The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates

by Jenny Pearson

  2.A pen with Jesus is all-write by me on the side

  3.A box of matches

  4.A massive candle

  5.Twelve white robe things choirboys wear, which I have since learned are called cassocks.

  I headed back into the main part of the church just as Ben and Charlie were claiming there was a pterodactyl on Old MacDonald’s farm. I was pretty pleased with my hoard.

  “Look what I’ve got,” I shouted over “a rooooar-rooooar there.” “New clothes.” I held up three white robes. “While you two have been playing, I’ve been doing something useful.”

  Charlie said, “You found some choirboys and stripped them?”

  I sighed. “No. These robes were hanging up in a closet. Brilliant, huh?”

  Ben didn’t look very impressed. “You want us to wear those?”

  “Yes, I want us to wear those. We can’t risk the superhero costumes any longer. What if the Gaffer is looking for us?”

  “Yeah but—”

  “And I’m sorry, Charlie, but you stink.” It was a bit harsh, but it was true.

  “You don’t exactly smell like Febreze either, dude.”

  “So let’s change.”

  I looked at them. It was so obvious that they knew I was right.

  “Fine.” Ben pulled off the top half of his Batman outfit. “We should wash first.”

  I had already thought of this but there was a problem. “I found a toilet and a sink at the back but when you turn on the faucet it makes a horrible groaning noise and this nasty brown water rushes out.”

  “What about the font?” Ben said.

  I wasn’t sure about that idea. “Holy water—can we use it? Isn’t that kind of powerful?”

  “What do you think is going to happen? That you’ll sprout wings?”

  “I don’t know how these religious things work,” I said.

  The font was the most impressive part of the church. There was a plaque that said its water was pumped from a holy spring. That had to be top-grade holy water. But what I liked most was the statue of the Virgin Mary that rose from the base. Even though she was carved from stone, she had a kind face. She didn’t look like the sort who would mind us using the water to wash our armpits.

  It felt good to peel off our costumes. Mine had gone crinkly in places. When I put on the cassock it felt like I was wearing a petal.

  I twirled around. “Perfect—loose, comfortable, and yet still provides enough warmth.”

  Ben only grunted. It wouldn’t have hurt him to show a little gratitude.

  After we’d finished the rest of the Freddo Frogs and the communion wafers (which tasted like flying saucers without the flying bit), Charlie went to use the facilities. That’s a polite way of saying he needed to do a number two. Ben and I popped outside for a pee, which is trickier than you think in a cassock. The night sky was even more amazing than it had been in Barry. I pointed out the Milky Way. You can only see it in dark places. There’s too much light pollution in big cities, but in that churchyard in South Wales, we had an awesome view.

  “Did you know that two million years ago, early man would have seen the light from a supermassive black hole in the Milky Way,” I said.

  “What is a black hole?” Ben asked.

  “It’s what left when a big star explodes. It sort of collapses in on itself and the gravity inside is mega and it becomes super powerful and sucks stuff into it.” I know this because for my tenth birthday Dad gave me a book called The Night Sky: 500 Amazing Facts. In the front he’d written, Amazing facts for my amazing son.

  “The more I look, the more stars I see,” Ben said.

  “Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it—all those stars, all that sky?”

  “Don’t need to look at the stars to feel like that,” Ben said in a very small voice.

  We went back inside, and while we waited for Charlie to finish doing his business, we took all the pew cushions into the little room and made this huge bed for us to sleep on. We turned out the lights and lit the big candle. Ben checked where the fire extinguisher was kept in case we experienced another incident like that on the boat.

  I lay down and covered myself with one of the spare cassocks. I stretched back and closed my eyes. “This is actually pretty comfortable.”

  “Better than my bed at home.” Ben commando-rolled next to me. “And the bonus is that there’s no Becky.”

  “Is she really that bad?”

  Ben didn’t answer to start with.

  I opened one eye and watched his chest expand upward as he did this great big sigh.

  “My dad doesn’t notice me when she’s around.”

  “You should talk to him about it. Let him know how you feel.”

  “It’s not like I haven’t tried. He makes all these promises about spending time together—just us—but it never happens.”

  “Have you tried talking to Becky about it?”

  “Are you kidding? She’s the problem.”

  “If she’s the problem then maybe she’s the solution too.”

  Ben propped himself up on his elbow and studied my face. “Fred, are you suggesting . . . because I have this plan . . . to get rid of—”

  At that moment, I was fairly certain Ben was about to admit to plotting to kill Becky. “No, Ben! No! Murder is not the answer.”

  He picked up a pew cushion and bashed me around the head with it. My eyes rattled like a pea on a spoon. Those things are much heavier than you realize.

  “I don’t want to kill Becky, doofus.”

  “That’s good to hear. But if you change your mind you could definitely use one of these cushions to whack her with. They’re like bricks.”

  “I was thinking of a way to get rid of Dad’s money. I’m sure that’s all she’s interested in. When the money’s gone, she’ll follow.”

  It seemed like sound enough reasoning.

  “I can help you out with that if you want. I don’t mind spending all your dad’s cash. Think of it as a thank you for coming with me to find Alan Froggley.”

  “You thought about what you’re going to say to him when we find him?”

  “A little . . . A lot . . . Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m your son, Freddie’?”

  “Are you worried how your other dad is going to feel? He’s a good guy, Mom says.”

  “I am massively worried about how my dad’s going to feel. I don’t want to upset him. He is a good dad—the best. And I’m not trying to replace him or anything like that.”

  “So why then?”

  It was hard to put into words. “I don’t know anyone I’m related to. Not one person. If something happens to Dad, and chances are it will, I’m on my own. I can’t let that happen. I need more people. I need more family.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to your dad.”

  “You can’t know that. People die, Ben. They die all the time.” It was a gloomy thing to say but it was the truth. I clenched my teeth together and tried to ignore the supermassive hole that was opening up inside me. I didn’t want to think about dying. Or dead people. Like Grams. Or Mom. I had to focus on finding Alan.

  We sat in silence for a while.

  And then Ben said, “Did you know it is a genuine fact that it is physically impossible for a pig to look up into the sky.”

  I turned to him and said, “What?”

  “I read it on a yogurt container once.” He looked over at the window. “Imagine never seeing the stars and then being slapped between some bread, lettuce, and tomato.”

  It came out of nowhere, so I said, “What?” again.

  “No matter how bad things get at least we’re not pigs. At least we can look up and see the stars.”

  I was completely confused but I heard myself saying, “Yeah, at least we’re not pigs.”

  “I don’t remember many facts—not like you. But that one kind of stuck with me. Thought you might like it to add to your collection.”

  “Thanks.”
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  “You’re welcome.”

  I don’t know whether it was because Ben’s fact had filled up a bit of the black hole inside me . . . Or maybe it was just because he was there . . . Or maybe I was just happy I wasn’t a pig . . . But whatever it was, I didn’t feel so hollow anymore.

  And then he said, “Actually, I’ve thought of another. Did you know a shrimp’s heart is in its head?”

  I laughed. “Really?” This was more brand-new information.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Where are you getting all these from?”

  “It was a four-pack of yogurt. Don’t remember the other two facts though. Was kind of blown away by the pig thing.”

  They sounded like excellent yogurt containers. I made a mental note to put them on the shopping list when I got back home. I was about to ask the brand when Charlie burst into the room. He was drenched.

  “Who said yogurt? I’m starving.”

  He’d been gone so long I’d kind of forgotten about him. “Everything alright, Charlie?”

  Ben snickered. “Your cassock’s gone a bit see-through. I can see your nipples.”

  Charlie wrapped his arms around himself and blew a clump of damp hair out of his face. “No, Fred. Everything is not alright. Besides my deep soul-sapping hunger, I’ve had a slight situation in the toilet.”

  This was not good. Charlie had a situation in the toilet in third year. The boys had to use the girls’ bathroom for the rest of the day until Dyno-Rod Drain Services arrived.

  “It was probably those pear-and-potato turnovers. They were really heavy. Could sink a battleship. It was almost the size of a battleship.” He plopped himself down between us. “Had to use a broom handle in the end. I think that’s what broke the system.”

  “The system?” I said.

  “Yeah, the pipes at the back of the toilet. Don’t look so worried, it’s fixed now. The back pressure blew the taps off, but I found a little handle and when I turned it, the water stopped. But then it started again. So I wiggled it some more and I think that did the trick. I mean, it’s making some weird noises but there’s no major damage. Right—is there any?”

  We looked at him blankly.

  “Yogurt, I mean.”

  21

  When Charlie tells us about Jesus and the leopards

  We managed to get a decent night’s sleep on our bed of prayer cushions. The sun streamed through the window in the little room and woke us up early. Even though we thought it was very unlikely anyone would be around, we wanted to get away before most of Wales was awake.

  We’d found a map of the area pinned to a bulletin board outside, next to a poster for a diet club from 1997. We figured out that we were only a few miles from the nearest village, but we decided to keep cycling until we got to a bigger one called Tythegston eight miles down the road. We could stop there for breakfast, make some phone calls home, and work out how to get to St. David’s on just over thirty-five quid. We all agreed that we weren’t going to make the full distance on our bikes. We thought maybe we could try and sell them to raise enough money for train fare.

  We’d made sure to put all the cushions back and tidied up the place so it was just as we found it. There were some low, grumbling, clanking noises coming from the pipes. They were probably still trying to process Phyllis’s pear-and-potato turnovers.

  Riding a bike dressed as a choirboy isn’t easy. We draped the cassocks over the handlebars to stop them from getting caught in the pedals and to keep our hands warm. And then we were off. There was a low-lying mist in the churchyard and Ben thought it would be funny to make ooooooh noises like he was a ghost or something. Let’s just say, we found out later it wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

  We stuck to our plan and cycled right through the first village and up through the hills toward the next. It was a beautiful morning and it felt good to be alive. We sang all the best hymns from school, like the one that goes “Who put the hump upon the camel?” and “One More Step Along the World I Go.” I think we were feeling the aftereffects of sleeping in a place of Our Lord and bathing in holy water.

  A couple of miles into the journey we met a convoy of TV vans from South Wales Today, BBC, ITV, and Channel 4 on a particularly narrow road. Charlie panicked, fell off his bike, and ripped his cassock. We were too busy laughing because we could see his SpongeBob Square-Pants boxers to even consider that the vans might have had something to do with us.

  It felt like we were making pretty good time. We’d only had two pee stops and I was beginning to feel like everything was going miraculously well for a change.

  And then we saw the taxi.

  Ben spotted it first when he turned around to check whether Charlie was actually pedaling. Their bike suddenly screeched to a halt and I almost got a face full of SpongeBob.

  I was about to mouth off about being more considerate to other road users—meaning me—when Ben pointed a shaky finger over my shoulder and said, “Fred, mate, is that a taxi?”

  It was a little ways off, but there was no mistaking the big black T painted on the white hood.

  “Yeah, Ben, it is,” I said in a quivery voice.

  Charlie let out this weird wobbly noise that sounded a bit like a crazed turkey and grabbed hold of his tummy. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Now I know he was a secret smuggler, but we didn’t find out about that until later.

  Ben looked at me with big buggy eyes. “You think it might be—” He didn’t finish—instead he did this big gulp like he was swallowing some puke—so I filled in what we were all thinking.

  “The Gaffer?”

  “Yup, the Gaffer.” Ben gulped again.

  I kicked down on my pedal. “I suggest we don’t hang around to find out. Let’s get a move on.”

  We started off down the road as quick as we could. I tried to convince myself that just because there was a taxi with a T on the hood like the one from Barry didn’t mean it was the Gaffer, but it turns out I’m not very good at being convincing.

  Every time I looked over my shoulder the taxi seemed to get closer, which I guess made sense, because the taxi had an engine and we just had our legs. I kept shouting to the others to keep going but it was pretty obvious the taxi was going to catch us.

  I looked for an escape route. Tall thick hedges lined both sides of the road and I couldn’t see any other turnoffs we could take ahead of us. Essentially, we were trapped. I remembered the gun we’d seen on the boat and realized we were either about to get sprayed with bullets or be run over like bowling pins. Come to think of it, we did look a bit like bowling pins in our cassocks.

  The engine behind us growled and we all screamed. I turned around and saw a bald man in the driver’s seat. He looked like he’d walked right off the set of The Sopranos.

  Charlie did not help my panic level by shouting, “We’re all going to die!”

  And Ben shouted back, “If you don’t start pedaling harder, I’m going to be the one who kills you!”

  That’s when Charlie wailed, “We’ll need a freaking miracle to get out of this!” Which was not a very proactive way of dealing with the situation.

  I took one last look over my shoulder. The taxi was only about thirty yards away. Charlie was probably right, only a miracle would save us. But as I didn’t believe in miracles, I prepared myself for certain doom.

  It was probably because I was preparing for doom that I didn’t immediately notice the sheep in the middle of the road, standing there like it owned the place. I only just managed to stop myself from smashing into it.

  I shouted out to the others, “Watch out, there’s a sheep in the road!”

  Charlie hollered at me, “That’s not just any sheep! That’s Sheila!”

  I don’t know if he was right or not because another one appeared from a gap in the hedge and it looked exactly like Sheila too.

  And then another.

  And then a whole bunch more. There were hundreds of Sheilas, maybe thousands. Forming a bleatin
g, baaing, woolly wall between us and the taxi.

  The bald man got out of the taxi and started waving his arms around and shouting for the sheep to get out of the way, but luckily they didn’t seem to understand. Probably because they were sheep. Then he said, “Oi, kids. Stop. I only want to talk to you.” Which, frankly, sounded like a lie.

  Ben said, “Come on, let’s get out of here,” and because it was a very good idea, we did. We could hear baldy shouting at us as we sped off, but there was no way any of us were stopping to talk to him.

  When we felt we were far enough away, we dropped the bikes over a fence and lay down on the grass, our chests heaving and our minds racing.

  I was the first to speak. “That was so close! I can’t believe we got away!”

  Ben said, “You’re right there. I thought we were goners for sure.”

  Charlie sat up and, with a glazed look in his eyes and this dreamy sound to his voice, said, “It was amazing, the way Sheila and her family showed up, just in the nick of time.”

  Ben gave me the side-eye. “Mate, I’m not sure that really was Sheila.”

  “Well, I believe it was and that’s enough for me. That was a real-life miracle alright.”

  “We were lucky, that’s all,” I told him. I didn’t think there was such a thing as miracle sheep. But Charlie wasn’t having any of it.

  “No, that wasn’t luck, Fred. We were saved from the Gaffer. Saved by a miracle. Sheep are very biblical animals, you know. Jesus had a whole flock of them.”

  “Did he?” It sounded familiar but I wasn’t sure.

  Ben didn’t seem convinced either. “So Jesus had a whole load of sheep following him around while he was busy doing churchly things with the people of olden days? Nah, don’t buy it. Wouldn’t a flock of sheep have got in the way?”

  “Jesus was a shepherd.” Charlie said that quite proudly, like he’d just remembered.

  Ben looked really confused. “I thought he did something with trees or wood?”

  Charlie nodded. “He was a very talented man, was Jesus. That’s why he’s still so famous now. Wood, trees, shepherding, and doing churchly things with poor people . . . oh, and leopards.”

  “Leopards?” Now I knew that didn’t sound right.