How Hedley Hopkins Did a Dare...

by Paul Jennings

  I make plans. I will sneak down to the kitchen and grab a torch and a jar of honey. Then I will tiptoe down to Major Manners and make a trail of honey leading away from the sack. I can pour a pool of honey in the grass and the bull ants will follow the trail to it and leave Major Manners alone. When morning comes he’ll be free of ants and I can grab the sack and take it to school.

  Brilliant. I am a genius if I do say so myself. It is a fiendish plan. I lie in the dark smiling to myself. A great feeling of relief floods through me. Soon this whole problem will be over. I am still a bit sad about Major Manners but I can’t get him back into the grave anyway. So everything will be all right. He will understand.

  After ages and ages the house falls silent. Mum and Dad are safely asleep. I creep along to the kitchen and open the fridge. I can’t turn the light on because I don’t want to disturb Mum and Dad but a dim glow comes out of the fridge and softly lights the room. I grab the jar of honey, which is all sticky from Kate pinching spoonfuls when no one is around. I take Dad’s torch out of the bottom drawer in the kitchen bench and head out into the dark night.

  It is cold and dark and the grass is damp. Bits of new-mown grass are sticking to my slippers. I should have put on my dressing-gown but it’s too late to go back now. I shiver inside my pyjamas and hurry on. This won’t take long.

  Suddenly I feel something under my foot.

  Something long and thin.

  A snake.

  ‘Aaagh,’ I give a terrible scream, jump backwards and fall heavily onto my backside.

  The honey jar goes flying into the air. It comes down and hits me on the chest and then rolls down over my legs onto the grass.

  I push myself backwards like a baby shuffling on its bottom. I hate snakes. They are deadly poisonous.

  It is a really long snake. The longest one in the world.

  In fact it is not a snake at all …

  It is only the garden hosepipe.

  I sit there shaking and nervously looking back at the house. All is silent. All is well.

  No it’s not. My pyjamas and slippers are covered in honey. And the jar is half empty. I am going to get into big trouble for this. Why does everything have to go wrong all the time?

  All is not lost, though. I can still make the honey trail to attract the ants away from Major Manners.

  But where is the torch? I search around on my hands and knees. I can’t find it. It is too dark. I would give anything for a full moon even if it brought out a few full-moon murderers. Nothing is important except getting the skull to school. I continue to search around but the torch is nowhere to be found. And I keep thinking about snakes. Soon my sticky pyjamas are covered in grass and twigs. I am never going to be able to explain this when Mum finds my pyjamas in the wash.

  I feel my way down to the shiny-leaf bush without the torch to guide me. There in the gloom is the dull shape of the sack. I can just make it out. I can sense, rather than see, the swarming mass of bull ants. I bend over and start to pour a little trail away from the skull. It’s difficult work because I can’t see anything. Am I pouring too much or am I pouring too little? I just don’t know. I’m squatting down, shuffling along with my backside close to the ground. It’s taking an awfully long time. I’m not even sure that there is any honey left in the jar.

  A feeling comes over me. I know that something is wrong. My brain is telling me that it is.

  Careful, cobber, says Major Manners from inside the sack. Ants love honey.

  I freeze. I am not just wearing pyjamas any more. I can sense it. I am wearing a coat of swarming bull ants.

  I burst out of the bushes like a tiger leaping out of the jungle. Ouch. A needle of pain shoots through my left hand. I brush off the bull ant and start dancing around. They are all over my sticky pyjamas going for the honey. Frantically I start undoing the buttons on my top. Ouch, ouch, ouch. More bites. I am dancing around desperately trying to undo the buttons. One, two, three. I can’t take this any more. I rip the top of my pyjamas off sending buttons popping into the night.

  Ouch, ouch, ouch.

  In a flash I have my pyjama pants off too. I run, silently screaming, towards the house. There is one thing I need more than anything.

  Light.

  I race naked across the lawn, hoping nobody sees me, and in the kitchen door. Then I run down the hall to my bedroom and flick the light switch. I examine my bare body. One ant. One ant only. The rest are out there on the grass all over my pyjamas and Major Manners’ skull.

  I carefully pull my index finger back with my thumb and aim it at the bull ant. Flick. It spins across the room and lands on my bedside table. Quick as a flash I grab the empty glass nearby and place it over the ant. It’s trapped.

  ‘Are you all right, Hedley?’ comes Mum’s voice.

  I quickly switch off the light and jump into bed, starkers.

  ‘Just getting a drink,’ I yell.

  The house falls silent. A feeling of failure and doom falls over me as I pull the sheets up. I start to scratch the bull-ant stings. I just want to go and tell my mother everything. I want her to take over and say that she will look after me and everything will be all right. I want her to make all my troubles go away. But this is not the way it would be if I told her. There would be police stations and angry teachers and talk about vandals and punishment.

  Time passes slowly but eventually I start to settle down a bit. Maybe in the morning the ants will have left the skull and be on my pyjamas. Maybe none will be on Major Manners. Maybe my plan will still work.

  Maybe.

  18

  terrible magic stirring

  I LIE THERE naked in bed scratching my bull-ant bites. They have stopped throbbing but are itchy. I have a bad one right between my legs, high up on one thigh just under my balls. I scratch the bite gently. The next thing I know I have a stiffy. And right at this moment, for some unknown reason the vision of a naked lady comes into my mind.

  Before long I am having a daydream – no – a night dream about naked breasts. I let my mind wander. I love thinking about naked ladies but I know it’s wicked. No Soldier of Jesus would ever let such sinful thoughts into their mind. The Gates of Hell must be wide open waiting for me.

  I have to stop thinking like this. It is wrong. What if Mum could read my thoughts? What if she knew I was thinking about breasts? She has probably never even heard the word ‘tits’ which is what Ian Douglas calls them.

  Don’t think about breasts, Hedley. Think about fishing or books. Yes, books. What is a good book? I know – Biggles Flies North. Then another title pops into my mind – Madness at Midnight. The one with the naked lady on the cover I saw in the shop. There I go again. I can see that lady now with the man’s top hat in the way of the interesting bits. Oh, my stiffy is really stiff. It feels good. It really does. I close my eyes. I see naked women. Twelve of them.

  ‘Don’t think it. Don’t think it,’ I desperately tell myself. But it does no good. I can’t stop. Thoughts and sights just come pouring into my mind.

  The twelve naked ladies come dancing into the room. They are in a Conga line and they throw their arms into the air. There are redheads and brunettes and blondes. They are so happy and they are putting on their naked dance just for me. Their breasts bounce up and down as they dance. It’s almost as if God has sent them to give me my dearest wish. And yet Rev Carpenter says it’s the Devil who brings such thoughts. On and on they dance around my bed.

  Oh, I would love to hug one of these ladies.

  I grab my pillow and wrap my arms around it with my eyes tightly shut.

  Somewhere deep inside my guts I feel a terrible magic stirring. It’s like I am being thrown up at the sun. I feel a wicked shudder of pleasure erupting from within me.

  Ah, blimey. I am wetting myself.

  I have wet the bed.

  No I haven’t.

  I switch on the light and see that this sticky white stuff is all over the pillow and my stomach. What in the hell is it? What have I done
? God has got me. I am diseased. I have shot out pus from my rotting insides.

  Have I caught Leprosy or the Black Death from the skull? Is this God’s way of showing me his anger? Am I dying? I’ve ruined my whole life before it’s even started. Oh God, forgive me. I will never think of naked ladies again. I promise. Just make me better. Oh, please make me better.

  I hear a noise from the kitchen. Oh no. Mum is up. What’s she doing up? If she comes in and finds me like this she will erupt like a pressure cooker blowing its valve. Her fury will be like scalding steam.

  I grab a handkerchief and start wiping down the white goo on the pillow and my stomach. It smells funny. Like the water in the public swimming pool.

  Mum will know that this stuff has come out of my stiffy from evil thoughts. Or a disease I’ve caught from a diseased skull. I quickly grab an empty tin and shove the soggy handkerchief inside. It’s a nougat tin. I close the lid and hide the tin under the socks in my clothes drawer.

  I quickly pull on a clean pair of pyjamas and look around. The naked ladies have gone. They are a million miles away. I will never let them back inside my head. Never, never, never.

  God, please forgive me.

  Finally I fall asleep. I have a terrible dream. It’s a dream that I’ve had many times before. In the dream I am standing at the top of the staircase in our tiny house in England. At the bottom of the stairs is an ocean with huge passenger liners leaving the shore. I start to tumble down the stairs over and over and over until I splash heavily into the water. On the shore an old lady is waving to me sadly. She wants to help but she can’t. I wake up at this point in the dream. I’m shaking with fear.

  The dream reminds me of the boat we came to Australia on. My granny was going to come with us but the night before the ship left she had a dream that she was going to die on the boat. So she wouldn’t come. Granny was left behind and went to live in an old people’s home.

  I miss Granny. We used to go on walks together across the park. I could tell her things. No matter how bad it was or how foolish, she never scolded me.

  The boat we came on was lots of fun. It was full of other English people moving to Australia to live. They all wanted to come here. Not like the early convicts who were brought out in chains. Our trip took five weeks so they had a school on the boat to keep the children out of mischief.

  When we reached the Suez Canal in Egypt, they had a fancy-dress competition for all the kids. Some were dressed as King Neptune or sea monsters. There were a lot of Arabs and ghosts because all you needed was a white sheet. We had to parade around in a circle and the teacher on the boat gave us points to see who would win.

  Kate and I were not very interesting at all. We just had words pinned all over us so that we looked like walking noticeboards.

  Mine said: ENGLAND – RAIN and SLEET, RATIONING, NO MEAT, NO PETROL, NO SMOKES, BLOOD SWEAT and TEARS.

  Kate’s said: AUSTRALIA – SUNSHINE and SURF, FULL SHOPS, THICK STEAKS, CHEAP PETROL, SMOKES, LAND OF THE LONG WEEKEND.

  When Kate walked out behind me everyone cheered. No one cheered for me and I wasn’t sure why.

  Dad said, ‘Don’t take it personally. You are the past. She is the future.’

  The Suez Canal was like a long straight river running through the desert. All the little white English children went out to play in the swimming pool at the front of the boat. Dad wouldn’t let us out of the cabin because Arabs had come on board the ship to check things out while we went through the Canal. Dad said the Arabs might kidnap us. He was the only person who thought this and we were the only kids who could not go out and swim.

  The following day the other children were screaming and crying with pain. Their pale white skin was as red as the Arabs’ hats and they had huge blisters the size of golf balls all over their bodies. They had terrible sunburn. When one of their blisters burst a clear liquid ran out all over their skin.

  You are not supposed to get fluid coming out of your skin. And you are not supposed to get white stuff coming out of your stiffy when you think about naked ladies.

  19

  out of the sack

  IN THE MORNING my mind is full of fear. I can’t stop thinking about the terrible things that are going on in my life. I have a disease. Ian Douglas is waiting for the skull. The only thing I can do is to take Major Manners to school and be a hero. I don’t really want to do it but I have no choice.

  I look at the bull ant under the glass next to my bed. My first thought is to kill it. But I will have to cut it up or squash it with a hammer. Somehow I just can’t bring myself to do this so I slip a piece of paper under the glass and carry the ant outside. I let it go on the grass near the rotary clothes line.

  ‘Good luck,’ I say.

  My pyjamas have gone. Maybe a dog or a cat has carried them off. There is going to be trouble when Mum finds out. I wonder if the ants stung the dog or cat. The jar of honey is still on the grass and it is covered in ants. It is nearly empty and has bits of grass stuck all over it. The torch is lying nearby. I pick up the torch and kick the jar under a bush. Then I make my way down to see Major Manners. What will I find?

  A feeling of dread seeps over me. Will the sack be gone? I walk slowly, just in case the answer to this question is ‘yes’. I am sort of putting off the dreadful moment. At last I reach the shiny-leaf bush.

  ‘Yes.’

  I mean ‘no’. The sack is still there. The skull has not been carried off. But it is still crawling with bull ants. I know from what has happened that there is no way I will be able to get rid of them before I go to school. Think, think, think. What can I do?

  Just then I hear Mum’s voice. ‘Hedley, what are you doing down there? You will be late for school again – it’s five-and-twenty past eight. I have to go to a Mothers’ Union meeting. Lock up the house before you leave. Kate’s waiting. Come on, shake a leg.’

  My mind goes into top gear. I have to get the ants off the skull or I can’t take it to school. How can I do it? I can’t remove them with a brush or a rag because they are too fierce and they will bite me. I could put Major Manners into a bucket of water. That might get them off, but I doubt it. A lot of the ants are inside the skull and it will take ages for them to drown. There isn’t enough time. Kate is already waiting for me at the front gate talking to her friends but she won’t go without me.

  I will just have to leave the skull and come back for it at lunchtime.

  I run inside to get my lunch from the fridge. Mum always makes our sandwiches the night before so that there is not too much of a rush in the morning. While I am looking in the fridge I suddenly get an idea. I look in the freezing compartment. There is a brick of ice-cream in there. Neopolitan – the sort with stripes of different colour. I put the cardboard container on the kitchen table. Next I grab a coathanger from the hall cupboard and straighten it out. I make a little hook on the end.

  I rush down to the shiny-leaf bush. I lift up the ant-covered sack with my piece of bent wire. The bull ants go crazy but I manage to shake out the skull. It rolls across the ground like a bowling ball.

  ‘Sorry, Major Manners,’ I say.

  Careful, mate, he replies. He calls me ‘mate’ a lot.

  ‘I have to take you to school. But first I will get the ants off.’

  Aren’t you going to take me back to rest in peace in my grave? he says.

  ‘I can’t,’ I say.

  The bull ants are swarming up the wire towards my hands. I hook the wire through Major Manners’ eye socket and run for the house. Anyone would think I was carrying a live bomb that was about to explode.

  ‘Ouch, oh blimey.’

  A bull ant has bitten me on the finger. I drop the skull and flick the ant off my skin. Then I jump up and down shaking my hand. Oh crikey, it hurts. It feels as if someone has shoved a red-hot needle into my flesh.

  ‘That hurt,’ I yell.

  You’re telling me nothing, says Major Manners.

  I leave the wire on the ground and look around. A b
room is leaning against the wall near the back tap. Just the shot. I grab the broom and shove the handle into the hole at the bottom of the skull. Then I race into the kitchen.

  The fridge is still open and so is the freezing compartment. I shove the ant-covered skull into the space where the ice-cream was and shut the freezer compartment. I close the fridge and leave the broom by the door.

  Brilliant. I am very proud of myself. The ants will all freeze to death while I’m at school. I can race back at lunchtime and get the skull then.

  ‘Hurry up, Hedley, we –’ comes Kate’s voice. She is coming through the front door.

  ‘All right, all right,’ I yell. ‘Keep your shirt on.’

  I race outside and head for school with Kate. Her friends have gone.

  All the way there I am worried.

  I don’t have the skull. And Ian Douglas will be waiting for me. I can only think about one thing. Chinese burns.

  20

  running away

  KATE GOES INTO school but I do not. There is a trick which every kid who is being bullied uses to stop enemies getting them before school. You hide outside until the bell has gone. Then, when the last kid has just gone inside, you quickly run up and walk in behind them. This saves you from getting caught. Until playtime that is. But if you get it wrong and make yourself late you will get the strap from your teacher.

  As I hurry in and hang my hat and coat on the peg I see Mr Hooper. He is leaving after having brought Victor to school. He puts one hand on my shoulder and says, ‘Victor is saying more and more words all the time. He is so proud of himself. The other kids have been teaching him as well. They all want to teach him new words. It’s amazing what he can name already. Gees, Hedley, mate. You have done so well.’

  I go into the classroom and sit down. Victor is in his seat sitting next to me in my two-seater desk. My new friend.