Bitter Enemies

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘Look!’ cried Melanie. ‘He’s climbing over!’

  Now they were closer they could see a figure awkwardly trying to climb the twelve-foot-high gates. The problem was the gates had been specifically designed to prevent people climbing over them, whether it was students trying to climb out, or kidnappers trying to climb in. And this school invader was making a hash of it. They were only just awkwardly managing to throw their leg over the top as Friday skidded to a halt thirty metres away.

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘The switch for the gate is here somewhere,’ said Friday, searching the bushes alongside the drive. ‘Here it is!’ She uncovered an electronic panel behind an azalea bush.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Melanie. ‘They’re already at the top of the gate.’

  ‘I’m going to keep them there until the police arrive,’ said Friday, as she hit the big green button. The gears on an engine started to whirr and the gates began moving.

  ‘Aaaaggghh!’ cried the intruder.

  ‘That was an unexpectedly feminine cry,’ said Melanie.

  ‘I’m surprised at you, Melanie,’ said Friday. ‘In this day and age of equal opportunity, there is no reason a kidnapper couldn’t be a woman as well as a man.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Melanie, ‘but I think you’ll find that statistically they usually are men, and this is one example where I’d be quite happy for us not to achieve equality.’

  The gate shuddered into position as it hit the blocks of its fully open position.

  ‘Urrrgghh!’ yelled the intruder again, as they clung even tighter to the wrought iron.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Now we close them,’ said Friday, hitting the large red button on the control panel.

  ‘Oh no, please no,’ cried the intruder as the gates started to move again. The intruder hugged the bars to her chest, clinging on for dear life.

  ‘If we just keep opening and shutting the gate,’ said Friday, ‘the intruder won’t be able to get down. We just have to keep doing it until the police arrive.’

  ‘The police station is a twenty-minute drive away!’ said Melanie.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Friday, hitting the green button so that as soon as the gates closed they started to reopen again.

  ‘Urrgh,’ groaned the intruder.

  Mercifully, it only took Sergeant Crowley four minutes to arrive. He had been just down the road telling off two seven-year-olds for knocking on old ladies’ doors then running away laughing. He was pleasantly relieved to hear the urgent call to arrest an intruder come over the radio.

  As Sergeant Crowley pulled up outside the gates in his squad car, the intruder was very much the worse for wear. She wasn’t shrieking in fear anymore. She was more moaning like someone who had eaten bad prawns then gone on a roller-coaster.

  ‘Hello, Sergeant,’ said Friday, as she hit the red ‘stop’ button. ‘I’ve detained the perpetrator for you.’

  ‘So I see,’ said the sergeant with a sigh. He already sensed that this was going to be one of those cases where there would be a lot of paperwork but no improvements to his arrest record.

  Now that the gate was stationary, the woman slid down the iron railings and collapsed on the ground. ‘Urrrrgh,’ she moaned.

  ‘You do realise that as far as crimes go, breaking and entering is actually considered a lesser crime than torture?’ said the police sergeant.

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Friday. Despite her enormous intelligence, she often missed the subtleties of conversation.

  ‘He’s saying you tortured this woman by opening and closing the gate,’ said Melanie.

  The woman vomited all over a nearby grevillea bush to emphasise this point.

  ‘She was trying to break into the school,’ protested Friday. ‘Who knows what crime she was attempting to commit. Kidnapping, burglary, vandalism, perhaps even murder. I know a lot of parents are very unhappy with Mr Maclean’s teaching methods.’

  Sergeant Crowley reached into his car and grabbed a bottle of water. He went over and offered it to the intruder. ‘Ma’am, can you explain why you were up on the gate at three o’clock in the morning?’ asked the sergeant.

  The intruder took a small sip, which seemed to revive her a little.

  ‘I was breaking into the school,’ she finally said.

  ‘You see!’ said Friday.

  ‘My car broke down earlier in the day,’ said the intruder, ‘so I was very late. I was supposed to arrive this afternoon.’

  ‘You were going to break into the school during daylight hours?’ said Melanie. ‘That shows impressive confidence.’

  ‘Ma’am, who are you?’ asked Sergeant Crowley. He was beginning to feel nervous about how well-spoken this intruder was. He had a long track record of being berated by people who had a more extensive education than himself. He had learned to be wary of precise, clipped tones.

  ‘I am Magda Wallace,’ said the intruder.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Friday. A terrible sinking feeling came over her.

  ‘What?’ asked Sergeant Crowley.

  ‘Magda Wallace is the name of Highcrest Academy’s third headmistress,’ said Friday. ‘Given that Magda has never been a popular first name in this country and Wallace is only ranked 463rd in commonly occurring surnames, I find it highly unlikely that this is anyone other than Headmistress Wallace. The educational pioneer who introduced compulsory mathematics at Highcrest Academy for girls.’

  ‘That was you?’ cried Melanie. ‘But you look like such a nice old lady.’

  ‘Before she ran the school, girls only had to study sewing, drawing and the correct order in which to do the washing up, or rather to instruct your servants to do the washing up,’ explained Friday. ‘I’m so sorry, Dr Wallace. But in my defence, you were committing a crime by breaking into the school. And I had no way of knowing that a woman of your age would still be fit enough to climb over a twelve-foot-high gate.’

  ‘I work out every day,’ said Dr Wallace. ‘I have a lot of supressed rage to vent after my fifty-two-year career in education.’

  ‘BARNES!’

  Friday turned to see the current headmaster bellowing at her as he strode down the driveway. It never boded well when the Headmaster was forced to deal with a situation while wearing his pyjamas. He was a grumpy man during daylight hours when he was fully dressed, but he was especially grumpy in the middle of the night when forced to suffer the indignity of students seeing him in his Snoopy pyjamas.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded the Headmaster.

  ‘We were just getting to know Dr Wallace,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Where’s the intruder you reported?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘It was Dr Wallace,’ said Friday.

  The Headmaster looked at his predecessor slumped on the ground, sipping tentatively at a bottle of water. Even in the light of the sergeant’s patrol car, he could see she looked sickly and pale.

  ‘Come along, Dr Wallace,’ said the Headmaster kindly. ‘I’m sure the police sergeant will be nice enough to drive you up to the visitors’ accommodation. After a good night’s sleep, we’ll have a meeting to discuss what punishments need to be given out.’

  The Headmaster glared meaningfully at Friday as he helped Dr Wallace up and guided her towards the patrol car.

  Friday and Melanie turned and started walking back to their dorm room as the car drove up the gravel driveway ahead of them.

  ‘She was breaking into the school,’ said Friday.

  ‘I know,’ said Melanie. ‘But being right usually only irritates grown-ups when they want to punish you.’

  ‘You don’t think I could get expelled for this, do you?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I think technically you’re not even enrolled,’ said Melanie, ‘so I don’t see how you could be expelled. I guess we’ll find out in the morning.’

  Yet again, Friday found herself sitting on the bench outside the Headmaster’s office.
Melanie sat alongside her, being unnervingly unnervous. Friday felt like yelling at her, ‘You do realise that I’m about to be expelled, again, don’t you?’ But Melanie was so lovely it would be cruel. It would be like yelling at a puppy dog, or a sunbeam, or a dandelion. It would only make you feel even worse about yourself.

  Friday didn’t like how quiet it was in the Headmaster’s office. She would feel more comfortable if there was yelling. She was used to that. But she couldn’t hear anything through the brick wall. You did not have to be a crime-solving mastermind to work out that this was not good. Cold deliberation is even worse than blind rage.

  There was movement and the door opened. The Headmaster stood in the gap glowering at her.

  ‘In,’ he snapped.

  Friday nudged Melanie awake and they followed him into the office. Friday was surprised to discover an extra person in the room. Dr Wallace was, of course, there. She looked a lot better. But then most of us do look better when we’re not throwing up into a bush in the middle of the night. There was another man in the room too. He was about seventy-five years old. He had ramrod-straight posture and he stood by the window, his hands behind his back. He was wearing a tweed jacket, worn smooth at the elbows, and surprisingly scuffed shoes. Friday couldn’t see his face clearly because of the sunlight from the window. But his stillness was unsettling.

  ‘So this is the famous Friday Barnes,’ said the man.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said the Headmaster as he went back around behind his desk and slumped down.

  ‘In my day, it would have been solitary confinement for you,’ said the man.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Modern occupational health and safety laws don’t allow us to pursue all the avenues you had available to you in your day. Friday, you’ve already met Dr Wallace.’

  Dr Wallace glared at Friday with a surprising amount of venom for such a small woman. She was much more intimidating now that she was immaculately dressed in a black pants suit. Her short grey hair was apparently as spiky as her personality. She had a look in her eye like a bird of prey about to swoop down and kill a field mouse with its talons.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry about last night,’ said Friday.

  Melanie had coached her on how to say this with as close an approximation to sincerity as she could manage.

  Dr Wallace’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t care about “sorry”,’ whispered Dr Wallace in a menacingly quiet voice. ‘I care about impressing on you a lesson that emblazons in your mind that this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated.’

  ‘I was just trying to protect the sch … ow!’ said Friday. Melanie silenced her by stamping hard on her foot.

  ‘Sorry, I had to step on your foot to stop you saying something stupid,’ said Melanie. She turned to the headmasters. ‘You know how it is with super-smart people, they say the stupidest things of all.’

  ‘And this,’ continued the Headmaster, ignoring Melanie, ‘is Colonel Hallett.’

  ‘Ah, the headmaster prior to Dr Wallace,’ said Friday, ‘decorated for your role in the Grenada crisis. That explains a lot.’

  ‘What do you mean by that impertinence?’ demanded Colonel Hallett.

  ‘The way you’re standing in front of the window with the sun behind you is classic military strategy,’ said Friday. ‘Fighter pilots do it so that their enemies can’t see them properly in dog fights.’

  ‘This girl needs a ten-mile route march with a fifty-kilo pack,’ said Colonel Hallett. ‘See if she still has a smart mouth after that.’

  ‘Yes, I understand your feelings,’ said the Headmaster, ‘but in the last twenty years since you retired, educationalists have come around to thinking that girls should not necessarily be discouraged from being smart and using their mouths.’

  ‘Humph,’ said Colonel Hallett, crossing his arms and glaring at Friday. ‘And look where that’s gotten us.’

  ‘Friday, I accept that you were trying to do the right thing last night,’ said the Headmaster, ‘but what you did was wildly lacking in common sense. You also broke the rule of being out on the school grounds after curfew, and, most seriously, you attempted to confront a criminal without adult supervision.’

  ‘I do that all the time,’ said Friday.

  ‘I know,’ said the Headmaster. ‘You shouldn’t. Stop it.’

  ‘But what about civic duty?’ said Friday.

  ‘You don’t do it for civic duty,’ said the Headmaster. ‘You do it because it’s fun.’

  ‘I do it because it’s the right thing to do,’ said Friday.

  ‘Twelve-year-olds aren’t meant to be motivated by right and wrong,’ said the Headmaster. ‘They’re meant to be motivated by greed and selfishness.’

  ‘Just get to the punishment!’ snapped Dr Wallace, sitting forward in her chair. She had the scent of retribution in her nostrils. She liked her justice to be swift.

  ‘Friday, you have embarrassed Dr Wallace,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Dignity is the greatest asset of a head teacher.’

  ‘But you do a perfectly good job,’ said Melanie. ‘Don’t run yourself down, Headmaster.’

  ‘Now you’re being rude,’ Friday pointed out.

  ‘Really?’ said Melanie. ‘I didn’t mean to be. I was trying to be encouraging.’

  ‘Barnes, to make it up to Dr Wallace, you will act as her steward for the duration of her visit,’ said the Headmaster.

  ‘What’s a steward?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘In olden days, it was someone who followed a knight around and handed them the right weapon depending on what type of battle they were having,’ said Friday.

  ‘You will clean my shoes, iron my clothes and carry my bags,’ said Dr Wallace, with a malicious smile.

  ‘Oh,’ said Friday. ‘It will be a lot like being at home looking after Mum and Dad then.’ Friday’s parents were both theoretical physicists and therefore required a lot of help coping with reality.

  ‘You will report to my room each morning at 5.45 am,’ clipped Dr Wallace.

  ‘5.45 am!’ said Friday.

  ‘I like to rise early,’ said Dr Wallace. ‘It’s the best part of the day.’

  ‘This woman is clearly evil,’ said Melanie, grabbing Friday by the wrist. ‘We should run for it now.’

  Suddenly, something smashed through the window, narrowly missing the Headmaster’s head, skidded across the desk and landed on the carpet next to Friday’s feet.

  ‘What on earth is that?!’ demanded the Headmaster, clutching his chest in shock.

  Friday bent down. ‘It looks like half a brick with a note tied to it.’ Friday picked it up and handed it to the Headmaster. ‘I’m guessing it’s for you.’

  ‘What type of school are you running here?’ demanded Colonel Hallett.

  ‘I’ve got broken glass on my pants suit,’ complained Dr Wallace.

  The Headmaster pulled the note out from under the string and read it aloud.

  ‘One headmaster will not survive.

  They will not leave this school alive.

  A student here will make them pay.

  For their misdeeds of former days.’

  ‘Good gracious,’ said Dr Wallace. ‘That’s outrageous!’

  ‘I know, you wouldn’t expect poetry that bad from a primary school student,’ said Friday. ‘Perhaps they’re trying to mislead us that they’re of below average intelligence.’

  ‘I meant it’s outrageous that a student would threaten the life of a member of staff,’ said Dr Wallace.

  ‘No-one likes headmasters,’ Melanie pointed out.

  ‘Barnes, do you know anything about this?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with me,’ said Friday. ‘If I was going to kill a headmaster I wouldn’t warn them first. It doesn’t make any sense at all.’

  ‘This school has gone to the dogs,’ blustered the Colonel. ‘You’ve had smugglers in the swamp, escaped prisoners enrolled in the school, tax evaders on staff, parents swindling away the school’s pensio
n fund and now death threats!’

  Miss Priddock burst into the room.

  ‘Get out and try again!’ barked Colonel Hallett. ‘This time, knock before you enter!’

  Miss Priddock yelped, stepped back outside and shut the door. Colonel Hallett turned to the current headmaster. ‘Sorry, force of habit.’

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ said the Headmaster.

  There was a tentative knock at the door.

  ‘Come in, Miss Priddock,’ said the Headmaster gently.

  Miss Priddock entered, she glanced at Colonel Hallett. Tears were welling in her eyes. Miss Priddock was very beautiful. She did not often get yelled at.

  ‘You’d better come quickly, Headmaster,’ said Miss Priddock. ‘There’s been a dreadful accident. One of the students has been run over by a car!’

  The Headmaster actually ran out of his office and down the driveway.

  ‘What happened?’ he cried.

  He couldn’t see for himself because a crowd of students were gathered around.

  The Headmaster barged through them, like a rugby forward through preschoolers. He was a heavy man and therefore had a lot of momentum. It was actually an excellent demonstration of Newton’s second law of physics. Friday and Melanie followed in his wake with Dr Wallace and Colonel Hallett not far behind.

  As the crowd parted they could see a figure lying on the ground, under the front bumper of a very old Volvo.

  ‘This student assaulted my car,’ complained an elderly man.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Horace,’ said the plump old woman accompanying him. She looked to be in her early eighties. But her hair was her most eye-catching feature. It was clearly a wig. The type of cheap synthetic wig old ladies wear when their eyesight is so bad they don’t realise how fake it looks to everyone else. But she had the natural air of authority of someone who plays a lot of hockey and is used to yelling instructions then having them obeyed. ‘You ran him down with your car.’

  ‘Only because he was standing in my way,’ said the elderly man. ‘Quite ridiculous. Standards have certainly dropped here. In my day, students did not have permission to stand about in front of motor vehicles.’