worked as a Radio Broadcast Assistant first at the BBC and then for an independent production company making plays and comedy programmes. During this time she got to make tea for lots of famous people. She grew up in Essex and now lives in Suffolk with her family.
THE GOLDFISH BOY was one of the biggest-selling debuts of 2017 and was shortlisted for a number of prizes, including the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize. Her stunning second book, THE LIGHT JAR, was chosen as the Children’s Book of the Week in the Times, the Guardian and the Observer on publication, and THE DAY I WAS ERASED was Children’s Book of the Week in the Times.
Also by Lisa Thompson:
“A great cast of characters and an intriguing mystery – I loved it!”
Ross Welford, bestselling author of Time Travelling with a Hamster
“Pure, breathtaking genius”
Max Evans, bestselling author of who Let the Gods Out
“Brimming with Thompson’s characteristic warmth and wisdom”
The Bookseller
For my agent, Adam.
Contents
Cover
About the Author
Also by Lisa Thompson
Dedication
Chapter One: Tidying the Art Cupboard
Chapter Two: Mason’s Birthday Party
Chapter Three: When Dad Came to School
Chapter Four: Marika Visits School
Chapter Five: Handprints
Chapter Six: The Butterfly Game
Chapter Seven: Getting Mason On Board
Chapter Eight: Going to the Museum
Chapter Nine: The Canopic Jar
Chapter Ten: Asking Isla for Help
Chapter Eleven: Beneath Basil’s Feet
Chapter Twelve: HMS Caroline
Chapter Thirteen: Mr Taylor’s Office
Chapter Fourteen: The Announcement
Chapter Fifteen: Starting Painting Number Two
Chapter Sixteen: First Disaster
Chapter Seventeen: The Journalist
Chapter Eighteen: In the Newspaper
Chapter Nineteen: The Pressure is On
Chapter Twenty: Copying Van Gogh
Chapter Twenty-One: Sending a Photo to Declan
Chapter Twenty-Two: ‘Catch’ by Cole Miller
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Marika Loft Gallery
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Big Reveal
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Auction
Chapter Twenty-Six: Going Home
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Shopping Spree
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Live TV
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The News is Out
Chapter Thirty: Cole the Gladiator
Chapter Thirty-One: Mr Taylor Is Very, Very Disappointed
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Swan
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Journalists
Chapter Thirty-Four: World Culture
Chapter Thirty-Five: A Surprise Visit
Chapter Thirty-Six: Dad and Mabel Return
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Back on the News
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Mabel Miller
Lisa Thompson’s Favourite Hoaxes from History
The Cottage
Copyright
Tidying the Art Cupboard
My best friend, Mason Ferguson, had a plastic bucket on his head.
He’d found it on a shelf in Mrs Frampton’s art cupboard and decided to put it on and do a silly dance. The bucket began to slip and wobble.
“Look. At. Me. Cole. I. Am. A. Robot,” he said. He accidentally banged his head against the wall and gave a loud, echoing “ooompfff” from inside the bucket. Normally this would have made me crack up, but I wasn’t in the mood for joking around. Mason took it off his head and sighed.
“Do you think everyone else is there yet?” he said as I sorted through a box of glue sticks, taking out the dried-up ones with no lids and throwing them away.
“Yeah,” I said, with a huff. “They’re probably having ice cream for breakfast.”
Two coaches had been booked to arrive at school an hour before registration, and by the time we’d made it in, the rest of our year had left on the trip to Thrill Kingdom. Our form tutor said that instead of lessons, Mason and I were going to spend the day helping to get the school ready for a very important visitor who was coming tomorrow. Tidying the art cupboard was our first task.
“I bet they go on Dragon’s Hollow first before it gets too busy,” said Mason, staring at a big bag of clay.
“Yeah, I would,” I said. “Niall told me he was going to go on it at least ten times.”
Mason sighed again. Dragon’s Hollow was famous for being the best and fastest ride at Thrill Kingdom, and everyone in year seven was going to go on it, except for us. The whole of the year had been given a letter about the amusement park trip on the first day of term. I had left mine on the kitchen table, even though I knew there was no way my parents would be able to afford the ticket price. The letter was never mentioned and no one at school was surprised I wasn’t going. I’d only been at Crowther High a short while, but thanks to Leyton Morgan and Niall Wright I was already known as “Poor Kid Cole”, which was supposed to be a riff on Old King Cole from the nursery rhyme but just sounded stupid. I really, really hoped that the two of them threw up all over Dragon’s Hollow.
Mason kicked at a box of paper on the floor.
“I can’t believe we’re missing out. It’s so unfair,” he said. His parents had tons of money so they could easily pay for him to go, but they hadn’t signed the form in time. They both had really busy jobs and weren’t around much. Sometimes I think they forgot he existed.
“How are you two getting on?” asked Mrs Frampton, poking her head around the cupboard door. “Oh, what an improvement!”
“I don’t get it, Miss,” said Mason. “Why are we tidying up a cupboard?”
Mrs Frampton picked up the bucket that Mason had put on his head, moved it to a different shelf, studied it carefully for a moment, then moved it back again.
“The whole of the art department must look the best it can for our special guest, Mason,” she said. “Marika Loft is a very, very important artist and her visit could have a real impact on our school.”
Marika Loft was a famous painter who had been a pupil at Crowther High about twenty years ago. I say famous – most of us had barely heard of her – but we all knew that she had been on TV a lot and was really rich. Her paintings sold for thousands and thousands of pounds, and she had houses in London, Paris and New York. It was apparently quite a big deal to have a real-life celebrity coming to see us.
“Mr Taylor has asked if you can pin these up in the corridors. Somewhere nice and obvious so that all pupils can read it,” said Mrs Frampton. She passed me some A4 sheets of paper and gave Mason a box of drawing pins. I took a look.
MARIKA LOFT VISIT
School Rules
FAMOUS artist, VIP and former pupil Marika Loft will soon be visiting our school. Please abide by the following rules, and let’s REMIND her WHAT A SPECIAL PLACE Crowther High is!
1)All pupils should be on their best behaviour at ALL times.
2)DO NOT approach Marika or speak to her unless she speaks to you first.
3)If Marika does speak to you then you must reply in a polite, friendly manner. Use your best voice.
4)Do not stare. Famous people do not like BEING STARED at.
“When you’ve finished with the posters, go to Mr Taylor’s office and find out what he’d like you to do next,” said Mrs Frampton. “You’re doing a fabulous job, both of you. Well done!”
She was being extra nice: she must have felt sorry for us, stuck here while year seven spent the day riding on rollercoasters and eating chips. The
thought of everyone running around Thrill Kingdom in the sunshine made me feel sick with envy.
“Come on, let’s go and put these up,” I said, waving the posters at Mason. We both huffed and headed to the corridor.
“Have you seen Marika Loft’s paintings?” asked Mason, as we stopped by a notice board. “They’re just pictures of coloured boxes. They’re well weird.” I held up a poster and he pushed a pin into each corner.
“Yeah, apparently each box represents something in her life depending on what colour it is,” I said.
Mason snorted. “Anyone who pays thousands of pounds for a canvas covered in coloured squares must have more money than sense. She’s probably laughing behind everyone’s backs.”
We moved on and pinned another poster to the back of a door.
“Is your party still happening? Won’t everyone be late back from Thrill Kingdom?” I asked. It had been Mason’s birthday at the weekend and his party was tonight.
“Yes! Five o’clock. You are still coming, aren’t you? Don’t forget, will you?” he said.
“Of course I won’t forget,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss Thrill Kingdom and Mason Ferguson’s party in one day, would I?” Mason smiled. We’d been mates for a while but this would be my first time seeing the inside of his house and I was quite excited about it. I’d never been invited round before. Apparently, it was absolutely massive and really posh. Even the party invitation looked expensive. It was gold-embossed and on really thick card.
It’s Mason’s 12th birthday celebration!
Please come to my house.
14th October 5 p.m. – 7 p.m.
(Food and drink will be provided. No trainers.)
RSVP to Mason’s mum
I was worried about what someone who was that rich would expect for a present, so last Friday I’d asked Dean Grant what he was giving Mason. Dean just frowned at me.
“What party?” he’d grunted. “I don’t know nothing about any party?” I’d just shrugged and told him not to worry about it. I didn’t dare ask anyone else in case they hadn’t been invited either. Mason was obviously asking a few select people and I didn’t want to put my foot in it.
We put the rest of the posters up around the school and then made our way to Mr Taylor’s office.
“What do you think he’ll make us do next? Polish the stairs?” grumbled Mason. The door to his office was open and we could see Mr Taylor on the phone. He spotted us and beckoned us in.
“Of course … of course, yes, yes…” he said to the person on the end of the phone. “We’ll make sure we have plenty of turmeric tea and a platter of fruit… Yes, yes … no citrus. I understand…”
He was frantically scribbling things down, his face bright red.
“And can I just say, Declan, that the school is so honoured that Ms Loft is taking time out of her extremely hectic schedule to come and see us. I know the pupils are incredibly excited about her visit.”
Mason looked at me and raised his eyebrows. This was news to us.
“… and we hope that Marika, I mean Ms Loft, will appreciate that our art block is always … um … open to any sponsors … um … helping towards a refurbishment…”
At this point Mr Taylor went even redder.
“Of course, of course,” he said, laughing nervously. “We look forward to welcoming her tomorrow. Goodbye!”
He hung up the phone.
“Boys!” he said, leaping out of his seat. “You’ve put up the posters, yes?”
We both nodded.
“Fantastic.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and went over to a corner of the room where there were two large brooms. My heart sank.
“Now, as you know, tomorrow’s visit from Marika Loft is extremely important to the school. We need to ensure that we make the best impression.”
He took hold of the brooms and stood in front of us.
“I’d like you to sweep the path that leads from the main doors to the car park. Get rid of every stone and leaf.”
I looked at Mason and he rolled his eyes as Mr Taylor passed him a broom.
“Off you go now.” He rushed back to his desk. “You’re doing a grand job. Really, really grand.”
We turned and slowly made our way out of the office and across the foyer.
“Can you believe we missed Thrill Kingdom for this?” said Mason gloomily. We both sighed and walked towards the main doors, dragging the brooms behind us.
Mason’s Birthday Party
Mason lived in an area called Woodlands Park, about a kilometre from the Sideway Estate where our house was. Last Christmas, Mum and Dad had taken us for a walk around Woodlands Park so that we could see the decorations outside the posh houses. One house was smothered with twinkling lights. It looked like a spider’s web made of diamonds had been draped from the chimney down to the door. Another had nine life-sized mechanical reindeer on their front lawn – one with a shining red nose. Sometimes you could see inside the houses as well. I peered through one window at a tree so tall it reached the ceiling. My family dug the same plastic tree out of the loft every year, even though it was missing a few branches.
As we walked to Woodlands Park for Mason’s birthday party, Dad pushed my little sister Mabel in her buggy. She’d refused to get buckled in, so we’d had a bit of a delay while Dad bribed her to sit still with the promise of a biscuit when they got home. Before we left I’d found a “Mega-Bouncy Ball” that I’d been given for my last birthday, still in its packaging. Dad wrapped it up for me and tried to make it look fancy by tying a purple ribbon around it. Mason was bound to have a mountain of presents from everyone else so, with any luck, I could hide my rubbish one at the back.
The further we walked away from our estate, the bigger the houses became. Mabel spotted a grand stone fountain in someone’s front garden and we had to pause and stare at that for about three minutes.
“Don’t keep stopping, Dad,” I said. “I’m already late!”
“Look! Water goes splash, splash, splash!” said Mabel, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes as she leant forward in the buggy.
“Come on, Mabel. We can have a look on the way back,” said Dad, starting to walk. “We don’t want Cole to miss any of the fun, do we?” Mabel slumped back into her buggy and pulled the blanket over her head in protest.
When we got to Mason’s house I recognized it as the one that had been covered with the twinkly spider’s web last Christmas. They had a large gravel driveway with enough room for about ten cars, and Dad had to drag Mabel’s buggy backwards to get across the small stones. She still had her blanket over her head when Dad pressed the brass doorbell. When my sister got the hump, she was really good at sticking with it.
I couldn’t hear any party sounds coming from inside. Everyone must be in the back garden. The door opened and Mason’s parents greeted us with wide grins.
“Cole! Welcome!” said his mum. “I’m Tamara. We’ve heard so much about you, haven’t we, Hugh?” Cole’s dad nodded and flashed a set of white teeth at me. I grinned back. He was tanned and was wearing a blue shirt with smart suit trousers. He didn’t look like the kind of man who wore jeans every day like my dad.
“Would you like to come in for a coffee?” said Hugh, looking Dad up and down.
“Thank you, but I’d better get back. Mabel is getting grizzly and I promised her we could stop to see something on the walk home,” said Dad. Mabel peeked out from behind the blanket then quickly hid her face again.
“Oh, yes,” said Mason’s mum. “You’re not in Woodlands, are you?”
“No, but we’re not far. We live on the Sideway Estate,” said Dad.
The air around us seemed to chill a little.
I was itching to get inside but they were blocking the doorway and there was no sign of Mason yet. He was probably out the back with everybody else.
Hugh cleared his throat.
“I hear there’s a really good mini-supermarket in the Sideway Estate. Opens all hours. Just when you ne
ed one!” he said.
Dad brightened.
“Yes, that’s right! Though we don’t tend to use it. It’s quite expensive.”
Everyone went silent again and Mason’s mum checked her watch. Dad looked at me.
“Right, I should be on my way. I’ll see you at seven then, Cole,” he said. “Have a lovely time.” Hugh moved out of the way and I stepped up into the house. Dad turned around and dragged Mabel’s buggy back across the driveway, leaving two deep grooves in the gravel in his wake. I saw Mason’s mum wince.
I looked around the hallway and tried not to gawp. It was the size of the entire ground floor of my house. There were several doors off to the left and right, and in the centre was a wide staircase. I peered up it to see a balcony and at least eight more doors leading off it. Everything was such a bright white, including the carpet, that I felt like I’d just stepped into heaven.
Hugh’s mobile began to ring and he walked off into another room to answer it, closing the door behind him.
Tamara was staring down at my shoes. I quickly pulled them off and put them on a black tray that was just inside the front door.
“Are those socks fluffy?” she said, looking at my feet. I was wearing a pair of red socks covered in little jolly Santas, even though it was October. “What I mean is, does the red fluff come off easily?” I was about to say that I had no idea when Mason arrived, doing a massive skid across the carpet and nearly crashing right into me.
“Cole! You’re here! I didn’t hear the door. You all right?” he asked excitedly. I nodded, grinning. Tamara gave my feet one last stare before whispering something into Mason’s ear, patting him on the shoulder and heading off to the back of the house.
“Happy birthday, Mason,” I said, waving the wrapped-up Mega-Bouncy Ball at him. I looked around for a pile of presents so I could hide it with the others but couldn’t see one.
“Thanks! I’ll open it later,” he said, putting it on the hall table next to a photograph of him with his mum and dad on a tropical beach. He opened the drawer of the table and took out what looked like two little blue plastic bags. He scrunched them up and threw them at me and they dropped to the floor.
The Boy Who Fooled the World Page 1
