Football friendly

The first Sunday of the autumn term arrived with the sort of weather that made everyone slightly suspicious.

The sky was blue.

The sun was shining.

There was hardly any wind.

And, most importantly, nobody appeared to have any homework due the next morning.

Mr Brand stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, enjoying this rare moment of peace.

Mrs Brand was reading something on her phone.

Barry was eating toast.

Marmaduke was eating the other half of Barry’s toast.

And Alfie was sitting at the kitchen table staring intently at his homework diary.

He suddenly looked up.

“Dad?”

Mr Brand looked over his coffee.

“Yes?”

“Can we go to my football match?”

Mr Brand frowned.

“What football match?”

“The friendly.”

“What friendly?”

“The football friendly.”

“I see.”

Mr Brand did not see.

Alfie pushed his homework diary across the table.

“It says here. On Friday. Year 4 are having a five-a-side football friendly on the local playing fields. Ten o’clock Sunday morning.”

Mrs Brand looked over.

“Oh, yes.”

She read the entry.

“Entirely optional. No pressure. Emphasis on the word friendly.”

Alfie nodded enthusiastically.

“I want to go.”

Mr Brand looked at his son.

“Do you actually want to play?”

“Yes.”

“Even though it’s optional?”

“Yes.”

“Even though there’s no pressure?”

“Yes.”

“And even though it says friendly?”

“Yes.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“Then we’ll go.”

Alfie’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you!”

He jumped up from his chair.

Barry immediately looked interested.

“Are there snacks?”

Marmaduke stopped chewing.

“Cake?”

Mrs Brand sighed.

“I have a feeling we’re not going to be watching much football.”

By half past nine, the Brand-Jackson family were walking across the local playing fields.

Marjory had brought a flask.

Mrs Brand had brought a coat.

Mr Brand had brought absolutely nothing useful, but had somehow acquired three footballs, two water bottles and a folding chair.

Barry and Marmaduke were walking together.

“Do you think there’ll be cake?” Marmaduke asked.

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s always cake.”

This was Barry’s theory about almost everything.

If there was a sporting event, there would be cake.

If there was a school fair, there would be cake.

If someone opened a new shop, there would probably be cake.

Barry believed that cake was one of the fundamental laws of the universe.

And on this particular Sunday, he was right, the universe played ball! 

Near the edge of the playing field was a small coffee stall.

It wasn’t really a stall.

It was a Land Rover.

Attached to the Land Rover was a converted horse box.

The horse box turned coffee cart had a little wooden counter, a chalkboard menu and several enormous cakes sitting under glass covers.

Barry stopped dead.

“Oh.”

Marmaduke stopped beside him.

“Oh.”

They stared.

Mr Brand walked past them.

“Come on, boys.”

Barry pointed.

“Dad.”

“Yes?”

“Coffee.”

“I can see that.”

“Cake.”

“I can see that too.”

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

They both knew that this was going to be a very good morning.

Mrs Brand ordered coffee.

Marjory ordered tea.

Mr Brand ordered coffee.

And Barry and Marmaduke each selected a piece of cake.

They sat on the grass and ate it.

They were not silly.

They did not get covered in crumbs.

They did not argue.

They did not steal anyone else’s cake.

They simply ate what they had chosen.

Mrs Brand watched them.

“That’s surprisingly civilised.”

Mr Brand nodded.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

He was right.

At 10am, the match began. Only 11 students from Year 4 had turned up so each was going to get decent match time. 

Alfie took his place on the pitch.

He was determined.

He was focused.

And he was particularly keen because one of the boys on the other side was the Year 4 school bully.

Everyone knew him.

He wasn’t particularly friendly.

He had a habit of pushing into people.

He enjoyed winding other children up.

And, for reasons nobody quite understood, he seemed to have decided that Alfie was particularly interesting.

The referee blew the whistle.

The game began.

For the first few minutes, everything was fine.

Then the bully came charging across the pitch.

He went straight for Alfie.

There was no ball.

There was no reason.

There wasn’t even a convincing attempt to pretend he was going for the ball.

He simply barged into Alfie.

“Oi!” shouted Mr Brand.

Mrs Brand sat up.

Marjory frowned.

Alfie regained his balance.

“Are you all right?” called Mr Brand.

“Yes!”

Alfie got back into position.

The referee had seen what happened.

“Keep it friendly, boys!”

The bully shrugged.

“Wasn’t me.”

Mr Brand looked at Mrs Brand.

“He appears to have developed an unusual relationship with reality.”

Mrs Brand nodded.

“Perhaps they’re still working on that at school.”

The game continued.

A few minutes later, the bully went for Alfie again.

This time he clipped Alfie’s shoulder.

Alfie stumbled, but stayed upright.

He didn’t complain.

He just carried on.

Barry watched.

Marmaduke watched.

They looked at each other.

Then they looked towards the hedge.

It was a long, thick hedgerow running down one side of the playing field.

Barry narrowed his eyes.

“Marmaduke.”

“Yes?”

“Come with me.”

“Why?”

“I have an idea.”

Marmaduke knew those words.

They were never good.

But they were usually interesting.

So he followed.

The two four-year-olds disappeared into the hedgerow.

They weren’t trying to be naughty.

At least, that was what they told themselves.

They were conducting an investigation.

They crouched behind a large bush.

From there they could see the football pitch.

They could also see the bully.

Barry whispered.

“He’s doing it again.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“He is.”

“What can we do?”

Marmaduke thought.

“We could tell a grown-up.”

Barry considered this.

“Yes.”

They both paused.

Then Barry spotted something on the ground.

It was a long, thin, spiky stick.

Barry picked it up.

Marmaduke looked at it.

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke looked back at Barry.

“No,” said Marmaduke.

Barry nodded.

“Probably not.”

They put the stick down.

There was another pause.

Barry picked it up again.

“Definitely not,” said Marmaduke.

Barry grinned.

They put it down.

Then they discovered that if they stayed deep enough inside the hedge, they could see almost the entire pitch without being seen themselves.

Barry’s eyes widened.

“We’re invisible.”

“We are not invisible.”

“We are hedge invisible.”

“That isn’t a thing.”

“It is now.”

Marmaduke looked at the pitch.

The bully was jogging around.

Alfie was chasing the ball.

Barry lowered his voice.

“He can’t see us.”

Marmaduke grinned.

“He doesn’t know we’re here.”

This was the moment when sensible people might have decided to leave.

Unfortunately, neither Barry nor Marmaduke was currently being supervised by a sensible person.

Barry picked up the stick.

He carefully extended it through a gap in the hedge.

The bully ran past.

Barry gave the stick the tiniest little nudge against the boy’s trainer.

The bully stopped.

He looked down.

Nothing.

He looked around.

Nobody.

Barry pulled the stick back.

Marmaduke covered his mouth.

The bully carried on.

Barry whispered.

“It worked.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“Again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not naughty.”

Barry thought about this.

“We’re helping.”

Marmaduke considered that.

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“We’re making him stop being mean.”

“That doesn’t sound very scientific.”

Barry nodded.

“We need more experiments.”

On the pitch, the bully suddenly stopped.

He looked behind him.

Nothing.

He looked to the left.

Nothing.

He looked to the right.

Nothing.

Then he shouted, “Who’s doing that?”

The referee looked over.

“Doing what?”

“Someone kicked me!”

“No one kicked you.”

“Yes they did!”

The other children looked at him.

Alfie looked confused. “I didn’t.”

The bully looked at Alfie suspiciously.

“You did!”

Alfie shook his head.

“I was over here.”

The bully stared at him, then he muttered, “Whatever.”

The game continued.

In the hedge, Barry and Marmaduke were struggling not to laugh.

Marmaduke whispered:

“He thinks Alfie did it.”

Barry shook his head.

“He’s very confused.”

A few moments later, the bully ran back past the hedge.

Nudge.

He stopped.

Looked around.

Nothing.

Nudge.

He jumped.

“What is happening?”

Barry and Marmaduke were practically lying on the ground with silent laughter.

The bully stamped his foot.

“I know someone’s doing it!”

A teacher came over.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You just shouted.”

“I didn’t.”

The teacher looked at him.

“You did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then get on with the game.”

The bully nodded, “Okay.”

He ran off.

Marmaduke whispered, “He won’t admit it.”

Barry nodded. “That’s because he doesn’t know who it is.”

Marmaduke grinned. “It’s us.”

Barry looked pleased. “We are extremely good at hiding.”

At that precise moment, Barry sneezed.

“AAAACHOO!”

Both boys froze.

The bully stopped.

He slowly turned towards the hedge.

Barry and Marmaduke ducked.

The bully stared at the bushes.

Nothing moved.

He walked towards them.

Barry whispered, “Don’t move.”

Marmaduke whispered, “I wasn’t planning to.”

The bully reached the edge of the hedge.

He peered inside.

Barry and Marmaduke were lying completely still.

The bully frowned.

There was a leaf stuck to his hair.

He looked around.

Then he said loudly, “I know you’re in there!”

Silence.

Barry’s nose twitched.

Marmaduke whispered, “Barry.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t sneeze.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re going red.”

“I know.”

“Your nose is moving.”

“I know.”

“Barry.”

“I KNOW.”

He sneezed again.

“ACHOO!”

The bully jumped.

But instead of looking into the hedge again, he shook his head.

“There’s nothing there.”

He walked away.

Marmaduke waited.

Then whispered, “He thinks the hedge sneezed.”

Barry smiled.

“It’s a very clever hedge.”

Meanwhile, Alfie was having an excellent game.

He had completely forgotten about the bully.

He passed the ball.

He intercepted another pass.

He even scored a goal.

Mr Brand cheered loudly.

Mrs Brand clapped.

Marjory shouted, “Well done, Alfie!”

Barry and Marmaduke cheered from inside the hedge.

Unfortunately, their cheering attracted attention.

A teacher looked over.

“Are Barry and Marmaduke in that hedge?”

Mrs Brand looked around.

“Barry?”

No answer.

“Marmaduke?”

Nothing.

Marjory stood up.

“Oh dear.”

Mr Brand sighed.

“I knew the cake was too peaceful.”

The two women walked towards the hedge.

“Boys?”

Silence.

“Barry?”

Nothing.

“Marmaduke?”

A tiny voice answered.

“Yes?”

Mrs Brand stopped.

“Come out.”

Two heads slowly appeared.

Barry emerged first.

Marmaduke followed.

They both had leaves in their hair.

Barry was still holding the stick.

Mrs Brand looked at it.

Then at Barry.

Then at Marmaduke.

Then back at the stick.

“What,” she asked very calmly, “are you doing?”

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

Neither spoke.

Finally Barry said, “Science.”

Mrs Brand closed her eyes.

Marjory turned to Marmaduke, “What’s happening?”

Mrs Brand pointed.

“Hedge science.”

Marjory stared at the boys. “Of course.”

Barry held up the stick. “We were helping Alfie.”

“How?”

“We were making the bully confused.”

Marjory crouched down.

“Boys, I understand that you don’t like seeing Alfie being picked on. But poking someone with a spiky stick isn’t a good way to solve it.”

Barry looked disappointed. “It was only a little nudge.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“A very little nudge.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” said Mrs Brand.

Both boys nodded.

“Sorry.”

“Good,” said Marjory. “Now let’s leave the hedge.”

They climbed out.

Barry brushed leaves from his jumper.

Marmaduke removed a twig from his sleeve.

Then Barry looked towards the pitch.

The bully was standing there, looking increasingly bewildered.

He looked at Barry.

He looked at Marmaduke.

Then he looked at the hedge.

He seemed to realise what had happened.

But he wasn’t going to admit it.

Absolutely not.

He folded his arms. “You weren’t poking me.”

Barry smiled, “We weren’t.”

Marmaduke nodded, “No.”

The bully looked suspicious.

“You were in the hedge.”

“Yes,” said Barry.

“What were you doing?”

Barry thought carefully.

“Investigating.”

“Investigating what?”

“The hedge.”

The bully stared at him.

“You’re weird.”

Barry nodded happily. “Thank you.”

Marmaduke whispered, “That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

The referee blew the whistle.

The game was nearly over.

Alfie’s team won.

Everyone shook hands.

Even the bully.

He walked past Alfie. “Good game.”

Alfie smiled. “Good game.”

And that was it.

No argument.

No shouting.

No drama.

Alfie hadn’t even realised how much effort Barry and Marmaduke had put into their strange hedge-based counter-operation.

Perhaps that was for the best.

When the family began walking home, Alfie was talking excitedly about the match.

“I really liked it. It was actually really friendly.”

Mr Brand glanced at Mrs Brand.

Mrs Brand glanced at Marjory.

Marjory glanced at Barry and Marmaduke.

Barry and Marmaduke were walking behind everyone else.

Barry whispered, “We helped.”

Marmaduke nodded. “We definitely helped.”

Barry looked thoughtful. “Do you think