‘All right, you lot, shut up!’ he barked above the din.
‘Scalley, sit down and blow your nose. Thomas, away from the window, back to your seat. Maureen, put your mirror away now. Right. All had a good weekend? That’s enough! Let’s call the register.’
The pupils sensed he was in a good mood and knew they could get away with a little more cheek than usual. This morning, anyway.
‘Only two absentees. Not bad for a Monday morning. Yes,
Carlos, what is it? Toilet? But you’ve only just got in. Go on then, you’ll never concentrate if you don’t.’
Carlos, a thin dark-skinned boy, thanked-him-sir, and left the room, a smirk on his face when his back was to the teacher.
‘Carol, give out the paper - Shehgh, give out the pencils.
We’re going to draw some animals today,’ Harris told the class.
‘Can I draw a pig, sir?’ a boy at the back asked.
‘Why a pig, Morris?’
‘I can copy tubby Toomey, sir.’
The offended fat boy swivelled round in his chair as the class erupted into laughter and swore at his tormentor.
‘Come out here, Morris,’ Harris said, firm-mouthed. The boy slouched to the front of the class. ‘Any good at drawing monkeys, Morris?’ ‘No, sir.’
‘Well try copying from a mirror,’ Harris told him knowing the class expected and enjoyed his bringing-down of a loud-mouth, even though any one of them could be next. Feeble, Harris thought, but not bad for a Monday morning. ‘Right, get on with it. Any animal you like, but I don’t want any to look like me. When you’ve finished, we’ll choose the best one, then I’ll explain why it’s the best one. Remember your light and shade.’ He walked up and down the aisles, talking to them individually, giving answers, posing questions. He came to a boy named Barney, small for his fourteen years, but very bright, good at drawing but still needing to learn the techniques of painting. He was especially good with pen and ink, a skill he’d taught himself by copying comic books.
Harris looked over the boy’s shoulder and stared at the picture taking form.
‘What made you draw a rat, Barney?’ he asked.
‘Dunno, sir,’ Barney said, sucking the end of his pen, then adding, ‘Saw one the other day. Big one, like Keogh saw... ‘
His voice trailed off as he remembered his classmate who was now dead. The rest of the class became silent at the mention of Keogh’s name.
‘Whereabouts?’ asked the teacher.
‘By the canal. Tomlins Terrace.’
‘Did you see where it went?’
‘It jumped over a wall and disappeared into the bushes.’
‘What bushes? There isn’t a park down there.’
‘Where the lock-keeper used to live. It’s like a jungle now thecanals been shut down.’
Harris vaguely remembered the old house that stood well back from the road, where, as a kid, he used to go to watch the barges passing through the lock. The lock-keeper liked the kids to watch him work provided they weren’t cheeky, and used to encourage them to come. Funny, he’d forgotten all about the place. He’d been down Tomlins Terrace a few times recently and hadn’t remembered the house had been there. It must have been because of the ‘jungle’ in front.
‘Did you tell the police?’ he asked the boy.
‘Nah.’ Barney turned his attention back to his drawing adding a few more strokes to his strikingly evil-looking rat.
Might have known, Harris thought to himself. Kids around this area don’t get involved with the law through choice.
At that moment, Carlos burst into the room in a state of extreme agitation.
‘Sir, sir, in the playground! There’s one of them things?
He gesticulated towards the window, his eyes wide, smiling in his excitement.
The whole class rushed as one towards the windows.
‘Back to your seats? Harris roared, and strode quickly to a window. He drew in a sharp breath at what he saw.
There wasn’t ‘one of them things’ but several. As he watched, more joined the first bunch. Huge black rats. The rats. They crouched in the playground, staring at the school building. More, then more.
‘Close all windows,’ he ordered, quietly. ‘Johnson, Barney, Smith; go round to all the other classrooms and ask the teachers to close all windows. Scalley, go to the Head- master’s study and ask him to look out of his window - no, I’d better go.’ If a boy went, the Headmaster would probably think it was some kind of prank, and valuable seconds would be wasted. ‘I don’t want anybody to move from this room.
And no noise. Cutts, you’re in charge.’ The tallest boy in the class stood up. The boys were excited now, the girls becoming more and more nervous.
He hurried out of the room and made towards the Principal’s study. As he walked down the corridor, several of the teachers’ heads popped out of various doors.
‘What’s going on?’ he was asked nervously by Ainsley, one of the old-timers of the school.
He told him quickly and hurried on. There was a strange hush throughout the school, a hush that could be entirely ruined if only one girl became hysterical.
Barney dashed from one of the classrooms.
Harris caught his arm and told him: ‘Steady, Barney.
Take it slowly and calmly. Don’t frighten the girls. We don’t want panic, do we?’
‘No, sir,’ was the breathless reply.
As Harris approached the stairs leading up to the next floor and the Headmaster’s study, he looked down the short flight to the main doors. Naturally, they were open.
He crept slowly down, his hand on the rail to steady himself. As he reached the bottom, he heard a soft noise on the stone steps outside. Springing quietly to the side of the double-doors he glanced out, ready to slam both sides shut instantaneously. On the wider top step he saw a small boy looking back into the playground where about thirty of the rodents had now gathered.
Jesus Christ, Harris thought in horror. He must have walked right past them!
He stepped outside and swiftly scooping the small boy up, dashed back into the building. He dumped him on the floor without ceremony and turned back to close the doors. The rats hadn’t stirred. He shut the heavy doors quickly but quietly and bolted them, then breathed out for the first time in nearly two minutes.
‘There’s animalsin the playground, sir,’ the seven-year-old boy told him with wide eyes, but no trace of fear. ‘What are they? What are they doing there, sir?’
Ignoring the question because he didn’t know what to tell him, Harris picked the boy up and raced back up the stairs. Putting him down at the top he told him to run along to his classroom. He heard the murmur of voices as teachers began to gather in the corridor. He ran up the next flight of stairs, three at a time, and almost collided with the Headmaster as he emerged from his office.
’Please phone the police, Mr Norton.’ Harris said urgently.
‘I’m afraid we’ve got trouble.’
‘I already have, Mr Harris. Have you seen what’s in the playground?’
‘Yes - that’s the trouble I mean. They’re the giant ones, the killers.’
They went back into the study and looked out of the window. The rats had multiplied it seemed to a couple of hundred.
‘The playground’s black with them,’ the young teacher said in disbelief.
‘What do they want?’ The Headmaster looked at Harris as though he would know.
‘The children,’ said Harris.
‘It won’t take the police long to get here - but what they’ll do about the situation is another matter. Let’s make sure every door and window is shut tight. All the children must go up to the top floor and barricade
