by James Erith
Daisy ran ahead, pretending to do skills and dummies, commentating about the goals she was going to score later on. Much to Archie’s amusement, she included the crowd noises, which were like the “huuuuhhh” you make when breathing on a window pane.
At last they made it across the playing field and climbed the steep set of steps to the school buildings.
AS ARCHIE FOLLOWED Daisy into their brightly lit form room, the rows of incandescent lights glaring down upon them, Daisy immediately rushed over to join a group of girls at the front. Archie noticed Kemp sitting quietly at his desk, reading a book. Let sleeping dogs lie, he thought, especially unpredictable dogs. So, without any fuss, he made his way to his desk at the other side of the room.
Archie draped the coat over the back of his chair, sat down and put his head in his hands. He desperately tried to remember what the ghost had said: a meeting, something about the strength of a lion and the courage of a horse and, after writing it down, he realised that it had to be the other way round. This and that he’d be saved. But saved from what?
Hadn’t he agreed to do something as well; join him or enter into a partnership or something nuts like that? It didn’t make any sense but, and it was a huge BUT, he was in possession of the ghost’s coat and dagger here in this very room. So it couldn’t be that nuts. Archie rubbed the cut under his chin – another reminder.
He pulled out a piece of paper and nibbled on the end of a pencil. “Possible options for the meeting place”, he wrote.
He racked his brain trying to remember. Was it down by the boatyard or up by one of the big willow trees? He wrote them down but shook his head. No. Neither of those options rang true. He wondered if it was the alley above the football pitch and he wrote that down as well.
He underlined it a couple of times and leaned back in his chair. Yes, that one rang a bell. But what on earth was he going to do about it. He sighed. Nothing, he supposed.
His thoughts were interrupted by a friendly, but slightly painful, wallop on his shoulders. It was Gus Williams who had bounced into the room. ‘Morning Archie. You’re not by any chance writing a “to-do” list, are you?’ he said sarcastically, with a laugh that showed off his extensively large teeth.
Archie smiled. ‘No, don’t be ridiculous.’
Gus read the list. ‘Lost something?’
‘Nah. Just trying to remember a dream.’
‘Oh, well that’s OK,’ Williams said cheerily. ‘So long as it wasn’t a very big and complex dream?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, yes it was.’ Archie looked up, smiling. ‘Now go away and leave me to think.’
‘News alert!’ Williams announced to the room, his grin almost completely covering his face. ‘Archie de Lowe is thinking! Give him plenty of room, oxygen at the ready.’ Gus leant down again. ‘Next you’ll be telling me Daisy’s caught the same bug,’ he whispered. ‘Good luck!’
He smiled and sprang off like a big, energetic, happy puppy to his desk at the back of the room.
KEMP HAD BEEN LISTENING to Archie’s conversation with Gus with great interest. He smiled. Archie was completely hopeless at organising himself; he would bet money Archie had forgotten something again. And by the looks of it, it was more important than usual.
He stood up quietly and headed over to him. ‘Morning Archie, everything cool?’
Archie groaned. First Gus, now Kemp. What did he want? ‘Not really, Kemp,’ he said coldly. ‘I had a very, very bad night.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Kemp replied as he perched on his desk.
‘Yes. If you must know, I had a couple of very odd experiences. Thing is I can’t remember either of them.’
Kemp burst out laughing. ‘Want to talk about it?’
Archie stared at Kemp’s face and noted what a big nose he had and his ridiculously square jaw. ‘I told you; I’m not talking to you after what you did yesterday.’
Kemp sighed. ‘OK. You win. Look I had a think and last night I decided that I’m going to change. No more jokes on people. I promise—’
‘You said that before – and immediately let me down. In fact you lied to me. Christ, Kemp, I had to own up for your stupidity and you made me feel like an idiot. Luckily Isabella didn’t believe me.’
Kemp sucked in his cheeks. ‘Look Archie, I’ve told Mason and Wilcox I don’t want to be part of the gang. When I’m with them, I act like a ... like a moron. I don’t know what comes over me and, bottom line is that I don’t want to hang with them anymore.’
Kemp noted Archie’s look of disgust. ‘If you don’t believe me, go and ask them,’ he continued. ‘Go on, they’re over there in the corner, playing on their phones like two happy little bunnies. Seriously, I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I really don’t.’ He dropped his voice and briefly stole a look over his shoulder. ‘I want to be your friend.’
‘Blimey, Kemp, this isn’t the time. Right now, I’ve literally got a nightmare on my hands. And anyway, you’re going to have to prove it. I’m not going to trust you until I know you mean what you say.’
‘What do you want me to do? I promise I won’t be nasty to either of your sisters. I’m going to put that behind me. I won’t even speak to them if you don’t want me to.’
‘But I bet you’ve already arranged with your Chitbury mates that Daisy’s going to get a kicking – haven’t you?’
Kemp winced. ‘Well there’s not much I can do about that now, is there?’
‘And the only reason you’re being Mr Nice about it is because if they kick her out of the game we’ll lose and she won’t play in the team after half term, leaving room for someone else. And that person will probably be you.’
Kemp’s expression had changed. ‘You know what, Archie,’ he spat. ‘I meant what I said. Just throw it back in my face, why don’t you.’
On hearing raised voices, Mason and Wilcox instantly towered over Archie. Wilcox, with one huge hand, picked him up by his collar. ‘Back off boys, let him be,’ Kemp ordered. The muscle sloped reluctantly back to their desks.
The classroom had fallen silent but Archie wasn’t finished. ‘See what I mean, Kemp,’ Archie fumed. ‘If you want to be my friend you’ve got a long way to go. I swore on my life that I wouldn’t tell anyone about the barometer and I kept my word. You ... well, frankly, you disgust me.’
Archie was pretty astonished the words had spilled out of his mouth and for a moment the classroom stopped and stared at him.
NINETEEN
ARCHIE SPILLS IT OUT
The spell was broken by the bell and, moments later, the upright figure of Mr Bellwood came striding in, twiddling the ends of his moustache.
‘As you know,’ he boomed, ‘there is no class-work today.’ He stared around the room. ‘Gosh,’ he continued in a softer voice. ‘Silence! Oh, hallelujah!’
The classroom remained silent.
‘Have I missed something?’ Bellwood continued, as his eyes flashed from pupil to pupil trying to make out what had caused this unusual lack of noise. ‘No? Very well.’ He peered at his notes. ‘Our school day looks like this; footie for those playing footie and that’s, de Lowe, de Lowe, Nugent, Allen and Alexander. Can I have hands up for those who are likely to be watching.’ The whole class except for Kemp, Mason and Wilcox thrust their hands into the air.
‘Excellent. I take it you have other things to be getting on with, Mason?’
Mason shrugged.
‘You know, you three aren’t the best advert for this school and today is what we like to call an “open day”.’ Bellwood said very slowly. ‘It means we should all be on our best behaviour for the parents and prospective parents who are coming to visit us because they are thinking of sending their children here.’
Kemp stole a glance at Archie, who was still looking troubled. Just beyond him was Williams who was smiling his big toothy smile straight back at him and raising his eyebrows. Was Williams trying to provoke him with his eyebrows? He put his hand up.
‘Yes, Kemp.’
&nb
sp; ‘Actually, I’m watching the football as well,’ he said.
‘A change of heart, huh, Kemp.’
‘Sure, you could say that.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it.’
Kemp caught Williams’ bulging eyes again. He knew exactly what he was implying.
‘So Wilcox and Mason, just you two. Correct?’ They nodded dumbly. ‘In that case, you will report to Mr Pike in the Maintenance Department. There are leaves to sweep up and fences to paint.’ On cue, the class burst out laughing. Mr Bellwood waited until the noise was bearable. ‘Come on. Simmer down. Mr Pike is expecting you to be ready for work at kick off time, which will be eleven o’clock precisely.’
Mr Bellwood hitched up his jacket sleeve and cocked his arm as though he was showing off a priceless treasure. ‘By my watch, the time is approaching half past nine,’ he said crisply. ‘This means that after I have dismissed you, you will have a long free period. Please use this for last minute drama rehearsals, like learning your lines, Mr Ford, or practising your clarinet, Miss Buxton, or for recital practice before the programme this afternoon, Mr Anderson.’
Mr Bellwood stuck his nose in the air and twitched his moustache. It was a signal that he was going to say something profound. ‘Now, about the weather. There is a rather large cloud brrrewing right above us,’ and as he said this he rolled the ‘r’ rather dramatically and then repeated the word, ‘brrrewing.’
It was Bellwood’s habit of dramatising a word for effect. ‘To rest your minds, our headmaster has been in touch with the Met Office to find out if this might be a cause for concern. I am happy to report that, as far as they know, there are no serious worries. This morning and this afternoon, there is a high chance that we may get a little wet, indeed there may even be a possibility of a heavy downpour. Nevertheless, all school activities are to go on as scheduled.
‘Daisy de Lowe, please remove that lipstick from your desk. Now remember, class, just in case lightning strikes, what would be the best course of action to take? Anyone. Ah, yes, Alexander?’
‘Put up your umbrella, Sir.’
‘No, you do not, Alexander. And stop laughing. And Allen will you desist from flicking paper balls at Daisy please.’ He glared at the boys, ‘Umbrellas, as you know perfectly well, are for repelling water. I’m talking about lightning strikes.’
Bellwood raised his eyebrows in anticipation. ‘Kemp, what would you do?’
‘I’d get the hell out of there before I was shrivelled to a burnt crisp.’
The class laughed.
‘Well, it’s better than holding up an umbrella, but where would you go?’
Little Jimmy Nugent put up his hand.
‘Yes, Nugent.’
‘I’ve been told that if you get in a car the rubber tyres would earth the strike, wouldn’t it, sir?’
Mr Bellwood clasped his hands together. ‘Very good, Nugent, and you’re absolutely correct. Either get indoors or hop in a car—’
‘My granddad,’ Nugent continued, ‘got killed by a bolt of lightning in 1983, while walking his bull terrier called Plank—’
‘Did he, Nugent?’ Mr Bellwood sensed one of Nugent’s stories coming on. ‘How very fascinating. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me about it after half term.’
He turned back to the pupils. ‘Now, class, do the best you can today and make us all proud, and have a safe half term. You are dismissed.’
THE PUPILS instantly divided into several small groups, except Archie who remained in his chair twiddling his pencil.
Kemp came over to him again. ‘Come on, Archie, it can’t be that bad.’
‘You have no idea,’ Archie replied. ‘Really, you would never, ever believe me.’
‘Try me.’
Archie sighed. What did he have to lose? But then again, where should he start? Who on earth would believe a story about a ghost. ‘OK,’ he began. ‘If you really want to know, I was visited in the night by something that, as far as I could tell, was a ghost.’
‘A ghost?’ Kemp chuckled. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Archie fired back. ‘I told you you wouldn’t believe me.’
Kemp eyed him suspiciously and raised his hands. ‘Sorry. Don’t worry about me ... carry on.’
Archie rubbed his forehead. ‘Well, this ghost promised me stuff if I met up with him.’
‘Yeah? What did you say?’
‘I kind of agreed. I mean, what would you do?
‘I’d probably agree too,’ Kemp said. ‘Was it a nice ghost or a nasty ghost?’
‘Bit of both, I think, although it was wielding a knife, but at the same time I’m pretty sure it wanted to help.’
‘Well that’s alright,’ Kemp said, sounding like an authority on the subject. ‘So it had a knife and it didn’t kill you. That’s a start – where were you going to meet up?’
‘That’s the problem, I can’t remember. I thought it was a dream, so I agreed to everything and said the first thing that came into my head. ‘
‘So what makes you think it wasn’t a dream?’
Archie pointed at the coat. ‘This.’
Kemp looked at it. ‘An old overcoat! Bleeding heck, Archie.’ Kemp wondered if Archie hadn’t entirely lost his marbles.
‘I know,’ Archie said, quickly realising it must sound idiotic, ‘but I swear it’s the same coat the ghost was wearing. Look at those buttons with the snake slipping up a tree.’
Kemp thrust out his jaw and furrowed his brow. ‘How do you know it isn’t Old Man Whatshisface’s?’
‘Old Man Wood,’ Archie said. ‘His name is “Old Man Wood”.’
‘Yeah right, chill your boots.’ Kemp held the coat up in the air. ‘I mean it’s pretty big – about his size – are you sure he wasn’t ... giving it to you? You know, offloading it before he took it to the charity shop.’
Archie shook his head. ‘No, definitely not. Old Man Wood doesn’t have that many clothes, certainly not an overcoat like this one. Anyway, there’s more.’
‘More? Great.’
Archie turned his head and indicated the cut on his chin. ‘Look at this.’ Kemp leant in. ‘It’s from the blade of the knife I was telling you about—’
‘From the ghost?’
Archie nodded.
Kemp inspected it. ‘Nah, I don’t believe you, you could have got that from a bramble or a branch when you ran to school yesterday.’
Archie shook his head. ‘No, honest to God, it definitely arrived in the middle of the night.’
‘You one hundred percent sure?’
Archie nodded.
Kemp guffawed. ‘Ghosts don’t carry things like knives or hit people. Everyone knows that.’
‘This one did,’ Archie said.
Kemp was trying not to laugh and only just managed to restrain himself. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Archie, but it doesn’t stack up. Why would a ghost want to harm you?’
Archie thought for a minute. ‘To prove it was real, I suppose.’ Archie felt in the coat pocket and slowly withdrew the knife, shielding it from prying eyes with his hands.
‘Look.’
Kemp’s eyes fell to the gap under the desk where Archie held the knife and he swore under his breath. ‘Blimey Archie, that’s a beauty.’ Kemp could hardly prise his eyes away. ‘So what did this ghost say?’ he asked.
‘That’s where it gets a bit blurry,’ Archie began. ‘He said he was on a mission to save his mother, that she was going to die and that I had to help protect her at all cost.’
‘Epic. Sounds good to me,’ Kemp said. ‘I’d do anything to protect my mother.’
Archie realised he’d hit a raw nerve. ‘Sorry, Kemp. I didn’t mean—’
‘Chill, Archie, I know you didn’t.’ Kemp was intrigued. ‘So what’s in it for you?’
‘Well, as I said, a partnership of some sort. I told you, I can’t really remember. I’d find out at this meeting but,’ Archie laughed and turned a little red. ‘Thing is I think I said I’d meet him bang in the middle of t
he football match – not that I’d go anyway.’
Kemp chuckled. ‘Your planning skills are very poor, Archie.’
Archie ignored him. ‘Somewhere along the line, he was banging on about power and strength or something equally crazy.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, I can’t remember.’ He thumped the desk. ‘Maybe it’s my lack of sleep?’
Kemp was intrigued but also a little worried about his friend. It might be madness and completely made up, but you had to hand it to them, these de Lowes were nothing less than interesting.
Archie studied Kemp’s face, and quickly reached a conclusion. ‘You think it’s bollocks, don’t you?’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been sucked in, haven’t I?’
Kemp shrugged. ‘Probably your Old Man thingy playing a joke or something—’
‘Or perhaps a hallucination from one of his strange apples – or another nightmare?’ Archie added.
‘Yeah,’ Kemp said as though it was perfectly normal. He’d heard about the old man’s curious apple collection. ‘Probably one of those – can’t believe you didn’t see it all along.’ He slapped Archie on the back. ‘You ought to be getting along, don’t want to miss your warm-up.’
Archie cocked his head and looked at his watch. ‘RATS! Is that the time?’ He started gathering his bits together. ‘Hey, Kemp, thanks for the chat – please don’t think I’ve turned into a nutter – and promise me, you won’t tell anyone about this?’
‘You de Lowes are all nutters,’ Kemp said. ‘But you, Archie, are the only one worth their salt.’
Archie noted the look in his eyes had gone cold. Maybe he was bored or had turned his thoughts to Daisy.
