Pandemonium at School

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘I’m afraid not. The doctor said he mustn’t come back to work for at least two weeks.’

  Mr Shrapnell nodded brokenly. ‘Two weeks,’ he muttered. ‘Two weeks of Pandemonium.’

  ‘Is there something the matter, Mr Shrapnell?’ asked Mrs Bunt.

  ‘No, nothing at all. We only have Mrs Donovan coming tomorrow afternoon, that’s all.’

  ‘Isn’t she the Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, the Inspector. The Inspector, Mrs Bunt, but don’t let it worry you. I may as well go and stick my head in the gas oven and get it all over with.’ He turned away and dragged himself back to his desk. Mrs Bunt watched with interest.

  Over in Class Three, Miss Pandemonium had just put an old biscuit tin on her desk.

  ‘What’s in there?’ asked the class, knowing full well that it could not possibly be biscuits. Miss Pandemonium might carry biscuits in her coat pockets, or at the bottom of her handbag, but never in anything so ordinary as a biscuit tin.

  ‘Mice,’ explained Miss Pandemonium. ‘You see, my cat is very lazy – he’s called Duvet because he sleeps all day – and he won’t catch mice. Unfortunately I’ve had some mice nibbling away in my kitchen, so I put out some traps for them.’

  ‘Urgh, those aren’t dead mice, are they?’ muttered Sarah.

  ‘No, I used live traps so I can release them in the wild later. The traps have been out for four nights and when I looked this morning I found I’d caught two wild mice, so I’ve brought them in to show you. Stuart, I think I saw an old hamster cage out by the sink. See if you can find it.’

  Stuart disappeared and a minute later returned with a rather rusty cage. It still had a little exercise wheel inside. Miss Pandemonium opened the top of the cage and took hold of the biscuit tin.

  ‘This is the tricky bit,’ she warned. ‘Mice are very nervous, so I hope they don’t jump out. We don’t want them rushing round the class.’ She began to prise off the lid, tipping the tin over the cage at the same time. A moment later she gave the tin a shake and two mice slid into the hamster cage. Stuart slammed the lid shut and stood back.

  ‘Well done! That’s got them safe and sound.’

  ‘Oh, they’re beautiful,’ whispered one of the boys.

  ‘Look at that nose,’ said Mark. ‘It’s sniffing. It’s all wrinkly’

  ‘That’s because you pong,’ Kelly muttered.

  ‘I never knew they were so small,’ murmured Jackie.

  One of the mice scrambled on to the wheel, which began to squeak and turn. The mouse leaped away as if the wheel had just bitten it. Then it came back, sniffing carefully, and had another go. The children watched, entranced. Miss Pandemonium lifted the cage from her desk.

  ‘I’ll put it up here on the shelf where you can all – oh no! Oh dear!’

  The cage crashed to the floor as the handle came off in her hands. The door sprang open and the mice were free in an instant. Away they whisked, while half the class threw themselves after them, and the other half stood on their desks yelling.

  ‘They’ve escaped! They’ve escaped!’

  ‘It’s all right, don’t worry,’ shouted Miss Pandemonium. ‘We’ll soon catch them. Where are they now? This way, Kerry! There they are! After them, Amy, quick!’

  The mice raced about, twisting and turning as the children tried to close in. One made a stupendous jump. First it was on a chair, then running across the desktops. That caused even more excitement and the children who were standing there began to dance about as if they were on hot coals.

  The second mouse found a cupboard door open and flung itself inside with a little squeak. Four children plunged in after it, scrabbling through books and boxes, rulers, crayons, measuring tapes, puzzles, everything. All of it came flying out behind them as they searched madly for one tiny little creature. It was not long before the cupboard was quite bare. Everything lay in a tip behind them.

  ‘There it is, top shelf! Get it!’ squealed Sarah. She jumped up, grabbed the shelf, and a moment later the entire cupboard toppled over on them all.

  The door banged and Mr Shrapnell strode into the room. He was greeted by a barrage of yells. ‘This way! That way! You go round there!’

  Before he could speak Miss Pandemonium had seized him. ‘You go that way Mr Shrapnell. There’s a mouse loose in the class.’

  Mr Shrapnell staggered back as a large cupboard heaved itself from the floor and made straight for him. ‘What on earth –!’

  ‘Don’t worry, that’s Glenn and Rebecca,’ explained Miss Pandemonium. ‘Quick – I think it went this way. Look there! Up by the books.’

  Mr Shrapnell turned just in time to see a little browny-grey lump whizz across several books and disappear behind them. ‘Seen it!’ he cried triumphantly and dived after the little beast. Some of the children cheered. Mr Shrapnell began to shuffle the books, searching behind each one. ‘I’m sure it’s over here somewhere,’ he grunted, as Violet joined him.

  She caught sight of the mouse crouching behind an atlas, carefully cupped her hands and moved towards it. The mouse was far too quick. It made a flying leap and scampered right up Mr Shrapnell’s jacket sleeve. He never noticed a thing. He was still rummaging through the books.

  ‘Oh, Mr Shrapnell,’ said Violet. ‘I do believe the mouse has gone up your sleeve.’

  ‘Of course it hasn’t. I would have felt it.’

  ‘I’m certain it did. I was just about to capture it when it jumped. It went straight up your sleeve.’

  Mr Shrapnell stood up. He looked down at his jacket. He held out his arms, but he couldn’t see or feel anything. ‘It can’t have done,’ he repeated.

  ‘It did! It did!’ shouted Lyndsey and Cheryl.

  ‘Here, take off your jacket,’ suggested Miss Pandemonium, already helping him slip it off. She gave the jacket a shake, but no mouse appeared.

  ‘Are you sure about –’

  ‘There it is, under your jumper!’ yelled John. A small tell-tale bulge moved along the bottom of one sleeve. Mr Shrapnell bent his arm, saw the moving lump and began a frantic mouse-up-the-sleeve dance.

  ‘Argh! It’s got me! Out, out, get out you horrible little beast!’

  He shook his sleeve madly and a moment later the mouse came leaping out. As luck would have it, the mouse fell right into the biscuit tin. Wayne was there with the lid in an instant before the mouse could recover.

  ‘Well done, Wayne!’ cried Mr Shrapnell.

  ‘Three cheers for Mr Shrapnell!’ Lee shouted. ‘Mr Shrapnell caught the mouse – and Wayne, of course.’

  Mr Shrapnell beamed round at everyone as they cheered. Then the second mouse was spotted cowering down by the blackboard. Mr Shrapnell rolled up his sleeves and put a finger to his lips. A hush fell upon the children. Flushed with his recent success the Headmaster carefully approached the mouse. Bit by bit he got nearer. The mouse ran forward a little way. Mr Shrapnell approached from a different angle. The mouse turned away and ran until it was trapped in a corner.

  The class held its breath as Mr Shrapnell pressed forward. Now he was crouching so close he could see every little tiny hair on its back. His right hand began to slide ever so slowly towards the creature. Then, in a flash, his hand shot out, grabbed the mouse, shoved it in the biscuit tin and slammed on the lid.

  Class Three let out its breath and cheered. Mr Shrapnell straightened his tie and looked round the room. Miss Pandemonium was standing at the back smiling and clapping. The Headmaster held up one hand and the noise stopped.

  ‘I think there’s a bit of mess that needs clearing up in here, children. Miss Pandemonium, would you mind coming to my office for a moment?’

  A wave of fear swept across Class Three and they turned to look at their new teacher. They knew what must happen next. They wished there was something they could do to help. They all felt very small and powerless.

  Miss Pandemonium gave a bright smile. ‘Of course, Mr Shrapnell. I’m just coming. Make sure you tidy properly everyone. I shall be back shortl
y.’

  The Headmaster opened the door for her and she passed through. He frowned back at the children and they hastily began work on clearing up the classroom. Then the door shut, and both of them had gone, leaving the children to their worst fears.

  ‘She’ll never be back,’ Amber said gloomily.

  7 An Inspector Calls

  ‘I know what you are going to say Mr Shrapnell. There are no mice on the timetable.’ Miss Pandemonium looked at the Headmaster straight in the eye. He gave her a sharp nod.

  ‘You are quite right, Miss Pandemonium. But you may remember that my timetable was destroyed yesterday afternoon, by myself, after a very, very trying day.’

  Violet Pandemonium had to look somewhere else. She found that Mr Shrapnell’s expression made her a trifle nervous. He went on.

  ‘There are other copies of the timetable in school of course. However, in the few days that you have been here I have noticed a great deal of excitement among the children. Just forgetting for a moment all the damage and the accidents that have taken place, I have to say that your class has, well – enjoyed themselves. And today, this afternoon …’ Here Mr Shrapnell took a deep breath, ‘… so did I.’

  Mr Shrapnell and Miss Pandemonium gazed at each other. A slow smile came to her face and she gave a little laugh. Mr Shrapnell began to smile too. All at once Miss Pandemonium threw both arms round his neck and planted a plonking kiss on each cheek.

  ‘Oh Mr Shrapnell!’ she sighed.

  Hastily the Headmaster tried to break away from Miss Pandemonium’s giant hug. Just then Mrs Bunt passed by. The school secretary stared at the scene in the Head’s office, put a hand to her mouth to stifle a

  giggle and ran to her room. Mr Shrapnell finally managed to break Violet’s grip.

  ‘Miss Pandemonium! I’m a married man.’

  ‘I know that, Mr Shrapnell, but why shouldn’t you hug someone when you’re happy? I always hug people when I’m happy. Do you know, sometimes I’m by myself when I’m overcome with joy and I have to hug a tree or a postbox.’

  ‘I can well believe it,’ murmured Mr Shrapnell. ‘But I haven’t quite finished yet. This afternoon I remembered what it is like to really enjoy being at school. I’m sure Class Three have learned a lot over the last few days, but we do have a big problem to face now. Tomorrow afternoon Mrs Donovan, the School Inspector, is coming here. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what that means.’

  ‘Everybody panic?’ suggested Miss Pandemonium brightly.

  ‘Yes. That sums it up quite nicely. I think Mr David’s class has swimming tomorrow afternoon – that’s if you actually do something from the timetetable for once. Well, not much can go wrong with that, I suppose.’

  Violet nodded her agreement. ‘Don’t you worry, Mr Shrapnell. This will be a show school by tomorrow afternoon. I’m really looking forward to using the swimming pool.’ She had gone before the Head could say anything further. Was it his imagination or had she said that last bit in a funny tone of voice, as if she was planning something?

  ‘By the way,’ said Miss Pandemonium, suddenly poking her head round the door, ‘you wouldn’t like my parrot would you? Norman is ever so nice but he keeps trying to nest in my hair – I don’t know why He’s quite tame and can make a noise like an ambulance on red alert. You can have him for nothing.’ Mr Shrapnell closed his eyes and gravely shook his head. The last thing he wanted was a parrot that did ambulance impressions. The woman was totally mad.

  Class Three were amazed to find Miss Pandemonium back at school the next day. ‘How did you escape, miss?’ asked Wayne.

  Miss Pandemonium laughed and said she would be teaching them until Mr David was well enough to come back to work.

  ‘Oh good!’ they cried. ‘What are we going to do today then?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got swimming this afternoon.’ Their faces fell.

  ‘All we ever do is go up and down,’ complained Julie. ‘We’re never allowed to dive in or anything. Can’t we do something better, miss?’

  Violet Pandemonium gazed at the frowning faces, the begging faces and all the fed-up faces in front of her. She gave a little smile. ‘Well, what I would like you to do at the pool is split into four groups and find a way of crossing the pool from one side to the other without getting wet.’

  ‘Without getting wet!’ Stuart shouted. ‘That’s impossible.’

  Wayne leaped up. ‘No it isn’t – you could build a boat.’

  ‘Make a bridge,’ suggested Sarah.

  ‘We could throw a rope across and swing from it,’ Caroline pointed out. ‘Me Tarzan!’ she added, beating her chest. ‘Come on, Cheeta.’ She called to Cheryl. ‘Let’s get to work.’

  By the time morning school was over there were four very different answers to the swimming-pool problem. Group One had decided to build a boat using an old tin tub. They had tried to erect a sail but that hadn’t worked very well. Instead they had made some oars out of bits of wood.

  Group Two had got the metal PE trestles. They planned to throw a rope from one side of the pool to the other. Then they would hang upside down and swarm across.

  The third group had also used PE equipment and were hoping to build a bridge using the long planks. The last group had been very busy all morning making giant floating shoes out of some large blocks of polystyrene foam they had found. The idea was to tie these to their feet and walk across the water.

  As soon as lunch was finished the class grabbed their costumes and carted all the equipment over to the pool. Miss Pandemonium said it would be a good idea to get changed, just in case. She disappeared into one of the cubicles and came out wearing an old striped Victorian swimsuit. She had tried to put on a cap as well, but there was no way any hat would sit on top of her extraordinary hair.

  Each group began preparations. There was a large pile of rope, wood, planks, trestles and a tin tub at one side of the pool. They started to lash bits of wood together and measure out rope. They had almost finished this when Mr Shrapnell appeared at the swimming pool with Mrs Donovan, the School Inspector.

  Mrs Donovan was a large, red-faced lady with a loud voice and loud make-up. She stared at the jumble stacked by the pool. Her eyes widened with surprise. She blinked several times and then turned to Mr Shrapnell, who was wishing the ground would swallow him up. Couldn’t Miss Pandemonium do anything right?

  ‘What is going on here?’ boomed Mrs Donovan.

  Before he could speak, Miss Pandemonium explained.

  ‘We’re investigating ways of crossing the pool without getting wet,’ she said simply. The Inspector picked up the plans the children had drawn and examined some of the equipment.

  ‘How fascinating,’ she murmured, and turned to Julie. ‘How are you going to cross the rope once it’s in position?’

  ‘I’m going to hang upside down,’ Julie replied.

  ‘Oh – like a monkey! What a clever idea! I say this is fun. What about this one. How does it work?’

  ‘You tie these mini-boats to your feet,’ Rebecca said, ‘and then walk across – I hope.’

  ‘There are so many good ideas,’ said Mrs Donovan. She looked seriously at the children. ‘I don’t suppose I could have a go at one of them? They look so tempting. I’d love to try the boat.’

  Rebecca and Peter giggled and said of course she could have a go. Mrs Donovan put down her handbag and began to clamber into the tub.

  ‘Are you going to try one, Mr Shrapnell?’ she called across to the Headmaster.

  Mr Shrapnell’s jaw dropped. Miss Pandemonium gave him a quick nudge and he jerked back to life. ‘Oh, yes, yes, but of course. I’m going to be a monkey,’ he announced, much to the delight of Wayne’s group. Wayne very kindly said that the Headmaster could have first go.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ answered Mr Shrapnell, not at all sure that he wanted to be first.

  By this time the tin tub was wobbling crazily across the pool and going really well. Mrs Donovan found it a bit difficult to steer but the mo
st important thing was that it worked. ‘This is wonderful!’ she shouted back to shore, spinning round and round in small circles.

  Mr Shrapnell had thrown aside his jacket and was hauling himself on to the rope. It tensed with his weight. This was a real test. He knew that the whole class was watching. He kicked up his legs and locked both feet over the rope. Then he began to pull himself out over the water.

  ‘Go on, sir! Go on!’ shouted the boys. ‘You can beat her, sir!’

  Mr Shrapnell gritted his teeth and hauled even harder. At this point one of the trestles suddenly gave way under the strain. It slid right into the pool and the Headmaster suddenly found himself floundering about in the water.

  ‘Help!’ he yelled, rising spluttering to the surface. He thrashed about madly and grabbed the nearest thing in sight, which happened to be the tin tub, still calmly sailing across the pool.

  Unfortunately, Mr Shrapnell grabbed it so hard the boat completely overturned and threw the School Inspector into the pool.

  ‘Oh!’ cried Mrs Donovan with gurgled surprise. ‘Oh! It’s wet!’ as they both sank beneath the surface.

  Half of Class Three threw themselves into the pool to rescue the two adults. Miss Pandemonium raced across to the ambulance and switched on the siren and flashing lights. When she got back there were two very bedraggled adults sitting by the pool, with their clothes clinging to them.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Violet. Mr Shrapnell coughed, spluttered and asked

  her to please switch off that awful noise.

  The School Inspector wrung out her sleeves and turned to him.

  ‘Mr Shrapnell, I haven’t enjoyed a school visit so much for ages. I have to say I am delighted at the change at Dullandon. I used to hate coming here. It was always so stuffy with that wretched timetable of yours. Of course, timetables are useful and necessary but you can go over the top. As for this class, it is a credit to the school. I can assure you I shall be making a very good report. Now I had better go and get dry somehow.’