Bumface

by Morris Gleitzman

  They made it down to the back corner of the studio just in time. Angus could hear, on the other side of the set, the studio minister starting to ask the groom if he’d take the bride to be his wife.

  Angus shifted Imogen to his other shoulder, signalled to Leo to start videoing, and murmured his own name and Rindi’s when the minister said the groom’s and the bride’s.

  Then he took Rindi’s hand and looked into her shining eyes.

  ‘I do,’ he whispered.

  Rindi took a deep wobbly breath and for a second Angus thought she was going to burst into tears. Perhaps she knocked her scab off on the ladder, he thought, concerned.

  She didn’t cry. She murmured her name and his at exactly the right spots and looked into his eyes and whispered ‘I do.’

  Angus felt a lump in his throat. It couldn’t be a jelly baby because he hadn’t had any.

  ‘You may kiss the bride,’ said the minister’s voice.

  Angus looked awkwardly at the floor and felt his face getting hot. He’d forgotten about this bit. Did grooms kiss brides in arranged marriages? He was still trying to decide when he felt Rindi’s lips against his cheek.

  He pressed his lips to her cheek and she grinned and threw a handful of confetti into the air above their heads.

  On the other side of the set, the studio audience erupted into cheers, whistles and applause. Angus’s chest felt like it was going to burst with happiness.

  They’d done it.

  They were married.

  But it wasn’t Angus’s chest that burst, it was Imogen’s nappy.

  By the time Angus felt the warm liquid running down his arm, there was already a narrow stream trickling across the floor towards Leo. At that moment Leo lunged forward to video a cockroach scampering across the studio floor.

  Angus opened his mouth to yell a warning, but it was too late. Leo trod in the wee. His foot skidded out from under him. He staggered back and crashed into the set.

  Leo and a huge section of the set teetered, rocked towards Angus, and then rocked away from his clutching hand and crashed to the floor.

  Angus blinked. The last bits of confetti fluttered past his face. Staring at him were three hundred shocked audience members, four TV cameras and another happy couple.

  20

  Angus didn’t realise just how bad things were until he got to school the next day.

  Up until then, his wedding hadn’t seemed that big a disaster, considering.

  Once the studio audience had got over their shock, they’d laughed and clapped. The crew had been pretty amused too, which had been a big relief to Angus. The end titles must have been rolling by the time Leo and the set had fallen over.

  The floor manager took Angus and the others into the next studio to find Mum, but she’d gone, so he put them in a taxi.

  Mum wasn’t at home either. Just Dad, rummaging through drawers looking for money. He left, embarrassed at being sprung. Mum got home very late and wasn’t in a mood to talk, but Angus gleaned that it was her wedding she was upset about and not his.

  Phew.

  It was Rindi he was worried about.

  When they’d got to Rindi’s place in the taxi, Angus had wanted to go inside with her.

  ‘I’m your husband,’ he’d said. ‘I should come in and tell them with you.’

  She’d squeezed his arm. ‘No. It’ll be very ugly. Best get the little kids home.’

  Angus had tried to persuade her but she’d been firm.

  Now, getting close to school, his chest felt tight as he remembered his last sight of her from the taxi. Alone under a streetlight, waving, his Bumface jacket round her shoulders. Suddenly she’d looked like a little kid herself, even though she was clutching the video of her wedding.

  Angus had rung her loads of times right up until he finally fell asleep, and loads more when he got up, but her phone had been busy every time.

  I’ll ring her from the staffroom, he thought as he went in the school gate. I’ll tell Mr Nash it’s a family emergency, which is true.

  Angus stopped.

  What was going on?

  Every kid in the playground was standing still.

  Staring at him.

  Renee Stokes came over with some of the other girls. ‘I think that was so beautiful,’ said Renee passionately, ‘what you did last night.’

  The other girls started telling him that they thought it was beautiful too. Some of the boys started doing kissy lips and a couple yelled things out. Stuff about honeymoons and wedding cake. Russell Hinch just stared at Angus as if he still couldn’t believe it.

  Angus didn’t take much of it in.

  Panic roared in his ears.

  He and Rindi must have gone to air. They must have been on TV. Half the country must have seen them standing side by side in their wedding outfits, covered in confetti.

  Angus could see the magazine headlines. ‘Soapie Supermum’s Neglected Child Weds.’ The viewers would blame Mum. They’d turn off in their millions. Mum would get the sack. She’d be furious.

  If Rindi’s parents throw her out, Angus thought desperately, she’ll have to come and live with me at Dad’s. When she meets Pirate Jim she’ll probably wish she was with Patel.

  At least there were no lessons. When Angus stumbled into class he discovered that everyone was off painting scenery for the school play and writing ‘Tonite’ across all the posters.

  He was able to make lots of calls, to Mum and to Rindi. He didn’t get through to either of them.

  As soon as the bell went at the end of the afternoon, Angus sprinted over to the infants and grabbed Leo.

  ‘Everyone saw you and your wife on TV,’ said Leo. ‘It ruined my show and tell.’

  Angus dragged Leo to the childcare centre, picked up Imogen and headed for home as fast as he could.

  His insides were aching with anxiety.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Leo.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Angus muttered, pushing the stroller harder.

  ‘Bumpy Bumface,’ yelled Imogen.

  Leo leant forward and put his lips next to Imogen’s ear. ‘Married life doesn’t agree with him,’ he whispered.

  When Angus got home he was horrified to find Mum was already there. With tear-swollen eyes. The network must have fired her on the spot.

  ‘Mum,’ he said, anguished. ‘About last night. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

  She looked at him with a vague expression and blew her nose on a tissue. ‘Last night?’ she said. Then she gave a half-smile. ‘Oh, right, you and your friend on the wedding show. The network loved it. Best comedy ending to the show ever, they were saying today.’

  Angus stared at Mum, trying to take in what he was hearing.

  ‘I’m a bit cross they didn’t tell me they were going to use you,’ said Mum as she poured herself a drink. ‘I am your mother, after all. That publicity department needs a boot up the bum. I’ll have a word to them when I haven’t got so much on my mind.’

  ‘You mean,’ stammered Angus, ‘you haven’t been dumped by the network?’

  Mum looked at him as if he was mad. ‘Not by the network, no.’ She paused and stared into her drink. ‘By Gavin maybe. Depends if the gossip I’ve been hearing today is true or not. About him and a certain production assistant.’

  Angus realised Mum was holding one of his purple pirate boots. She flung it angrily to the floor.

  The phone rang.

  ‘Can you get it, darling?’ muttered Mum, ‘I’m in a big hurry.’

  It was Rindi.

  Her voice was so quiet and tearful Angus almost didn’t recognise it.

  ‘I have to be really quick,’ she said. ‘I’m at the airport. They’re taking me to India tonight. The wedding’s been brought forward to next week.’

  Rindi’s voice dissolved into sobs. Angus held onto the wall. ‘But they can’t,’ he yelled into the phone. ‘We’re married.’

  ‘They said it was just a stupid game and it doesn’t change anything,’ s
obbed Rindi. ‘Oh no, they’re coming. They’ve seen me. Angus, thank you. I’ll never forget you. I’ll never …’

  The phone went dead.

  ‘Rindi,’ yelled Angus. ‘Rindi!’

  She was gone.

  ‘Mum,’ yelled Angus, ‘quick.’

  He sprinted out of the kitchen. If they drove to the airport as fast as they could, they might just be in time to alert airport security and get them to talk Rindi’s parents out of the whole idea …

  Angus realised he could hear Mum’s car backing out of the driveway.

  ‘Wait,’ he screamed.

  He heard Mum drive off.

  Leo was standing at the front door holding a note. ‘She said she’ll see us at the school play,’ he announced. He gave Angus the note and headed back to the TV.

  Angus read the note. ‘Gone to have things out with Gavin,’ it said. ‘See you at the school play. Leo’s dad will pick you all up and take you there. Break a leg.’

  Angus stared at the scrawly handwriting.

  Break a leg.

  I don’t believe it, he thought. She thinks I’m still in the school play. I told her I’d been dumped and she’s forgotten. Just like she’s forgotten about Rindi. She thought we went on the wedding show for her publicity …

  Angus leant against the wall. He saw that his hands were shaking. It’s just exhaustion, he thought dully.

  But he knew it wasn’t.

  It was something much more painful.

  It was his body’s way of telling him that his parents didn’t care about him.

  Angus felt sobs coming up from deep inside him but he forced them back down.

  He grabbed Imogen’s jacket off the hall peg. If we leave now, he thought wildly, and get a train and then an airport bus …

  It was no good.

  It would take hours.

  Too long, anyway.

  Angus slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

  What would Bumface do?

  How would Bumface save Rindi?

  He sat for a long time staring into the gloom, and by the time Number Two phoned to say he couldn’t pick them up, Angus knew.

  21

  ‘Why aren’t we dressed as pirates?’ asked Leo.

  ‘Shhhh,’ said Angus.

  ‘Gussy shooshy,’ chortled Imogen.

  Angus put his hand over her mouth. They’d got this far without being sprung. It would be tragic if they were caught now.

  ‘Everyone else is dressed as pirates,’ said Leo.

  Angus took his hand off Imogen’s mouth and put it over Leo’s.

  He peeked through the curtains at the back of the stage. Leo was right. The school hall was packed and every single member of the audience was in pirate costume. Angus could see kid pirates and parent pirates and teacher pirates and grandparent pirates and programme-seller pirates.

  Angus blinked. There was Dad, near the front, wearing a Pirate Jim costume. And squeezing his way along the same row towards his seat, Number Two, wearing the outfit he wore in The Pirates of Penzance. And just behind him, Number Three, wearing a leather waistcoat and an orange silk scarf.

  Even Mum in the front row was wearing one of the cardboard pirate hats the Year Fours had made to give away with the programmes.

  Mum was turning and mouthing something crossly at Number Two, who was shaking his head and mouthing something crossly back at her.

  Angus sighed. Doing this would be easier if the family wasn’t there, but he didn’t have a choice.

  Rindi’s future was at stake.

  Angus took a deep breath, shifted Imogen to his other shoulder, took Leo by the hand and stepped through the curtain onto the stage.

  Stacy Kruger and Russell Hinch were doing their scene where Xena tells Blackheart she won’t go with him to the pirate ball unless he gives back her brother’s ears.

  Stacy stopped mid-speech and stared. ‘Angus,’ she said, ‘what are you doing here?

  Russell Hinch spun round and gaped.

  Angus stepped past them both and went to the front of the stage. Even with the lights in his eyes he could see the shock and puzzlement on the faces of the audience.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said as loudly as he could. His throat was suddenly dry and a bit croaky. ‘I’m sorry to bust into the play like this, but I need your help. It’s urgent. Even as I speak, a girl is being flown to India against her will to marry someone much too old for her. I need your help to save her. She’s just a kid.’

  Angus was aware of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. The entire cast was on the stage behind him, wide-eyed.

  Angus turned back to the audience. There was a hum now as people whispered and murmured to each other.

  ‘We need to contact the airline and get the plane to turn back,’ continued Angus. ‘If we can’t do that we need to arrange for someone to meet the plane over there. Does anyone know any child welfare people in India?’

  Angus strained to hear if anyone in the audience was saying yes. It was hopeless. The audience were all talking to each other. Some of them looked pretty concerned, but Angus couldn’t hear a thing in the hubbub.

  Except for one voice, behind him, shouting, ‘Let me through.’

  Ms Lowry.

  Angus turned. Ms Lowry was striding towards him, scattering cast members, her eyes wide with fury.

  She grabbed Angus by the neck of his T-shirt. ‘Angus Solomon, how dare you ruin my play,’ she hissed. ‘Of all the childish, immature, irresponsible …’

  For a second Angus didn’t understand why the lights and the people and the scenery were all wobbling and going blurred. Then he realised Ms Lowry was shaking him. He hung on to Imogen as tightly as he could.

  Another voice rang out close to Angus’s ear.

  ‘Stop that.’

  It was Mum.

  Mum was on stage next to him. She pulled him away from Ms Lowry and then turned to the audience. Angus saw a look in Mum’s eyes he hadn’t seen since he was a little kid and she was on stage in No Sex Please, We’re British.

  ‘My son,’ said Mum, ‘is not childish, he is not immature and he is not irresponsible.’

  Angus stared, stunned, as she paused and swept the audience with her gaze. People had stopped talking and were watching her agog.

  ‘My son,’ she continued, pointing dramatically to Angus, ‘helps look after his younger brother and sister with a maturity that I can only describe as truly adult. I trust him as if he was their parent. Hardly childish, immature or irresponsible, I think you’ll agree.’

  She took off her pirate hat and tossed back her hair.

  Angus opened his mouth to remind everyone about Rindi, but another voice was already ringing out.

  ‘As one of their parents,’ the voice boomed, ‘I would like to add something.’

  Angus blinked. Number Two was striding onto the stage.

  Number Two took Leo’s hand and stepped in front of Mum. As the audience gazed up at him, magnificent in his gold-sequinned pirate coat and three-cornered fur-trimmed pirate hat, he seemed to grow visibly.

  ‘In our family,’ he boomed, ‘we pride ourselves on our maturity and responsibility. These qualities flow through our veins like the blood of life itself. My own son Leo embodies these qualities in every cell of his being.’

  Leo, who’d been looking shocked, started to glow with pleasure. Number Two pointed dramatically to Angus.

  ‘I will not,’ he boomed, ‘hear any member of my family impugned for lack of maturity or responsibility.’

  Angus opened his mouth again, but someone else was aready speaking.

  ‘Nor will I,’ Number Three was saying as he clambered onto the stage. He took Imogen from Angus and stepped into the spotlight with her. ‘My daughter is just as mature and responsible as any of them, and if anyone is looking for a father and daughter modelling duo …’

  ‘Or,’ said another voice, ‘a father and son pirate-story-writing team …’

  Angus rea
lised Dad was standing right next to him.

  ‘Angus may look young,’ Dad continued, ‘but he’s got the imagination of a man three times his age.’ He gave the audience the sincere expression Angus remembered from when Dad used to play the priest in a sit-com.

  Chaos broke out.

  Mum, Ms Lowry, Number Two, Number Three and Dad were all trying to speak at once. Audience members were shouting for their money back. Russell Hinch was yelling threats at Angus.

  None of them, Angus realised, was worrying about Rindi.

  He was the only one.

  And he wasn’t enough.

  ‘Stop,’ screamed Angus. ‘I can’t do it on my own.’

  Nobody was listening.

  Angus felt his chest start to shudder, and even though he was on stage in public with everyone watching and Russell Hinch only half a metre away, this time he couldn’t stop the huge, painful sobs from shaking his whole body.

  Slowly everyone stopped shouting. The hall fell silent. Everyone stared at Angus.

  ‘I’m not a parent’, he said, ‘and I’m not an adult.’

  The sobs were tearing his chest but it felt so good not to be acting.

  Angus turned to Mum and Dad, who looked watery and indistinct through his tears. The sobs made it hard to speak but he managed to get the words out.

  ‘Mum,’ he pleaded, ‘Dad, I’m just a kid.’

  Nobody moved.

  Nobody spoke.

  They all just stared at him.

  Angus said it again so everyone would understand.

  ‘I’m just a kid.’

  22

  Angus sat staring gloomily out the living room window.

  He should be having fun, he knew that. It was the school holidays, Leo was at the zoo with Number Two, Imogen was doing a nappy commercial with Number Three, and Mum had given Angus twenty dollars to spend on himself.

  He didn’t care.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Rindi.

  ‘You won’t feel so sad,’ Mum had said, ‘as time passes. Look at me. I’m already getting over Gavin dumping me. Time heals everything.’

  She was wrong. Two weeks had passed and Angus still felt a searing jolt of sadness when he opened his eyes each morning.