A different sort of hush fell, a giggling, excited, craning-to-see hush. The gates swung open.
‘Two, three, four,’ hissed the band conductor, and the trumpets blazed their fanfare.
The Royal Carriage rolled onto the Green, drawn by six fine horses. The drummers started up. I do like the sound of drums. I feel the rhythm deep inside my tummy.
Nothing whatsoever happened, and then a hand reached out of the carriage window, held itself still in the air—and waved. Cheering erupted.
The carriage halted in the centre of the Green. The drummers stopped drumming.
It seems that the Royal Carriage had arrived a little earlier than expected, and there was a great deal of hissing and clicking fingers, as officials hurried about. Everyone else waited with interest. The children who’d just run the mixed relay had gathered together in a sort of huddle near the finish line. Some of us were still panting. The four children of the Orphanage team were grinning hugely.
‘I say,’ hissed Hamish. ‘Jolly good show out there! When I saw your tiny runner? The little girl who ran first? Well, I thought, golly, this’ll be a shoe-in for us! No offence intended there, little girl—oh dear, that shoe-in sounded like I was insulting your bare feet, Finlay—put my foot in it, didn’t I? Oh, I’ve done it again! Foot! No, honestly, all an error. Anyhow, then she took off like a—’ but the rest of us said, ‘Shhh,’ and Hamish stopped.
A plush red carpet was spread along the grass perpendicular to the Royal Carriage. Next, a small platform was carried out and placed at the other end of this carpet. Various chairs were clattered onto it, along with a table, the immense Spindrift Tournament trophy and an enormous loud hailer.
Once again, the Queen’s hand emerged from the carriage window and waved, and once again the crowd went mad to see it.
Quite soon, I thought, the town is going to tire of the Queen’s hand. They’re going to want to see a little more of her. A glimpse of her ear, say? Or elbow? I smiled at my own small joke.
A small boy was hustled out of the Orphanage section, across to the platform, and handed a bouquet so large it hid his face. Mayor Franny leapt up beside him and made a show of trying to find the boy behind the flowers. He tipped the bouquet sideways to reveal his beaming little face, and Mayor Franny pantomimed amazement. The crowd laughed in a loving sort of way.
‘Are we right now?’ the Mayor called to an official.
Millicent Cadger shout-whispered, ‘Wait! Wait!’, rushed up and polished the trophy with the hem of her dress. Again, the crowd giggled. But Millicent did not seem to mind. She adjusted the trophy’s position on the table, checked her reflection in its surface, and nodded.
The constables stood at attention.
An official pointed at the band conductor, who faced his band, arms raised high.
The carriage door was opened. The opening chords of the Kingdom Anthem played.
Out stepped the Queen.
FINLAY
She looked like the Queen.
I have a strong feeling that Honey Bee wants me to say that the Queen glowed like starshine and smelled like ocean breezes, or something.
But she did not. Well, to be honest, I couldn’t smell her from where I was standing.
She wore queenly clothes and her hair was puffy like a queen’s hair. That’s about all I can remember.
The crowd cheered like they couldn’t believe it really was the Queen and not just her hand.
Everyone waited for the Prince to hop out too—he’s about eighteen years old and what people call ‘dashing’ or ‘dishy’ or ‘darling’, usually starts with a d—but nothing happened. Seemed the Prince was staying put. We stared at his silhouette behind the carriage window. The silhouette leaned forward but then settled itself back.
So we turned back to the Queen.
The Queen did a little pivot. Crowd cheered even louder.
Next she marched along the red carpet. She seemed fit enough for a grown-up. Had no trouble with the steps up onto the platform. Stopped alongside the Mayor and little Jaskafar, took out a handkerchief and waved it.
The handkerchief sent the crowd delirious.
Now came Jaskafar’s starring role.
He tugged on the Queen’s sleeve. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to do that part. But the Queen was only startled for a second. She recovered and crouched down. Jaskafar bowed his head, the way we’d taught him. Then he stuck the flowers in the Queen’s face. We hadn’t taught him that part either. Once again, the Queen was pretty smooth, ducking just in time so she wouldn’t get stabbed in the nose by a rose. She did a good job acting amazed by the flowers, as if she’d never been given them in all her queenly days.
Jaskafar stood back, grinning his head off. The Queen patted his head. He looked less happy after that: tidy hair is important to him.
The Queen appeared to have a friendly chat with Mayor Franny and Millicent Cadger, who hefted up the loud hailer and offered it to her.
‘My people,’ said the Queen, taking it like a pro and speaking directly into it. Clapping and excitement again. Honestly, this would never get done.
‘My good people of Spindrift,’ the Queen said next. ‘What a joy it is to attend your Spindrift Tournament!’
Well, she hadn’t attended it.
It was over.
But we let that go.
‘I understand that the healthful benefits of fresh air and outdoor activities are enormous!’ the Queen carried on.
More cheering, but I was a bit bored by the Queen and her excitement about fresh air, to be honest, and I’d started looking around.
What I saw was the head teacher of Brathelthwaite—I’ll call him Sir Brath; his name’s too long otherwise. He’d somehow hopped up onto the platform too and was whispering into Millicent Cadger’s ear. Millicent shook her head.
Mayor Franny had the loud hailer now. ‘Your Majesty!’ she boomed into it. ‘We are over the moon to have you and the Prince here in Spindrift! If you can hear me in there, Prince Jakob, welcome!’ She waved towards the carriage.
After a long moment, a hand reached out of the carriage window and gave a sort of salute. Everyone laughed.
The Queen leaned into the loud hailer. ‘The Prince apologises,’ she said. ‘But he was stung on the cheek by a zapper eel while swimming in Careening Bay yesterday and has been instructed to keep out of the sunlight!’
The Prince’s hand rose up in a sort of apologetic shrug. Again, the crowd laughed. Dead easy to please we are sometimes, here in Spindrift.
‘Victor!’ Sir Brath shouted suddenly. ‘Take the Prince a cream puff! To cheer him up!’
The kid standing beside me—Victor, I guess—zipped over to the Brathelthwaite marquee, then zoomed to the carriage, carrying a single cream puff on a silver tray. He held this up to the window. The Prince’s hand reached out, gave a thumbs-up signal and took the tray.
Oh, everyone loved that.
Ha ha ha, they all laughed.
People are peculiar, aren’t they?
Victor pelted back to us relay runners, looking dead pleased with himself.
Honestly, we’d all grow old and cobwebby before we got our trophy.
Mayor Franny must’ve read my mind. ‘Now, we invite Her Majesty to present the trophy to the winning school!’ she cried.
Finally.
At this point, Jaskafar was sort of in the way. Nobody had told him what to do once he’d handed over the flowers, so he’d hopped up on the table and sat there, swinging his legs He was blocking the trophy.
There was a bit of a kerfuffle, but he scooted along and the Mayor grabbed the trophy.
Back to the loud hailer she came. ‘It’s been a ripper day, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘Most nail-biting Tournament we’ve ever held. It was neck and neck right up until the final race! But the winner of the day is clear. The winner is—wait, could we get a drum roll please?’
The band obliged.
‘The winner is … the Orphanage School!!!’
>
Another storm of cheering.
‘Come on, Lili-Daisy! Hop over here and accept the trophy on behalf of the Orphanage School!’
Over in our section, the kids were all leaping around hugging Lili-Daisy. She peeled herself away from them and walked towards the platform. She was trying to be quick, so she wouldn’t keep the Queen waiting, but also trying to be slow, so she would look proper and regal. It’s impossible to be quick and slow at the same time. Lili-Daisy looked like a stork that is wading through a pond and making sudden darts for fish.
I was watching her and maybe there was a little tear of happiness in my eye, even while I was trying not to bust my gut laughing at her walk. But then voices distracted me. Sir Brath was on at Millicent Cadger again, and Millicent Cadger was pointing to something on a clipboard. Sir Brath peered over her shoulder. He reached out a finger and stabbed at the clipboard himself.
When I turned back, Lili-Daisy had reached the platform. Her foot landed on the first step.
‘One moment!’ sang a voice. It was Sir Brath. His voice was cheery. He was rocking on his heels.
Lili-Daisy stopped on the bottom step, confused. Beside Sir Brath, Millicent Cadger was still studying the clipboard while rubbing her fist against her forehead.
‘Just a little hiccup!’ Sir Brath called. ‘My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty!’ The Queen nodded once in a queenly way and smiled. You could tell she was fond of Sir Brath, on account of him having sent a cream puff to her son. Beside the Queen, Mayor Franny frowned.
Millicent Cadger gave a helpless sort of look and took the loud hailer.
‘There’s been a mistake,’ she said. ‘A technical violation. The Orphanage School has been disqualified from the mixed relay. Which means that the winner of today is actually—uh, drum roll please?’
There was no drum roll. The drummer was busy staring with an open mouth.
‘The winner of today is actually the Brathelthwaite Boarding School,’ Millicent continued. ‘Er, Sir Brathelthwaite? Would you accept your trophy?’
Sir Brath beamed and stepped forward.
Honey Bee
The children under the Brathelthwaite marquee applauded loudly and broke into the school chant:
Brathelthwaite students are
Better than the best!
Brathelthwaite students
Put us to the test!
We will conquer all
We are ever so tall
We will never ever fall
We will never drop the ball
We would never have the gall
To come second!
What?
Second?! [and they all noisily spat on the grass]
No way!
We will come first!
This did not seem very sporting.
You will recall that I, Honey Bee, was standing in a gathering of relay teams. The four children from the Orphanage School team were blinking in shock.
‘Golly,’ piped up Hamish. ‘Did we truly win? How’d we pull that off? I could have sworn the orphans beat us in the relay just now. And didn’t that mean they’d won the day? Or was the arithmetic wrong somewhere? Or am I dreaming all this? I do dream, you know. I often—’
‘Do be quiet, Hamish,’ Victor sighed, stretching his arms above his head in a very lordly way. ‘They did win the relay but they’ve been disqualified. Technical violation, she said. I expect there was a problem with one of their baton handovers.’
Finlay and Glim swung around to look at each other. Meanwhile, the little girl who had started the relay for the orphans bit her lip. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked. ‘Did I ruin it?’
The boy who had followed her—his name was Daffo, and he was terribly rough-looking with scabby arms and unkempt hair— tapped the little girl’s shoulder. ‘You did nothing wrong, kid,’ he told her. ‘If there was a problem, it must have been me.’ This was sporting of him.
But the other school relay teams were shaking their heads. ‘There was nothing wrong with your handovers,’ they told the orphans. ‘The officials gave the thumbs-up for each. They’d have called it when it happened.’
‘In that case,’ Victor yawned, ‘it must have been one of my suggestions.’
Up on the platform, the Queen was handing the trophy over to Sir Brathelthwaite. The Director of the Orphanage, Lili-Daisy Casimati, was lingering on the bottom step, staring up at him.
‘One of your suggestions, Victor?’ I asked. I remembered Victor taking Sir Brathelthwaite aside before the relay. But whatever could he have said?
‘The rules of this Tournament are terribly detailed,’ Victor explained. ‘I told Sir B that if we didn’t win the relay, there was sure to be a loophole. This one’s not wearing any shoes, for instance. I bet it’s a violation.’
He waved his hand at Finlay’s bare feet.
‘Oh cripes,’ Hamish said, aghast. ‘I did try to warn you about the old shoes, old chap.’
But the other children protested that it was not against the rules. Orphanage children often ran barefoot, they said.
Meanwhile, Sir B was making a speech about how proud he was of his students, and how they had conquered adversity. They had sat outside on the Green all day, poor things, competing with a different sort of student to the usual sort. But it was all worth it, he said, because they had triumphed!
‘Hmm,’ Victor said, still gazing at Finlay’s feet. ‘Perhaps the orphans changed their relay team then? Not allowed. I pointed that rule out to Sir B.’
‘We did change our relay team!’ ‘But we notified Millicent!’ ‘It is allowed!’ the orphans all bellowed.
They were so loud that people stopped listening to Sir B and looked over at us. Even the Queen peered in our direction. Noticing this, Sir B sniffed.
‘Oh my,’ he said. ‘It seems the orphans are making a fuss. Not quite the thing, is it? Not quite sporting. Lili-Daisy, perhaps you could control them?’
He tapped his fingertips together in the direction of Lili-Daisy.
‘But Sir Brathelthwaite,’ Lili-Daisy called up ‘I don’t understand how your school came to win!’
‘Simple!’ Sir B grabbed the loud hailer again. ‘You notified Millicent about the change to your relay team, yes? But the change is only valid if Millicent signs off in the right-hand column on her clipboard. Which she did not!’
Millicent curled her hands into fists, distraught. ‘He’s right,’ she called down to Lili-Daisy. ‘I’m so very sorry. I accidentally signed in the left column.’
‘And that means they were disqualified?’ Lili-Daisy said, amazed.
‘Yes.’
‘There’s nothing you can do?’
‘Nothing.’
Mayor Franny put her hands on her hips. ‘Are we kidding here?’ she demanded.
The Queen looked around for a lady-in-waiting to rescue her from this nonsense. (At least, I think that’s what she was seeking.)
But Sir B was still smiling and clutching his trophy. ‘In effect,’ he boomed. ‘The Orphanage School cheated by changing their relay team improperly. But we won’t make too much of that. That is for the orphans to think deeply about. Life must be done properly! Meanwhile, we at Brathelthwaite are proud of our victory today—and proud that we achieved it in the right way, without cheating.’
‘There,’ said Victor languidly. ‘Told you so.’
At this point, Finlay punched him in the nose.
FINLAY
It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
To be honest, it was a beautiful thing to do. My fist in that Victor boy’s face.
He staggers back, his face turns purple and he’s roaring straight for me. Pummelling my belly. So I laid into him.
Around this point, things fell to pieces. A bunch of Brathelthwaite kids tore across the grass to help out Victor. A bunch of orphans streamed over to help me.
Some adult was shouting into the loud hailer. The crowd was whooping and sc
reaming. (The people of Spindrift love a good fight.) ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ a few Witches and pirates chanted, and they rallied the crowd to join them. ‘Fight! Fight!’ everyone roared.
And we did.
The little kids scooted out of the way. The rest of us got stuck in. Kicking and punching, scratching and tearing. Hair-pulling and screeching. Three big Boarding School guys got a hold of me, and I spun around like I’ve seen in the cinema, kicking them one at a time. The first tipped sideways into the second, he knocked into the third, and they all crashed to the ground.
Victor came after me again and got his hands around my throat. Glim hooked an arm through his and spun him in a beautiful circle in the air. He hit the ground with a thud.
Daffo was a whirlwind, taking on about five Boarding School kids at once. The twins, Eli and Taya, stomped and stampeded.
I guess it only lasted half a minute.
Before we knew it, the constables were dragging us apart; teachers were shouting; and somebody had gotten hold of a bucket of water and flung it over us.
I stood there, glaring at Victor, blood and water dripping everywhere.
‘Stop that at once!’ a woman’s voice was bleating. I wasn’t sure who it was. ‘As your Queen, I command you children to stop fighting!’
So then I knew it was the Queen.
The crowd quietened. They’d been jumping up and down, but now they sank back into their seats, a bit shamefaced. (The people of Spindrift also love their Queen.)
‘Fight! Fight!’ a couple of Witches called, trying to rev the crowd up again, but the Queen snapped, ‘Do you Witches want to spend the night in the dungeon?’
So the Witches sat down too.
Lili-Daisy had scurried over to try to stop the fight, and she was standing alongside me now, her hand quite firm on my shoulder. When I say ‘quite firm’, I mean her nails were digging into my skin like talons.
‘Lili-Daisy?’ I said.
‘Finlay,’ she replied, in a voice that suggested she knew exactly what her nails were doing and wasn’t planning to stop.
The Slightly Alarming Tale of the Whispering Wars Page 4