m going to need professional help to stage it. Positions everyone. Pirates this side, Xena and her army this side. And no hitting.’

  Angus was just starting to really enjoy himself in the battle scene when Stacy Kruger sidled over.

  ‘I know you’ve got it,’ she hissed.

  ‘Sorry?’ panted Angus. He was in the middle of chopping a dishwasher to pieces with his cutlass.

  ‘My Tamagotchi,’ hissed Stacy. ‘I know you took it.’

  Angus stared at her, bewildered. Then hurt. How could she think that? ‘No I didn’t,’ he said.

  ‘I can prove you did,’ said Stacy. ‘I’ve got a witness.’

  Angus was about to ask who when he saw Russell Hinch watching them both and smirking.

  I should have guessed, thought Angus.

  ‘Bluebeard,’ yelled Ms Lowry. ‘Don’t just stand there, it’s a battle. And Queen of Spain, you’re not in this scene.’

  Stacy stamped away, glaring at Angus.

  Angus took a deep breath and decided not to let injustice ruin his rehearsal.

  The battle was taking place in a market square in Constantinople. Bumface leapt into a frantic cutlass duel with an astronaut who’d arrived via a time-warp (Doug Fawcett). Then he was attacked from behind by one of Xena’s hired assassins (Kevin Posser). They fought desperately across the marketplace, hurling rolls of cloth, burning kebabs, brass ornaments and lumps of dried goat meat at each other. Finally Bumface trapped the assassin in an ice-cream factory and overpowered him by putting lemon gelato in his loincloth.

  ‘They didn’t have lemon gelato in twelfth-century Constantinople,’ complained Kevin.

  ‘Doug brought it with him through the time-warp,’ replied Angus happily.

  Then he saw the Sultan’s children being held hostage in a toilet and hurried over to rescue them.

  By the time Ms Lowry called an end to the battle, Angus’s face was glowing with perspiration and pleasure.

  This is the best, he thought happily. And it’ll be even better wh
en we’ve got a script and costumes.

  ‘That was a shambles,’ said Ms Lowry. Her shoulders slumped and she massaged her eye sockets with the palms of her hands. ‘I’m going to need some help to get this play on,’ she muttered. ‘I knew when Mr Arnott couldn’t do it this year I shouldn’t have volunteered on my own.’

  Angus saw the assassins starting to look panicked, like little kids whose mum had just announced she couldn’t cope.

  Angus was feeling a bit panicked himself. This was no time for Ms Lowry to be losing her nerve.

  ‘I think you’re doing a good job, Miss,’ said Angus. ‘For a first-timer you’re doing a great job.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said most of the assassins enthusiastically. ‘For a first-timer.’

  ‘And you’re a good class teacher, too,’ said Angus.

  ‘Crawler,’ muttered Russell Hinch.

  ‘All right, Angus,’ said Ms Lowry. ‘Don’t push it. Now before we go back to class, I’ve got an important announcement. I’ve been talking to the principal about our rehearsal schedule.’

  Good, thought Angus. They’ve realised three rehearsals a week aren’t enough and we need five.

  ‘The principal agrees with me,’ continued Ms Lowry, ‘that three rehearsals a week is too disruptive to our class work.’

  What? thought Angus.

  ‘So,’ said Ms Lowry, picking up a pile of photocopies, ‘here’s a letter to notify your parents that from tomorrow rehearsals will be after school.’

  Angus stared at her, horrified.

  He struggled to speak.

  ‘Please Miss, not after school.’

  Ms Lowry gave him a long-suffering look.

  ‘Some of us …’ said Angus, frantically trying to find the right words, ‘… some of us have to do things after school.’

  ‘Ooooooh,’ sang out Russell Hinch.

  ‘Button it, Russell,’ said Ms Lowry. ‘Angus, if you’ve got a problem after school, I’m happy to discuss it.’

  Angus felt his face burning hotter than a Constantinople kebab stall. Everyone was looking at him. He didn’t dare say anything. For all he knew any one of these kids’ mums or dads could work for a magazine or a newspaper or the TV news. Any one of them could be itching to write a story about TV stars neglecting their kids.

  ‘I think you’re embarrassing him, Miss,’ grinned Russell. He made kissy lips and the other kids sniggered.

  ‘I know there might be some inconvenience,’ said Ms Lowry, ‘but I’m sure people who really want to be in the play will make the effort. Now, everyone back to class.’

  Angus watched helplessly as she led the kids out of the hall. Then suddenly he sprinted after them.

  In the corridor he grabbed Ms Lowry by the arm. ‘Miss,’ he blurted out, ‘I need to speak to you privately.’

  Ms Lowry sighed heavily and sent the class captain on ahead with the other kids. Angus took a deep breath and got ready to do his best acting.

  ‘Yes?’ said Ms Lowry.

  ‘It’s our local newsagent,’ said Angus. ‘He’s been overcharging me for lollies. Me and Mum have to keep an eye on him each day after school to make sure he doesn’t do it to other kids.’

  Angus held his breath and desperately hoped Ms Lowry hadn’t seen that bit on Mum’s show.

  Ms Lowry’s face darkened with anger.

  Oh no. She had.

  ‘I’m very disappointed in you, Angus,’ said Ms Lowry. ‘I know life can’t always be easy for you, having such a famous mother, but I just don’t understand your attitude these days. Is there a problem you haven’t told me about?’

  Angus saw a flicker of concern on her face. A voice inside him suddenly wanted to tell her everything.

  Act, Angus told himself frantically. Act.

  ‘No, Miss,’ he said, trying to sound surprised at the very suggestion.

  He watched the concern fade from Ms Lowry’s face.

  ‘Well, young man,’ she said. ‘I want to see an end to this childish behaviour. I suggest you start trying to be a bit more like your mother. A full-time job on national television and bringing up a family, I think she’s amazing.’

  Angus nodded helplessly.

  ‘If you ever lie to me again,’ said Ms Lowry, ‘there will be serious consequences. What you need to do, young man, is grow up.’

  Miserably, Angus kept on nodding.

  Angus stared at the broccoli, deep in thought.

  After-school rehearsals started in twenty-two and a half hours. There had to be a way.

  Behind him he heard Imogen knocking things off the supermarket shelf, followed by Leo’s loud whisper.

  ‘Imogen, not the panty pads.’

  ‘Gussy panty pad,’ shrieked Imogen.

  ‘Angus doesn’t want a panty pad,’ whispered Leo. ‘He’s brooding.’

  Angus sighed at the broccoli. If only he could leave Imogen an extra hour at the childcare centre on rehearsal days. But she got upset if he was ten minutes late. An hour and she’d be hysterical. Plus Mrs Bennett was starting to get suspicious about Mum. This afternoon she’d asked if she could ring Mum at work.

  ‘Has Mummy abandoned you?’ said a voice.

  Angus jumped guiltily. A woman shopper was smiling down at him.

  ‘Doing shopping for Mummy?’ she asked.

  Angus nodded.

  ‘You look as though you need some help,’ said the woman. ‘This is broccoli. It’s a green vegetable. You boil it in very hot water.’

  ‘I’ve tried that,’ said Angus. ‘I’ve also steamed it with baby squash and stir-fried it with mushrooms and baked it with tomato and ricotta but the kids still won’t eat it.’

  Angus realised the woman was giving him a funny look. Behind her, next to the checkout, he could see a rack of the sort of magazines that dobbed in celebrity families who were careless and said too much.

  ‘Thanks for the advice,’ he said hurriedly.

  The woman, still looking a bit stunned, wheeled her trolley away.

  After she’d gone, Angus felt guilty he hadn’t said thank you properly, because her advice had been spot on.

  He did need help.

  6

  ‘Dad,’ shouted Angus, ‘I need help.’

  Dad, who was trying to get bubble gum off Pirate Jim’s moustache with an ice cube, didn’t even hear him.

  Angus wasn’t surprised. It was hard to hear anything with a million little kids running around yelling.

  He scooped Imogen up before she could get trampled, and had a closer look at the kids. There were actually only about six, but in Dad’s little house that seemed like a million.

  ‘Sorry about the racket,’ said Dad. ‘I asked some of the local kids in after school so I could do some Pirate Jim research, but things have got a bit out of control.’

  He winced as a loud crash came from the other end of the living room.

  ‘Avast there,’ he called. ‘Pirate Jim says shiver me timbers and always look after other people’s property.’

  Angus watched as the kids ignored Dad and carried on having noisy fun.

  Pack of delinquents, thought Angus. But he had to admit that if he wasn’t feeling so sorry for Dad he might even be a bit jealous of them.

  ‘Pirate Jim’s mouth isn’t working properly,’ explained Dad. ‘It’s the bubble gum. I should never have let the kids hold him.’

  Angus agreed he shouldn’t.

  ‘What were you saying just now?’ asked Dad.

  Angus tried to tell Dad about the school play and the rehearsals, but halfway through they both had to leap across the room and stop a bookcase with a kid on it from toppling over.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ said Angus. ‘I can see you’ve got your hands full and I’ve got to get Leo and Imogen home, so I’ll say goodbye.’

  Outside in the street Angus could still hear the faint sound of Dad’s voice. ‘Avast there,’ he was saying. ‘Splice me mainbrace and put that china fruit bowl down immediately.’

  Leo tugged at Angus’s hand
.

  ‘Is your dad gunna look after us while you go to rehearsals?’ he said.

  Angus shook his head. If poor old Dad couldn’t even control half a dozen seven-year-olds, he’d be completely out of his depth with Leo and Imogen.

  Angus saw that Leo was looking concerned.

  ‘Don’t worry, Leo,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow afternoon we’ll go and see your dad.’

  The door chimes at Number Two’s big terrace house played ‘Jingle Bells’.

  Angus realised he hadn’t heard that since Number Two was married to Mum. Number Two must have got custody of the front door bell.

  Angus heard Number Two coming down the hall singing along with the chimes. The hours I spent teaching him the words, thought Angus, and he still hasn’t got them right.

  Number Two opened the door and Angus saw his face fall, just for a second. Then Number Two gave Leo a big open-mouthed grin, just like he used to give the audience in The Rocky Horror Show.

  ‘G’day, old mate,’ he boomed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘G’day, Dad,’ said Leo. ‘Angus brought us.’

  Angus was halfway through rehearsing in his head what he planned to say when he realised Number Two was looking at him.

  The grin was gone.

  Angus took a deep breath. ‘We’re doing a play at school,’ he said, ‘and Ms Lowry needs some professional help staging the battle scene and as you’re one of the top stage actors in the country I thought I’d ask you.’

  Number Two frowned while he took this in. Then he gave an even bigger grin than before. ‘Be happy to,’ he said. ‘Get Ms Whatsername to give me a ring.’

  ‘And,’ continued Angus, ‘I was wondering if you could mind Leo and Imogen for a few afternoons after school while I go to rehearsals.’

  Number Two didn’t say anything. His eyes narrowed. He gave Angus a hard look.

  ‘Did your mother put you up to this?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Leo. ‘It was Angus’s idea.’

  ‘Gussy panty pad,’ said Imogen.

  ‘Mum’s very busy,’ said Angus quietly. ‘I didn’t want to bother her.’

  ‘Very busy,’ said Number Two. ‘Can’t be bothered. Yes, that sounds like your mother. Well I’m afraid I’m very busy too.’