Leave the Last Page (11 page)

BEN LED THEM AROUND THE CORNER TO HIS CAR. ‘It's just here. If we-‘

He stopped dead as he looked at the state of his Ford. Patty whistled. “Sweet paintjob!” she said.

Roaring flames had been painted along the sides of the car and a giant spearhead adorned the entire bonnet space. Ben looked around to see if there was any other beat up vehicles that could have been his.
No, this had to be it.
‘I don't understand…'

‘I do,' said Tom. ‘Flaming arrows. Spears. This is the war-carriage from my story. You're meant to be here, Ben. You're Meddo!'

‘Then I suggest we all get in and Ben takes the wheel,' said Patty.

Once in and buckled up, Ben asked: ‘Where to?'

Patty and Tom were in the back seat. They looked at each other, slightly bemused. ‘What do you think, Tom? Any ideas about a stage? A hall? A show? How could your story be reflected in this world?'

Ben hadn't read the pages but Tom had briefly summarised as they had walked to the car. ‘I take it you don't know anyone called Marissa?'

‘Mariza,' corrected Tom. ‘No, I don't. The only show I can think of is the talent show at my school at the end of term. It was in our school hall.'

‘Would this be the talent show you told me about yesterday? The one where you got in a bit of trouble?' Tom nodded. Patty smiled. ‘Could be.'

‘Well, I think that will have to do for now,' said Ben. ‘We certainly can't stay here.' Outside the windows all the world around them had turned grey. ‘I'm not sure what happens to us if we fall off the page, but I don't want to wait here and find out.'

Tom shared the school's address and Ben started the car.

They reached Bolton Road Primary inside fifteen minutes. Surprisingly for a midweek day in the middle of the summer, the gate was open. The driveway extended around the side of the school building, which seemed locked and unlit. ‘Car park's at the back,' said Tom. Ben slowly guided the car around the outside of the block.

There was one vehicle in the car park. A black Alfa Romeo Spider. Ben pulled into a spot, as far from Kildark's ride as possible.

‘Looks like you got it right, Tom,' said Patty. ‘Just because the talent left at the end of term, doesn't mean that the show's over.'

‘Do you think he's waiting for us in the school hall?' asked Ben.

Tom pointed to a fire door that was slightly ajar. ‘That's one of the ways into the hall. It's the school gym as well. We'd use that exit if we had outside PE.'

Ben played his fingers through the knife hole in his shirt, and then buttoned up his jacket over it decisively. ‘Let's go.'

Once the three of them were out they ventured a little closer to the parked car. It was unremarkable apart from the fact it was completely empty – not so much as an air freshener or a water bottle. Ben wondered whether there'd even be a hair or a fingerprint in there.

‘I'll lead the way,' said Patty, heading for the fire exit.

‘It's okay, I should go first,' said Ben, moving away from the black car.

Patty laughed. ‘Why's that? Because you're a policeman? I'm the one who's armed!' she said, waving her walking stick. ‘He'll feel it if I give him a whack with this!'

‘All the same, I-'

But Patty had walked off, and was almost at the door. There was a tall pallet of bricks against the wall; she tapped a rhythm on it with her stick as she passed. Tom shrugged. ‘That's just what she's like. Come on, let's have a look. I think I can hear music.'

In the end they walked through the door in single file, in age order.

There
was
music. On the far wall was a fixed projector screen, and in the gloom, images were being projected on it, and sound could be heard. There was a trolley in the centre of the small hall that housed the equipment that beamed the image.

Tom recognised it immediately. It was the video recording of the talent show last month. A brace of year four girls were singing a medley of Disney hits. They were stood on the temporary staging that normally would be set up exactly where the screen was. One of them giggled as she got a bit of feedback from the microphone.

As Patty, Ben and Tom reached the projector the song ended and an enthusiastic audience applauded. ‘Shall I turn it off?' asked Ben, following the power cable into the unit.

‘No, wait,' said Patty. ‘Look who it is!' On the screen Tom Holliday wheeled Dodge over to the centre of the stage. He had his own microphone as he was too low in his chair to reach the mics on the stands. Video Tom thanked the singers and got ready to introduce the next act.

‘It's embarrassing,' said Tom.

‘It certainly is!' said a voice behind them, a female voice. The hall lights came on and they all turned to the hall double doors to find the person who had flicked the switches.

It was a tall lady in a straight mac. Her face was gaunt and her grey hair was scraped back into a tight bun. She looked down her nose at them disgustedly.

‘Mrs Aziram,' said Tom.

‘Come to make more jokes at my expense, Mr Holliday? Think you can ruin another one of my shows?' She shuffled forward, one hand tucked under her mac.

‘Miss, I don't know why you're so upset with me, but it's old news.'

‘All those wheelchair jokes! Making people feel bad – feel sorry for you. It wasn't your show!' She didn't comment on the fact that he was without Dodge now. In fact, when you looked closely at her eyes they seemed glazed over. He wondered if she was seeing him at all. She kept coming towards him though.

Patty stood in front of Tom, blocking the headteacher's route to the boy. ‘I don't know if you've noticed, but the show's over.' She twirled her walking stick so that it ending up pointing at Mrs Aziram. ‘You need to back up, lady.'

Mrs Aziram pulled open her mac, revealing a burgundy oversized sweater. ‘He needs to accept his punishment.' She pulled out a metre-long ruler from underneath the folds. ‘A dozen thwacks across the backside! One for every act in the show that he tried to upstage!'

The version of Tom projected onto the wall announced that the next performance was the story of Goldilocks by Year One. He said that he hoped that they got it ‘just right.'
Maybe she's got a point,
thought Tom.
Not my best line.

Patty moved towards the head teacher. ‘You need to put that stick down, love. You're getting nowhere near my grandson.'

Mrs Aziram grinned, a jarring contrast to her lifeless eyes. Her spare hand reached again into the folds of the mac and pulled out a rounders bat. ‘Which stick?' she asked. She then took her metre stick and slammed the end against the floor. It emitted a loud boom that echoed round the hall. There was a splintered crater in the polished wood where she'd struck. ‘Teacher knows best. Move, Grandma.' She lunged forward, wielding the somehow fearsome and formidable ruler.

As the two mature ladies clashed their sticks in battle, Tom heard a cry from Ben behind him. ‘What the-?'

Tom turned to see Ben's legs swamped by two giant balls of brown fur. It was only when he looked up at the screen did Tom know what they were. In the video there was a solitary Year One pupil on the stage, dressed in a bear suit. Then to Tom's amazement, the little boy reached out and seemed to grab the edge of the screen. Then he swung forward and came out of the video and into the hall.

He was Baby Bear. Mummy Bear and Daddy Bear were trying to wrestle Ben to the ground. ‘What am I supposed to do?' he yelled, a hand on each of the furry heads. ‘They're only kids!'

Baby Bear landed on Ben's head and the policeman toppled over.

The six year olds sat on top of him – one of them tugging his beard hair – then looked at Tom as they offered a childish bear roar.

Only now they had mouths filled with sharp bears' teeth. And hands sporting long bears' claws.

Daddy Bear dug his yellowy hooked fingers into Ben's shoulder. ‘Aarrgh! What's that? Get them off me!'

Tom was torn between helping his stricken new friend or his stick-wielding grandmother currently duelling with his crazed ex-head teacher.

Grandma Patty hooked the handle of her walking stick around Mrs Aziram's ankle and flipped her over. The head teacher hit the deck with a thud. The rounders bat left her hand and flew into a window, smashing it.
Grandma's okay,
thought Tom.

He dived at one of the furry assailants on Ben's back. His momentum carried them both beyond Ben's legs; they rolled on the floor a few times like injured footballers tied to each other. The pink bow between the bear's ears indicated that this was Mummy, but you couldn't tell from the child's face whether it was a boy or a girl. The longer this went on the more animalistic it became. And the stronger the bear grew. ‘I don't think I can hold it!' shouted Tom.

Ben managed to stand and pushed a bear into the projector trolley. The impact spun the trolley round, which adjusted the angle of the picture on the wall. Instantly the three bears turned to the now blank screen and howled; the image of the empty stage could be barely seen against the brickwork on one of the hall's internal walls. The bear's grip on Tom loosened as the paw seemed to fade slightly.

It took this for Tom to remember that these tiny terrors weren't actually real. As he backed into the wall, he thought about his story.
Chilis? Lava? We haven't got that.
He looked around him.
How can I make fire?

Then he turned his face along the wall. Mounted at head height, just next to him, was a water-dispensing fire extinguisher. Tom grabbed it and headed for the projector.

He played around with the nozzle as he moved across the hall. When he got to the projector he fired a jet of water onto the projector. Sure, he could have just unplugged it if he wanted it turned off, but this way…

Sparks flew from the machine and it made a crackling and sizzling noise. Then, through the ventilating holes along the side, flames could be seen. He squirted it again. A few seconds later there was a loud pop and the image stopped projecting. Flames licked through a gap in the plastic casing.

The kiddie bears howled, flickered like badly tuned images, then disappeared completely. Ben stood and dusted himself down. Pink dust.

Grandma cheered Tom's ingenuity, her back turned on her crouching opponent. Mrs Aziram swung her metre rule and caught Patty on the shoulder, sending her flying across the hall. The glazed, milky eyes of the head teacher glared at Tom. ‘What are you doing? Do you want to burn down the school? I always knew you were a vile, little boy!' She dropped the ruler and marched over to Tom. ‘Give me that!' She snatched the extinguisher from him and pointed it at the burning projector. Then she hesitated.

‘Water extinguisher on an electric fire,' said Tom. ‘Not a good idea, Miss. I learnt that at this school, at least.'

‘Wicked child,' she muttered and then swung around, the extinguisher raised.

She caught Tom with the circular bottom edge, at speed, flush on his temple. Instantly his knees buckled and he went down in a heap.

‘Tom!' shouted Grandma Patty. She ran over as fast as her hip would allow. Ben wrestled the extinguisher from Aziram and grabbed a handful of her sweater with his spare hand, keeping her at arm's reach.

Patty reached her grandson. He was out cold.