Fire-Raiser

by Gee, Maurice

  ‘It’s Hedges’ place all right.’

  They ran up the lane. Along the road the lime trees stood in front of the school. They were like a row of green gas balloons, but the street was empty. Nothing moved except a sudden cat that leaped on a wall.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘If we lose him they’ll never believe us.’

  ‘That cat was in the school,’ Kitty said.

  They ran to the gate and climbed into the grounds. The school was dark, although windows glittered here and there. Every day they sat in it, but now it seemed a threatening place. A shadow made a sudden hump-backed flit along a wall.

  ‘There he is.’

  ‘He’s cutting through to Clippy’s.’

  ‘It’s quicker down the street.’

  Fast, soft-footed, they crossed the football field and the playground. They went up the side of the school and looked into the back field. It seemed like a pool of water, black and deep. Marwick was somewhere in it, under the surface.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  Then Kitty said, ‘It isn’t Clippy’s place. He’s going to burn the school,’ and they knew she was right. There was no other place for Marwick to go. A soft thump came from inside the building.

  ‘We’re too late to stop him.’

  They ran along the back of the school. A window was open like a mouth. It seemed to them, all four, that if they went inside they would be swallowed. It opened out of safety into the dark.

  Phil gripped the sill. ‘I’m going in.’ He pulled himself up, swung his leg. He was gone. Noel followed. And Kitty too climbed up and dropped inside. She felt as if she was up to her neck in water. She did not know which way the boys had gone. ‘Get the police,’ she whispered to Irene.

  ‘No. I’m coming.’

  Her slippers scuffed on the sill. She stood by Kitty, clutching her arm. ‘Where have they gone?’

  Phil and Noel had crept along the corridor to the staffroom, but Marwick had gone further on. He was in Hedges’ classroom, and as the boys approached they heard a scrape of desk-legs on the floor. Marwick was dragging furniture into the middle of the room.

  They turned and padded quickly back to the window.

  ‘He’s building a fire. No time for the police.’ Phil grabbed the girls by their shoulders. ‘Get up in the belfry and ring the bell, hard as you can. We’ll try and stop him.’

  The girls hurried away. Their feet whispered on the steps. Phil and Noel went back down the corridor. They heard the gritty sound of a can being opened. It terrified them. Liquid splashed, and grunts of pleasure came from Edgar Marwick. Noel and Phil, looking in at the door, saw his eyes glint. The last of the benzine gurgled out. Marwick put down the can. It made a soft boom. He took a box of matches from his pocket. The boys crept close. They stood behind him, close enough to touch his shoulder.

  Marwick struck a match. Light coloured him, showed his scarf-wrapped head and yellow face. The match burned down half its length. Then Noel did the only thing he could think of. He leaned past Marwick’s elbow and blew it out. Phil jumped into the dark at Marwick’s arm and knocked the box of matches from his hand. He sprang after it, felt among the wet lids of desks, and had the box, and yelled, ‘I’ve got his matches.’ In the same instant the school-bell started ringing. It clapped and sang with marvellous clarity, sending out its sound over sleeping Jessop.

  But Marwick was not finished. He sprang for the door. He found the light switch, and the room leaped out, blinding the boys. He faced them and his eyes narrowed down and focused on them. A look of greed came on his face. He spoke heavily, as though he had reached an end at last.

  ‘Got you.’

  Noel and Phil crouched behind the desks. ‘The police are coming,’ Noel yelled.

  Marwick took no notice. He reached out with one arm and closed the door. It made a heavy thud and the wind from it flapped Clippy’s charts on the wall.

  ‘Got you. Now.’ He walked to Clippy’s table and flipped it on its side with one hand. It was a kauri table with turned legs and Clippy was very proud of it. Marwick seized the leg projecting at him. He took it in two hands and his jacket grew tight on his shoulders, his throat and face swelled and grew red, as he wrenched, once, twice…The glue and dowelling snapped with a gunshot crack, and the leg came off. Marwick faced the boys with the huge round club in his hands. He walked at them, and the bell in the belfry seemed to clang faster, encouraging him.

  Marwick charged, swinging his club. It crashed down on a desk and split the lid. Noel and Phil were away, Noel just out of range of the blow. He felt its wind, and cried to Phil, ‘He’s going to kill us.’

  Marwick charged again. The boys ran round the pile of desks. They kept ahead of him, but could not run for the door. In the time it would take to open it he would have them.

  Then Marwick stopped. He began flinging desks aside with one hand, breaking down the pile.

  ‘Throw stuff,’ Phil yelled. He picked up a slate and threw, then a heavy book. He threw a compass and the point went into Marwick’s jacket and jabbed his arm. Marwick gave a howl and leaped at the desks, trying to charge right over them. His foot slipped in a puddle of benzine and he crashed down on his back. The force of it shook the floor.

  Noel and Phil saw their chance. They kept clear of his arms, as long as rakes, and ran for the door, and along the corridor to the window.

  The bell still rang. Like some great bird, the belfry kept on singing its song, and Phil screamed up the stairs, ‘That’s enough!’

  ‘Too late,’ Noel cried. Marwick came lurching from the classroom. ‘Up. We’ll lock ourselves in.’

  They ran up the stairs into the belfry. Irene and Kitty were on the rope, pulling as though they meant to jerk the bell down from its tower. Wild-eyed, they stared at the boys. Moonlight, slanting through the slats, lit their faces.

  ‘Keep ringing,’ Phil cried. He slammed the door and pushed in the bolt. Noel had run to the window. He looked down at the playing field. ‘No one’s coming.’

  ‘They’ll come. Keep on that bell.’

  Then the door rattled. Marwick, on the other side, was jerking at the handle. He beat on it with his fist.

  ‘Jam some desks against it.’ Phil and Noel hauled a broken desk across the floor. But the door gave a monstrous boom. Wood cracked about the bolt. ‘He’s hitting it with his club. He’ll break it down.’ They watched helplessly. Marwick hit again. The bracing plank split down its length and borer dust floated in the air. They could not believe a human was strong enough for this.

  Then Noel cried, ‘Miss Perez!’ It was as if she had reached out from her cupboard and plucked the hair on the nape of his neck. He sprang at the cupboard. He found the key hanging on its nail, and opened the door, and seemed to feel her fingers reach for him. She was luminous, alive in her coffin. She grinned at him.

  Phil came to his side. They pulled her out and her dry arms folded round their necks. She rattled, she chattered and seemed to laugh. The door bulged with a blow of the club.

  ‘Put her here.’

  They stood her facing the door. Marwick hit once again, and rammed with his shoulder, and burst into the room. His feet caught the top step and threw him on his knees. When he looked up, Miss Perez was standing over him. The bell stopped ringing. To Marwick, she came into being with the silence. Her bones were bright in the inky blackness. Nothing existed outside her. Slowly she opened her hands. Jerkily, possessively, raised her arms. She reached for him. Marwick screamed. He covered his face. He left the table leg and shuffled into a corner. The wall stopped him. He squatted there and watched her over his elbow. His eyes leaked tears down his face.

  Irene and Kitty ran from the belfry. They climbed out the window and ran round to the front of the school. Men were advancing from the gate, with Hedges and McCaa in the lead. The girls ran to them.

  ‘It’s Mr Marwick. In the belfry.’

  ‘He tried to burn the school.’

  ‘Is anyone else in ther
e?’

  ‘Noel and Phil.’

  ‘All right. You two stay here.’

  Hedges had a bunch of keys. He opened the school door and McCaa pushed him aside and ran in. Hedges followed. They ran up the stairs to the belfry. McCaa also cried out on seeing Miss Perez, but he noticed Noel and Phil kneeling behind her, and turned where she was looking and saw Edgar Marwick. He was sitting in the broken bats, as deep in the corner as he could go. Big man though he was, he seemed as small as a child, with hands shielding the lower part of his face, and knees drawn up, and eyes dark with horror.

  Hedges said, ‘Put her away now, boys. Put her away.’

  He went by McCaa’s side to Edgar Marwick and touched his shoulder. ‘She’s gone now. She can’t get you.’ He eased the knotted scarf from Marwick’s head and dropped it on the floor and helped McCaa lift him. They took the fire-raiser past the desks and through the broken door and out of the belfry.

  Noel and Phil locked Miss Perez in her cupboard.

  Kitty and Irene waited on the steps. They watched McCaa bring Edgar Marwick out. They saw his wet cheeks and trembling mouth. His eyes saw nothing; they seemed blind.

  McCaa led him away by one arm.

  Hedges came out of the school with Noel and Phil. Phil carried Edgar Marwick’s club. Hedges took it from him. ‘Leave that, Phil.’ He leaned it on the wall, and put his arms round the girls’ shoulders.

  ‘I’ll take you home.’

  They went down the steps, Hedges, Irene, Kitty, with Noel on one side and Phil on the other. Men in shirts and braces parted to let them through. Wix and Chalmers came running in the gate.

  Marwick went out. McCaa put him into his car and drove away.

  Noel found he had the fire-raiser’s scarf trailing from his hand. He did not remember picking it up, and did not want it. He let it drop.

  As they walked on it lay behind them at the foot of the steps, like a pile of embers in the dark.

  THE FAT MAN

  By Maurice Gee

  When people like Herbert Muskie take up residence in your mind, there’s nothing you can do to get them out.

  Colin Potter is a skinny boy, hungry for chocolate. Herbert Muskie is enormously fat, hungry for revenge. A dramatic encounter down at the creek forges an unhappy alliance between the vindictive man and the fearful child. But who is the fat man and why does he hate the people of Loomis? What guilty secrets are hidden in the past and why are Colin’s parents such special targets?

  THE CHAMPiON

  By Maurice Gee

  What do you answer when people say, ‘Who was the most important person you’ve ever known?’…It was Jackson Coop. He changed my life – Jackson and the things that happened in those two weeks.

  It is summer 1943 in a small New Zealand town, and a wounded American soldier is coming to stay with 12-year-old Rex and his family. Rex is full of expectations, but from the moment Jackson steps down from the bus there are surprises – and how could anyone predict the dramatic events which will unfold in the days to come?

  ORCHARD STREET

  By Maurice Gee

  There’s no street like Orchard Street, and no year like 1951. So much happened to me and my family, and to Teresa and hers, that our lives could never be the same.

  Some very strange things are happening in Orchard Street. Ossie’s dad is doing something illegal under the house; everyone is talking about the waterfront strike; adults are behaving in odd ways towards each other – and Ossie is falling in love. As he moves out of the safety zone of childhood, Ossie begins to understand that life will never be predictable again.

  HOSTEL GiRL

  By Maurice Gee

  A letter for Gloria was waiting in the rack. The envelope looked ordinary – Miss Gloria Wood written in ink – but Ailsa knew that crazy words lay hidden inside.

  Ailsa takes a dislike to Calum Page from the day she is invited to play tennis with his sister. The Pages looks down on her because her mother is the matron at Woburn Hostel, but Ailsa enjoys her life there. In particular, she is fascinated with the love life of her beautiful, aloof roommate, Gloria.

  Gloria begins to receive menacing love letters from an anonymous writer and the girls realise he must be watching her day and night. As the stalker closes in, Ailsa becomes increasingly convinced of his identity. And as she struggles to protect her friend from the complexities of obsessive love, Ailsa finds an unexpected ally.

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London, WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Puffin Books in association with Oxford University Press, 1986

  This edition published in Puffin Books, 2008

  Copyright © Maurice Gee, 1986

  The right of Maurice Gee to be identified as the author of this work in terms of section 96 of the Copyright Act 1994 is hereby asserted.

  All rights reserved

  www.penguin.co.nz

  ISBN: 978-1-742-53953-9