Ribblestrop Forever!

by Andy Mulligan

  Miles had moved to the other side of the vehicle, but he couldn’t resist a sideways glance at Mr Ian. He found a pair of astonished eyes gazing back into his and the man’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Seyton-Shandy,’ he whispered. ‘Miles Seyton-Shandy!’

  ‘What about it?’ said Miles, nervously.

  ‘Of all the kids I’ve ever taught . . .’ He was losing his breath again. ‘Of all the children . . . you were the devil.’

  Chapter Eight

  The children worked even faster.

  They pushed the clamped wheel into the van and the spare was swiftly fitted. In another moment, the jack was down and the stone that had supported it was hauled back to make a step up to the rear doors.

  ‘In you get, boys,’ said Doctor Ellie, cheerfully. ‘That’s enough bother for one day. Could you go in the front, please, dear?’ Millie did as she was told, dragging Miles with her. Everyone else started to clamber in through the back doors. ‘That’s it,’ Ellie cried. ‘Pile in any old how – I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Let’s get you back to your nasty London school.’

  She was just about to close the door, when her eyes fell on the step they’d been using and her heart lurched. She stopped and leant against the frame. Her mouth opened and she couldn’t close it again.

  ‘What’s the matter, miss?’ said Sam. He noticed the woman’s face changing colour and jumped out to help her.

  ‘I’m not quite sure. This can’t be happening.’

  ‘Are you sick?’

  ‘No. Wait. This is remarkable.’

  ‘We ought to go,’ called Millie, anxiously. Podma had started the engine and was revving it. ‘What’s the problem back there?’

  Doctor Ellie was staring downwards. ‘This is impossible,’ she whispered.

  ‘What is, miss? Come on!’ cried Sam.

  The children at the back were craning their necks, confused by the old lady’s sudden stillness. One of the security guards came closer and followed her gaze.

  ‘Can you help me for a moment?’ she said to the boys that were nearest. She was holding Sam’s arm, using him for support. ‘You’ve made the most . . . This is not possible! Help us here!’ she cried. ‘Please . . . Boys?’

  She went down on one knee and several boys leapt out and clustered around her. She now had both hands on the stone.

  ‘I’ve been looking for this for years. It’s part of the keystone.’

  ‘What is?’ said Israel. ‘What are you looking at?’

  Podma blasted the horn twice, but Doctor Ellie was oblivious. She was brushing muddy footprints from the milk-white stone with a paintbrush plucked from a pocket. She pulled the block towards her, swinging it round in the mud, and found an eye-glass. It took her seconds to check, and she was aware that she had to make a quick decision. The problem was that she couldn’t stop her hands shaking, and as she lay her fingers gently over the indentations she could feel heat rising. There were stars and half-moons. There were crosses, lines and dimples and they ran in long swirls, over every visible face. Her eyes filled with tears as she traced them blindly, sensing the tools and the hands that had cut them.

  ‘Put this inside, please . . .’

  ‘What’s the matter, miss?’

  ‘D’you need some water, miss? Do you want to lie down?’

  ‘No. No – just . . . Put this in the van, would you?’ She started to lift and there were suddenly five pairs of hands helping. ‘We may, um . . . need it again, boys, if we have to . . . You know, if we have to change a wheel or something. Just pop it in the back – mind your fingers.’

  The guard’s radio squawked again. ‘Back-up on its way,’ said the man. ‘Is that you, Mr Cuthbertson, sir? We’ve been assaulted and vandalised. There’s a situation here and our assailant’s absconding. How close are you, over? . . . Well, can you hurry, sir?’

  ‘Quickly,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Quick as you can! And make a note of where we are. Oh Lord – I need my maps!’

  ‘Cuthbertson,’ said Millie. ‘He said Cuthbertson, didn’t he?’

  Doctor Ellie was still talking. ‘It’s heavy, isn’t it? Of course it is. This is a most extraordinary find. Hurry!’ She closed the doors from inside, and pushed through the van. ‘I’ve been looking for that for . . . It’s the second piece! It has to be, I saw the crack. The crack!’

  She hauled herself over the driver’s seat, behind the wheel. Her chest was heaving and she let in the clutch way too hard. The van catapulted backward and Mr Ian – who was still on the ground – scrambled to his feet just in time to avoid being squashed. He banged on the vehicle’s side and made a grab through the window.

  Doctor Ellie flapped his hands away and a charge of euphoria hit her. ‘You’re a fool, you know,’ she cried, braking sharply. ‘You’re totally unaware of what’s under your nose! But I am a step closer to solving the mystery!’

  ‘Give me the keys!’ cried the teacher, holding tight to the steering wheel. ‘That boy! Miles! We have unfinished business . . .’

  ‘Your pupils are terrified of you, aren’t they?’ said Doctor Ellie, calmly. ‘And I imagine . . .’ She shunted forward into the lane, dragging Mr Ian alongside her and squeezing him into the hedge. ‘. . . I imagine you lead a life without love, so you compensate by being a monster. You are to be pitied, sir. Now, for the last time . . .’ She lurched forward and then braked, spinning Mr Ian into a nettle patch. ‘Goodbye forever.’

  The two security guards were both blocking the lane, their hands upraised. They leapt to one side as she accelerated towards them. She found second gear and pushed the vehicle so hard up the hill, the children were pressed back on top of one another. They were clapping, though, and cheering. She could see them in her mirror, waving their fingers, and she felt dangerously light-headed. Her mind was whirling and she was starting to laugh.

  The children had started singing and she could hear the words, ‘Ribblestrop! Ribblestrop!’ They were chanted in the style of a football song. Some boys were whistling too, for another security vehicle had been forced to skid sideways off the road as she thundered past. The driver gawped in horror. Doctor Ellie shouted with joy as she swung round it and shot to the left down a tiny, random lane. What if they chased her? What if they discovered the stone and took it away again? They wouldn’t know what it was, but the very thought that they might claim it made her accelerate faster and faster. In a moment, they were between deep, high hedges, racing away. For five full minutes they hurtled through the lanes. Only when they’d turned and twisted for a good few miles did she slow down and relax. She knew they were safe.

  ‘What a remarkable group of children you are,’ she cried, gulping fresh air. She had tears in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe what’s just happened! This is destiny!’

  ‘You were great, miss,’ said Miles. ‘That took guts, that did. You told him!’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. Oh, what a team we are – that was teamwork, pure and simple.’

  ‘I bet he’s never been spoken to like that,’ said Podma.

  ‘I bet he’s never been immobilised like that,’ said Doctor Ellie. She shook her head and laughed. ‘I can see you’re not to be trifled with, any of you. We’ve made enemies, though, and they have got my number of course. They’ll get straight onto the library services. Never mind! Who cares? If they behave like that, they have to expect retaliation. Now, let’s get back to civilisation and if I have to ditch the van . . . then so be it. Where do you want to get to, children?’

  ‘Ribblestrop!’ shouted someone. ‘Drive us home, miss! Come home with us!’

  She indicated left and inched the vehicle onto a wider road. She picked up speed and they were soon joining a busy dual-carriageway. The school song was blaring yet again.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ shouted Millie, over the noise. ‘Is it your job, taking photos of stones?’

  ‘Oh no!’ laughed Doctor Ellie. ‘I’m unemployed and on the run. In fact – to be honest – I’m a criminal.
’ She smiled grimly. ‘Qui scelera evitant mox inter se coalescent! Do you know your Virgil? It means, “Those fleeing evil will soon join together”. Now, there is, I believe, a supermarket off the next roundabout and it has one of those family rest-areas. It was built on a sixteenth century monastic site – two monks were burnt in a barrel, courtesy of Henry the Eighth.’ She smiled again. ‘So I think the first thing is to hide this vehicle, and the second thing is to get some food in our stomachs. Then, we plan the glorious future.’

  She laughed and blasted her horn long and loud.

  ‘I want to look at my stone!’ she cried. ‘You don’t know what you’ve found, do you?’

  ‘Picnic area!’ cried Sam, seeing a sign. ‘Can we stop there?’

  Doctor Ellie was already indicating and the bright lights of a superstore were getting closer and closer.

  They nosed into the car park and made for the remotest corner, sliding the van into the shadow of some trees.

  Chapter Nine

  Meanwhile, the Ribblestrop teachers were taking tea. The mood was understandably sombre. Doonan had been the last out of the cells, for the station sergeant found his soft Irish accent suspicious, and his interview had seemed never-ending. When he emerged, and had claimed back his belt and shoes, he found Captain Routon, Professor Worthington and the headmaster waiting for him in the car. They drove out of town and stopped when they saw signs to a supermarket – none of them had eaten for hours. They sat in the refreshment area, and tried to make sense of their experience.

  ‘I just don’t understand why the police didn’t follow them,’ said the headmaster. He looked more haggard than ever. ‘How could they simply watch helpless, vulnerable children drift down the river?’

  ‘They were more interested in arresting us, sir,’ said Captain Routon.

  ‘But they had a helicopter. Why didn’t they use it?’

  Professor Worthington laughed bitterly. ‘The pilot needed a rest, Giles,’ she said. ‘He’d done a two-hour shift and was entitled to a coffee break. We begged them to go up but they said it was against health and safety rules. Clockwatchers, all of them.’

  ‘That’s why they sent for the dinghy,’ said Captain Routon. ‘I don’t know what happened to that.’

  Doonan sighed. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘That sergeant told me.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It ran aground after about ten minutes and they had to wait for a salvage crew to get them back in the water. They want us to pay for all that, as well.’

  ‘Meanwhile two dozen children are left to their own devices and could be anywhere. They could be at the bottom of the river, or victims of some nutcase on the road—’

  ‘No chance, sir,’ interrupted Captain Routon. ‘Don’t start panicking. They pull together in a crisis, we all know that. They’ve probably found a railway station by now – they’re probably waiting for a train to Ribblestrop.’

  ‘Is that where we should go?’

  ‘I think we should get back to the school,’ agreed Professor Worthington. ‘That’s where they’re heading, after all. They won’t want any more adventures. Try Sam’s phone again.’

  ‘You do it, Routon – I can hardly see the numbers.’ He passed his mobile across the table and sat back. ‘I had such high hopes for this term, you know. I wanted it to be nice and quiet, with the focus on botany. A bit of football and a nice exam or two at the end. I thought we might even have one of those award ceremonies.’

  ‘Like a normal school,’ said Doonan.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Doonan smiled. ‘I thought we might start a cricket team instead of football. My brother said he’d send my bat over.’

  ‘Well, at the moment the only player’s going to be Caspar. And Henry, if he comes back.’

  Captain Routon peered at the phone and tapped in a message. ‘I imagine Sam’s will have been soaked, same as mine . . . No, sir, I still can’t get anything.’

  ‘We should sue the police,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It’s gross negligence.’

  ‘That’s what they said about us,’ said Doonan. ‘They said we were the most irresponsible so-called teachers they’d ever come across.’

  ‘They were extremely unpleasant,’ said Captain Routon. ‘We can expect a full prosecution, they said.’

  ‘Don’t tell me!’ said the headmaster. ‘I’ve had eviction notices from Lady Vyner again and threats from her solicitors. She wants to start a nursing home, she says, so she’s hell-bent on getting rid of us.’

  ‘Why a nursing home?’

  ‘Money. Someone’s told her there’s a fortune to be made from old people with nowhere to go. We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t changed all the locks and thrown our stuff into the street.’

  Professor Worthington took the headmaster’s hand and pressed it. ‘Don’t despair, Giles,’ she said. ‘We’ve come through worst crises than this.’

  Captain Routon sat back and threw the phone onto the table. Then, just as it bounced, they all heard the soft buzz of an incoming text. He snatched it back up and clicked to the message inbox.

  ‘What is it?’ said Doonan.

  ‘I don’t believe it, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’ve made contact. They’ve picked up our signal and they’ve made contact!’

  The headmaster jumped to his feet. ‘What does it say, Routon? How long’s a text take to come through?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘I thought they were pretty much instant. What’s it say? Open it!’

  Captain Routon dropped the phone in his haste and it was batted between hands. ‘I can’t get at it . . . I’m all thumbs.’

  Doonan grabbed it.

  The adults strained their eyes to see, shielding the little screen from the overhead striplights.

  ‘Hello,’ read Doonan, slowly. ‘I hope u r well. Is that a teacher??? We r fine dont worry cannot take calls at the moment we are shopping.’

  ‘They’re fine!’ hissed the headmaster. ‘They say they’re fine!’

  ‘Shhh, sir! What else?’

  ‘If that is you, sir, did my dad get home ok?’

  The headmaster stood, motionless. ‘That’s Sam!’ he said quietly. ‘That’s Sam, isn’t it? Oh, dear me, they really are safe! Safe enough to text, anyway. Shopping, for goodness’ sake! Why don’t they say where they are?’

  ‘Text them back!’ shouted Captain Routon. ‘Ask them!’

  The phone bleeped again, unprompted, and there was a follow-up text.

  ‘We r having a bbq. ShoppaLot Superstore nr A30 ring-road home soon. Sam xxxx.’

  It was Doonan who looked up first and saw the large banner stretched above their heads. His eyes instantly filled with tears and he crossed himself; he could not believe that a prayer could be so promptly and favourably answered. Not only were the children safe, but they were close – for the banner read, Welcome to ShoppaLot. You’ll be Amazed At What You Find . . .

  It seemed pre-ordained then, that Anjoli should drift past the window at that very moment, sitting high on a shopping trolley. There was a slow-motion quality to the scene, because it was laden with food. Sanchez and Millie were pushing and, one by one, the whole line of boys passed with bulging bags. Black-and-gold blazers, muddy knees and shoes . . . Doonan watched as Sanjay tried to trip Ruskin’s heels, prompting Asilah to give him a sharp slap. He saw Oli drop a lettuce and Miles take a large box from a friendly-looking old lady, who pinched his cheek. Last in line were Tomaz and Imagio, hauling yet another trolley, this one packed with what looked like sacks of charcoal.

  ‘They’re there,’ whispered Doonan. ‘Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me . . .’

  Now all the teachers were staring, unable to move, paralysed with wonder. The children disappeared into the crowds of shoppers and crossed the car park.

  Somehow, the teachers came to their senses.

  They crashed through the doors, fearing that, if t
hey delayed a second their pupils might be snatched away again. For an awful moment, that’s just what happened, for they emerged totally disorientated at the rear exit and had to race round the front of the complex to get their bearings. Had the children been a mirage and would they ever be reunited for the start of term?

  Routon spotted Kenji and Nikko, who had dropped some eggs. He broke into a run, calling their names at the top of his voice. Cars screeched to a halt to avoid the racing figures and at last the children saw them.

  There was an immediate scrum of welcome. An attendant tried to intervene, for the traffic was at a standstill and a crowd had gathered to watch. He had no success, for there were too many hugs and handshakes to be enjoyed and repeated. Only when cars started hooting long and loud, did Professor Worthington manage to get everyone moving.

  There was too much to say, of course. The teachers lost track of who had and hadn’t been properly welcomed, so the only solution was to start all over again, embracing and asking the same questions. By the time the children had finished pouring out their stories, they were back at the picnic spot and the sun was setting. They perched on the picnic tables and opened bags of sweets, some weeping with laughter. Captain Routon was listening to Miles and Millie re-enacting the collapse of their pilot – Anjoli playing the pilot. The headmaster was trying to follow the exact course of the bus, car and plane as Oli laid out little models made of tin foil and Sam did the noises. Doonan was going through his interrogation for the fifth time to an enthralled audience of orphans, who had their hands over their mouths in horror.

  It was Tomaz – wearing a brand-new apron – who called for order.

  ‘Excuse me, everyone,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to break up the party, but we’ve started the cooking and . . . well, it’s almost ready.’

  Everyone turned and was amazed to find that whilst they’d been talking, he and Imagio had been working. The charcoal was blazing and two shopping trolleys were on their sides, acting as the perfect grills. A pall of sweet-smelling smoke floated by, for sausages, burgers and steaks were sizzling. On a table nearby there were loaves of bread sliced and buttered, there were salads in bowls and two huge tubs of ice-cream. The box that Miles had received from that sweet old lady was also open. She had taken it through the till for him and pretended she was buying it. Miles had convinced her it was vital medicine for his sick mother.