The dentist‘s appointment

There are many difficult jobs in the world.

Astronauts have difficult jobs.

Firefighters have difficult jobs.

People who untangle Christmas lights have very difficult jobs.

But on one unusually warm afternoon in London, Mrs Brand was about to discover that perhaps the hardest job of all was occupying two four-year-old boys in a school car park for thirty minutes.

Especially when those boys were Barry and Marmaduke.

Now, Barry was four years old and curious about absolutely everything.

This sounds lovely.

It wasn’t.

Barry didn’t simply wonder about things.

He investigated them.

He tested them.

He improved them.

Sometimes he improved them so much they stopped working altogether.

Marmaduke, meanwhile, was Barry’s best friend.

Marmaduke had two main hobbies.

The first was following Barry.

The second was agreeing with Barry.

This meant that whenever Barry had a terrible idea, Marmaduke was usually standing nearby saying, “That sounds brilliant.”

Alfie, Barry’s older brother, was eight.

Alfie liked rules.

He liked schedules.

He liked things happening when they were supposed to happen.

If Alfie had been in charge of the moon, it would have risen exactly on time every evening and submitted a written report afterwards.

Their parents both worked very hard.

Unfortunately, this meant they were often distracted by meetings, emails, phone calls and other mysterious adult activities that seemed to involve staring at laptops while drinking coffee.

As a result, Barry enjoyed a remarkable amount of freedom.

Not official freedom.

Just the sort of freedom that happens when adults look away for six seconds.

Which, in Barry’s case, was plenty.

On this particular day, the boys had a dentist appointment at 4:10 pm.

The last dentist appointment was 6 months ago, and Marjory, Marmaduke’s mum had been the responsible adult. Six months before that, Mr Brand, Alfie and Barry’s dad had copped for it.

The last appointment hadn’t gone badly.

It hadn’t gone well.

It had simply happened.

Like weather.

Or taxes.

Or stepping on a Lego brick… although they never go well, thinking about it.

This time, however, it was Mrs Brand’s turn.

Mrs Brand had organised everything carefully.

Alfie’s Year 3 swimming lesson finished at 3:15 pm.

Barry and Marmaduke had been released from preschool at 2:50 pm.

Miss Patel had agreed so quickly that Mrs Brand suspected she’d been waiting for someone to ask.

By 3:00 pm, Barry and Marmaduke were safely collected.

By 3:01 pm, Mrs Brand realised something important.

The air conditioning in her car had stopped working.

Not last week.

Not yesterday.

Not gradually.

It had stopped at the exact moment temperatures rose above eighteen degrees. For reference, it was now 28+ degrees and the breeze had simply stopped.

The car apparently considered anything above eighteen degrees to be unreasonable.

Mrs Brand parked in the school car park.

“We’ve got half an hour until Alfie finishes,” she said.

“Can we have snacks?” asked Barry.

“Can we have snacks?” asked Marmaduke.

“You’ve just had snacks.”

“Can we have more snacks?”

Mrs Brand sighed.

This was not a promising start.

Five minutes later the snacks were gone.

Ten minutes later the drinks were gone.

Fifteen minutes later Barry was upside down in his seat.

Marmaduke was attempting to copy him.

Mrs Brand was beginning to wonder whether dentists accepted patients who arrived with mild emotional exhaustion.

Then Barry spotted it.

A traffic cone.

It stood alone at the far end of the car park.

Orange.

Silent.

Innocent.

The cone had no idea what was coming.

“Why is that cone there?” asked Barry.

Mrs Brand made a mistake.

A tiny mistake.

The sort of mistake adults make when they’re tired.

“I don’t know.”

Barry’s eyes widened.

He unbuckled himself.

Marmaduke unbuckled himself.

“Let’s find out.”

Before Mrs Brand could stop them, the boys were marching across the car park.

She followed.

The cone stood exactly where it had always stood.

Barry circled it.

Marmaduke circled it too.

“What do you think it’s doing?” asked Marmaduke.

“I think,” said Barry thoughtfully, “it’s guarding something.”

Mrs Brand immediately knew she was in trouble.

Barry knelt down.

“There might be treasure.”

“There might be pirates.”

“There might be sharks.”

“There might be pirate sharks.”

Marmaduke gasped.

Mrs Brand rubbed her forehead.

Barry carefully lifted the cone.

Underneath was…

Nothing.

Just tarmac.

Ordinary tarmac.

The most disappointing (and now hot to touch) surface in Britain.

The boys stared.

“What if it’s invisible treasure?” suggested Marmaduke.

“Good thinking.”

Mrs Brand took the cone back.

“Right. Adventure over.”

But Barry had noticed something else.

A line of ants.

Tiny ants crossing the edge of the car park.

Barry crouched.

Marmaduke crouched.

Mrs Brand crouched because apparently this was her life now.

“Where are they going?” whispered Barry.

The ants continued their journey without explaining.

“They’re late,” said Barry.

“For what?”

“The dentist.”

Marmaduke nodded seriously.

“Do ants have teeth?”

This was a surprisingly difficult question.

Mrs Brand regretted every educational television programme ever made.

The boys followed the ants.

The ants led them to a crack in the pavement.

Barry peered inside.

Marmaduke peered inside.

Then Barry announced:

“It’s an ant city.”

“What do they do all day?”

“I think they work.”

“What about weekends?”

“I think they work then too.”

The boys were silent.

Even they thought that sounded terrible.

Twenty-two minutes remained.

Mrs Brand checked the time.

This was alarming because it felt like at least three hours had passed.

Then Barry spotted a puddle, created from the watering of the troughs around the school grounds (PTA people with time on their hands collected for them, and one keen amateur gardener parent planted them all one weekend in early May – credit where due, they did look nice).

Now, sensible adults understand puddles.

Children do not.

Children see puddles as scientific opportunities.

Barry poked it with a stick.

Marmaduke poked it with a bigger stick.

Barry dropped a leaf into it.

Marmaduke dropped three leaves.

Soon they were conducting what they called “boat races.”

The boats travelled approximately four centimetres.

The boys celebrated each race as though they were crossing the Atlantic.

Then Barry had an idea.

The dangerous kind.

The quiet kind.

The kind that begins with:

“I wonder what happens if…”

Mrs Brand immediately interrupted.

“No.”

“But I haven’t said it yet.”

“You were going to.”

Barry considered this.

“Fair.”

At 3:20 pm, the school doors opened.

Children began pouring out.

The car park filled with noise.

Parents chatted.

Teachers waved.

Backpacks bounced.

Barry and Marmaduke immediately forgot every activity they’d been doing.

Now they had a new mission.

Spotting Alfie.

“There!” shouted Barry.

It wasn’t Alfie.

“There!” shouted Marmaduke.

It was a wheelie bin.

Finally, the real Alfie appeared.

Wet hair.

Swimming bag.

Serious expression.

Exactly as expected.

He walked over.

“Hello.”

“Alfie!” shouted Barry.

“We found an ant city.”

“And invisible treasure.”

“And pirate sharks.”

Alfie blinked.

“Have you been sitting in the car park making things up?”

“Mostly,” admitted Barry.

“Good.”

Mrs Brand stared at him.

“Good?”

“That’s usually when the least damage happens.”

A wise observation for an eight-year-old.

The boys climbed into the car.

The journey to the dentist began.

The temperature inside the vehicle now resembled a tropical greenhouse.

Mrs Brand opened every window.

Hair blew everywhere.

Barry made engine noises.

Marmaduke made louder engine noises.

Alfie read a book.

How Alfie managed to read in a moving car surrounded by chaos remained one of science’s greatest mysteries.

At last they reached the dentist.

The waiting room was calm.

Peaceful.

Quiet.

Which was unfortunate because Barry and Marmaduke arrived.

Within seconds they were examining fish in the aquarium.

Within another few seconds they were discussing whether fish brushed their teeth.

Then Mrs Brand’s name was called.

The boys marched inside.

The dentist smiled.

“Who’s first?”

Barry pointed at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke pointed at Barry.

Alfie sighed.

“Honestly.”

Eventually Barry climbed into the chair.

The chair moved upwards.

Barry grinned.

“It flies!”

“It doesn’t.”

“It could.”

“It can’t.”

The dentist examined his teeth.

Barry asked fourteen questions.

Nobody counted after fourteen.

The dentist declared everything healthy.

Next came Marmaduke.

Marmaduke copied Barry so perfectly that it was almost impressive.

When the chair moved, he also announced:

“It flies!”

“It still doesn’t,” said Alfie.

Finally it was Alfie’s turn.

He sat still.

Opened his mouth.

Followed instructions.

Finished in record time.

The dentist looked delighted.

Mrs Brand looked emotional.

Afterwards, the boys received stickers.

Barry immediately stuck his to his shirt.

Marmaduke stuck his to his forehead.

Alfie carefully placed his in his pocket.

Of course he did.

As they left, Mrs Brand checked the time.

The appointment was finished.

Nobody had cried.

Nobody had bitten the dentist (unlike two appointments ago, under Mr Brand’s supervision, where the dentist needed stitches).

Nobody had escaped into traffic.

Nobody had attempted to establish diplomatic relations with the fish.

By dentist standards, this was apparently a spectacular success.

Back in the car, Barry leaned back happily.

“Today was fun.”

“It was a dentist appointment,” said Alfie.

“And pirate sharks.”

“There were no pirate sharks.”

“Not that we saw.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“That’s what makes them sneaky.”

Alfie opened his book again.

Mrs Brand started the engine.

And somewhere back at school, an orange traffic cone stood peacefully in the afternoon sunshine.

Guarding absolutely nothing.

Or perhaps, if Barry was right, guarding invisible treasure.

After all, nobody had checked twice.

And if there’s one thing the world has learned about Barry, it’s this:

When Barry thinks something interesting might be hiding somewhere, sooner or later everyone ends up checking.

Even if it’s just under a traffic cone in a school car park.