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Mrs Brand opened one eye.

The alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

For a glorious four seconds, the house was silent.

Then she remembered.

Tuesday.

Day Two of Scouts Week.

Or, more specifically…

Day Two of “How Much Insurance Does One Organisation Need?”

She glanced at the clock.

6:06 a.m.

She wandered downstairs, made a coffee and, with the misplaced optimism that only parents possess before children wake up, opened her laptop.

She had precisely eighteen uninterrupted minutes before the daily tornado began.

She managed seven.

“MUUUUUUM!”

Barry’s voice thundered down the stairs.

“My pillow’s escaped!”

Mrs Brand didn’t even flinch.

“How does a pillow escape?”

“It jumped.”

“Of course it did.”

A few doors away, Marjory Jackson was also preparing for battle.

She was an exceptionally skilled neurosurgeon who could calmly operate for twelve hours on the most delicate structures known to mankind.

Yet most mornings she still found herself negotiating with Marmaduke over socks.

“I don’t want matching ones.”

“They’re identical.”

“Exactly.”

“So… they match.”

“I don’t like it.”

Marjory sighed.

“I can literally remove brain tumours.”

Marmaduke considered this.

“But can you find my green sock?”

Apparently not.

By eight o’clock the children arrived at school.

Leader Sarah stood at the entrance with her clipboard.

“Morning, Barry.”

“I’ve come back.”

“I can see.”

“I wasn’t expelled.”

“No.”

“I think that’s because I’m improving.”

Leader Sarah smiled.

“I think it’s because we believe in second chances.”

Barry nodded thoughtfully.

“Third chances too?”

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Today’s activities were displayed on a giant whiteboard.

Tuesday

✔ Organise your campsite

✔ Cook your own lunch

✔ Make your tent comfy for sleeping

✔ Teamwork Challenge

Barry stared at the first line.

“What’s this word?”, he said, pointing to ‘organise’. 

Alfie answered before anyone else could.

“It means putting things where they belong.”

Barry frowned.

“They already belong.”

“They’re scattered everywhere.”

“They belong there.”

“No, they don’t.”

“They’ve chosen.”

The Squirrels gathered beside yesterday’s tents.

Well…

Most of yesterday’s tents.

Leader Ben wheeled over a small trolley.

“We’ve had a little change.”

He looked kindly at Barry.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have another spare tent.”

Barry nodded.

“I exploded mine.”

“You… damaged it.”

“It exploded because I hugged it.”

Leader Ben decided that correcting every sentence Barry spoke might consume the rest of the week.

“So today you’ll be sharing with Marmaduke.”

Marmaduke looked delighted.

“A sleepover!”

“It’s pretend camping.”

“Pretend sleepover!”

Barry high-fived him.

Leader Sarah quietly muttered to another volunteer,

“At least if anything breaks, statistically it’ll only be one tent.”

The boys approached Marmaduke’s perfectly respectable little pop-up tent.

Barry crawled inside.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s smaller than outside.”

“That’s how tents work.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“It definitely is.”

Barry poked his head back out.

“I’ve decided we need an extension.”

Leader Ben appeared instantly.

“No extensions.”

“What about a conservatory?”

“No.”

“Garage?”

“No.”

“A basement?”

“In a tent?”

Barry shrugged.

“I’m exploring options.”

The first challenge was organising their campsite.

Every child had exactly the same equipment.

A sleeping bag.

A pillow.

A backpack. 

A lantern.

Two water bottles.

A washing bowl.

A tiny folding table.

A camping chair.

Barry looked around.

“This is easy.”

He immediately placed absolutely everything inside the tent.

Including the chair.

Including the table.

Including Marmaduke.

Leader Sarah walked over.

“…Can either of you get back out?”

There was silence.

Then Barry’s voice.

“I’ve become furniture.”

Several minutes later they emerged.

Slightly crumpled.

Leader Sarah gently explained that campsites worked rather better if some things remained outside.

Alfie, meanwhile, had arranged his demonstration campsite with military precision.

Sleeping bag rolled perfectly.

Boots together.

Bag zipped.

Water bottle upright.

Not a single sock visible.

Leader Martin inspected it.

“Outstanding.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve earned excellent marks for campsite organisation.”

Barry wandered over.

“Have you hidden your mess?”

“There isn’t any.”

“Where did it go?”

“I put everything away.”

Barry looked genuinely suspicious.

“I don’t trust that.”

Next came the sleeping challenge.

The children had to make their tents comfortable enough for a good night’s sleep.

Leader Sarah demonstrated.

“Sleeping bag first.”

The children copied.

“Pillow at the top.”

Everyone copied.

“Leave room to move.”

Everyone copied.

Barry frowned.

“I’ve got another idea.”

Those words have historically caused civilisation a number of difficulties.

Barry dragged both sleeping bags into one enormous pile.

Then he stuffed every spare jumper, towel and blanket underneath.

“It feels like a castle.”

Leader Ben climbed inside to test it.

Immediately he rolled sideways.

Then rolled back again.

“It’s like sleeping on mashed potatoes.”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

Marmaduke contributed by arranging the pillows.

Vertically.

Horizontally.

Upside down.

One underneath Barry’s knees.

One somehow outside.

Leader Sarah blinked.

“Which one are you planning to sleep on?”

“…I hadn’t reached that stage.”

At lunchtime came yesterday’s greatest challenge.

Cooking.

Mrs Brand received a text.

Today’s cooking activity involves pasta and tomato sauce. All safety precautions are in place.

She forwarded it to Marjory.

Marjory replied immediately.

Excellent. What could possibly go wrong?

Each pair received:

A tiny stove.

A saucepan.

Water.

Pasta.

Tomato sauce.

Wooden spoon.

Instructions.

Alfie quietly read every instruction before touching anything.

Barry skipped directly to Step Six.

“I think we’re nearly finished.”

“You haven’t started.”

“We’re getting ahead.”

Leader Ben crouched beside them.

“First…”

He pointed.

“Water.”

Barry poured.

Mostly into the pan.

Some onto his shoes.

“We’re winning.”

Marmaduke carefully added the pasta.

Every single piece.

At once.

The water splashed dramatically.

Leader Ben took one tiny step backwards.

Experience.

This time Barry remembered yesterday.

“I’m not touching the knob.”

“Excellent.”

“Marmaduke?”

“I remember.”

“No touching.”

“We learned.”

Leader Sarah smiled proudly.

“They’re remembering.”

It was a lovely moment.

Barry raised one finger.

“What if…”

“No.”

“I haven’t asked yet.”

“No.”

“…what if tiny marshmallows?”

“No.”

The pasta bubbled happily.

The tomato sauce warmed.

Nobody produced smoke.

Nobody set fire to lunch.

Nobody carbonised soup.

Frankly, expectations had been modest, but this counted as spectacular success.

Barry tasted a tiny spoonful.

“It’s hot.”

Leader Ben nodded.

“That’s because we’ve cooked it.”

“Oh.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

Marmaduke took a bite.

“This is the nicest thing I’ve ever made,” Barry proudly announced,

“We’re basically chefs.”

Leader Sarah coughed politely.

“I’d say you’re enthusiastic beginners.”

“We’ll take that.”

After lunch came the inspection.

Every campsite would be judged.

Children stood nervously beside their tents.

Leader Martin worked methodically down the line.

“Tidy.”

“Very good.”

“Excellent teamwork.”

Then…

Barry and Marmaduke.

He paused.

Very slowly looked around.

Sleeping bags.

Reasonably neat.

Backpacks.

Standing up.

Lantern.

Correct.

Shoes.

Almost together.

Barry smiled.

“We tried.”

“I can tell.”

Leader Martin spotted something.

“…Why is there a banana hanging from the roof of your tent?”

Barry looked confused.

“Oh.”

He climbed inside.

“I wondered where that went.”

Further inspection revealed:

One banana.

Three toy dinosaurs.

A wooden spoon.

A feather.

One sock that belonged to absolutely nobody present.

Leader Martin decided not to ask.

Across the field Alfie was helping younger Scouts fold blankets.

Again.

He simply couldn’t stop himself.

Everything deserved to be folded.

Leader Martin smiled.

“Would you like to help with demonstrations tomorrow?”

“Really?”

“You’ve earned it.”

Alfie’s ears turned pink.

“I’d like that very much.”

The final activity of the afternoon was teamwork.

Pairs had to carry a bucket of water through a simple obstacle course without spilling too much.

Simple.

In theory.

Barry immediately suggested running.

Marmaduke agreed.

Leader Sarah intervened.

“You’ll spill it.”

“We’ll run carefully.”

“That’s not really a thing.”

Three…

Two…

One…

Go!

Barry sprinted.

Marmaduke attempted to keep up.

The bucket developed opinions.

Water flew everywhere.

Barry slipped.

Marmaduke spun round.

Neither fell.

Which was genuinely impressive.

Unfortunately the bucket arrived containing approximately enough water to wash one hamster.

Leader Sarah examined it.

“You started with five litres.”

“We’ve still got…”

Barry peered inside.

“…some.”

Another pair walked carefully.

Slowly.

Patiently.

They lost almost nothing.

Barry watched.

“Oh.”

Leader Ben smiled.

“What have we learned?”

“Running is quicker.”

“…Yes.”

“But not wetter?”

“Exactly.”

As parents arrived to collect everyone, the Scout leaders gathered.

Leader Sarah smiled.

“I’m pleased to report…”

She paused dramatically.

“…that Barry and Marmaduke may return tomorrow.”

Barry cheered.

“I knew we’d survive!”

Leader Ben laughed.

“You’ve actually done much better today.”

Mrs Brand looked pleasantly surprised.

“Really?”

“They listened.”

“Mostly.”

“They cooked edible food.”

Marjory gasped theatrically.

“Write down the date.”

“They even organised most of their campsite.”

Leader Sarah lowered her voice.

“We’re quietly optimistic.”

Mrs Brand nodded.

“We’ll try not to disturb that feeling.”

Walking home, Barry carried Marmaduke’s spare sleeping bag.

“I like sharing.”

“So do I,” said Marmaduke.

“My tent was lonely.”

“It isn’t yours.”

“It’s ours now.”

Leader Ben overheard and smiled.

That, he thought, was rather lovely.

That evening everyone gathered in the Brands’ garden.

Bubble the cat wandered over to inspect.

He sniffed Marmaduke’s tent.

Walked inside.

Curled into the sleeping bag.

Refused to leave.

Barry peered in.

“I think Bubble likes camping.”

Marjory laughed.

“I think Bubble likes borrowing things that belong to other people.”

Bubble blinked slowly.

It was impossible to prove he understood.

Equally impossible to prove he didn’t.

After dinner Alfie carefully polished the little badge he’d earned yesterday.

Barry climbed onto the sofa beside him.

“When I get bigger…”

“You’ll join Scouts.”

“I already did.”

“You know what I mean.”

Barry nodded.

“I think I’ll earn a cooking badge.”

“You might.”

“A camping badge.”

“Probably.”

“A sharing badge.”

Alfie smiled.

“You’ve already started that one.”

Barry looked pleased.

“I’ve only broken one tent.”

“So far.”

“That’s improvement.”

Mrs Brand laughed into her tea.

“It actually is.”

Mr Brand looked over his glasses.

“I never thought I’d hear the sentence, ‘He’s only broken one tent,’ and consider it a parenting success.”

Marjory grinned.

“Our standards have adjusted.”

“They’ve plummeted.”

“Completely.”

Everyone laughed.

Upstairs, Barry was already planning tomorrow’s adventures.

Tomorrow involved maps, simple first aid and learning how to be helpful around camp.

Mrs Brand looked at Tuesday’s calendar.

Remarkably, everything on it had happened.

Nothing had caught fire.

Nobody had been sent home.

No tents had needed replacing.

No Scout leaders had resigned.

By the astonishing standards established over the previous twenty-four hours, Tuesday had been an overwhelming triumph.

Which, as every experienced parent knows, was precisely the sort of thing that made Wednesday feel just a little bit ominous.