Marmaduke takes the plunge

There were many things that Barry Brand loved.

He loved dinosaurs.

He loved puddles.

He loved asking questions that nobody could answer, such as, “If a centipede wears socks, does it need four hundred?”

And most of all, Barry loved being curious, even if it meant getting into trouble.

Not on purpose, of course.

Well… not always on purpose.

Barry was four years old and lived in London with his mum, his dad, and his older brother Alfie.

Alfie was eight.

Alfie was sensible.

Painfully sensible.

If Alfie found a pound coin on the pavement, he would hand it to a police officer.

If Barry found a pound coin on the pavement, he would immediately begin planning his retirement.

Their parents both worked very hard. They spent a lot of time looking at laptops and saying things like:

“Can everyone please be quiet for just five minutes?”

This was always funny because Barry had never been quiet for five minutes in his entire conscious life.

Barry’s best friend was Marmaduke.

Marmaduke was also four years old.

Marmaduke thought Barry was brilliant.

This was unfortunate.

Barry once convinced Marmaduke that pigeons were government spies.

Marmaduke believed this for three whole days and saluted every pigeon he saw.

For safety reasons, Mr Brand and Marmaduke’s mum, Marjory, had always agreed that the boys should learn to swim separately.

This was mainly because together they had the decision-making skills of a particularly confused goldfish.

But now Marmaduke was ready.

He was only a few weeks younger than Barry, and everyone agreed it was time for swimming lessons.

So one evening, after preschool Mr Brand and Marjory took the boys to the local swimming pool.

The moment Barry walked through the doors, his eyes sparkled.

“I can smell swimming,” he announced.

“You can’t smell swimming,” said Alfie.

“I can.”

“That’s chlorine.”

“Then I can smell chlorine.”

Mr Brand sighed.

“We’ve been here thirty seconds.”

Barry’s swimming class started first.

Marmaduke sat on a plastic chair beside the pool to watch.

He waved enthusiastically.

Barry waved back so hard he nearly fell over.

The swimming teacher blew her whistle.

“Eyes on me, everyone.”

Barry immediately decided this meant everybody’s eyes should be on him instead.

As soon as he entered the water, he began performing.

He splashed.

He kicked.

He pretended to be a shark.

Then a dolphin.

Then a submarine.

Then a dolphin driving a submarine.

The teacher wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at.

Meanwhile, Marmaduke sat quietly watching his best friend.

Every time Barry looked over, Marmaduke gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.

This only made Barry more determined to impress him.

When the class practised floating, Barry floated dramatically.

When they practised kicking, Barry kicked dramatically.

When they practised blowing bubbles, Barry attempted to create what he described as “an underwater tornado.”

The teacher wrote something on her clipboard.

Nobody knew what.

But it was probably not “future Olympic champion.”

After thirty minutes, Barry’s lesson finished.

He climbed out of the pool looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Did you see me?” he asked Marmaduke.

“I saw everything.”

“I was amazing.”

“You swallowed half the pool.”

“Exactly.”

Now it was Marmaduke’s turn.

Suddenly he looked a little nervous.

The pool seemed bigger.

The water seemed splashier.

And there were lots of children he didn’t know.

Marjory walked him over to the edge of the class.

Marmaduke held her hand just a little tighter than usual.

She smiled.

“You’ll be brilliant.”

“What if I forget how to swim?”

“You haven’t learned yet.”

“Oh.”

Marjory gave him a reassuring hug and a wink.

“Just have fun.”

Marmaduke nodded bravely.

Then he stepped towards the water.

From the sidelines came a familiar voice.

“GO MARMADUKE!”

Everyone turned.

Barry was bouncing up and down like an excited kangaroo.

“YOU CAN DO IT!”

Marmaduke smiled.

“SHOW THE WATER WHO’S BOSS!”

The swimming teacher blinked.

“Please don’t shout at the water.”

Barry lowered his voice slightly.

“SHOW THE WATER WHO’S POLITELY IN CHARGE!”

Throughout the entire lesson, Barry became Marmaduke’s biggest fan.

Every successful kick earned applause.

Every floating attempt earned cheering.

Every bubble earned what sounded suspiciously like football commentary.

“And Marmaduke advances down the lane! Exceptional bubbling! The crowd goes wild!”

There was no crowd.

There was only Barry.

But he was loud enough to count as several people.

Soon Marmaduke forgot to be nervous.

He kicked.

He floated.

He splashed.

He laughed.

And before he knew it, his first swimming lesson was over.

“I did it!” he said proudly.

“You did!” shouted Barry.

“You shouted the whole time.”

“I know.”

“I think everyone heard.”

“I wanted the water to hear too.”

Back in the changing rooms, the boys faced their greatest challenge.

Getting dressed.

Normally this took forever.

At preschool, they could spend twenty minutes discussing socks.

One memorable morning, Barry had accidentally tried to wear both shoes on the same foot.

Nobody was quite sure how.

Yet somehow, after swimming, they were lightning fast.

Trousers.

Shirts.

Socks.

Shoes.

Done.

Mr Brand looked surprised.

“That was quick.”

“Very quick,” agreed Marjory.

Alfie narrowed his eyes.

Whenever something unusual happened around Barry, Alfie became suspicious.

It was a survival instinct.

The adults were busy gathering bags and towels.

The boys wandered into reception.

And that was when disaster struck.

Or rather…

Chocolate.

Sitting on the reception desk was an open box of chocolates.

A glorious box.

A magnificent box.

A box that seemed to glow with magical importance.

Barry stopped walking.

Marmaduke stopped walking.

The boys stared.

The chocolates stared back.

“Do you think they’re free?” asked Marmaduke.

“No idea,” said Barry.

“Should we ask?”

This was an excellent suggestion.

Unfortunately, Barry had already moved on to the next stage of thinking.

Which was eating.

One chocolate disappeared.

Then another.

Then another.

“These are amazing,” said Barry.

“They really are,” agreed Marmaduke.

Five minutes later, the boys looked like two tiny chocolate-powered machines.

Wrappers were everywhere.

Chocolate smudges covered their faces.

Their hands.

Their sleeves.

Possibly their ears.

Nobody knew how chocolate had reached Marmaduke’s elbow.

Yet there it was.

Alfie arrived first.

He froze.

“Oh no.”

Barry looked up.

“Hello.”

“What have you done?”

“We found chocolates.”

“I can see that.”

Barry offered him one.

Alfie looked horrified.

“Those aren’t ours!”

Barry paused.

For the first time, this possibility entered his mind.

“Oh.”

At that exact moment, Mr Brand and Marjory appeared.

They stopped.

They stared.

The boys stared back.

Everyone stared.

A receptionist walked over.

She looked at the nearly empty box.

Then at the boys.

Then at the nearly empty box again.

Mr Brand closed his eyes.

The way grown-ups do when they’re deciding whether to laugh or cry.

“Barry.”

“Yes?”

“Did you ask before eating those chocolates?”

“No.”

“Marmaduke?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The boys exchanged glances.

This required careful thought.

Finally Barry said, “We were busy eating them.”

The receptionist suddenly laughed.

Then Marjory laughed.

Then Mr Brand laughed.

Even Alfie smiled.

Just a little.

The receptionist shook her head.

“They were left behind after a staff meeting.”

Barry looked worried.

“Are we in trouble?”

“A little bit.”

“Oh.”

“But mostly because you should always ask first.”

The boys nodded.

They genuinely understood.

Well…

For at least seven minutes.

“Sorry,” said Marmaduke.

“We’re very sorry,” said Barry.

The receptionist smiled.

“I believe you.”

Then she pointed at their chocolate-covered faces.

“Although I think the evidence would have made denying it difficult.”

The boys giggled.

Mr Brand handed them tissues.

Several tissues.

Then an alarming number of wet wipes. 

As they cleaned themselves up, Alfie folded his arms.

“You know,” he said, “most people don’t accidentally eat an entire box of chocolates.”

Barry thought about this.

“Maybe most people aren’t as hungry as us.”

Alfie sighed.

“That’s not the point.”

On the way home, Marmaduke chatted happily about swimming.

Barry chatted happily about swimming.

And chocolates.

Mostly chocolates.

By the time they reached home, both boys agreed they couldn’t wait for next week’s lesson.

Mr Brand smiled.

Marjory smiled.

Alfie looked nervous.

Because experience had taught him one important fact.

Whenever Barry said,

“I can’t wait until next week,”

it usually meant someone, somewhere, should probably start worrying.