Von Gobstopper's Arcade (4 page)

Apart from the physical challenges of life at St Erudite’s the students seemed a far less
cohesive group. There were the twelve prefects with shiny badges pinned to their lapels, teachers who strode through the halls with their academic gowns fluttering behind them, and students grouped into factions based on skill or sophistication. Milli was fascinated by the seniors; the boys with their easy humour and shirts only half tucked and the girls with their manicured nails and glossy smiles. Once a boy called James Woods (Woodsy to his friends) who was the debating captain had given Milli a cheeky wink after catching her staring. She had flushed deeply and had become so disoriented she had to be led away by a baffled Ernest.

But the sudden decline in status was perhaps the most difficult change to come to terms with. Both Milli and Ernest had achieved what can only be described as a
profile
at Drabville Elementary. They were always the ones who took the lead, whether in debating, chess or school theatrical productions. At St Erudite’s the competition was tougher; they had to prove their worth all over again. Milli tried out for a couple of sporting teams but found she lacked the required speed and agility. Ernest auditioned
for the end-of-year production of
Macbeth
and was seriously miffed when he was cast as Banquo’s son, Fleance, a character who spoke two lines in the entire play. Ernest wasn’t used to being upstaged by older boys with booming voices and greater ‘stage presence’. As for debating, both children had been placed in a beginners’ team full of stuttering students so nervous they kept getting their palm cards out of order.

St Erudite’s Academy was also very focused on the upholding of tradition. Teachers were always impressing upon students the importance of adhering to the rules. ‘Without rules,’ one ancient master was fond of repeating, ‘there would be anarchy, and you know what would happen then, don’t you? Civilisation as we know it would crumble.’ He always doubled over when he said this, as if he himself were on the verge of crumbling. Wearing the correct uniform was also reinforced constantly, especially when public appearances were required. Milli had improved significantly in this department, with some assistance from her mother, but it still struck her as a dreadful waste of time. The boys’
uniform comprised grey wool shorts, a sky blue vest and gold striped tie. The girls wore a pleated navy skirt and pale blue blouse with a round collar. In summer, both boys and girls were required to wear a straw boater displaying the school crest on their way to and from school. Milli’s boater was already looking rather battered from having been mistaken by Stench as part of his bedding, and she hadn’t even worn it yet. Both sexes also wore the mandatory grey blazer and black lace-up shoes. For someone as free-spirited as Milli, St Erudite’s felt like an institution. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of one teacher, the whole experience would have been even more alienating.

Even the most conservative of schools often make allowances for those involved in the performing or creative arts. It is generally thought that these individuals occupy more rarefied fields and thus must be permitted greater freedoms. Milli’s and Ernest’s homeroom teacher, Miss Mildew Macaw, fell into this category. The most obvious thing that set her apart from the rest of the staff was her dress
code. She wore silk scarves, sometimes in the place of a belt or wound around her head like a turban, oriental skirts that almost trailed the floor and jingled when she moved, tights with jungle patterns, and flat silver ballet shoes decorated with bows or sequins. She also had a rather extensive collection of embroidered vests. Mildew Macaw liked to wear handcrafted jewellery (mostly made by artist friends) such as polished wooden beads as large as chestnuts or brooches in the shape of tropical flowers. Sometimes she wore clothes pegs painted in assorted colours in her hair. Often, when she needed her hands to be free, she stored her paintbrushes in the coil of her silver bun. In short, she was a character; although less enlightened students preferred other terms, like ‘Mad Macaw’ to describe her.

Milli and Ernest loved her. Miss Macaw was thin, of medium height but long-limbed, with bony hands that she waved about whenever something excited her, which was often. She loved to share little confidences with her ‘special group’. On the very first day she had told them about her past life as an accomplished potter,
the collapse of her disastrous marriage to a German baron who had absconded with her inheritance leaving her virtually destitute, the digestive problems of Buster her bull terrier, and her determination to eat only home-grown vegetables. She also informed them that these days her artistic endeavours were confined to school holidays as the more important business of teaching took up the bulk of her time and energy.

Aside from being their form mistress, Miss M, as she was eventually dubbed, took them for Ceramics as well as a subject called Conflict and Catastrophes, which covered a mishmash of topics from the Battle of Hastings to tornadoes and other natural disasters. Ceramics was by far Milli’s favourite class, even though Miss Macaw insisted on playing Gregorian chants in the background for
inspiration.
Even Ernest didn’t seem to object to donning his smock and sinking his fingers into a clump of moist clay. In Ceramics they learned to
sledge
and
slurry
as they made masks, chimes and coil pots. Miss Macaw was a veritable mine of information when it came to art history. Various pieces of
information would be dropped like pebbles into whatever discussion they might be having at the time.

‘The ancient Greeks were fine ceramic artists,’ she rhapsodised one afternoon as she strolled around the art-room, stopping to give artistic advice as she went. ‘We use much the same techniques today some two thousand years later. Now, isn’t that amazing?’ Miss Macaw stopped by Milli’s table and bent over to show her how to smooth out the lumps in the food bowl she was making for Stench. As Milli listened to her explanation, she happened to look out of the classroom windows at a rapidly greying sky. Just for a moment she indulged in her old pastime of trying to discern faces in the clouds. There was definitely the head of a horse, she decided, followed by what looked like a bowl of porridge. After a while she thought she could make out an ancient face with a hooked nose that seemed to be looking straight back at her. There was something about that face…something horribly familiar that made her breath catch in her throat. Stench’s bowl almost slipped from her grasp and she looked around for Ernest to calm
her fears but he was unloading the kiln in a far corner. When Milli looked out the window again, the clouds had shifted position and the face was gone.

When St Erudite’s came into view, Milli and Ernest were alarmed to see the entrance area deserted, apart from a few gardeners unloading wheelbarrows and beginning work on the garden beds. They bolted through the gates, down the gravel path and up the flight of external stairs that took them to Sparrow House, a maroon-brick rectangular wing in the oldest part of the school.

In her haste to keep up with Ernest, who was determined to avoid a Late Mark, Milli lost her footing on the stairs, dropped her folio and watched its contents (three-dimensional drawings of streetscapes) float down to ground level.

Fortunately, discipline was an aspect of education that interested Miss Macaw the least and she merely smiled indulgently at the children when they finally made an appearance and waved them to their seats.

While Miss Macaw marked the roll, the Bulletin Monitor, Nigel Molting, read aloud the class announcements. Nigel thought himself very important, and liked to emulate teachers by stopping, raising his eyebrows and waiting for silence every time someone so much as whispered; a habit that had earned him the nickname of Sir. Sir was just reminding anyone who was interested that tomorrow was the last day for returning money and permission slips for the Literary Breakfast when an unexpected crackle came from the loudspeaker. Classes were only ever interrupted by a loudspeaker announcement in the event of an emergency. All heads turned towards the speaker. Even Miss Macaw screwed up her face and gave it her full attention.

‘All Sparrows and Starlings are to report to the main hall for an assembly immediately after roll call.’ As the speaker crackled into silence again, a buzz of speculation spread through the classroom.

S
t Erudite’s main hall was vast and formidable.

It was long and airy with vaulted ceilings and heavy wood panelling. In the foyer hung portraits of previous headmasters and benefactors, and there were rows of glass cabinets housing sporting and academic trophies, as well as photographs of the school’s most recent theatrical extravaganza. By the time the Sparrows filed into the main hall, most of the junior school teachers were perched on a platform at the front like a row of bats in their academic gowns. Their eyes darted around the hall like radar beams, scanning for students whose appearance or behaviour might be considered less than exemplary.

Gloria Humpenstar and Edweed Gosling, the head girl and head boy, approached the lectern. ‘Please stand for the official party,’ they said in unison.

The students rose en masse as the official party appeared as if from nowhere and proceeded slowly down the centre aisle. It was headed by Dr Publius Hurtle, Headmaster of the Academy, a short, well-fed man with a balding pate and steel grey eyes who wore a purple sash on his gown that denoted his academic standing. He was followed by others with varying degrees of responsibility. Milli observed that so weighty were their gowns that it seemed to result in some very bad posture. Miss Simper, Head of Sparrow House, was particularly slanted.

When the party reached the podium and were finally seated, the heads of school spoke again. ‘Please remain standing for the school song.’

The notes of an organ rose and crashed through the hall and the official party led the singing. Milli joined in, her voice faltering a little. She was still unsure of the verses and had to keep stealing sidelong glances at Ernest who, naturally, had memorised them all by the second day of school.

St Erudite, our hearts will always cherish you The big draughty school upon the hill! To you we owe our standards. Obstacles we never will fear.

Through your hallowed halls and stony arches We walk with dignity and pride. Our hearts swell up with feeling To know your spirit is always by our side!

With our motto emblazoned on our pockets We face challenges with serenity! St Erudite, may your teachings guide us In our search for identity!

Well versed in all the classics But modern thinkers through and through, Whatever path our lives may take us Know that our hearts reside with you!

Oh leap for joy! Shout to the skies! St Erudite, St Erudite! Wherever life may take us May we be forever true!

When the song was finished and everyone seated again, Dr Hurtle rose to address them. He cleared his throat, pushed up his spectacles and then broke into an uncharacteristic grin. In fact, the usually sober-faced headmaster was beaming from ear to ear.

‘Good morning, Sparrows and Starlings, and welcome to another week at St Erudite’s. I’m sure you must all be wondering what could be so important as to justify the interruption of your lessons this morning. You will note that this assembly involves only the juniors as what I have to say pertains especially to you. I have no doubt that my announcement will result in much excitement and I now ask that you curb that excitement once you resume class so the rest of the day may proceed as normal.’

How ridiculous, thought Milli, to be asked to curb your excitement before you even knew what it was you were meant to be excited about. She noticed that the headmaster was carrying a rolled newspaper under one arm.

‘I don’t suppose any of you have had an opportunity to see this morning’s paper?’ he asked. Dr Hurtle’s questions were usually of a
rhetorical nature and so his pause for a reply was met only with an uncertain silence. ‘I thought not, but let me tell you that it contains an item which I am sure will be of great interest to you. Rather than describing its contents, allow me to read it to you in its entirety.’

He unrolled what looked to be a copy of the Drabville
Bugle
and read aloud the following front-page article:

T
INY
T
OWN
, V
ALIANT
H
EARTS
!

To commemorate the recent bravery and resilience shown by the children of Drabville, billionaire philanthropist and renowned toymaker Gustav Von Gobstopper has most generously funded the construction of a Toy Arcade right here in our town.

The construction of the arcade, situated on the site formerly known as Hog House, is due for completion within days and has been kept secret from all children in order not to spoil the surprise.

The reclusive Von Gobstopper was living quietly in his Austrian castle when news of our intrepid adventurers reached him. So
touched by the story was he that he felt compelled to do something in response. Some months ago Von Gobstopper’s representatives approached Drabville authorities with an idea they were delighted to support.

The arcade will officially open this coming Friday, and the juniors of St Erudite’s Academy have been invited to make the inaugural visit. As the arcade’s first visitors the children will have their photos taken and be invited to sign the official guest book. The students will be taken on a tour of the facility and will enjoy a complimentary afternoon tea in the Teddy Bear Bakery. This special group of children will also have access to items from Von Gobstopper’s private toy collection never before seen by members of the general public. Members of the media will not be permitted to intrude on this special experience and have been asked to show restraint.

The world has been stunned by Von Gobstopper’s sudden emergence from retirement. Von Gobstopper is widely hailed as a master toymaker and a genius and Drabville can only feel privileged to have been chosen to
showcase his talents. This event may well change the course of history for the little out-of-the-way town and put Drabville on the map. Some have predicted that the arcade will prove a popular tourist destination, drawing visitors from around the globe.

Mr Von Gobstopper himself was unavailable for comment, but one of his staff conveyed on his behalf his wish ‘to pay homage to some inspirational children’. A spokesperson for the Custodians of Concord, Rosemary Klompet, said she could not be happier. ‘We all feel that the children deserve this recognition, given what they have been through. We are very fortunate that Mr Von Gobstopper shares our view. He has devoted his life to delighting the young through his unique toys and I can think of no worthier recipients of his generosity than the children of this town.’

Hildebeast Wordypants