Ribblestrop Forever! (8 page)

‘I bet he’s never been immobilised like that,’ said Doctor Ellie. She shook her head and laughed. ‘I can see you’re not to be trifled with, any of you. We’ve
made enemies, though, and they have got my number of course. They’ll get straight onto the library services. Never mind! Who cares? If they behave like that, they have to expect retaliation.
Now, let’s get back to civilisation and if I have to ditch the van . . . then so be it. Where do you want to get to, children?’

‘Ribblestrop!’ shouted someone. ‘Drive us home, miss! Come home with us!’

She indicated left and inched the vehicle onto a wider road. She picked up speed and they were soon joining a busy dual-carriageway. The school song was blaring yet again.

‘What are you doing here?’ shouted Millie, over the noise. ‘Is it your job, taking photos of stones?’

‘Oh no!’ laughed Doctor Ellie. ‘I’m unemployed and on the run. In fact – to be honest – I’m a criminal.’ She smiled grimly. ‘
Qui scelera
evitant mox inter se coalescent!
Do you know your Virgil? It means, “Those fleeing evil will soon join together”. Now, there is, I believe, a supermarket off the next roundabout and
it has one of those family rest-areas. It was built on a sixteenth century monastic site – two monks were burnt in a barrel, courtesy of Henry the Eighth.’ She smiled again. ‘So I
think the first thing is to hide this vehicle, and the second thing is to get some food in our stomachs. Then, we plan the glorious future.’

She laughed and blasted her horn long and loud.

‘I want to look at my stone!’ she cried. ‘You don’t know what you’ve found, do you?’

‘Picnic area!’ cried Sam, seeing a sign. ‘Can we stop there?’

Doctor Ellie was already indicating and the bright lights of a superstore were getting closer and closer.

They nosed into the car park and made for the remotest corner, sliding the van into the shadow of some trees.

Meanwhile, the Ribblestrop teachers were taking tea. The mood was understandably sombre. Doonan had been the last out of the cells, for the station sergeant found his soft
Irish accent suspicious, and his interview had seemed never-ending. When he emerged, and had claimed back his belt and shoes, he found Captain Routon, Professor Worthington and the headmaster
waiting for him in the car. They drove out of town and stopped when they saw signs to a supermarket – none of them had eaten for hours. They sat in the refreshment area, and tried to make
sense of their experience.

‘I just don’t understand why the police didn’t follow them,’ said the headmaster. He looked more haggard than ever. ‘How could they simply watch helpless,
vulnerable children drift down the river?’

‘They were more interested in arresting us, sir,’ said Captain Routon.

‘But they had a helicopter. Why didn’t they use it?’

Professor Worthington laughed bitterly. ‘The pilot needed a rest, Giles,’ she said. ‘He’d done a two-hour shift and was entitled to a coffee break. We begged them to go
up but they said it was against health and safety rules. Clockwatchers, all of them.’

‘That’s why they sent for the dinghy,’ said Captain Routon. ‘I don’t know what happened to that.’

Doonan sighed. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘That sergeant told me.’

‘What happened?’

‘It ran aground after about ten minutes and they had to wait for a salvage crew to get them back in the water. They want us to pay for all that, as well.’

‘Meanwhile two dozen children are left to their own devices and could be anywhere. They could be at the bottom of the river, or victims of some nutcase on the road—’

‘No chance, sir,’ interrupted Captain Routon. ‘Don’t start panicking. They pull together in a crisis, we all know that. They’ve probably found a railway station by
now – they’re probably waiting for a train to Ribblestrop.’

‘Is that where we should go?’

‘I think we should get back to the school,’ agreed Professor Worthington. ‘That’s where they’re heading, after all. They won’t want any more adventures. Try
Sam’s phone again.’

‘You do it, Routon – I can hardly see the numbers.’ He passed his mobile across the table and sat back. ‘I had such high hopes for this term, you know. I wanted it to be
nice and quiet, with the focus on botany. A bit of football and a nice exam or two at the end. I thought we might even have one of those award ceremonies.’

‘Like a normal school,’ said Doonan.

‘Exactly.’

Doonan smiled. ‘I thought we might start a cricket team instead of football. My brother said he’d send my bat over.’

‘Well, at the moment the only player’s going to be Caspar. And Henry, if he comes back.’

Captain Routon peered at the phone and tapped in a message. ‘I imagine Sam’s will have been soaked, same as mine . . . No, sir, I still can’t get anything.’

‘We should sue the police,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It’s gross negligence.’

‘That’s what they said about us,’ said Doonan. ‘They said we were the most irresponsible so-called teachers they’d ever come across.’

‘They were extremely unpleasant,’ said Captain Routon. ‘We can expect a full prosecution, they said.’

‘Don’t tell me!’ said the headmaster. ‘I’ve had eviction notices from Lady Vyner again and threats from her solicitors. She wants to start a nursing home, she says,
so she’s hell-bent on getting rid of us.’

‘Why a nursing home?’

‘Money. Someone’s told her there’s a fortune to be made from old people with nowhere to go. We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t changed all the locks and thrown our stuff
into the street.’

Professor Worthington took the headmaster’s hand and pressed it. ‘Don’t despair, Giles,’ she said. ‘We’ve come through worst crises than this.’

Captain Routon sat back and threw the phone onto the table. Then, just as it bounced, they all heard the soft buzz of an incoming text. He snatched it back up and clicked to the message
inbox.

‘What is it?’ said Doonan.

‘I don’t believe it, sir.’

‘What?’

‘They’ve made contact. They’ve picked up our signal and they’ve made contact!’

The headmaster jumped to his feet. ‘What does it say, Routon? How long’s a text take to come through?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘I thought they were pretty much instant. What’s it say? Open it!’

Captain Routon dropped the phone in his haste and it was batted between hands. ‘I can’t get at it . . . I’m all thumbs.’

Doonan grabbed it.

The adults strained their eyes to see, shielding the little screen from the overhead striplights.

‘
Hello
,’ read Doonan, slowly. ‘
I hope u r well. Is that a teacher??? We r fine dont worry cannot take calls at the moment we are shopping.’

‘They’re fine!’ hissed the headmaster. ‘They say they’re fine!’

‘Shhh, sir! What else?’

‘If that is you, sir, did my dad get home ok?’

The headmaster stood, motionless. ‘That’s Sam!’ he said quietly. ‘That’s Sam, isn’t it? Oh, dear me, they really are safe! Safe enough to text, anyway.
Shopping, for goodness’ sake! Why don’t they say where they are?’

‘Text them back!’ shouted Captain Routon. ‘Ask them!’

The phone bleeped again, unprompted, and there was a follow-up text.

‘
We r having a bbq. ShoppaLot Superstore nr A30 ring-road home soon. Sam xxxx.
’

It was Doonan who looked up first and saw the large banner stretched above their heads. His eyes instantly filled with tears and he crossed himself; he could not believe that a prayer could be
so promptly and favourably answered. Not only were the children safe, but they were close – for the banner read,
Welcome to ShoppaLot. You’ll be Amazed At What You Find
. . .

It seemed pre-ordained then, that Anjoli should drift past the window at that very moment, sitting high on a shopping trolley. There was a slow-motion quality to the scene, because it was laden
with food. Sanchez and Millie were pushing and, one by one, the whole line of boys passed with bulging bags. Black-and-gold blazers, muddy knees and shoes . . . Doonan watched as Sanjay tried to
trip Ruskin’s heels, prompting Asilah to give him a sharp slap. He saw Oli drop a lettuce and Miles take a large box from a friendly-looking old lady, who pinched his cheek. Last in line were
Tomaz and Imagio, hauling yet another trolley, this one packed with what looked like sacks of charcoal.

‘They’re there,’ whispered Doonan. ‘
Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me . . .
’

Now all the teachers were staring, unable to move, paralysed with wonder. The children disappeared into the crowds of shoppers and crossed the car park.

Somehow, the teachers came to their senses.

They crashed through the doors, fearing that, if they delayed a second their pupils might be snatched away again. For an awful moment, that’s just what happened, for they emerged totally
disorientated at the rear exit and had to race round the front of the complex to get their bearings. Had the children been a mirage and would they ever be reunited for the start of term?

Routon spotted Kenji and Nikko, who had dropped some eggs. He broke into a run, calling their names at the top of his voice. Cars screeched to a halt to avoid the racing figures and at last the
children saw them.

There was an immediate scrum of welcome. An attendant tried to intervene, for the traffic was at a standstill and a crowd had gathered to watch. He had no success, for there were too many hugs
and handshakes to be enjoyed and repeated. Only when cars started hooting long and loud, did Professor Worthington manage to get everyone moving.

There was too much to say, of course. The teachers lost track of who had and hadn’t been properly welcomed, so the only solution was to start all over again, embracing and asking the same
questions. By the time the children had finished pouring out their stories, they were back at the picnic spot and the sun was setting. They perched on the picnic tables and opened bags of sweets,
some weeping with laughter. Captain Routon was listening to Miles and Millie re-enacting the collapse of their pilot – Anjoli playing the pilot. The headmaster was trying to follow the exact
course of the bus, car and plane as Oli laid out little models made of tin foil and Sam did the noises. Doonan was going through his interrogation for the fifth time to an enthralled audience of
orphans, who had their hands over their mouths in horror.

It was Tomaz – wearing a brand-new apron – who called for order.

‘Excuse me, everyone,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to break up the party, but we’ve started the cooking and . . . well, it’s almost ready.’

Everyone turned and was amazed to find that whilst they’d been talking, he and Imagio had been working. The charcoal was blazing and two shopping trolleys were on their sides, acting as
the perfect grills. A pall of sweet-smelling smoke floated by, for sausages, burgers and steaks were sizzling. On a table nearby there were loaves of bread sliced and buttered, there were salads in
bowls and two huge tubs of ice-cream. The box that Miles had received from that sweet old lady was also open. She had taken it through the till for him and pretended she was buying it. Miles had
convinced her it was vital medicine for his sick mother.

It contained six bottles of rum and a stack of paper cups was ready beside it.

‘Hey,’ said Sanchez, as he finished his third burger. ‘Where’s Doctor Ellie?’

‘Who?’ said Doonan.

Asilah looked around guiltily. ‘We forgot all about her!’

‘How did we do that?’ said Eric. ‘Without her we wouldn’t be here!’

‘Oh man,’ said Vijay. ‘She probably thought we didn’t want her, because . . . well . . .’

‘She’s fine,’ said Sam. ‘We just took her some food. ‘She’s got half the school with her.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Doonan.

‘Captain Routon’s there. So’s Professor Worthington. They’re looking at that stone she found. The white one.’

‘You should see the van, sir,’ said Sanjay, who had come back for another sausage.

The headmaster swallowed. ‘Whose van? I’m really not following this . . .’

‘She lives in a van,’ said Ruskin. ‘It’s like a little houseboat only with wheels.’

‘This is the lady who brought you here?’

‘She’s amazing,’ said Sanchez. ‘She knows everything.’

The headmaster wiped his chin with a napkin. Like most of the children, he was on his third helping of food – it had seemed in never-ending supply. Where the money had come from he
didn’t dare ask, but the children had bought enough for an army twice their size. The cooks had been round again and again, pressing more onto everyone. He looked at all the empty tables,
immediately guilty that he had – yet again – let half the school drift off without really noticing. He also realised that his first priority should have been to meet and thank the
children’s saviour.

‘I must be introduced,’ he said. ‘It sounds as if we owe this lady a very great deal. It also sounds as if she’s rather special.’

His first impression was that he was looking into a gypsy caravan.

The back doors stood wide open and the interior of the van was bathed in cosy light from two pink lampshades. It was crammed with teachers and children, who had found places to perch on what
appeared to be shelves, alcoves and ledges. He could make out a low bed with a silk coverlet, and under people’s feet he could see Indian rugs. The old lady herself – Doctor Ellie
– was sitting on a stool, with a glass of rum in her hand. The other hand rested on a slab of white rock and from time to time she stroked it, as if it were a favourite pet.

‘. . . so, you see,’ she was saying, ‘the Romans took advantage of civilisations that were already highly developed. The idea that they came along and taught everyone how to
live is absolute poppycock.’

‘Were there Romans actually on Ribblemoor?’ said Anjoli.

‘Oh yes. There’s a hill fort quite close to your school. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.’

‘Were there battles and things? Wars?’

‘There certainly were. There’s a grave site quite close to Lightning Tor. You’ve heard about Lightning Tor, I would imagine?’