We sat down, and after a few spoons of vegetable broth, I could feel my face turn from red to amber, like traffic lights.
‘How is Josh, or should I say Guido, going to get us a week off school?’ said Lee, whilst spraying me with a tuna and mayonnaise baguette.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but if anyone can, he can.’ Lee gave me a puzzled look. I continued.
‘He’s certainly got…something.’
‘Charisma.’
‘And presence.’ We started to laugh
‘Yeah, Christmas presents.’
We both finished our meals, and made our way out of the hall. I took the long way round so as to avoid passing Mandy and the Teachers table.
Josh Nolan certainly did have something. It was a combination of charm and arrogance that made him popular with the kids but extremely unpopular with the teachers. He would meander round the school followed by a band of disciples, whom he called ‘brothers.’ They’d always be on hand, like servants, running errands, or letting him copy their homework. There were times when I felt jealous of his cool image, and time when I felt sorry for him.
Lee was scraping a key along the already worn wall of the gym as we turned the corner. Josh had Shaun Marsden and Nish Patel mesmerized as he told them a captivating tale, waving his arms about in the air as he acted out the scene. We approached the group.
‘Hi, sorry we’re a bit…’
‘Sssh…Josh is finishing a story,’ whispered Shaun.
Josh continued’ And then…and then…’ He paused.
‘Well, what happened?’ shouted Nish.
‘…I’ll tell you later.’ He switched his attention to us. ‘Welcome, welcome, glad you could make it.
‘What’s all this about?’ I asked Josh.
‘Be patient, brother, be patient.’ He started to tell his story.
‘In 1605, a group of dissident Catholics, led by Robert Catesby, tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament. They had discovered a cellar that ran directly beneath the House Of Lords, rented it, and put enough explosives in it to blow the place sky high.’ Josh paused. He was beginning to sound like a history teacher as he continued his lecture. ‘They were eventually foiled in their attempt to bring down the English political system, when some snivelling little grub snitched on them…’
Nish interrupted, ‘everyone knows the story, Josh. It’s one the most famous events in history.’ Josh held up a finger, asking for silence.
‘Yes, but what is less well known, brothers, is that a group of inspired schoolboys, led by a particularly inspired leader, blew up Blenkinsop Comprehensive.’
‘When did this happen,’ I asked.
‘Next Tuesday,’ he replied.
We all looked at each other with wide eyes and wide-open mouths.
‘At precisely 8.30PM on Tuesday evening, an explosive device will be planted by your intrepid leader Guido Nolan, will detonate and the School Hall will cease to exist. On Wednesday morning the school will be declared null and void, for a week at least whilst the necessary repairs are carried out. Inspired, don’t you think?’
‘I’m not sure I want to be involved,’ confessed Nish. He didn’t know it but he was speaking for us all. Josh fixed him with a cold, piercing stare.
‘Brother, you are already involved.’ He pointed at each of us in turn,’ as are you, you……and you, Thomas Nixon are in charge of time-keeping.’
‘Why, is it a race?’
He put his arm on my shoulder and walked me round in a circle.
‘I have an important job for you, brother. You need to find an alarm clock. Not one of those digital things but an old-fashioned one. You know, with two bells on top.’
‘And Mickey mouse on the face.’ He ignored my quip.
‘The rest of you need to work out how we’re going to get into the hall on Tuesday afternoon to plant the device. By the way tom, you need to set the alarm clock for 8.30pm and bring it into school on Tuesday.’
‘Why an alarm clock?’ inquired Nish.
‘All bombs need an alarm clock,’ rejoined Josh, ‘it’s what makes them go off. ‘
‘If you say so Josh,’ I said with half a smile.
‘ Right, we’ll meet here same time on Monday, OK?’ and he coolly sauntered off.
The art of queuing was an alien concept to the inmates of Blenkinsop Comprehensive – especially on a Friday afternoon. It made no difference whether you arrived in good time, or just in time, for as soon as a red double-decker appeared at the bottom of the hill, the massed ranks would start to gather at the edge of the pavement. And as soon as the double doors cranked open, it was every man for himself. I had employed the technique of duck and scramble, which involved putting my head down and squeezing through at waist height. It was pretty successful, for the majority of the time, although I did run the risk of being thwacked on the side of the head by a bag full of books. But it was worth it if I could get to my favourite place; top deck, on the right, at the back. I arrived at the top of the stairs, and sat down, reserving the place next to me with my bag for my best friend. Lee appeared a few minutes later looking like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, which in a way he had.
‘What are you doing over the weekend?’ inquired Lee, playfully punching me on the side of my arm.
‘Nothing much,’ I replied, punching him back.
As soon as I got home, I scurried up the stairs and into my bedroom. Ever since Josh had mentioned the alarm clock it had been on my mind. I knew I had one – somewhere – and for the rest of that afternoon, I had been mentally rummaging through drawers, wardrobes and boxes, trying to remember where I had put it.
It was a Christmas present, from some years ago, that had only seen the light of day on Christmas day itself. It was then confined to some dark corner of my room along with a selection of other toys and games that I had got bored with. It did, however, come out of retirement, very briefly when I first started at Blenkinsop. My mum said she was sick and tired of constantly running up and down the stairs, giving me progress reports on the time and persuading me out of my bed. She said I was old enough and mature enough to get out of bed in the morning. From that very first morning, when the contraption went off, I hated it. There I’d be, in the land of nod, peacefully dreaming of long, hot summer holidays, when suddenly the sound of someone bashing two saucepans together would drag me back into the real world. And there was no ignoring it. And trying to locate the miniscule button on the back to turn it off was virtually impossible, when you were half asleep. By the first Friday, I’d had enough. I resorted to brute force. As soon as my ear detected the beginnings of that disharmonious clanging, I picked it up and hurled it across the room. It bounced off two walls, did a little jig across the desk and fell into the bin. Peace at last.
At first I started searching slowly and systematically. But increasingly, my frustration was growing by the second. I decided that slow and systematic wasn’t working, so I resorted to quick and easy. I detached each drawer from my desk and upended the messy contents onto the bed. I was surprised by how much rubbish I had managed to accumulate in such a short life. My mum called from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Tom, what are you doing up there?’
‘Tidying my bedroom,’ I replied. Big mistake. Never claim to be doing something as unlikely as tidying your room, unprompted, if you don’t want to arouse suspicion. Her head appeared around the door.
‘What is going on in here? It looks like a bomb’s gone off in here.’
Little did she know, I thought.
‘Are you looking for something?’
‘Yeh,’ I confessed, ‘my alarm clock,’ I confessed.
‘Why? You told me it was broken.’
‘I need it for school…doesn’t matter if its not working.’
She gave me a suspicious look. ‘It’s in the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet, where your clean underpants are, which is probably why you couldn’t find it. You hardly ever open it.’ She left the room shaking her head.
I checked the clock was working, which thankfully it was. The only visible sign of damage, following its maiden flight, was a slight bend in Mickey mouse’s left arm. I put it back in the drawer.
Lee and I surveyed the Monday lunchtime menu and swapped weekend anecdotes as we made slow progress in the queue. We found a table and began performing a highly efficient demolition job on our food. We finished quickly and hurried out of the dining hall.
Josh, Shaun and Nish were already gathered behind the gym as planned. Josh was in a rather subdued mood, which spread to the rest of us as we contemplated what we were planning to do. But Josh had dragged us too far down the road to back out now. He told us that all the necessary ‘chemicals’ were in place and the only missing piece of the jigsaw was the alarm clock. He congratulated me on my crucial find. Shaun and Nish had been doing some detective work and had found out that rehearsals for the school play had begun. They were always looking for volunteers to help out and it didn’t take much to convince Ms. Monroe, the drama teacher, that we would make a useful addition to her backstage team. The next rehearsal was on Tuesday at four o’clock, in the school hall. ‘Perfect,’ said Josh.
Anything that involved Ms. Monroe was usually a form of organised chaos. Not unruly and wild, more sort of free and easy. She wore long flowing, flowery dresses and had long reddish hair, which she would sometimes tie back in a ponytail. She reminded me of I’d seen on T.V, doing a weird dance at a 1960’s pop festival.
The four of us met in the foyer, outside the hall and waited for Josh. There wasn’t a great deal of conversation. In fact, there wasn’t any. Shaun was tapping out a rhythm on an iron radiator with his pen. He stopped when he realized we were all glaring at him.
Ms. Monroe appeared, cradling a mountain of steps. The top few slid off and fell to the floor. Lee was quick to retrieve them.
‘Can I help you with those, Miss?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Lee. Thank you.’ She poured half of them into his open arms. Lee gestured towards the door and I opened it. We entered the hall, shrugging our shoulders, wondering where Josh had got to. Within a few minutes all those involved in the play, had gathered in small groups, delivering lines and making theatrical gestures. We were all making conversation between ourselves about how they all looked like utter plonkers when the tall, dark figure of josh appeared at the back of the hall.
He was wearing a long, black coat, a black polo neck sweatshirt and a black woollen hat that almost covered his eyes. He couldn’t have looked more suspicious if he’d tried. We met in the middle.
‘Have you got…you know…it?’ asked Shaun tentatively.
Josh looked around furtively and opened the top flap of his bag. Inside was a shoebox, wrapped in black and yellow tape with ‘DANGER’ printed on it. And it was ticking.
‘Now, here’s what we do,’ whispered Josh, ‘you two,’ he pointed at Shaun and Nish, ‘will create a diversion. Persuade Marilyn to show you the lighting set-up or something, just get her out of the hall. And you two,’ he pointed at lee and I, ‘make sure no one sees me go under the stage.’ I wasn’t sure how we were going to do that but I nodded all the same.
In less than five minutes we had all met up again. Josh was beaming. ‘Well done, brothers. It went like clockwork…like clockwork.
Mandy appeared from behind Josh, wearing an embroidered costume from the play.
‘I didn’t realise you were interested in drama, Josh?’
‘Well, if it isn’t Florence Nightingale.’
‘I thought you were more interested in chemistry.’
That night I went to bed early but I couldn’t sleep. I put my head in a book for a while but gave up when I realised I was just turning the pages. I dropped in and out of sleep for most of the night, half dreaming of shipwrecks, circuses, fires and pretty women in amazingly revealing embroidered costumes. When it was finally time to get up, I felt awful.
I spent most of the journey to school looking for evidence. Any little clue that signalled something out of the ordinary; more police cars than normal, the sound of sirens, or a telltale snippet of conversation on the bus. But everything seemed – normal. I got off the bus and joined the rest of the inmates on the short march up the hill, to the school. I turned into Blenkinsop Rise and felt a warm sense of relief rush through my body as I realised the school was still standing. Not a single brick out of place. And I began to feel – normal.
By twenty past eight, the school hall was full for assembly. The four of us sat in a line – Nish, Shaun, Lee and myself, with Mandy tucked in on the end.
‘Has anyone seen Josh?’ asked Shaun. We all shook our heads.
‘He’s probably too embarrassed to show his face,’ said Lee.
‘You may never see his face again,’ chimed Mandy, who had been listening in to our conversation.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Shaun. Mandy had the beginnings of a smile on her face as the Headmaster walked past, leading a line of teachers towards the stage. They walked solemnly to the front, as if they were following a coffin, and sat down in their respective seats. The Head remained standing. He straightened his tie, shuffled a few papers and was about to speak, when a familiar sound got there before him. A sound that rang a bell in my brain. A sound that my very quickly deduced, was a bell. Or to be more precise, two bells. The irritating, sleep disturbing sound of someone bashing two saucepan lids together! I looked along the line to see the three faces of my co-conspirators, scowling at me.
‘You pillock, Nixon,’ snarled Shaun.
‘What?’ I squeaked back.
‘You must have set the alarm for 8.30…IN THE MORNING.’
‘And you know what that means?’ said Nish, with his knees dancing up and down as if they had a life of their own. ‘This place is going to BLOW!’ His jiggling legs provided a springboard, and in a flash, Nish had leapt six feet over two Year seven girls and disappeared out of the back of the hall.
Shaun announced he was going to be sick, do Lee took the opportunity to escape by ushering him out. He reached the end of the row and turned to me.
‘Come on Tom, move it!’
I jumped up smartly and grabbed Mandy’s hand, intending to take her with me, but she pulled me back sharply, into my seat.
‘Don’t go, Tom,’ she said, squeezing my hand.
‘You don’t understand. There’s a…’
‘There isn’t a bomb,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘there never was.’
There was confusion all around the hall, as well as in my mind. The Headmaster appealed for calm.
‘Please everybody, stay in your seats.’
I stayed put. ‘So if there isn’t a bomb…what’s all that ringing?’
‘When the package was found yesterday, under the stage, the alarm was reset for 8.30 in the morning. The Headmaster reckoned that as soon as it started ringing all the culprits would think that the school was about to blow up, and try and escape.’
‘Which we…they did.’ I said, beginning to understand.
‘There are three teachers waiting for them in the foyer.’
‘So how did you work it out?’
‘I knew Josh was up to something, when he asked all those questions in chemistry. You see, potassium nitrate, sulphur and charcoal make gunpowder. And yesterday, at the rehearsal, I saw him crawling under the stage. After everyone had left, I told Ms. Monroe and she called the police. An army bomb disposal officer arrived, called Captain Nolan.’
‘Nolan?’
‘Yes, Josh’s dad. He recognised his son’s handiwork. A shoebox with ‘DANGER’ written all over it, filled with soil and a Mickey Mouse alarm clock.’
‘With a bent arm,’ I said under my breath.
‘Apparently, he’s done this before.’
I sat motionless and silent for a few moments. ‘I can’t let the others take the blame for this. I’ll have to give myself up.’ I eventually let go of her hand.
The four of us emerged from the Headmaster’s study, our heads as low as our spirits.
‘Do you think we’ll ever see Josh again?’ asked Nish. No one answered. The head had been round to his house the night before and excluded him, indefinitely.
‘At least he was true to his word,’ I said.
‘How do you work that one out?’ said Lee.
‘Well, he said he’d get us a week off school.’
And he did, we were all suspended for seven days.
