Bumface

by Morris Gleitzman

  ‘Would Bumface let that stop him?’ said Rindi quietly.

  ‘No,’ said Angus. ‘Not in a play.’

  ‘If your mum gets pregnant,’ said Rindi, ‘it won’t be in a play, will it? It’ll be in real life.’

  Angus looked at her for a long time, his brain racing.

  She was right, but he still felt sick.

  13

  Angus strolled around the playground trying to look innocent and not in any way like a person who was planning to raid a medical convention after school.

  It seemed to be working. The other kids were ignoring him.

  Lucky I’m a good actor, thought Angus.

  Then Scott came sprinting up to Russell Hinch breathless and wide-eyed. ‘The police are coming to the school,’ he gasped.

  Angus felt his blood chill. How could the police have found out? Rindi wouldn’t have blabbed, he was sure. He’d only known her a couple of days, but he could tell she was the sort of person who wouldn’t blab, not even if the police were torturing her by making her tidy her school bag.

  It must have been Leo. He must have told another kid in infants and a teacher must have heard.

  ‘When?’ Angus asked Scott. ‘When are they getting here?’

  ‘Monday,’ said Scott. ‘They’re coming to talk to us about modern crime prevention techniques. I heard Mr Nash telling Ms Lowry.’

  Angus leant against the tuck shop wall, weak with relief. I’m too jumpy, he said to himself. Bumface wouldn’t over-react like that.

  While he breathed deeply, Angus remembered he hadn’t been the only one. Russell Hinch had gone into a panic too. He’d looked as alarmed as Angus had felt, and his hand had shot guiltily to his school bag.

  Stacy’s Tamagotchi, thought Angus as he watched Russell bash Scott round the head with the bag. I bet he’s got a secret pocket in there somewhere.

  Angus was trying to think what to do about it when he saw something that made Stacy’s Tamagotchi suddenly seem not quite so important.

  Number Two, coming out of the school office with Ms Lowry. The teacher looked around, saw Angus and waved him over.

  Angus thought hard as he crossed the playground. Could Leo have blabbed about the medical convention to Number Two? Didn’t seem likely. Leo hadn’t seen his dad this week. Perhaps Number Two had suffered a guilt attack and rung Leo while Angus was in the garden hosing down the stroller.

  ‘Hello, Angus,’ said Number Two.

  ‘Hello,’ said Angus nervously.

  Number Two wasn’t smiling. But then he hardly ever smiled in real life. Ms Lowry was smiling.

  ‘Your stepfather has very kindly offered to help me stage the battle scene in the school play,’ she beamed.

  Of course. Angus was so relieved he didn’t bother explaining that Number Two was actually his ex-stepfather.

  Some Year Four kids had gathered and were staring at Number Two’s Phantom of the Opera T-shirt. ‘Ah,’ said Number Two. ‘Young autograph hunters.’ He got out his pen.

  The Year Four kids ran away.

  Number Two’s mouth fell open briefly. Then he muttered something about being late for an interview, said a theatrical goodbye to Ms Lowry, a quick one to Angus, and left.

  Ms Lowry turned to Angus. ‘This is so exciting,’ she said, ‘having both your stepfathers bringing their professional expertise to the play.’

  Angus stared. Both stepfathers? Number Three must have accepted his invitation too.

  ‘We’ve had a brilliant idea,’ Ms Lowry said. ‘We’re going to get the audience to dress up as pirates too. Brilliant, eh?’

  Angus nodded. Why is she telling me this? he wondered.

  ‘I’ve decided,’ Ms Lowry continued, ‘that in recognition of your family’s contribution, I’m going to let you back into the play.’

  Angus was speechless with delight.

  Then he remembered something. He opened his mouth to explain about bringing Leo and Imogen to rehearsals. Before he could start, Ms Lowry held up her hand.

  ‘I’m letting you back in on one condition,’ she said. ‘You must be at today’s rehearsal after school. You can make a phonecall from the office if you need to.’

  Angus felt his insides plummet. ‘Not today,’ he pleaded.

  Ms Lowry sighed. ‘Angus,’ she said, ‘you have to learn that part of growing up is doing things you don’t really want to do.’

  ‘I’ve got to be somewhere after school,’ said Angus.

  ‘Where?’ said Ms Lowry.

  ‘I can’t say,’ said Angus miserably.

  Ms Lowry’s jaw went taut. ‘If you want to be in the play,’ she said, ‘be at rehearsal after school today. It’s your choice.’

  She turned and went into the office. Angus walked slowly away, wishing desperately he could have told her the truth.

  Then she’d have understood.

  School plays are important, she’d have agreed, but sometimes it’s more important to be a pirate in real life.

  *

  The convention hall was big and brightly lit, with rows of display stands full of medical equipment and groups of eager salespeople wearing coloured blazers.

  There were also, standing next to the coffee machine, two security guards.

  Rindi stiffened when Angus pointed them out. But only for a moment. ‘I don’t think they’ve seen us,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s find the birth control stuff.’

  Together they pushed the stroller along the rows of stands. It took ages, partly because of the bent wheel and partly because Leo kept asking questions.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said for the millionth time, pointing to what looked to Angus like an inflatable toilet seat.

  ‘Come on,’ said Angus.

  ‘Come on,’ said Imogen.

  ‘Don’t pull,’ said Leo. ‘I think it’s an intra-submarine device.’

  Angus tried to steer Leo away, but it was too late. A salesman at the stand had seen them and was smiling and coming over.

  ‘G’day, kids,’ he boomed. ‘Having a look round while dad’s working, eh? Who’s dad with?’ The salesman waved his arm up and down the aisle.

  Angus saw Leo open his mouth to say ‘Phantom of the Opera’ or ‘Priscilla’. Before Angus could get his hand over Leo’s mouth, Rindi said, ‘Axis Computer Systems.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the salesman vaguely. ‘I haven’t caught their stand yet.’ He went over to greet a customer.

  ‘Brilliant performance,’ Angus whispered to Rindi. ‘You should be in my school play.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Rindi indignantly. ‘My dad’s their sales manager. The bloke didn’t ask if he was here, did he?’

  ‘Well, it was quick thinking, anyway,’ said Angus.

  They pushed the wobbly stroller down the aisle, trying their best to look like bored kids while giving each stand a long stare.

  Suddenly Rindi nudged Angus.

  ‘There,’ she said, ‘to our left. Contraceptives.’

  Angus pretended to be checking Imogen’s nappy, which was pretty full. He peered at the stand through the handles of the stroller.

  Diaphragms.

  Intra-uterine devices.

  All stuck on little boards under spotlights.

  Suddenly Angus was glad there were no ropes from the ceiling. His hands were shaking too much for a traditional pirate entrance.

  Rindi took a deep breath. ‘I’ll try the non-pirate way first,’ she said.

  She went over to an elegant saleswoman in a green blazer.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Rindi. ‘Are these contraceptives for sale?’

  The saleswoman looked Rindi up and down.

  ‘They can be ordered,’ she said, ‘in lots of two hundred.’

  ‘Any free samples?’ asked Rindi.

  ‘Not for kids,’ said the woman, and turned away.

  Rindi came back over to Angus. ‘I tried,’ she said. ‘It’ll have to be plan P.’

  They swung into action.

  Rindi took Imogen out of her
stroller and Angus took an ice-cream out of his pocket and unwrapped it.

  It was half melted. Perfect. He gave it to Imogen.

  ‘What about mine?’ wailed Leo.

  Rindi gave Angus an alarmed look. Angus knew what she was thinking. If Leo threw a tantrum they were history.

  Angus took another ice-cream out of his other pocket and gave it to Leo.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Rindi. ‘I should’ve remembered you’re an experienced parent.’

  Angus reached into the stroller bag and pulled out Sidney the bear.

  ‘Here goes,’ he said.

  ‘Cindy,’ gurgled Imogen through a mouthful of melting ice-cream.

  Angus put Sidney into Imogen’s free hand, gently turned her around and pointed to where the saleswoman was chatting to her colleagues.

  ‘Imogen take Sidney for walkies,’ said Angus. ‘Say hello to the green lady.’

  ‘Walkies,’ gurgled Imogen happily and waddled off towards the saleswoman, waving Sidney and leaving a trail of ice-cream.

  ‘I want to go for a walk too,’ said Leo. ‘I want to find some snails.’

  ‘Stay here,’ said Angus, ‘and guard the stroller. I’m depending on you.’

  ‘OK,’ said Leo. ‘I’ll get the snails later.’

  Angus saw that Rindi was in position next to a display of diaphragms. He took his position next to a display of intra-uterine devices.

  The saleswoman turned. Angus held his breath. Had she seen Imogen? No, she’d seen Angus. She was staring at him, puzzled. She took a step towards him.

  Then Imogen reached her. First Sidney, then the ice-cream, made contact with the saleswoman’s skirt. The saleswoman recoiled, horrified. Her colleagues stepped forward to help.

  ‘A baby,’ said the saleswoman, appalled.

  ‘Cindy,’ gurgled Imogen proudly.

  Angus grabbed an intra-uterine device and tried to pull it off its board. It was a fiddly little plastic and metal thing and he realised it was fixed to the board with wire.

  He couldn’t get it off.

  Angus glanced frantically over at Rindi and saw that she was using her teeth. He tried to do the same, but he couldn’t get his mouth in the right position.

  One of the salesmen picked Imogen up. Her nappy burst open. The salesman put her down. Angus chewed frantically at the wire.

  ‘Hey!’

  The salesman had seen him.

  ‘I’ve got one of each,’ yelled Rindi. ‘Let’s go!’

  Angus stopped gnawing and ran over to the saleswoman, who was wiping her skirt with Sidney and holding a giggling Imogen by the wrist.

  He picked Imogen up and grabbed the sticky Sidney.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said and bolted for the stroller.

  ‘Is this a play?’ asked Leo as Angus plonked Imogen into her seat.

  ‘No,’ said Angus. ‘Push.’

  Angus pushed with all his strength but the bent wheel was dragging and he couldn’t get any speed up.

  After about three steps, a big hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ said a furious salesman.

  Angus saw Rindi weaving through bemused onlookers like a pirate racing for the edge of the ship with a hot cannonball. She reached the exit.

  ‘Rindi,’ he yelled. ‘Run.’

  She stopped and looked back, turned towards the exit, then looked back again. Her shoulders slumped.

  ‘Run,’ yelled Angus. ‘Run.’

  But even as he was yelling, she was walking back.

  ‘Let him go,’ she yelled at the salesman and the other salespeople who were crowding round. ‘I took them.’

  She handed a diaphragm and an intra-uterine device to the salesman.

  ‘One was for me,’ said Angus.

  ‘This is disgraceful,’ said the saleswoman. ‘These aren’t toys, you know. They’re sophisticated pieces of medical equipment that have to be fitted by trained doctors.’ She glared at Angus and Rindi. ‘Disgraceful.’

  Rindi glared back at her.

  ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t think it was so disgraceful,’ said Rindi angrily, ‘if you were being taken to India next month and forced to marry a really old man. A twenty-two-year-old man your parents had chosen who you’d never even met. Perhaps then you’d do whatever you had to do to stop him making you pregnant, even if it meant stealing stuff.’

  Rindi stopped, out of breath, eyes flashing.

  She is brilliant, thought Angus.

  There was a silence. Salespeople and customers at other stands were looking.

  ‘We don’t need this sort of publicity,’ muttered the saleswoman. ‘Get them out of here.’

  One of the security guards escorted them out of the building.

  When the security guard had warned them that if they went back in he’d call the police, and had gone back inside himself, Angus turned to Rindi.

  ‘That was amazing,’ he said. ‘You’re a genius. How did you think of all that? And the way you said it. You should be a professional actor. My mum could get you a part in her …’

  He trailed off. Rindi wasn’t looking at him proudly, or even modestly. She was looking at the ground and tears were dripping off her face.

  Angus stared.

  ‘She’s a better pretender than Mum,’ whispered Leo. ‘Mum can’t cry that good.’

  Angus gently put his hand over Leo’s mouth.

  He looked again at the misery and desperation on Rindi’s face and realised with a surge of horror that she wasn’t acting.

  14

  ‘Mum,’ said Angus, ‘listen to me. Her parents are making her get married.’

  ‘Outrageous,’ said Mum, ‘absolutely outrageous.’ She stopped rummaging in the bottom of her wardrobe and stood up. ‘How can a bolero jacket just vanish, it’s outrageous.’

  ‘Mum,’ yelled Angus. ‘She’s just a kid.’

  Mum stared at him.

  Angus realised with a stab of panic that he’d never yelled at Mum before.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, wondering what was going to happen now. When Number Two used to yell at Mum, she’d yell back at him for hours.

  ‘Angus,’ said Mum gently, ‘what’s happening to your friend sounds awful, but I just don’t have time to think about it now because what’s happening to me is pretty awful too. I’ve got to open a new shopping centre in an hour and I can’t find my bolero jacket.’

  Angus sighed.

  It had been a wild hope, but he’d thought that she just might listen.

  Sadly, he went into his room and got her bolero jacket.

  ‘I borrowed it last week for the school play,’ he said.

  She stared at it, horrified. ‘It’s got skulls painted on it,’ she said. ‘And brown blobs.’

  ‘It’s parrot poo,’ said Angus. ‘I was a pirate in the play till I got chucked out.’

  ‘How could you do this?’ screeched Mum. ‘It’s Saturday morning. The wardrobe department at the studio is closed. What am I meant to wear?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Angus.

  ‘I’ll have to make do with this,’ said Mum. She dragged a dress out of the tangle of wire hangers.

  ‘It suits you,’ said Angus.

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ said Mum. ‘It shows up my wrinkles.’ She stared into the mirror. ‘I look like a prune. No wonder I had to bully Gavin into coming with me today.’

  ‘You’re just tired,’ said Angus.

  ‘Of course I am,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve got too many kids. I’m run off my feet in every scene. I told the writers three was enough, but no, along came Craig. They’ve no idea how exhausting it is acting with kids. Making things up when the little darlings forget their lines. Worrying the baby’s going to throw up on you. I tried to warn them. Even a supermum, I said, can have too many kids.’

  Angus took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady. Here, out of the blue, was a chance to have a serious talk to Mum about the facts of life.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said hopefully, ‘r
eal life can be like TV, eh?’

  Mum stared at him.

  ‘Real-life mums,’ he continued, ‘can have too many kids as well, sometimes.’

  She threw her arms round him and hugged his face into her dressing gown.

  ‘Don’t even think that,’ she said. ‘You’re my real-life kids. I’ve never thought there were too many of you. I love you. I’ve never regretted having you for a moment.’

  Angus closed his eyes and put his arms round Mum. Oh well, he thought wearily, it was worth a try.

  He clung to her as hard as he could. Maybe things would get better. Maybe Mum would get too old to have any more babies. Ms Lowry had. Renee Stokes had asked her in class.

  Angus felt Mum kissing his head. His insides started to feel warm and tingly. Then she held him at arm’s length and gazed at him with soft eyes.

  ‘I love my babies,’ she said dreamily. ‘All of them. If things turn out well with Gavin, I’ll probably have another one.’

  Suddenly Angus’s insides weren’t warm and tingly any more.

  He stood there, numb. He was dimly aware of Mum kissing him on the nose and going into the bathroom.

  Angus didn’t move for a long time.

  Then he looked down and saw that he was still holding the Bumface jacket. He could see his old tear stains smudging the skulls and parrot poo.

  He thought of the future, full of babies.

  All bawling their heads off.

  Part of him wanted to bawl now, but he gritted his teeth and forced the tears back down.

  It was too late.

  His life was over.

  All he could do now was try to save Rindi.

  Part Three

  15

  Angus rang Rindi’s front door bell and took a step back and tried to breathe slowly.

  Use short words, he reminded himself. Cruel parents who force their daughter to get married before she’s even in high school are probably violent too. They probably don’t like people trying to persuade them to change their minds. You might not have long before they blow their tops and attack.

  Angus glanced back to where Leo was minding Imogen at the front gate. The bent wheel was the main worry. If they had to run for it they’d probably have to ditch the stroller.