260
“Worried?” asked Olive. “Well, that’s quite understandable, Bertie. It’s not knowing that’s the worst. That’s what everybody says.”
“Not knowing what?” asked Bertie. He tried to sound strong and insouciant, but that was not how his voice came out.
“Not knowing the result of a test,” said Olive calmly. “But you mustn’t worry too much, Bertie – yet. I promise I’ll tell you gently.”
He gasped. He opened his mouth to say something, but Olive silenced him. “Not very good news, I’m afraid,” she said. “You’ve tested positive for leprosy. Sorry about that, Bertie.”
Bertie stared at Olive. He looked at her fingers, hoping that he would see them crossed – a sure sign that she was telling lies.
But there was no sign of that. All he saw was Olive looking at him sympathetically, a concerned frown on her brow.
“Leprosy is a very serious disease,” Olive went on. “It’s quite rare these days, you know. There’s hardly any at the school.”
“What happens . . . ?” Bertie stuttered.
“Well,” said Olive. “Your nose can fall off. And your fingers too. It’s not very nice. That’s why lepers are given a bell. They ring it to warn people to keep away.”
Bertie reached up and felt his nose. It seemed to be fastened securely enough. He looked at his fingers again; these seemed unaffected.
“How do you catch it?” Bertie asked.
“I’ve been reading about it in the encyclopaedia,” said Olive.
“They say that it’s very difficult to get. You have to have very close contact with somebody who has it.”
“By shaking hands?” asked Bertie. If that was so, then Tofu
would have it too. He and Bertie had shaken hands the previous day when they had agreed to swap comics. Would this mean that Tofu would have leprosy too?
As it happened, Tofu was now making his way across the playground to join them.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Olive says that I’ve got leprosy,” said Bertie. And then he added, “And if I have, then you might have it too, Tofu. I shook hands with you yesterday, remember?”
Tofu looked at Olive, who stared back at him defiantly, as would one who had science on her side. “Oh yes?” he said. “And can you get it from the spit of somebody who’s got it?”
“Of course,” said Olive. “That’s an easy way to get it.”
Tofu smiled at Bertie, and then turned back to face Olive.
“In that case,” he said, “you’ve got it too!”
And with that, he spat at her.
Olive screamed. It was an extremely loud scream, high and painful on the ear, and although there was a certain amount of background noise in the playground, it carried.
Inside the building, Miss Harmony, who was enjoying a cup of tea in the staff room, leapt to her feet and looked out of the window before she hurried out to deal with the emergency.
“Olive!” she cried, as she ran towards the screaming girl.
“What on earth’s wrong?”
Olive opened her eyes. “These boys spat at me, Miss Harmony,”
she said. “I was just talking to them and they spat at me.”
Miss Harmony sighed. Her task in life was every bit as difficult, she thought, as that taken on by the late Dr Livingstone.
262
“Now, I don’t think I really need to say how disappointed I am,” the teacher began. “Spitting at somebody is not only a very unkind thing to do, it’s also very insanitary. You know that, don’t you? Both of you know that you should never spit at another person.”
“I didn’t,” said Tofu. “She’s lying, Miss Harmony. Olive tells lies all the time. Everybody knows that.”
Bertie drew in his breath. Tofu was telling a bare-faced lie now, and he marvelled at his ability to do so. Surely Miss Harmony would know that he was lying or, worse than that, she might ask Bertie if it were true. That worried Bertie: it was one thing for Tofu to lie to Miss Harmony, quite another for him to do the same thing. In fact, he would never be able to do it.
“Now, Tofu,” said Miss Harmony. “Why would Olive tell me that you boys had spat at her if you hadn’t? And, anyway, I noticed that there was something on her face.”
