Twelve Down

by Tunbridge Wells Writers

  Jill and her pirate crew walked further into the jungle, leaving Jake in the deep, deep hole.

  ‘We’ve been tricked,’ said Jake. ‘We’ve been hoodwinked, diddled and bamboozled.’ He turned to Bosun Bob. ‘Did you bring Grandpa’s plank, like I told you?’

  ‘Yessir,’ said Bosun Bob.

  ‘He said it would come in handy. Lean it against the wall. We can climb up the plank and be out of here in an instant. Then we’ll follow Pirate Jill. We’ll let her dig up the treasure, then we’ll steal all of it for ourselves. Ahaaa!’

  ***

  Jill and her pirate crew carried on through the jungle, looking carefully at the map. Soon they came to another clearing, with two tall trees. Jill measured out ten paces from one tree, and drew a line in the ground. Then she measured out twenty paces from the other tree, and drew a line in the ground. The two lines crossed, making a large ‘X’.

  ‘Dig here!’ said Jill. They dug and dug and dug, until suddenly there was a clunk! as a spade hit something solid. They dug more, and more, and more, until they revealed the shape of a large chest. Jill wiped away some of the mud and the chest glinted in the sunlight. ‘Hurrah!’ she said. ‘Now lift it out of the hole.’ They grasped, and grunted, and groaned. But it was too heavy. ‘Oh no!’ said Jill. ‘I wish I hadn’t left Pirate Jake down that hole now. I wish he would step out from behind that tree and say …’

  ‘Ahaaa!’ said Pirate Jake, stepping out from behind the tree. ‘Having a spot of bother? I think we’ll take that chest, if you please, and you can all stay in that deep, deep hole.’

  ‘But if I stay in the deep, deep hole,’ said Jill, ‘you will have no one to read the map, and you’ll all get lost in the jungle.’

  ‘Ahaaa!’ said Jake, thoughtfully. He knew Jill was right. Jill was always right.

  So, with everybody helping, they lifted the chest out of the hole. Jake took the ancient, rusty key out of his pocket. It fitted perfectly. There was a screeching and scratching as he turned it in the lock. Then they opened the lid. The chest was full to the rim with coins. Gold and silver coins, which glistened and sparkled in the sunlight.

  ‘Goodness me!’ said Jill.

  ‘Ahaaa!’ said Jake.

  Carrying the heavy chest on their shoulders they crossed back over raging rivers and deep, deep ravines, on swaying, rickety bridges. They trekked back along winding valley paths, over high mountain passes, and through dense jungle. And at last they came back to the beach where their ships were moored.

  ‘We must divide the treasure between us,’ said Jill. ‘Half each.’

  ‘Ahaaa!’ said Jake. Then he frowned. ‘How much is half? I weren’t no good at sums.’

  ‘Well,’ said Jill, ‘half each means we both get the same number of coins. Like this …’ and she counted out: ‘One for me …’ she took a large gold coin from the chest and put it on the beach in front of her. ‘…and one for you,’ and she took a small silver coin from the chest and put it on the beach in front of Jake.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Jake?

  ‘Who came top in sums?’ said Jill.

  ‘Ahaaa!’ said Jake, doubtfully.

  Soon the treasure was divided into two piles, one large, golden pile for Jill, and one small, silver pile for Jake.

  ‘Time to head for home,’ said Jill.

  They loaded the large, golden pile of treasure onto The Golden Primrose, and the small, silver pile of treasure onto The Dirty Dog. Then they pulled up the anchors, and headed for home.

  But soon the wind began to blow, and the rain began to lash against the sails, and the waves grew bigger and bigger. The storm grew fiercer and fiercer until the water began to pour over the side of Jill’s boat.

  ‘It’s the treasure,’ she cried. ‘It’s too heavy. The ship is going to sink!’

  But Pirate Jake steered his boat alongside, and put his Grandpa’s plank between the boats, and Jill and her crew scrambled across into his boat. Just in time. As they watched, The Golden Primrose and all the large golden coins of Bluebeard’s treasure, sank to the bottom of the sea.

  ‘Thank you so much for rescuing us,’ said Jill. ‘It’s a pity about my boat. And the treasure.’

  ‘But I’ve still got half of the treasure. I can buy you a new pirate ship and still be rich. Ahaaa!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Jill. And she told Jake how she had tricked him when they divided the treasure.

  ‘So your half was bigger than my half?’ said Jake.

  ‘Much bigger,’ said Jill. ‘I’m so sorry. It was mean and spiteful of me.’

  ‘You tricked me,’ said Jake. ‘You hoodwinked, diddled and bamboozled me. Again.’

  ‘I did,’ said Jill. ‘And you rescued me and saved my life. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘Only if you’ll promise never to trick, hoodwink, diddle or bamboozle me again,’ said Jake.

  ‘I promise,’ said Jill.

  ***

  Jake and Jill shared what was left of Bluebeard’s treasure. Jill bought a small house by the seaside. She taught Jake to read, and write, and once a week he would write a proper letter to his Grandma. Then he would seal it in a bottle, and post the bottle in the letterbox at the end of the road.

  Jake bought a small boat. But not a pirate ship. It was a pleasure boat. In the summer he gave rides around the bay to everyone on holiday. Normally the passengers were very well behaved, but now and again there was one who caused trouble or made too much noise.

  ‘That’s why I’ve still got my plank,’ said Jake. ‘You never know when a plank will come in handy. Ahaaa!’

  Turn Right

  By Carolyn Gray

  Ben was checking Facebook on his phone when the car pulled up outside home. His dad turned the engine off, got out, unlocked the front door, and Ben slopped in behind him. Dad had to go back out and lock the car, and moaned as he did so.

  They were just taking their shoes off when the home phone rang. Dad answered and Ben was already in the kitchen, staring into the fridge distractedly. Two days at secondary school had worn him out. It was also instilling a sense of grown-up teenage-ness, two years early...

  Dad came into the kitchen.

  ‘That was your Auntie Rosie on the phone. I need to go and help her first thing tomorrow morning, which mean you'll need to get the train to school.’

  Ben looked at Dad, slightly scared. ‘Yeah, Dad. OK.’

  ‘Like we discussed, Ben, and like we practised in the holidays. Walk down to the station and get a ticket, two stops and get off, and the walk up the hill to school.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad. OK.’

  ‘You'll need to leave about 7.30, but I'll be here then. It’s just I have to drive the opposite way to Auntie Rosie's house. But you are going to have to start getting the train more often anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad. OK.’

  ***

  Dad had to wake Ben up the next morning, make his packed lunch, find his lost socks, and see him off down the road to the railway station.

  Ben bought a ticket, and got on the busy train.

  Then he got off the busy train, with lots of other people. What he had forgotten was the two stops and get off instruction from Dad. He stood in the station waiting room watching the other people walk past him, and wondered where he was. It didn't really look like the station they had been to in the summer. But he walked out into the street and started to walk up the hill. Walk up the hill to school Dad had said. But there was no school at the top of this hill, just a hospital.

  Ben walked past the hospital. In fact, he just kept on walking. But still he found no school. He also realised he wasn't seeing very many people.

  Eventually the path led into a tree-lined park. Ladies were walking their dogs, and pushing buggies. Toddlers ran to the playground, and an old man sat on a bench reading a newspaper. Ben walked, but was now starting to worry about the time.

  A lady looked at him, and he forced himself to ask: ‘Where am I?’

  ‘This is St St
ephen's Park,’ she said.

  Ben looked puzzled.

  ‘Where were you looking for?’ she asked.

  ‘My school,’ Ben said.

  ‘OK, you need to follow this path,’ she said, pointing, ‘then turn left. At the traffic lights turn right, and at the top of the hill turn left, then right again by the church. Then you'll be by the school.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Ben.

  He followed the path, turned left, and at the traffic lights turned left. He walked over the railway bridge, and past some shops, but he never found a hill or a church. He was starting to feel thirsty, and reaching into his pocket realised he had neither money nor his mobile phone. Then he remembered not picking them up in his rush to leave for the train.

  He walked into a café and forced himself to ask: ‘Where am I?’

  ‘This is Newton Road,’ the woman behind the counter said.

  Ben looked puzzled.

  ‘Where were you looking for?’ she asked.

  ‘My school,’ Ben said.

  ‘OK, go out of the shop and turn right. At the first traffic lights turn right again, then at the next lights turn left, then walk up the hill to the church. Then you'll be by the school.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Ben. ‘But can I have a glass of water first, please?’

  He went out the shop, turned right, and at the first traffic lights went straight on. He walked past some restaurants and the town hall, but he never found a church or school.

  ***

  About this time Dad's mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hello, it's St Benedict’s. Why hasn't Ben come in today?’ a cross lady said.

  ‘Oh,’ Dad said, ‘well, he left home in good time this morning...’

  ***

  Dad tried to phone Ben's mobile, but it was turned off.

  ***

  Ben walked into the library and forced himself to ask: ‘Where am I?’

  ‘In the library, love,’ the lady said.

  Ben looked puzzled.

  ‘Library, love, where all the books are. And CDs and videos these days. And these pencil-cases and things for sale. What did you want – bookmark? Paperweight?’

  ‘My school,’ Ben said, ‘I'm trying to get to school.’

  ‘But it's mid-day love, aren't you a bit late?’

  Ben started to cry.

  ‘Oh sorry love,’ the lady said. She sat Ben down on a chair. ‘It's just up the road. If you walk out of here and turn right, just keep walking up the hill and you'll get to school.’

  Ben walked out the library, turned right, walked up the hill, recognised the church, and found school. He went into the office at the front.

  ‘Oh, hello Ben. It's early finishing today, everyone else is just going home.’

  ‘Oh no.’ said Ben. ‘Where's the railway station?’

  The Boy Who Cried “Alien”

  By David Smith

  Gilbert Grunion was a terrible liar. He was terrible in both senses of the word, in that he lied almost constantly and unconvincingly, telling such whoppers that even the most trusting of people soon learned to take everything he said with a pinch of salt. That was great news for Mr Singh, who owned the local corner shop and did a roaring trade in salt, but not so good for Gilbert on the odd occasion when he did tell the truth or wanted to be taken seriously. Gilbert was his own worst enemy; you could ask him a simple question like ‘what did you have for breakfast?’ and get a reply ranging from ‘cornflakes’ through to ‘an elephant.’ And even if he said cornflakes there was no guarantee he was telling the truth.

  Gilbert’s mother, Gladys Grunion, despaired of her son. ‘Son,’ she would say, ‘I despair of you.’

  Gilbert took no notice. He thought lying made him seem interesting and cool.

  In truth, Gilbert lied so much he often lost track of what was true and untrue himself, his frequent flights of fancy taking on a life of their own and embedding themselves in his head as real memories. He believed, for example, that there had been a mix-up at the hospital when he was born and that he was actually the son of a multi-millionaire Dallas oil baron named Tex Speigelmyer. He became so convinced of this that he urged his father, Godfrey, to take a blood test, and had nagged with such energy that Godfrey had almost complied. Gladys had argued against the blood test with equal energy, refusing, as she put it, to ‘encourage him in his fantasies by indulging him.’

  Gilbert privately maintained his delusion, but in the face of his mother’s determined opposition eventually gave up on the blood test as a lost cause, which came as a huge relief to his parents. And the milkman.

  One day a new boy started at Gilbert’s school. Gilbert didn’t notice the new boy when he first entered the classroom as the boy was already seated. Gilbert, as usual, was running late.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ he explained to Mr Boggitt, his teacher, ‘but I was attacked by an escaped crocodile at the bus stop. I had to fight it off with my satchel. I got away but it ate my homework, so I haven’t got it to hand in.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gilbert,’ said Mr Boggitt. ‘I’m absolutely sick and tired of these stupid excuses of yours. A crocodile eating your homework, indeed, whatever next?’

  ‘But it’s true, sir, Gilbert protested, ‘honestly, I was – ’

  ‘Quiet, boy, this minute, or I’ll send you to the headmaster’s office.’

  Gilbert fell silent and turned towards his desk. It was then he noticed the new boy, who had just raised his hand in the air.

  ‘Ah, Danny,’ said Mr Boggitt, ‘what is it?’

  ‘Please sir,’ said Danny, ‘he did get attacked at the bus stop – I saw it all from my dad’s helicopter on the way in. Only it wasn’t a crocodile that ate his homework, it was an alligator. You can tell the difference by the shape of the snout if you know what to look for.’

  Mr Boggitt looked flabbergasted. So did Gilbert. So did the rest of the class. There was hardly enough flabber to go around.

  ‘Oh,’ muttered Mr Boggitt, ‘well, erm...’ He clearly didn’t believe Gilbert or the new boy, but seemed uncertain how to react. It was Danny’s first day after all, and Mr Boggitt didn’t want to embarrass him on his first day. Besides, there was just the slimmest, teeniest of chances that on this occasion Gilbert and Danny were telling the truth. Also, he reasoned, if Danny’s father really owned a helicopter then he must be a very rich, important and influential person indeed, and that’s not the kind of person you want to go making an enemy of over something as silly and trivial as the truth. In the end he just murmured, ‘well, sit down,’ and gestured with his hand towards Gilbert’s desk.

  ***

  At break Gilbert got to speak to the new boy properly. The boy’s name, according to the register, was Danny Smith, but he explained that his real name was Rupert Grint, and that he had been forced to change his name by deed poll because he kept getting mail intended for the actor from the Harry Potter films. He said he had received some very strange things in the post, the oddest being a pair of knickers and a box of hand baked ‘artisan’ cupcakes from a 37yr old Yummy Mummy in Tunbridge Wells. She had written that she and her husband were his, (Rupert Grint the actor’s), number one fans, and that they would love to have him for dinner if he ever visited their town. Danny went on to explain that, ‘Tunbridge Wells is notorious for that kind of thing,’ by which, Gilbert assumed, he meant cannibalism.

  Over the next few weeks Danny’s (or Rupert’s, depending on how gullible you are) tall stories grew increasingly extravagant. Gilbert, for the first time in his life, found his own imagination challenged. He was struggling to keep up with Danny in the “interesting and cool” stakes, and he didn’t like it one bit. The rest of the school, who had previously just been bored by Gilbert’s lies, started to enjoy them, the element of competition adding a whole new edge to the proceedings.

  Of course, the biggest problem both boys faced was that they couldn’t actually call each other out on their fibs without revealing themselves as liars. The whole thing turn
ed into a ridiculous game of Top Trumps, each boy in turn raising the stakes with increasingly complicated and outrageous whoppers. When Danny claimed, for example, to have walked across Niagara Falls on a tightrope Gilbert responded with a story that had him riding the falls in a barrel. Danny then realised that he had ‘forgotten to mention’ the blindfold he had been wearing and the unicycle he had been riding, which in turn led Gilbert to recall that the barrel he’d ridden in had been filled to the brim with flesh eating termites...

  The ultimate Top Trump in any of their exchanges was always a variation on the card Danny had dealt on his first morning: ‘I know, I saw you.’ There was no arguing with that one.

  ***

  As time went on Gilbert found himself increasingly challenged by Danny and increasingly uncomfortable with the lying involved in their interactions. On fine days he would walk to school, just to avoid seeing Danny at the bus stop, and at playtime would hide himself away in the bike sheds with a book. He found himself lying less and less, and on the odd occasion he lied from force of habit he would feel guilty and foolish and uncomfortable. The problem was, nobody believed him: they all thought he was just saving himself up for the biggest lie of all. Which is why it was so ironic when he met an alien on his way to school.

  The alien was small and skinny and grey and had big black bug eyes and a mahussive head, very much like the aliens described by others who claim to have closely encountered them. He was having a wee behind a bush in the park, which was surprising really, considering he had no apparent external, erm, equipment. Gilbert noticed that the wee, which was a vibrant shade of purple, just appeared – apparently midstream – in midair, which he thought a fine trick if you could do it, worthy of David Blane himself. He thought this while running away in blind panic, only milliseconds before running headfirst into a tree and knocking himself unconscious. Blind panic is not a good way to travel.

  Coming round ten minutes later Gilbert scanned the undergrowth for signs of the alien but saw nothing apart from a small, steaming, purple puddle that was rapidly soaking into the ground. He rushed to school, eager to tell his classmates of his encounter.

  ***

  ‘HURRAHHHHH!!’

  The cheer that met Gilbert’s playground speech rattled windows and shook two tiles off the canteen roof. Everyone thought this was Gilbert’s long-awaited lying comeback, and when they heard about the magic purple wee their delight was doubled. Even Danny seemed impressed; so impressed, in fact, that he played his best trump card immediately. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘I saw you.’