‘Er, of course I’d love to, Coo, yeah nothing better, but we can’t, can we?’ said Ben with obvious relief. ‘The pond isn’t frozen.’
‘Yeah, maybe not,’ said Coo, crossing to a workbench. She picked up a strange backpack with a hose thingummy-jig hanging off the side, heaved it onto her shoulders, fastened a buckle on the front and winked at Ben.
CHAPTER FOUR
The following morning Ben found himself back at school. It was a brand-new term and the feeling had just about returned to his toes after the Snow’n’Blow incident the day before.
During the holidays the school had been scrubbed clean. The whole place smelled of floor wax and the corridors bustled with packs of new kids who milled about in their big shiny shoes and oversized blazers.
The bell rang for assembly, and Ben shuffled into the main hall with everyone else and sat near the back. The kids all fidgeted and chatted noisily. Ben was just admiring the excellent aim of a boy who had managed to clonk a kid at the front with a perfectly lobbed cheese roll when …
It was Mr Gigglethwick, the headmaster. The gap in his front teeth might have meant that he couldn’t play the bassoon with any confidence, but he could whistle loud enough to shatter glass at a hundred metres.
‘Right then, you lot, simmer down, simmer down,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘That’s better. Well, good morning, children. Welcome to a new school year.’
While the headmaster droned on, Ben’s concentration wandered. He enjoyed a few moments imagining Coo building him a cheese-roll catapult. He was just considering which type of cheese would be most aerodynamic when his attention snapped back to what the headmaster was saying. He had mentioned something about a ‘disaster’.
‘The police still aren’t certain how it happened,’ said Mr Gigglethwick. ‘I mean, it’s not clear what Mr Travis was even doing in the pudding factory last night, let alone how he fell into the vat of boiling jelly.
‘If only he’d landed in the cream and custard tub or on one of those slabs of soft sponge cake he might not have been hurt so badly. It’s all a trifle baffling.
‘Anyway, until Mr Travis has all his bandages removed, I’m afraid he won’t be here to run the History Club. I’m sure we all hope he gets well soon.
‘Now, before we finish, I would like to introduce you to some special guests. Please welcome Professor Pickering and his pupils from the Lilly Lavender Private Academy for Exceptional Girls.’
Ben craned his neck for a better view as Mr Gigglethwick beckoned a tall man and four girls to join him on the stage.
‘Good morning, Professor Pickering,’ the children chanted all together.
Professor Pickering smiled and bowed. His head was bald on top and fringed with curly hair, he wore a tweed jacket with elbow patches and he even had a wonky eye. The girls stood in a row beside him. Their school uniform was pink and yellow, and they peered out shyly from beneath straw hats tied with ribbons.
‘The professor and the girls will be spending some time here at our school as part of a project they are working on; comparing all the schools around the city,’ explained Mr Gigglethwick. ‘So, make them feel welcome. And be good,’ he added sternly, glaring at the boy who had thrown the cheese roll.
‘Thaaaank you, headmaster,’ said Pickering smoothly, smiling at the assembled children.
‘We look forward to a happy time here with you all at your school. May I say how dreadfully sorry I am to hear about your poor Mr Travis,’ the professor added, bowing his head. ‘It so happens that I run a History Club too, at the Lilly Lavender Academy.’ He turned to Mr Gigglethwick. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to run your History Club while Mr Travis is still in his … ahem … sticky situation.’
‘Well that will be wonderful, professor, won’t it, children?’ Mr Gigglethwick beamed. ‘Thank you.’
The professor bowed and the girls curtsied awkwardly before returning to their seats.
‘Marvellous!’ said Mr Gigglethwick. ‘Right then, children, off you go! Hurry up! Time for your lessons.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Ben emerged from his final lesson of the day feeling dazed and clutching a list of homework as long as his arm.
He wanted to go back to the woods and drink cold ginger beer in front of a hot fire with Coo and Herb, but he had promised his mum that he’d join an after-school club so he wandered over to the noticeboards to see what was on offer.
His heart sank. Nothing seemed any fun at all.
He was just about to give up, shut his eyes and pick one at random when he remembered what Professor Pickering had said in assembly. He decided that History Club had to be better than ‘Basket-weaving-with-drinking-straws Club’. After all, his mum had been raving about how amazing the museum was, and that was packed with historical things. So with his mind made up, Ben headed to Mr Travis’s classroom.
When he got there, he could hear voices and see shadows moving about through the pane of frosted glass in the door.
He knocked gingerly.
The voices stopped talking.
The door opened and a small girl with curly blonde hair and a big nose looked up at Ben from under her straw hat.
‘Hello?’ she squeaked.
‘Er, is this the History Club?’ asked Ben, glancing past her. ‘I want to sign up. Professor Pickering said—’
‘We’re full up,’ said the girl curtly and she slammed the door shut.
Ben stood there for a moment and then knocked once more.
There was a murmur of whispered conversation beyond the door and then it opened again.
Professor Pickering looked at Ben with his good eye.
‘I’m frightfully sorry about that. My girls are a little
