REHABILITATION had changed into HAB IT ON.
PHYSIOTHERAPY had become H OT HEAP.
X-RAY had become simply RAY, so if you were looking for a man called “Ray” all you had to do was follow the arrow.
There was a sign that read IF S which Tom guessed must have been LIFTS at some distant point in the hospital’s past, and so he followed the arrow.
When he reached the lifts, Tom noticed that the arrow above the large metal shiny doors was descending rapidly. He guessed it might be the three children travelling down. The boy watched as the arrow swung all the way down to “B” for basement.
Tom gulped. It was bound to be dark in the basement. And Tom hated the dark. What’s more, the thought of bumping into the porter flashed through his mind. What if Tom felt a hand on his shoulder to stop him and when he looked round it was the terrifying-looking man staring back at him?
For a moment the boy felt like turning back, and then realised that Sally might think he was a scaredy-cat. So, with some hesitation, he pushed the button and waited nervously for the lift to come.
PING!
The doors opened.
PING!
The doors closed.
With his finger trembling, Tom pushed “B” for basement, and the lift trundled down to the darkest depths of the hospital.
With a jolt, the lift stopped.
PING!
The doors opened, and Tom stepped out into the darkness.
The boy was now alone in the basement of LORD FUNT HOSPITAL. His bare feet felt the cold, wet concrete beneath him. Above him on the ceiling was a strip of fluorescent lights, though most had blown, meaning it was all but pitch black down here.
PING!
Tom jumped. It was just the lift doors closing after him.
The sound of water dripping from pipes echoed along the corridor ahead of him.
Slowly Tom made his way along it. When he came to the end, there were four corridors, two to the left and two to the right. It was a maze down here. The boy looked to see if he could make out any wheelchair tracks on the floor. It was hard to see anything with so little light, so Tom bent down to study the floor. At that moment, a creature brushed past his face.
“Aaarrrggghhh!” His scream echoed down the corridor. At first Tom thought it might have been a rat, but he could just see the creature hopping off. It looked more like a bird, but if it was a bird what was it doing all the way down here?
In the dirt on the floor, Tom could see some tyre marks heading down one of the corridors on the right, so he followed them.
After a few paces, he could feel the stale air in the basement becoming warmer. Just up ahead was a giant furnace where the hospital’s waste was being burned. Not far from that, Tom saw a huge basket on wheels. He looked inside. It was full of laundry. Above it was a small hatch. Just then more bed sheets tumbled out of the hatch and fell into the laundry basket. The boy realised that this must be the end of a chute leading down from the wards above.
Every few paces there were doors, and more corridors. Tom followed the tyre tracks as they snaked their way through the basement.
The tracks led on to a corridor that was pitch black.
All the lights in this section of the basement must be broken, thought Tom.
The boy hesitated before going forward. His worst fear was the dark. Still, it seemed foolish to turn back now. He might be about to find the other children and uncover their secret midnight adventure. Slowly Tom tiptoed forward. Soon it was so dark that he could not see his own hand in front of his face. Now he had to grope along the damp walls to find his way. Just then …
KLANG!
… a deafening noise echoed down the basement corridors. It sounded like a heavy metal door being shut. Tom wondered who else might be down here with him. The porter?
Frozen in fear, the boy stopped dead. He listened. And listened. And listened. But now all he could hear was silence. A deep dread all but swallowed him up. Although he stood still, he felt as if he was running or falling or drowning.
Tom realised that coming down to the basement alone was a terrible mistake. He had to get out of there. Right now. He began to retrace his steps, but in a panic he lost his way. Soon he was running barefoot down the corridors, the pink, frilly nightdress flapping as he went.
Out of breath, and still feeling woozy from that cricket ball hitting his head, Tom stopped for a moment. Then he felt something grab his shoulder. He turned round. It was a hand.
“Arrrggghhh!” he screamed.
“Wot are you doin’ down ’ere?” came an angry voice. It was George. Alongside him were Amber and Robin. Tom turned round and Amber and George immediately collapsed in hysterics.
“Ha ha ha!”
In no time, both were helpless with laughter.
“What’s so dreadfully amusing?” asked Robin. “Pray tell!”
“Yes, what is so hilarious?” demanded Tom. He had the distinct feeling they were laughing at him.
“It’s your pink, frilly nightdress! Ha ha ha!” laughed Amber.
“It’s not mine!” protested Tom.
“Oh, I see,” said Robin. “Well, I don’t see,” he added, patting the bandages over his eyes, “but you know what I mean.”
“Robin, if you could see ’im, you would ’ave a good laugh,” added George.
“So how frilly exactly are we talking here?” asked Robin.
“Well …” began Amber. “There are layers of frills like on a wedding cake.”
Robin must have created the image in his head because he giggled to himself at the thought. “Oh dear me! Ha ha!”
“Shut up! The three of you!” shouted Tom angrily.
“Yes, you boys, no more giggling!” said Amber, even though she was the one who had been giggling the loudest.
“Look, Tom,” began George, “we asked you somefink. Wot are you doin’ down ’ere?”
“I was following you,” replied Tom. “What are you doing down here?”
“We’re not saying!” replied Amber. “Now go back to bed, annoying little twit!”
“No. I won’t!” replied Tom.
“Get back to bed!” added George.
“NO!” replied Tom defiantly. “I won’t!”
“I’d slap you if I could see where you are,” fumed Robin. “Count yourself very lucky, Ducky!”
“I’ll snitch on you all unless you let me come too!” said Tom.
The other three were stunned into silence.
One thing that was looked down on at Tom’s boarding school was snitching. Despite the brutal atmosphere at St Willet’s, snitching on other boys to the teachers was forbidden, even if they had …
put trifle in your shoes …
flushed your homework down the toilet …
buried all your pairs of underpants …
crammed you into your own locker …
put a huge hairy spider in the bottom of your bed …
made you eat a pongy rugby sock with some cheesy foot shavings sprinkled on top …
painted your nose blue in your sleep …
tied your shoelaces to a tree and left you dangling upside down …
put glue on your tennis racket so it stuck to your hand forever …
mixed rabbit droppings in with your chocolate drops from the tuck shop. Then forced you to eat them all in a sick game of rabbit-dropping roulette …
So Tom never liked to snitch, or even threaten to snitch, but in this moment he felt he had no other options.
“You better let me come too, or I’ll shout and scream and wake up the whole hospital right now!” said Tom.
“I don’t think anyone will hear you down here,” remarked Robin.
He had a point.
“All right then, I’ll take the lift, go up to the ground floor and I’ll shout and scream and wake up the whole hospital in just a couple of minutes.”
It didn’t have quite the same punch, but fortunately it did the trick. The other three started talki
ng.
“You can’t come. Because where we are going is top secret,” said Amber.
“What’s the secret?” asked Tom.
“We have a secret gang,” said Robin.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell ’im it’s called the Midnight Gang!” said George.
“The Midnight Gang!” exclaimed Tom.
“What do you mean ‘don’t tell him it’s called the Midnight Gang’?!” demanded Amber.
The girl rolled her eyes, and Robin sighed.
“Cool name! I love it! Now please let me join,” said Tom.
“No!” said George. “‘N’ ‘O’ spells ‘no’!”
“Then explain to me why I can’t?” protested Tom. The boy desperately wanted to be part of the Midnight Gang, even though he didn’t actually have a clue what the Midnight Gang did, because it was secret. What could be more exciting than a gang that was secret? It didn’t matter what this secret gang did. All that mattered was that it was secret. Not just secret, but top secret!
Silence greeted Tom’s question as the three were stumped for an answer.
“Because it’s a secret gang,” replied Amber finally. “And it’s been secret for years.”
“But I already know about it,” said Tom. “It’s you three and it’s called the Midnight Gang!”
“Poop! Poop! Double poop! And triple poop with an extra scoop of poop on top with poop sauce!” said Robin.
“’E’s got us!” added George.
Tom smiled smugly to himself.
“No he hasn’t,” said Amber. “This gang is so much more than that. It’s as old as the hospital.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tom.
“It was started fifty years ago. Maybe more,” replied the girl.
“By who?” asked Tom.
“I can’t tell you!” said Amber.
“Spoilsport!” replied Tom.
“Amber can’t tell you as she doesn’t actually know,” remarked George.
“Thank you for that, George!” said Amber sarcastically.
“No problem,” replied George, not detecting the sarcasm.
“Nobody knows who started the Midnight Gang,” said Robin. “All we know is that it was a child in this hospital. And it’s been passed down by the patients ever since.”
“So why can’t I join?” said Tom.
“Because not just anybody can join,” said Amber. “The Midnight Gang can only survive if it’s secret. If someone squealed, it would ruin it for everybody. We don’t know if we can trust you yet.”
“You can! I swear!” pleaded Tom.
“All right, Tom, listen!” sighed Amber. “You can come with us, but just for tonight. It doesn’t mean you are a member of the Midnight Gang. We’ll see how you get on. Tonight is strictly a trial period. If you pass the test, then you are in. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied Tom. “Yes I do. Now, come on, Midnight Gang. Let’s have an adventure. Follow me!”
With that, the boy marched off down the corridor.
The other three remained on the spot, shaking their heads.
“Erm, excuse me,” said Robin.
“What?” replied Tom, turning back.
“You don’t know where you are going.”
“Oh yes. Sorry.”
“Oh dear, the trial period has already got off to a bad start,” said Amber. As she was unable to move her arms, she nodded the direction with her head. “This way, gang! Follow me!”
As Amber’s arms and legs were in plaster, she was pretty helpless. If she had fallen out of her wheelchair, the girl would have struggled to get up. Most likely she would lie on her back with her arms and legs in the air like an upside-down beetle. However, by sheer force of will, Amber was very much the leader of the Midnight Gang. Down in the hospital basement, she barked orders to George, Robin and the newest member of the gang, Tom.
“Straight ahead! Turn right! Right again! Left again at the end of the corridor.”
George had been made to take over pushing Amber’s wheelchair after Robin had bashed the girl into too many walls. There were suspicions that Robin had done it on purpose to get out of pushing. Now poor George was covered in sweat and panting like a dog. Pushing the wheelchair was hard work because it had a flat tyre.
“Do you want a go, Tom?” spluttered George as he tried to push the old rusty contraption in a straight line.
“No thank you.”
“It’s really fun pushin’ the wheelchair, ain’t it, Robin?” said George.
“Oh yes, George, it’s an absolute treat,” said Robin, not entirely convincingly.
“Look, Tom,” began George, “if you are serious about joinin’ our gang, and want this trial period to be a success, then you really need to push Amber’s wheelchair, at least for a bit.”
Tom sighed. The boy knew he was being tricked into doing it, but could do nothing about it. “All right, all right, I’ll do it!”
“Yes!” exclaimed George, punching the air in celebration.
“You boys should be fighting for the honour of pushing your leader around,” remarked Amber.
“Who said you were the leader?” asked Robin.
“I did!” replied Amber. “Now come on, Tom, let’s get going!”
Reluctantly, the boy took the handles and began pushing the wheelchair. Amber was heavier than he had thought, and it was a struggle to get going.
“Faster! Faster!” she ordered.
“Where are we going?” asked Tom.
“Tom, as I said a few moments ago, you are on a trial period in this gang,” said Amber. “Our destination is on a strict need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know. Right turn!”
Dutifully, Tom pushed the wheelchair right, and then wheeled Amber to what was, in fact, a dead end.
“STOP!” said Amber. “You’ve taken me the wrong way!”
“I did exactly as I was told, miss,” replied Tom. “I mean … Amber.”
“No, ‘miss’ is fine,” said the girl.
“I need to take a break for a moment,” announced Tom as he sat down on the floor. The other two boys did the same. “Before we go any further, I need you to explain something to me.”
“What?” demanded Amber. The girl was not best pleased. It was clear she wasn’t going to be pushed another millimetre unless she gave the boy some proper answers.
“I still don’t understand why this child started the secret gang in the first place all those years ago.”
“You don’t normally get to know all the secrets of the Midnight Gang until you are a full member,” replied the girl.
“Please tell ’im, Amber,” moaned George. “I can’t push any more. I got a stitch.”
The girl harrumphed at these pathetic boys. “Legend has it that this one particular child was stuck in LORD FUNT HOSPITAL for years and years,” began Amber.
“Why?” asked Tom.
“I suppose they had something very seriously wrong,” replied Amber. “Something more serious than a ‘stitch’!”
She shot a look over to George before continuing. “This child was bored. Being ill is boring. Being in hospital is boring. They longed for excitement. So one night, at midnight, so the story goes, they had this brilliant idea to create a secret gang for them and all the other children on the ward.”
“But what did this secret gang do?” asked Tom.
“I’m coming to that,” replied Amber, “if you would please just let me get a word in edgeways!”
In the darkness of the basement, Tom could just make out George rolling his eyes at him. Amber was certainly a strong character. No doubt she had put Robin and George in their place many times since they had been admitted to the hospital.
“This one patient thought, why should all the children on the outside have all the fun when they and the other kids couldn’t even leave the hospital? Why don’t all the kids on the children’s ward work together to make one of their dreams come true? Starting every night at midnight.”
&
nbsp; “Why midnight?”
“Because the grown-ups would not approve. This child knew that they would do everything in their power to stop the gang if they found out about it. So it had to swing into action only after the grown-ups had all gone to bed. Then, over time, as children left the ward when they recovered from their injuries or illnesses, new children would come. And if the Midnight Gang members thought a new patient could be trusted – really trusted – if they were one hundred per cent sure they wouldn’t tell the doctors or nurses or their parents or teachers or even their friends outside the hospital, then, and only then, would they be invited to join.”
“Do you think you would have invited me to join?” asked Tom.
“Probably not,” replied Amber curtly.
“Why not?” demanded the boy, more than a little hurt.
“To be honest, you seem a bit of a weed.”
“A WEED?!”
“YES! A WEED. Gosh, all that fuss just because you were hit on the head by a tennis ball!”
“It was a cricket ball!” protested Tom.
“Same fing,” remarked George.
“No it’s not!” exclaimed Tom. “A cricket ball is much, much heavier!”
“Yes, yes, of course it is!” replied Amber sarcastically. “I imagine they are so heavy a wimp like you would struggle to pick one up!”
The other two boys chuckled as Tom sulked. He knew he was not an Olympic athlete in the making, but he never realised people might think he was a wimp.
“Come on, Tom, don’t sulk!” said Amber.
“I suppose the Midnight Gang is nothing more than an idea really,” mused Robin. “One that’s passed on from child to child.”
“Like nits?” asked George unhelpfully.
“Yes, exactly like nits, George!” exclaimed Robin. “You really are a genius. The Midnight Gang is exactly like nits but without the scratchy heads, special shampoo, egg-removing combs and of course the nits themselves.”
“All right, all right!” replied George. “We can’t all be the Brian of Britain. I mean, Brain of Britain!”
The Midnight Gang Page 4
