by James Erith
Ten
Swear On Your Life
‘You’ll have to promise me you won’t tell anyone,’ Kemp demanded.
‘Give me a break,’ Archie replied.
‘Archie, promise, on your life, that you won’t tell anyone, that’s all I’m asking. I mean, you can keep your mouth shut, can’t you?’
‘If you didn’t want anyone to know,’ Archie replied, ‘why did you do it in the first place?’
‘To protect the excellent academic reputation of Upsall School,’ he said. ‘And, anyway, your sister hates me and she cannot be trusted. Prove you’re different.’
‘Bog off, Kemp. My sister doesn’t like you because you do idiotic things like throw barometers out of windows and sneak dead rats into sports bags.’
Kemp chuckled. Two years ago, he’d found a dead rodent by the river and hid it in Isabella’s games bag. He waited. And every day he waited, getting more and more excited about the slowly decomposing rat. For the best part of a week, while everyone wondered what the terrible smell was, he waited. Then, on the afternoon of the school cross-country run, as Isabella put on her tracksuit bottoms, out plopped the remains, maggots spraying over her things like discarded rice.
Dynamite.
Archie sighed. ‘Look, Kemp, if it means that much to you, I’ll do it, but only if you swear, on your life that you won’t do any more harmful, stupid, bullying things to Isabella, Sue, or Daisy.’
Kemp stuck out his jaw and moved it from side to side contemplating Archie’s request. At last, he nodded and said, ‘Okay, I agree. But it ends when she gets me into detention again.’
Archie nodded.
‘Come on then,’ Kemp said. ‘You say it first.’
‘Do I have to? I’m not five.’
‘Yeah, course you do—if you want me to do the same.’
Archie rolled his eyes. ‘I swear, on my life, that I won’t tell anyone that you dropped the stupid barometer out of the window. Satisfied.’
Kemp nodded. ‘Easy, wasn’t it?’
‘Now you do it!’
Kemp looked him in the eye. ‘I swear on my life not to harm your sisters, and not to play any more silly tricks on them. There, that good enough?’
‘I suppose.’
Kemp’s tone changed and he ushered Archie aside. ‘Hey, sorry, Arch. You don’t have to say it... I know, I know,’ he said putting his hands in the air. ‘I’ve been a massive arse.’
‘You’re telling me!’ Archie replied. ‘Why, Kemp? Why do you do it?’
Kemp shrugged. ‘Dunno. Boredom. Can’t seem to help myself when I see your sisters—’
‘Look out!’ Jackson said, as he ran back into the classroom. ‘Steele’s on his way.’
‘Come on!’ Kemp said. ‘Out of the window!’
They ran to the window and pulled up the blind.
Isabella, Sue and Mrs Pike stared up at them.
‘Drat,’ Kemp said, under his breath. He smiled pleasantly back at them.
‘Kemp and Archie de Lowe,’ the old teacher hollered. ‘Who would have guessed? What can you tell me about the mess down here?’
Kemp opened the window. ‘Hello, Miss. Is there a problem?’
‘You know perfectly well there is!’
‘Sorry. I don’t what you’re talking about, Miss?’
‘This debris, here,’ Mrs Pike shrieked, pointing at the concrete.
Kemp peered like a sailor looking down from deck, a quizzical expression etched on his brow. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he replied. ‘Window’s been closed all along, hasn’t it, boys?’ He shrugged. ‘What is it?’
Isabella shrieked. ‘Kemp, you know what it is!’
‘Glass?’ he offered. ‘A smashed Coke bottle perhaps?’
‘No, Kemp, it was Isabella’s barometer.’
‘A bar-hom-tier,’ Kemp repeated, thickly. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘Archie, did you see Kemp with it earlier?’ the teacher hollered.
Archie stared at the floor.
‘Tell me, what happened?’
‘Dunno,’ Archie said, running a hand through his hair.
‘Archie, what do you mean, you "dunno"?’
‘Dunno,’ Archie said again, reddening.
Kemp looked straight into Mrs Pike’s eyes. ‘Honestly, there’s been no one around. We’ve been chatting about animals, life, and situation comedy—’
‘Great!’ Isabella stormed, addressing Archie. ‘Kemp’s made you swear not to tell or something childish like that, hasn’t he? You, Kemp,’ she said pointing at him, ‘you were the last person to have it. It must have been you.’
‘Then prove it,’ Kemp said, thrusting out his jaw.
‘I shouldn’t have to,’ she pleaded. ‘Archie, all you have to do is tell us what happened—’
Archie shook his head.
‘Expel him!’ Isabella shouted pointing at Kemp.
‘But I haven’t done anything—’
Isabella stamped her foot. ‘Yes, you have!’
‘Prove it!’ he yelled back.
‘You had it last! I saw it in your hands, admit it—’
‘NO! Innocent until proven guilty—’
‘You are guilty!’
‘In whose court?’
‘I DID IT!’ Archie yelled, his voice cutting above theirs.
The school bell chimed, the echo circling around their heads.
‘It was me.’
‘You?’ Isabella quizzed.
‘Archie?’ Mr Steele said.
‘de Lowe?’ said Mrs Pike.
‘Yes,’ Archie sighed. ‘I was fed up with you two always getting at each other, so I thought I’d, you know…’ He bowed his head.
Isabella looked from one to the other. ‘Oh great! You two have done a deal or something, haven’t you?’
Eleven
Gus Talks To Sue
‘Are those real tears, or are you just pleased to see me,’ Gus said on finding Sue later, as he pulled a folded red and white polka-dot handkerchief out of his pocket.
Sue shot him a look but her face broke into a smile. ‘Oh! I don’t know. It’s that oaf, again. He’s got hold of Isabella’s experiment and she’s gone nuts.’ She dabbed her eyes and offered it back.
‘Ah. No, keep it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a drawer full. Dad has a thing about them—’
‘Thanks, Gus.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
She shook her head.
‘You sure? I’m all ears, and teeth,’ he said grinning. ‘Don’t worry about Kemp—I’ve got a plan where he’s concerned. Right now, there are disturbing rumours leaking about these corridors concerning our headmaster.’
‘Solomon?’
‘Aye,’ he said in mock way with an eyebrow raised. He paused.
‘Well—’
He shook his head. ‘Can’t tell you,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘It might cheer you up.’
The corners of her mouth turned up and she hit him playfully in the chest.
‘Well, I just happened to be in the old school—’
‘Just happened?’
‘Yes. Taking an arbitrary stroll down the passageways leading to his study—’
‘Gus!’
‘Do you want me to tell you, or not?’ he said, stealing a glance over her shoulder.
She nodded.
‘As you probably know, Solomon’s having a massive party tomorrow night after the football. I happened to be standing outside when I heard this extraordinary noise.’
‘What noise?’
‘Well, singing, I think. Terrible sort of opera, like baritone cat-wails.’
Sue tittered. ‘So?’
’That’s not it,’ Gus said. ‘You see, he then started talking but I’m sure there wasn’t anyone in there.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He hadn’t shut the door—’
‘You didn’t—?’
Gus pulled a face. ‘Onl
y quickly. I couldn’t help it. Bet you’d have done the same?’
‘No way!’
‘Well, anyway, there he was, wearing a dress—’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Yeah. Okay, so it was a kilt, I hope. Green and blue criss-crosses, and, on his top, a white string vest.’
‘A singlet? What was he doing?’
‘Introducing himself.’
‘What?’
‘Practicing his how-do-you-doo’s, his voice getting posher and posher. “Oh, how do you do, Mayor, how do you do Your Eminence, that sort of thing”.’
Sue laughed as Gus raised his eyebrows.
‘Then what?’
‘I sneaked off. Told you it would cheer you up. Now, important stuff. I need some advice.
Sue cocked her head. ‘Go on.’
Gus’s face contorted. ‘I need a date. Got a party on over half-term.’
‘You’re asking me for a date.’
Gus coughed and blushed. ‘Er. No. Not really. Just advice, or a bit of guidance as to whom I might approach.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Right.’
Gus couldn’t tell if her tone betrayed a hint of disappointment.
‘Anyone spring to mind?’
‘Annie?’ he squeaked.
‘Which one? Martin or de Lowe.’
‘Either.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Really?’
Gus looked taken aback. ‘Why not?’
‘Annie Martin is pretty, but she’s, you know, a bit soppy, forever sweeping back her hair and sighing. You’d be bored senseless. On the other hand, Daisy might tear the place up, and, if there’s dancing, you’d better have your dancing shoes on.’
Gus’s forehead rolled. ‘I hate dancing.’
Footsteps made them turn.
Sue squeezed his arm. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll come up with something, don’t you worry. I’ll let you know before half term, okay?’ She looked him in the eye.
Gus smiled. ‘Thanks, Sue. Discretion, please. Don’t want it leaked around or everyone will think I’m desperate.’
‘No problem. Hey, and thanks Gus. Love the hanky.’
Twelve
Storm Glass
‘You must think I’m a fool, Arch. It’s perfectly clear that Kemp put you up to this.’ Her tone softened. ‘Didn’t he?’
Archie kept his eyes down.
She sighed. ‘Have it your own way, Archie. I just don’t understand how you can be friends with him. I just wish you’d been honest with me, Arch. That’s what really hurts.’
‘I’m sorry about your experiment,’ he said, raising his eyes.
Isabella pressed her lips together. ‘Don’t be. It kept bottoming out. Actually, I’ve researched a better idea. I’m going to make a Fitzroy storm glass.’
‘A Fitz glass?’
‘No, a Fitz-ROY storm glass. It’s a brilliant bit of kit, a kind of old-fashioned weather gauge, and, as a punishment for your behaviour, you can help me make it.’
Archie smiled. ‘Why the craze about weather stuff?’
‘Well, if you must know,’ she said, ‘there’s a curious weather system developing.’ She hesitated a little. ‘This may sound a bit strange, but Sue and I have had a premonition; a dream about torrential rain, flooding, that kind of thing.’
Archie reeled, and put a hand out to steady himself. ‘You’re always saying how unscientific things like dreams are, and that therefore they’re irrelevant—’
‘Nevertheless,’ she said, curtly, ‘dreams are viable mechanisms of the brain, Archie.’
Archie cleared his throat. ‘Bells, do you dream a lot?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I never dream, well, not until recently. But I’ve got an intensely strong feeling about this one. So, I reckon there’s no harm in trying to find out if there’s any scientific substance to it.’
Archie scratched his head and wondered if he should mention his appalling dreams, and Daisy’s shouting in the middle of the night. Instead, he heard himself asking, ‘How does this Fitzglass-thing work?’
‘It shows what’s going to happen to the weather through the liquid in the glass. A reflection of what’s going on outside, I think. So, if the liquid is clear, the weather will be clear. If small crystals form, then snow is on its way—’
‘And if there’s a storm…?’ Archie asked.
‘When a thunderstorm is coming, the liquid should be cloudy with small star-like crystals in it, and so on.’
‘Nice.’
‘First, I’ll need a few ingredients—and this, bro, is where you come in.’
Archie nodded.
‘First, go and bat your eyelids at Mrs Culver. Ask for ten grams of camphor; she’ll have some for food flavouring. Tell her you need some in Chemistry to show how a compound can burn without leaving an ash residue. If she starts asking questions, mention oxygen in a scientifically related question. For some reason, Mrs Culver can’t bear the word "oxygen".
‘Then, go and find Mr Pike in the Maintenance Department. Ask him for distilled water. Fill a large, plastic bottle if you can; he keeps some for his forklift batteries.’
Isabella scratched her forehead thoughtfully, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. ‘Have you got that? Camphor and distilled water. I’ll find some ethanol and the other bits from Chemistry later on. Shouldn’t be too difficult,’ she added, almost as a reminder to herself.
‘Where shall we meet?’ he said.
Isabella smiled. ‘The science labs are free straight after lunch. One-thirty. I’ll see you there.’
‘Gotta look like you mean it, Archie,’ Sue said, as she threw a lab-coat at Archie.
Archie handed over the camphor and Sue filled a beaker with distilled water, which she began to heat.
In silence, as Archie and Sue looked on, Isabella added each component until the beaker was half full. The ethanol and camphor were poured in last. When these had dissolved, Isabella asked Archie to find a large test tube sealed with a stopper. She exchanged the liquid into the test tube and filled it almost to the top, and capped it off.
Archie put the experiment in a holding device on the desk.
‘Archie,’ Isabella said. ‘Wash those beakers while we put everything away.’
He headed to the far corner of the laboratory, but, just as he was about to place the beaker in the sink, the door swung open.
Instinctively, Archie ducked under the table.
‘Aha! There you are,’ Kemp said, with big smile. ‘Been looking all over for you girls.’
‘GO AWAY!’ they shouted.
‘Whoa! Calm down. I’ve come to apologise.’ He looked down at the desk. ‘What’s all this then? Doing some illegal experiments, are we? That’s terribly exciting. Creating a bomb or some poisons or a wee bit of chemical warfare—’
‘It’s none of your business, Kemp. Leave us alone.’
‘Biological warfare?’
‘No, Kemp it’s—’
‘Mustard gas? Come on, I’m offering an olive branch. I’m sorry about earlier. Got a little out of hand, didn’t it? Actually, have either of you seen Archie?’
Isabella caught Archie staring at her from behind one of the desks, out of Kemp’s eye line, shaking his head vigorously.
‘Er, no. Sorry. No idea,’ she said, brushing an imaginary speck off her lab coat.
Kemp regarded her suspiciously before his eyes moved to the test tube on the desk.
‘This is your experiment, is it? A test-tube full of cloudy potions. Cor. Brilliant.’
‘Thanks for your interest, Kemp,’ Sue said, in her most condescending manner. ‘But, to be honest, this is a very dull investigation we’re doing, dealing with the creation of crystals using camphor, ethanol, distilled water, and a couple of other things you probably wouldn’t understand.’
But Kemp was like a dog chasing after a scent, and his tone changed. ‘So, if it’s so boring, why are you doing it in lunch break?’
‘As I said, Kemp, it’s a s
imple experiment—’
‘I don’t believe you.’ He stepped closer. ‘It doesn’t add up.’
‘Please, go away, and leave us alone,’ Isabella said, as sweetly as she could, remembering Archie’s advice.
Her words fell on deaf ears. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing?’ Kemp quizzed.
‘Why should we?’ Isabella snapped.
Kemp smiled back. ‘Cos, otherwise I’ll smash it—’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’ Isabella lunged for the test tube, but Kemp was too quick.
‘Give it back, immediately!’
‘No way. Come on, what’s in it?’ he said, inspecting it. ‘A lethal poison, a nerve agent, a deadly virus—’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘From where I’m standing, I’m not the one being stupid,’ he said.
Isabella huffed. ‘If you must know, it’s a Fitzroy storm glass—’
‘Well, well, well,’ Kemp said, slowly. ‘You’re not still going on about this bleeding storm? When will you two grow up and do what everyone else does?’ He shook his head. ‘Watch the weather forecast on this thing called the telly. Oh, hang on, don’t tell me; you haven’t got one!’
‘Of course we do,’ Isabella raged.
Kemp raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure I believe you. Thing is, you de Lowes are so backwards I wouldn’t be surprised if your mum has to shave Neolithic hair off her body. We’d never know, though, because she seems to have disowned you.’ He cocked an eye at Isabella’s puce face. ‘And that old woman who looks after you, with whiskers coming out of her face like a cat…’ he opened his eyes wide theatrically. ‘I know! What you should make,’ he paused, holding the test-tube in front of his eyes, ‘is a potion for hair removal! You’ve got customers in your very own home!’
Kemp brushed aside Isabella’s howls. ‘Now, clever clogs, let me fill you in. Last night the man on the TELLY,’ he said in a deliberately loud voice. ‘He said that there might be a storm over the next couple of days, but not a big one, and certainly not one with white water rafting.’
Kemp marched to the corner of the room, near to where Archie was hiding under the table.
Isabella gasped lightly.
