Beware! Killer Tomatoes

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ said Maisie. ‘We just need an answer to our questions. How many people got crushed on September 6th?’ I started to pull her away from the desk and she yelled back at the nurse, ‘Go on, tell us! I bet someone got crushed. Maybe a tomato fell…’

  I clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Shut up! Leave it!’ I tried to hurry her out of Casualty. As we reached the door it was flung open and a doctor staggered in, clutching his head. There was a large gash on his forehead. He pushed past us and I heard the nurse exclaim, ‘Doctor Guptal! What on earth happened to your head?’

  ‘I was mown down by a runaway wheelchair,’ he snapped back. ‘It came hurtling down the ramp out there and knocked me flying. Someone must have left the brake off.’

  I hurried after Maisie.

  11 How Princess La-La Saved My Life

  I’m going mad waiting to be arrested. If this goes on much longer I think I’ll go to the nearest police station and give myself up. It’s either that or leave the country.

  It’s two days since Maisie and I went to Casualty and she hasn’t been back since. Tyler had an operation yesterday and he’s either had the curtains round his bed or he’s been fast asleep. Tyler’s the latest guest at Hotel Hospital. Liam’s gone and Tyler’s arrived. Liam went yesterday morning. His parents came and helped him pack. I’m going to miss him.

  Time was really dragging. I was desperate for something to do and in the end I went and played ‘Scissors, Paper, Stone’ with Princess La-La. Unfortunately she’s much better than me. We started off doing best of five, but she was still winning so I said best of eleven and so on. I gave up when we got to best of forty-nine. I was too far behind.

  ‘What does that stuff taste of?’ I asked, pointing at the bowl beside her bed.

  ‘Not a lot,’ she shrugged.

  ‘It looks horrible.’

  ‘It’s not as horrible as throwing up every time I eat something I’m allergic to,’ she said.

  ‘I guess not.’ It was hard to imagine food making you ill and miserable. I like eating. Don’t know what I’d do if I was like Kirsty, with all those allergies.

  ‘You’ll be going home soon, then?’

  ‘Few more days,’ I nodded. ‘Got to do more physio first. How about you?’

  ‘I have to do some tests with the dietician and then I can go home for the time being.’

  ‘Will you have to come back?’

  Kirsty nodded. ‘This is my seventh stay.’ Seventh! No wonder she always looked fed up.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to live here all the time?’ I asked.

  ‘Is that what you’d like to do?’ she flashed back.

  ‘It was only a joke.’

  Kirsty gave a sour glance. ‘I don’t think

  hospitals are very jokey places.’

  ‘Of course not. That’s the point. You’ve got to have jokes otherwise you’d go mad.’

  ‘Making jokes hasn’t stopped you going mad. You’re the maddest person in the building, now that crazy Maisie has gone.’ There was a little smile on her face.

  ‘See?’ I said triumphantly. ‘You’ve just made a joke and it’s cheered you up. You’re almost smiling.’

  The smile vanished instantly. I thought it was because of what I’d just said but Kirsty was staring over my shoulder towards the desk. I swung round to look and my heart stopped dead on the spot. If I’d been fixed up to one of those cardiogram thingies it would have been flatlining and everyone would be rushing round giving mouth-to-mouth and all that stuff.

  Two policemen were at the desk. One was talking to Tricia and the other was gazing carefully round the ward. His eyes fixed on me and there they stopped. Tricia brought them over.

  ‘Jack, these policemen would like a word with you. Give me a shout if you need me. I think your parents were meant to be here but they seem to be late. Maybe Kirsty will keep an eye on them for you,’ and she winked at both of us. Ha ha. Very funny.

  I could hardly bring myself to look the policemen in the face. It was as if their eyes were speaking to me, saying: We have you now, Jack Lemming. We have tracked you down and you’re heading for the slammer. There was no way any miracle was going to rescue me this time.

  ‘You two are an item then, are you?’

  ‘NO WAY!’ we chorused, looked at each other in surprise and turned deep red. One of the policemen got out a notepad and licked his pencil.

  ‘My mum says you shouldn’t lick pencils because you get brain damage,’ Kirsty said.

  ‘Is that right?’ said the policeman.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m just telling you what my mum says. She also says carrots make you see in the dark but I don’t believe her. If it were true rabbits wouldn’t get run over.’

  ‘That’s very interesting, Kirsty, but we need to ask your friend some questions.’

  ‘He’s not my friend. He’s only eleven.’

  The taller officer glanced wearily at his companion, who shrugged and said: ‘That’s the trouble with patients. They’re getting younger all the time.’ They both chuckled and the tall officer turned back to me.

  ‘Now then, Jack, cast your mind back to your accident. Was the car you crashed into moving?’

  ‘No. I don’t think there was anyone in it. I told the other man all that.’

  ‘What other man?’

  ‘Mr Cutter.’

  ‘Oh yes. He’s not with us, though. Mr Cutter works for the insurance company involved. The accident details were reported to the police so we have to ask our own questions. Why didn’t you see the car you crashed into?’

  ‘I was riding fast.’

  ‘I guessed that. You wouldn’t have broken your leg if you’d been riding slowly. But why didn’t you see the car even if you were riding fast?’

  Think, brain, think! Quick, think of something! ‘I was looking back over my shoulder.’

  ‘Ah. Now that makes sense. What were you

  looking for?’

  Think again! Come on, get yourself into gear, brain! What could I tell them? How could I say I thought everyone was after me because I’d just killed an old man by burying him under a tomato landslide? ‘I thought I’d dropped something.’

  ‘From your shopping?’

  ‘I thought I’d dropped the milk.’

  ‘And had you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ That was weird actually. What had happened to the milk? It must have got lost in the crash because I never saw it again. Maybe somebody found it after the mess had been cleared – they saw it and they thought, ‘Hmmm, free milk! I’ll have that.’ And they took it. They stole my milk!

  ‘The milk was stolen,’ I said flatly.

  ‘You’d stolen the milk? That was why you were riding so fast? You were making a getaway?’ pressed the policeman.

  ‘No!’ I was panicking.

  Princess La-La gave a deep sigh. ‘Jack means he dropped the milk when he crashed and it was never found. Maybe somebody saw it and took it.’ We all looked at her – me gratefully, and the policemen with surprise.

  ‘Ah, yes, of course. Let’s forget the milk then and go back to the accident. Do you know how much damage you caused?’

  I could feel the blood drain from my face. I’ve no idea where it went after that. I swallowed hard and shook my head. So did the policeman asking all the questions.

  ‘It was very bad, Jack. Very, very bad.’

  ‘I don’t think it was much fun for Jack either,’ put in the princess sharply. ‘He’s been in hospital for five weeks with a broken leg. It’s not a holiday camp here, you know. Have you got any more questions? Jack’s tired and he needs his rest.’

  The two policemen looked at each other. One put his notebook away. ‘That’ll be all for now,’ he said. They nodded at each of us and went clomping off. Kirsty watched them depart.

  ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,’ she said. ‘Maybe several.’

  ‘Thanks for getting rid of them,’ I managed to mutter rather hoarsely.

&
nbsp; ‘Policemen are supposed to be helpful,’ she said. ‘But they scared me.’

  ‘Me too. I’d better get back to bed. Thanks.’

  My mind was in a whirl. So many questions. Why hadn’t the police arrested me? Were they trying to trick me into a confession? Why hadn’t they said anything about the body in the supermarket? Were they trying to find out how much I knew? And then there was Kirsty – what was all that about? Why had she stuck up for me like that? I was beginning to feel a bit rotten about the tricks Liam and I had played.

  Things were such a muddle. I had been hoping that as time went by things would become clearer, but instead they were just getting more and more confused.

  12 How to Win a Holiday

  I’ve been practising my walking: I’m getting better all the time and I’m pretty nifty with the old crutches. I use them to push open doors, flick light switches from a long distance – all sorts. I even used one of them to play pool with Tyler. He’s not as much fun as Liam was.

  There’s a pool table in the lounge area but there’s only one cue, so Tyler used that and I used one of my crutches – and I won. Result! Tyler said it didn’t count because I wasn’t using a proper cue.

  ‘I know, but that makes it more difficult.’

  ‘No, because it’s fatter at the end. My cue’s tiny.’

  ‘OK, give me the cue and you use my crutch.’

  ‘I’m not using your stinking crutch! I might catch something.’

  ‘You can’t catch a broken leg,’ I pointed out. ‘You’re just a bad loser.’

  ‘No, you cheated, and you’re a pain.’ Tyler went back to his bed. He’s a bit thorny, Tyler. He seems to like arguing.

  One thing about hospitals is that when anyone has an argument you never see them storming off. That’s because most of the time they can’t. You can’t storm off if you’ve got a broken leg, or stitches in your side, or you’re attached to a drip. Arguments last longer in hospital. And if you’re trapped on a ward with someone you don’t like – that’s murder! In fact I’m amazed there aren’t thousands of murders taking place in hospitals. You’d think the corridors would be full of bodies battered to death with crutches, stabbed with scalpels, throttled with bandages – not to mention being mown down by hit-and-run wheelchairs. (Oops!) Glad I’m going home!

  And I AM going home. The doc says I can go tomorrow. Escape! Freedom! At last! Acne-Man seems pretty pleased too.

  ‘Hooray. I’m fed up with all your moaning.’ He plumped up my pillow.

  ‘I don’t moan,’ I moaned. ‘How’s your girlfriend?’

  ‘What girlfriend?’

  ‘Kathy.’

  Acne-Man blushed. Brilliant – red ears, the lot! He carried on plumping my pillow, banging it with one fist. I’d never seen a pillow plumped up so much.

  ‘You do like her, don’t you?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Well, she likes you,’ I told him. ‘Maisie told me.’

  ‘Crazy Maisie? Huh! What does she know about it?’

  ‘Kathy told her, of course.’

  Acne-Man stopped. He couldn’t help smiling. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was pleased.

  ‘Like I said, it’s none of your business.’

  ‘Will you marry her?’

  ‘Jack – shut up.’

  I started to hum ‘Here Comes the Bride’ but Acne-Man threatened to put the pillow over my head and smother me. Then, talk of the devil, both Maisie and Kathy appeared. Maisie was bouncing around like her legs were pogo sticks while Kathy and Acne-Man made moony faces at each other and drifted across to the desk.

  ‘Look at them,’ I said. ‘Makes you want to throw up.’

  ‘It’s lovely’ Maisie sighed.

  ‘Yuk. What are you doing back here, anyway?’

  ‘I came back to see you. Mum’s waiting for me in the lounge. I’ve got something to show you – something important.’ Maisie’s eyes were shining and she was beaming from ear to ear. ‘Guess what happened yesterday?’

  ‘I don’t know. You went back to Mars?’

  ‘Stupid!’

  ‘Tell me then.’

  ‘We had fish and chips.’

  ‘Wow! Fish and chips! And you’ve come all the way back to the hospital just to tell me. I am so pleased, Maisie. Fancy that, fish and chips.’

  Maisie ignored my sarcasm and calmly waited until I’d finished. Then she shoved her hand into her little bag and pulled out a bit of newspaper.

  ‘The fish and chips were wrapped in this,’ she explained.

  ‘Yeah, I can smell it from here. Urgh, it’s all greasy, Maisie. Take it away. It’s foul. What did you bring that in for?’

  ‘If you let me finish I’ll tell you. Look. See for yourself.’

  She spread the paper on my bed and jabbed a finger at a headline.

  LUCKY TOMATOES WIN

  HOLIDAY FOR ALF

  Alfred Butler had no idea what was in store for him when he visited his local supermarket last week. He was standing beside a giant mountain of tinned tomatoes when the pile collapsed, pinning Alfred beneath them. The display was part of a holiday promotion where shoppers had to guess how many tins were in the pile in order to win a holiday by the Italian Lakes. Startled shoppers rushed to the rescue and Alfred was pulled unharmed from beneath the wreckage. The store awarded him the holiday. Supermarket Manager Keith Townsend said: ‘We felt we had to give Alf the prize after the dreadful accident. He may not have known the exact number of tins in the mountain, but he certainly felt their full weight!’

  Jack? Jack? Are you all right? Jack?’

  Maisie’s voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere far, far away. I felt as if a huge tide had just surged through my entire body from top to toe and back again, and now it was sloshing about inside me, slowly flattening out. I opened my eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ whispered Maisie. ‘Why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said, brushing my eyes with the back of my hand, and I read the paper again. And again.

  ‘Everything’s all right,’ grinned Maisie.

  ‘So why have the police and that Cutter man been questioning me?’

  Maisie shrugged, a trifle crossly. ‘Don’t ask me. Honestly, I thought you’d be pleased. You look as miserable as the man I saw in Casualty on the way here.’

  ‘What was wrong with him?’

  ‘He had a dinner fork stuck in his bum.’

  You see? It’s not just me! These things really do happen to people. Maybe I’m not so clumsy after all. And I hadn’t managed to kill anyone either. That was some relief, I can tell you. I felt like I was pumped full of helium, light enough to float away into the blue. Brilliant!

  I was a bit cross about that man winning the holiday, though. He might have shared the prize with me. After all, if it hadn’t been for me the tins wouldn’t have fallen over in the first place. He should have taken me with him.

  I was pleased to see Maisie again, not just because of the newspaper, but seeing her was good. It made me feel that bad things could happen but they didn’t have to stay bad. Sometimes they could get better, with a bit of help.

  It was strange leaving hospital behind after I’d been in so long. Obviously it was great to be going, but there was a bit of sadness too, because I knew so many people there. Kathy and Tricia insisted on kissing me goodbye, which was incredibly embarrassing.

  ‘Ah!’ said Mum. ‘Look how red Jack is!’ Ben started sniggering. He’s so pathetic.

  ‘Yeah, well, Kathy should be kissing him, not me,’ I said, pointing at Acne-Man. ‘They’re always snogging.’ That stopped them all in their tracks. Ha ha! Got them! Ben whooped with laughter and Dad coughed very loudly and said

  he’d bring the car to the front of the building.

  We were about to go when I saw Princess La-La looking my way scowling as usual. I left the others and went across.

  ‘You’re going then?’

  ‘Yep.’

  �
�Everybody’s going,’ she murmured. ‘Liam, you –’

  ‘Your turn next, I hope.’

  ‘Maybe. Next week apparently. Anyhow, I don’t want to see you in here ever again.’

  ‘I don’t want to see YOU in here ever again,’

  I said. ‘I hope you get better; hope you’re out of here soon.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Take it easy princess.’

  ‘Princess?’ she squawked. I bit my tongue. She’d never known about her nickname. I couldn’t tell her now.

  ‘Why not? What’s wrong with princess?’ I said.

  ‘You’re not chatting me up, are you?’

  ‘Get out of here!’

  Kirsty almost smiled. She pointed at the door. ‘No, you get out of here.’

  So I did.

  Ashley and Kathy came to the hospital exit to say goodbye. When we got to the car Ben opened the door for me. Unfortunately he forgot I was on crutches and couldn’t move as quickly as usual. The door knocked one of my crutches flying and I staggered back on one leg, hopping furiously, trying to stay upright. I knew I was going to fall. I already knew what was going to happen. I was going to go right over, crash to the ground, break my leg again and get whisked straight back inside.

  ‘Got you!’ Two strong arms caught me and

  held me tight. It was Dad. He glanced at Ben who, I’m pleased to say, had turned white.

  ‘Nice try, Ben,’ joked Dad. ‘But I’m afraid Jack is definitely coming home.’

  There was a faint cheer and burst of clapping. I looked back at the hospital. Kathy and Acne-Man were clapping and smiling. My eye was caught by a movement above their heads. On the floor above them, waving from behind a window, was Kirsty. I waved back and climbed into the car.

  Ben groaned. ‘Do you have to put your leg right across the whole car?’ he complained.

  ‘It’s broken,’ I said.

  ‘What have you come out of hospital for then? If it’s broken you should still be inside. You’re taking up all the room. Mum, tell Jack to move his leg. Dad, Jack’s a pain. Can’t we take him back? He says his leg’s still broken. Take him back. Dad? Mum?’