The Midnight Gang

by David Walliams

  The newsagent looked utterly bemused. “Now please, Doctor, tell me where it is. I have been up and down this hospital for hours looking for the place.”

  “Lie!” whispered the porter.

  “Lie? What does he mean ‘lie’?” said Raj.

  “He means he wants to lie down. Take the weight off his bottom.”

  The newsagent stared at the figure under the trolley. “He is lying down.”

  “Y-y-yes,” spluttered Tom. “He is now. He was very slightly sitting up before. Like maybe one degree.”

  “For the last time!” exclaimed Raj. “Where is the children’s ward?”

  “Go down in the lift to floor three.”

  “Yes?”

  “Walk across the corridor to the far side of the hospital.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll find a set of stairs.”

  “Yes?”

  “Go up one flight.”

  “Yes?”

  “Come out of the double doors.”

  “Yes?”

  “Take your first left.”

  “Yes?”

  “Second right.”

  “Yes?”

  “Go to the end of the corridor. You’ll see a set of double doors ahead of you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Ignore those.”

  “Yes?”

  “First left.”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you getting all of this?”

  “No. None of it.”

  Tom pointed randomly down the corridor. “That way.”

  “Thank you!” said Raj. “I will be sure to save you a small piece of poppadom.”

  “That is very kind!” replied the boy as he watched the poor man disappear off down the corridor.

  “Good work, Doctor!” joked the porter. “That’s the last we’ll ever see of him! Now, to the pharmacy!”

  Tom steered the trolley along the corridor. At the end of it was a hatch in the wall where the pharmacist handed out medicines.

  An elderly man was sitting on the other side of the sliding glass window. Mr Cod wore a hearing aid and thick, round glasses. He was busy sipping noisily from an impossibly large mug of tea.

  Tom took a deep breath, and addressed him. “Good evening …”

  “Deeper!” came another whisper from under the sheet.

  The boy tried again, deeper this time. “Good evening.”

  Mr Cod didn’t look up.

  “He’s not responding!” whispered the boy.

  “Cod must have forgotten to turn his hearing aid on again,” said the porter. “You are going to have to shout!”

  “GOOD EVENING!” shouted the boy.

  “THERE’S NO NEED TO SHOUT, DOCTOR! I’M NOT DEAF!” shouted Mr Cod.

  “Sorry!” said the boy.

  “What did you say?” asked the elderly man, holding a cupped hand to his ear.

  “Maybe you need to turn your hearing aid on, Mr Cod!”

  “I can’t hear a word you are saying! Let me turn my hearing aid up.”

  Mr Cod put his mug of tea down and fiddled with the dial on his hearing aid. When nothing appeared to happen, he banged the box with his knuckles and the gadget whistled into life.

  “Right, what can I do for you, Doctor?” Mr Cod asked.

  Tom smiled. The plan was working.

  “I need a syringe and fifty litres of sleep serum, please.”

  A look of shock crossed Mr Cod’s face. “What do you need all that for? Are you going to put a hippopotamus to sleep?”

  “Millilitres!” came a whisper from under the sheet.

  “Who said that?” demanded Cod.

  “It was my patient,” replied the boy.

  “How come your patient knows more about what he needs than you? You are supposed to be the doctor!”

  The boy thought for a moment. “Well, my patient is a bit, to use the correct medical term, ‘bonkers’. The poor man thinks he’s a doctor. He’s delusional!”

  “That still doesn’t explain why he knew the correct dose,” replied the elderly man.

  Cod had a point.

  “Well,” began Tom with trepidation, “he is so delusional, he is actually a brilliant doctor. In fact, I am taking him down to the operating theatre right now.”

  “Why?”

  “To perform an operation. That’s why we need all that sleep serum.”

  Mr Cod shook his head wearily. “I thought I had seen it all. Fifty millilitres of sleep serum coming right up.”

  The chemist hopped off his stool, and scuttled off to the back of his pharmacy.

  “Well done,” said the porter.

  “Shouldn’t that be, ‘Well done, Doctor’?” chuckled the boy.

  “Don’t get cocky, young sir!”

  When Mr Cod returned with the serum, he stumbled slightly and dropped the medication on the counter. As he bent to pick it up, he peered down at Tom’s feet.

  “You have two left feet!” observed Mr Cod.

  “Yes,” replied the boy. “Most people only have the one left foot, but I am lucky enough to have two.”

  “I have never heard of such a thing!” exclaimed the chemist.

  “Well, apart from not being the best at ballroom dancing, it’s never held me back. Thank you so much.”

  Mr Cod peered through his thick glasses, looking at this “doctor” with deep suspicion.

  “You just need to sign for it here,” muttered Cod. He pushed a medical form across the counter.

  “Thank you,” replied the boy. “Have you got a pen?”

  The chemist shook his head. “Another doctor who doesn’t have a pen!”

  Cod produced a biro from the top pocket of his lab coat. “Now, don’t think you can make off with it!”

  The chemist rolled the pen across the counter and it fell to the floor. The boy leaned down to pick it up, and lost his balance.

  “Arrrgghh!”

  THUD!

  Tom was sprawled out on the floor. His prosthetic legs had become detached.

  Cod peered down.

  “Your legs have fallen off!” he said.

  “Yes. I won’t need them any more,” replied the boy. “Do feel free to give them to anyone who might want them.”

  “You aren’t a doctor!” exclaimed Cod. “You are a child! You must be the boy everyone in the hospital is looking for!”

  “He is a doctor!” said the porter from under the sheet. “Just like me!”

  “You are both up to no good!” shouted Cod. “I am calling the hospital security!”

  The boy grabbed hold of the trolley and sped off down the corridor, crashing through the swing doors with a terrific

  BANG!

  “We’d better get a move on!” said the porter. “Have you got the syringe?”

  “Yes,” replied Tom. “What are we going to do with it?”

  “Simple! Stick it in Matron’s bum!”

  PING!

  The lift doors opened on to the forty-fourth floor. Just along the corridor were the huge swing doors to the children’s ward.

  “How are we going to stick this into Matron’s bum?” asked the boy. He was holding the syringe full of the sleeping serum as he wheeled the trolley along as quietly as possible. “She is going to be watching everything like a hawk.”

  “We must use surprise, young Mr Thomas, sir!” replied the porter. The man poked his head out from under the dirty sheet on the trolley. “Matron cannot see us coming. Or we are BUSTED.”

  “We have the trolley. That could give us some speed,” said Tom, thinking out loud.

  “Yes. Of course, in an ideal world we need Matron facing away from us, bending over.”

  Tom brought the trolley to a stop. They were now just a few paces away from the doors.

  “I’ve got an idea!” said the boy excitedly. “Have you still got Professor Pigeon in your pocket?”

  “Yes, of course,” replied the porter. “She’s coming on the adventure with me.”

  “Good! Th
en we can let her loose in the children’s ward. The bird is bound to scuttle all around and Matron is sure to be distracted. You heard her say how she hated pigeons!”

  “It’s brilliant, sir. Quite brilliant.”

  The pair went down on to their hands and knees and crawled across the corridor that led on to the children’s ward. Tom pushed one of the tall swing doors open a little, and held it ajar. Looking out of the window to the glow of Big Ben’s clock face, he saw it was now just minutes to midnight.

  The boy peeped through the gap between the doors. All the lights in the ward were off, and the children were sleeping in their beds. Tom could see the silhouettes of George, Amber and Robin. However, he couldn’t make out Sally’s bed as it was in the far corner of the ward. Some light spilled from Matron’s office, where she sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning the ward for any signs of movement.

  The porter reached into his pocket, and brought out his uni-winged pet. Tom then pushed the door slightly more ajar, so the bird could scuttle through. However, Professor Pigeon did not want to move. Perhaps the bird did not want to be separated from her master? Whatever the reason, the creature was determined to stay put. So the porter picked up his pet and set her down just inside the ward. But, instead of scuttling off, the faithful bird just lingered by the doors pecking at the floor.

  “Go, Professor Pigeon! Go! Fly like the wind!” urged the man.

  Again, the bird did nothing. This was clearly not an animal that was going to win a TV talent competition any time soon. That was a shame, as what with having only one wing Professor Pigeon had a great backstory.

  “Shoo! Shoo!” encouraged the porter. But still the bird did absolutely nothing.

  So the porter had no choice but to squeeze through the gap in the doors on his hands and knees. From there he ushered his bird further into the room towards Matron’s office at the end.

  Out of the silence came a booming voice.

  “WHO GOES THERE?”

  It was Matron. She had seen the porter. The plan was unravelling faster than a falling ball of string.

  Tom had to think fast.

  Through the gap in the doors, he could see the lady rushing out of her office. So he pushed the trolley back down the corridor. Then he ran alongside it and jumped on, syringe in hand.

  BANG!

  The trolley smashed through the swing doors.

  Ahead, Tom could see the perfectly round bottom of Matron. She was bent over, trying to pull the porter up from the floor.

  “It’s you, Porter! Now get up, you revolting man! I want you out of my ward this instant! Do you hear me? THIS INSTANT!”

  From behind her behind, her head appeared. She must have heard the whir of the wheels on the trolley.

  WHIRRR!

  “Thomas?” she cried.

  But it was too late!

  The needle of the syringe stabbed into her bottom.

  “OUCH!” she cried in pain.

  As Tom pushed the top of the syringe, the sleeping serum surged in.

  Matron’s body arched up.

  Then …

  THUD!

  The lady was immediately fast asleep on the floor, snoring loudly.

  “ZZZZ-ZZZZ ZZZZ-ZZZZ …”

  Amber, George and Robin were out of their beds now, and peering down at their enemy sprawled out on the floor. The normally immaculate matron looked decidedly undignified. Her arms and legs were splayed like a starfish, and a pool of drool was leaking from her mouth.

  “OK, Midnight Gang, it’s time to go to work!” said Tom. “Where’s Sally? Sally?”

  Amber fell silent as Tom looked over to Sally’s bed.

  It was empty.

  Tom looked to the other children for an explanation. Their sad faces told a story.

  “What?” asked the boy. “Where’s Sally?”

  “While you went missing, Tom,” began Amber, “poor Sally took a turn for the worse.”

  “Oh no,” said Tom. In all the excitement about the plan, he had forgotten how ill the little girl was.

  “So she was taken down to the isolation ward,” added Robin.

  “But what about her dream?” pleaded Tom.

  The children all shook their heads.

  “Not tonight, Tom,” replied Amber. “We can’t.”

  “Sorry, Tom,” said George, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “At least we tried,” muttered the porter. “But I am afraid it’s all over.”

  There was silence in the children’s ward.

  BONG!

  Big Ben began to chime midnight.

  BONG!

  The gang all listened …

  BONG!

  … and bowed their heads.

  BONG!

  Time was running out.

  BONG!

  Fast.

  BONG!

  This moment was slipping away from them.

  BONG!

  They had to do something!

  BONG!

  For Sally!

  BONG!

  The little girl deserved to have her dream come true …

  BONG!

  … more than any of them.

  BONG!

  There had to be a way!

  BONG!

  Just as the final chime ended, Tom announced, “You are wrong.”

  “Here we go …” muttered Robin.

  “Pray continue!” said Amber, a sarcastic tone in her voice. She was a girl who was not used to being told she was wrong about anything ever.

  “If Sally has been taken to the isolation ward, that is all the more reason why we have to do it tonight,” said Tom. “I promised her something once, and I let her down. I can’t let her down again.”

  “But if she’s in the isolation ward, Tom, she must be too ill!” exclaimed Amber.

  “Let Sally decide whether she is up to it or not,” replied Tom. “Look, we all know we are going to get better. Robin, you will see again. Amber, your arms and legs will heal. George’s operation has been a success, though you do need to cut down on the chocolates.”

  “I know!” replied George. “From now on I’ll cut down to just one tin a day.”

  Tom smiled, even though George wasn’t joking.

  “Sally doesn’t know when she will get better. She told us herself. The fact that she’s been sent down to the isolation ward scares me. It must mean she’s got worse. We need to make Sally’s dream come true tonight!”

  “The boy’s right,” agreed the porter.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Amber, speaking for the two boys, “but her dream, to experience the whole of life, it’s just so …”

  “Big?” suggested George.

  “Yes!” replied Amber. “The Midnight Gang has done some cool things. We’ve all had fun …”

  “I never got to fly,” moaned George.

  “Oh, there’s always somebody who’s not happy,” muttered Robin.

  “… but this is so much more than that,” continued the girl.

  “That’s why we need to try. For Sally’s sake,” said Tom. “Give her the big, beautiful life she deserves. Come on! Please! We can do this together. As a gang. I know we can. Let’s vote. Who’s in? Raise your hand!”

  The porter and the two boys put their hands up. They all looked to Amber.

  “Amber?” said Tom. “Are you in?”

  “Yes of course I am in!” shouted the girl. “I just can’t raise my hands, can I?”

  “OK, Midnight Gang,” said Tom.

  “Let’s go out with a BANG!”

  Tom told the other children his vision for how he thought they could make Sally’s dream come true. Everyone in the Midnight Gang, including its founder member, the porter, added ideas of their own.

  Next, the porter took Amber, George and Robin down to the operating theatre to start preparing everything. Meanwhile, Tom headed alone to the isolation ward to collect Sally. His heart was pounding with the thrill of it all. However, nothing could prepare him for what he was about
to see.

  After ducking down to pass the nurse’s station, the boy pressed his face up against the glass that looked on to Sally’s room. A mess of wires and tubes snaked around her bed. The room was cluttered with silver machines bleeping and computer screens blinking. These were monitoring her heartbeat and blood pressure and breathing. In the middle of there somewhere was a little girl. Sally’s bald head was nestled deep in pillows, her eyes closed.

  Tom hesitated. He felt it was wrong to disturb her. Perhaps he should go and find the others and tell them Sally’s dream couldn’t come true after all?

  Just as Tom was about to turn to go, the girl’s eyes opened. A flicker of a smile crossed her mouth as she recognised the friendly face. With a slight nod of her head, she beckoned the boy into her room.

  So as not to alert the nurse at her station down the corridor, Tom opened the door as slowly and silently as he could. He stepped inside and tentatively approached the bed.

  Sally looked right at him and asked, “What took you so long?”

  Tom smiled.

  The game was on!

  The operating theatre was a huge, gleaming room, with a wide glass window on one side. Big bright lights were attached to the ceiling. They were so bright that you couldn’t look directly at them or you would see stars.

  Tom wheeled Sally on her bed into the centre of the room.

  “I am so excited!” said Sally.

  “Good. We are just about to begin. Is everyone ready?” asked Tom.

  “Ready!” replied Amber, Robin and the porter.

  “Not quite ready!” called out George, who was fiddling with something. “Right, now I am ready.”

  “Have you selected the music, Robin?” asked Tom.

  “Yes!” Robin replied. “As soon as you hear it start, let’s all begin.”

  As Robin placed one of his CDs into his player, the others took their respective places in the operating theatre.

  The music started. It was the unmistakable sound of the world’s most famous opera aria, “Nessun Dorma” by Puccini from the opera Turandot.

  The English translation for “Nessun Dorma” is “None Shall Sleep”, a fitting motto for the Midnight Gang. The recording was sung in Italian and the translation is: