Autumn show and tell

Tuesday morning arrived with the sort of excitement usually associated with Christmas morning, birthdays and being told that school had accidentally been cancelled.

It was, unfortunately, none of those things.

It was Tuesday.

But the Brand and Jackson children now had Barbados to think about.

They were walking to school with Marjory, who had volunteered to do the school run that morning, and the boys had spent the entire journey discussing the forthcoming holiday at approximately the volume of two air-raid sirens.

“We’re going to Barbados!” Marmaduke announced for what was probably the fourteenth time.

“Yes,” said Alfie.

“With actual beaches.”

“Yes.”

“And sea.”

“Yes.”

“And museums,” Alfie added, with considerably more enthusiasm than the average eight-year-old would normally show towards museums.

“And coconuts!” said Marmaduke.

“Probably.”

“Do coconuts grow on trees?”

“Yes.”

“Can you climb them?”

“Probably,” said Marjory.

“Can you eat them?”

“Yes.”

“Can you climb a tree, get a coconut, open it, drink it, eat it and then climb back down?”

Marjory looked at him.

“I imagine someone can, but they are quite high up, you know?”

“I will.”

“Excellent.”

Marjory had already learned that the safest way to handle Marmaduke’s ambitious statements was not to argue with them. They tended to become more complicated if challenged.

Barry, meanwhile, was walking backwards.

He was looking at everyone rather than where he was going, which was a fairly accurate summary of Barry’s approach to life.

“Snowball can’t come to Barbados,” he said.

“No,” said Marjory.

“Because she’s an indoor cat.”

“Yes.”

“And because she has FIV.”

“Yes.”

“And because she doesn’t have a passport.”

“That is probably not the main reason.”

Barry considered this.

“She’d need a suitcase.”

“She’d need rather more than a suitcase.”

“What about Bubble?”

“Bubble isn’t coming either.”

“Why?”

“Bubble would hate Barbados.”

“Why?” asked Alfie.

“She doesn’t like holidays.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she doesn’t even like going to the vet.”

There was a pause.

“That,” said Marjory, “is actually a reasonable point.”

The four of them continued towards school beneath a bright autumn sky.

The pavements were covered in leaves. Red ones. Yellow ones. Brown ones. Some still clinging to the trees and others already scattered across the ground in great crunchy piles.

Barry stopped.

He stared down.

Then he looked up.

Then down again.

Then at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke was already staring at the leaves.

“Autumn,” he whispered.

“Yes,” said Marjory.

“Look at all the colours!”

“I know.”

“Red and yellow.”

“Yes.”

“Like Barbados.”

Marjory looked at him.

“I’m not sure Barbados is particularly famous for red and yellow autumn leaves.”

“No,” said Marmaduke. “But it has colours.”

“Fair enough.”

They reached the school gates.

Marjory kissed all three boys.

“Have a lovely day.”

“Bye, Mum,” said Marmaduke.

“Bye, Marjory,” said Alfie.

“Bye!” shouted Barry.

Alfie disappeared towards registration before anyone could ask him whether he had remembered everything.

Because Alfie always remembered everything.

That was one of the reasons he was Alfie.

The other two were Barry and Marmaduke.

They were considerably less reliable.

Marjory was just turning towards the car park when Marmaduke suddenly stopped.

His eyes widened.

His mouth dropped open.

He looked like someone who had just remembered something extremely important.

“Mum!”

Marjory turned.

“What?”

“Today is autumn show and tell!”

“Yes?”

“I need something autumn-y.”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t got anything.”

Marjory stared at him.

Marmaduke stared back.

Behind them, Barry was already halfway towards Reception.

“Marmaduke,” said Marjory, “why did you only remember this now?”

“I forgot.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

Marjory glanced towards the Reception building.

Then towards the car park.

Then at the enormous carpet of autumn leaves beneath their feet.

“Well, you could take a leaf.”

Marmaduke looked horrified.

“A leaf?”

“Yes.”

“For show and tell?”

“Yes.”

“That’s boring.”

Marjory blinked.

“It’s an autumn leaf. The clue is in the name.”

“I need something interesting.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Marjory sighed.

This was how parents ended up being asked to provide an authentic Roman shield by Thursday morning.

“Barry!” she called.

Barry came running back.

“What?”

“What have you got for autumn show and tell?”

Barry smiled.

It was not an ordinary smile.

It was the smile of a four-year-old who had already solved a problem in a way that was about to create several significantly larger problems.

“I’ve got the perfect thing.”

Marjory looked relieved.

“Oh, brilliant.”

“It’s already in my bag.”

“Excellent.”

She did not question this – her mistake.

The bell rang.

“Come on!” shouted Marmaduke.

The two boys raced towards Reception.

“Have a good day!” Marjory called.

Neither answered.

They were already through the door.

Marjory walked towards the car park.

She had absolutely no idea that she had just approved the deployment of Barry’s plan.

And, frankly, some mornings you simply have to trust your children.

This should not have been one of those mornings.

Mrs Abraham stood at the front of the Reception classroom after registration.

“Right, everyone. Today is our autumn show and tell.”

There was immediate excitement.

Children had brought conkers.

Leaves.

A pine cone.

One child had brought a tiny pumpkin.

Another had brought a stick.

A particularly ambitious child had apparently brought three different types of moss.

Mrs Abraham smiled.

“Remember, everyone, we are going to talk about something that reminds us of autumn. But first, we need to build our autumn picture. On the art table, is an outline of a big tree. I want you all to stick down your autumn findings, using the PVA glue in the pots.”

“Mrs Abraham! My nose is bleeding!” squealed Billy, from the back of the gathered class. 

“Right, class, start sticking. Billy, come this way and pinch your nose.”

Mrs Abraham was as cool as a seasoned A&E doctor as she lead Billy over to the art sink in the far corner of the room. 

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

“What did you bring?”

Barry grinned.

“It’s a surprise.”

At the art table, the children worked efficiently. 

There were loads of lovely leaves. 

A pile of conkers. 

A handful of another type of leaf.

A small branch.

Seven and a half pine cones. 

A pumpkin.

The moss collection… 

Then Mrs Abraham said:

“Barry, what on earth is that?”

Barry stood back proudly.

Mrs Abraham leaned forward over the giant collage… 

A pair of men’s underpants.

Quiet giggling broke out among the children. 

Mrs Abraham stared at them.

The children stared at them and started to giggle louder. 

Barry smiled and took a small bow. 

They were unmistakably his dad’s by size.

They were also covered in a cheerful pattern of red and yellow autumn leaves.

Barry looked delighted.

Mrs Abraham blinked.

“Yes.”

Barry smiled.

“Autumn!”

Mrs Abraham looked at the pants.

Then at Barry.

Then at the pants again.

It was the sort of moment where an adult’s brain briefly shuts down and restarts in safe mode.

“Barry,” she said slowly.

“Yes?”

“Are those…”

She paused.

There were some questions that simply felt ridiculous to ask.

“…your dad’s?”

“Yes.”

“Why have you brought them to school?”

“For show and tell.”

“I can see that.”

Barry nodded.

“I knew you’d like them.”

Mrs Abraham looked around the room.

Marmaduke had both hands over his mouth.

He was trying not to laugh.

He was failing spectacularly.

One child whispered, “Are they knickers?”

Another replied, “They’re boy knickers.”

A third child said, “My daddy doesn’t have leaf pants.”

Barry looked surprised.

“He should.”

Mrs Abraham took a deep breath.

“Barry, I asked you to bring something autumnal.”

“Yes.”

“These are… certainly autumnal.”

Barry beamed.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t quite a compliment.”

“Oh.”

Barry thought about it.

Then held them up again.

“They have leaves.”

“They do.”

“Red and yellow.”

“Yes.”

“So they are autumn.”

Mrs Abraham closed her eyes briefly.

She was beginning to understand that, technically, Barry had followed the instructions.

He had simply followed them into a completely different postcode.

“Barry,” she said gently, “show and tell means you bring something from autumn or something that helps us learn about autumn.”

Barry looked at the pants.

“Dad wears them in autumn.”

Marmaduke collapsed onto the carpet, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Mrs Abraham turned to him.

“Marmaduke.”

“Sorry.”

He wasn’t.

Not remotely.

Mrs Abraham looked back at Barry.

“Did your dad know you had taken these?”

“No.”

“Right.”

There it was.

The missing piece.

The crucial information.

The sentence that explained everything.

“Barry,” said Mrs Abraham, “you must never take somebody else’s clothes without asking.”

“Even if they’re autumn?”

“Especially if they’re underwear.”

Barry frowned.

“Why?”

“Because underwear is private.”

Barry considered this.

“But they’re covered in leaves.”

Mrs Abraham nodded.

“Yes, Barry. Unfortunately, the leaves do not change the rules about pants.”

At break time, Marmaduke was still laughing.

“You brought  your Daddy’s pants!”

“They were perfect.”

“They’re underpants!”

“They have autumn on them.”

“You put them in your school bag!”

Barry nodded proudly.

“I planned it.”

“You didn’t plan it. You just put pants in your bag.”

“That is planning.”

Marmaduke thought about this.

“Maybe.”

Barry lowered his voice.

“Do you think Mrs Abraham liked them?”

“No.”

“She said they were autumnal.”

“She also said you shouldn’t take them.”

Barry sighed.

“Teachers are complicated.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“They are.”

Meanwhile, Marjory was at work.

She was standing in a hospital corridor, coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, when she received a message from Mrs Brand.

How’s the school run?

Marjory smiled and typed back.

Fine. Boys excited about Barbados. Marmaduke forgot about autumn show and tell at the last minute. Barry said he had the perfect thing already in his bag.

A few seconds later, Mrs Brand replied.

Oh no.

Marjory frowned.

What?

There was a pause.

Then:

Did you ask what it was?

Marjory stared at the message.

Her stomach dropped.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

She typed:

No.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Marjory closed her eyes.

She suddenly had a horrible feeling…

“Barry,” she whispered.

At lunchtime, Mrs Abraham quietly called Barry over.

“Barry, can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get the underpants?”

“Daddy’s drawer.”

“Did Daddy give them to you?”

“No.”

“Did Mummy?”

“No.”

“Did anyone?”

“No.”

Mrs Abraham nodded.

“Right.”

Barry looked worried.

“Is Daddy going to be cross?”

“I don’t know.”

“He might be.”

“He might.”

Barry looked down.

“But they were very good for autumn.”

Mrs Abraham smiled despite herself.

“They were.”

Barry brightened.

“Can I keep them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re your dad’s.”

“Oh.”

Mrs Abraham handed them back in a plastic bag. They were covered in PVA glue still. “Pop these in your bag, please. I’ll email your parents to explain.”

“Mrs Abraham?”

“Yes?”

“Could I bring them again next year?”

Mrs Abraham stared at him.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because by then your dad may have bought different underpants.”

Barry looked genuinely disappointed.

“That would be a shame.”

By the time school finished, the story had somehow travelled around.

Not through gossip.

Obviously.

Reception children did not gossip.

They simply shared information with the efficiency of an international intelligence network.

When Marjory arrived at the school gates, Marmaduke came running.

“Mum!”

“What happened?”

“Barry brought Daddy’s pants.”

Marjory stopped.

“I’m sorry?”

“His pants.”

“Whose pants?”

“Mr Brand’s.”

Marjory slowly turned towards Barry.

Barry was standing behind Marmaduke.

He looked innocent.

Far too innocent.

“Barry.”

“Yes?”

“Did you take Daddy’s underpants to school?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For autumn show and tell.”

Marjory put her hand over her mouth.

She was trying very hard not to laugh.

She failed.

She laughed.

Marmaduke laughed.

Barry smiled.

Even Mrs Abraham, standing nearby, was trying not to grin.

“I thought you said you had the perfect thing,” Marjory said.

“I did.”

“You certainly did.”

Barry looked pleased.

When they got home, Mr Brand was sitting at the kitchen table working on his laptop.

Barry walked in.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“I borrowed your pants.”

Mr Brand slowly looked up.

“My what?”

“Your autumn pants.”

Mr Brand stared at him.

“My what?”

“Your underpants with leaves.”

There was silence.

Mrs Brand walked into the kitchen.

Marjory followed.

Marmaduke followed Marjory.

Alfie arrived last.

He had clearly already heard enough to know this was going to be entertaining.

Mr Brand looked at Mrs Brand.

Mrs Brand looked at Marjory.

Marjory looked at Barry.

Barry looked proud.

Alfie looked exhausted.

“Why,” asked Mr Brand very slowly, “did you take my underpants to school?”

“Autumn show and tell.”

Mr Brand closed his eyes.

“Of course.”

“They have leaves.”

“I know.”

“Red and yellow.”

“I’ve seen them.”

“They’re autumn.”

Mr Brand nodded.

“I can’t argue with the evidence.”

Alfie sighed.

“I think Dad has just given up.”

“I definitely have,” said Mr Brand.

Somewhere in the house, Snowball opened one blue eye, looked at the entire family, and appeared to reach the same conclusion as Mrs Abraham.

A week in Barbados sounded lovely.

But perhaps a week without Barry would be the real holiday.