Wednesday morning began with something Barry considered extremely exciting.
An announcement.
Not an ordinary announcement, either.
This one involved the words fire alarm, everyone leaving the building, and forest school.
Unfortunately for Mrs Abraham, those words were about to be combined in Barry’s mind in a way that nobody had intended.
The school had decided that Wednesday would be the day they practised their fire drill.
Mrs Abraham explained it carefully to Reception.
“If you hear the fire alarm, you stop what you’re doing.”
The children listened.
“You walk quietly with your class.”
They listened.
“You stay with your teacher.”
They listened.
“You don’t run.”
A few children looked at Barry.
Barry looked offended.
“I don’t run.”
Marmaduke looked at him.
“You do.”
“Not in school.”
Mrs Abraham raised an eyebrow.
Barry immediately looked innocent.
“You walk to the playground and line up at your class’s muster point.”
Barry put his hand up.
“Yes, Barry?”
“What if you need to go somewhere else?”
“You don’t.”
“What if you want to?”
“You don’t.”
“What if it’s forest school?”
“You still don’t.”
Barry lowered his hand.
He had clearly not liked that answer.
Mrs Abraham continued.
“The most important thing is that we leave safely and calmly.”
Barry nodded.
“Like explorers?”
Mrs Abraham smiled.
“Not like explorers.”
Barry nodded again.
This was important information.
Apparently, he was not to treat the fire drill like an expedition.
Which was unfortunate, because he hadn’t been on an expedition for ages.
It had been weeks since he’d discovered anything particularly interesting.
No hedges.
No mysterious animals.
No brambles.
No strange objects.
No dramatic discoveries.
Life had become disappointingly sensible.
Even forest school had recently involved things like leaves, seasons, apples and hot chocolate.
All very nice.
But not exactly Indiana Jones.
At lunchtime, Barry mentioned this to Marmaduke.
“We haven’t explored for ages.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“I know.”
“We need to explore.”
“Where?”
Barry looked around.
“Somewhere.”
Marmaduke considered this.
“Forest school?”
Barry’s eyes widened.
“That could work.”
And then the bell rang.
The teachers had their meeting.
The children went back to class.
And nobody had any idea that a perfectly ordinary fire drill was about to become Barry’s latest expedition.
At around half past ten, Mrs Abraham was doing some work with the children when the fire alarm suddenly sounded.
WEEEWHOOWEEWHOO….
Twenty Reception children jumped.
Barry’s eyes went enormous. It was so so loud.
Marmaduke looked at Mrs Abraham.
Mrs Abraham stood up.
“Okay, everyone. Remember what we talked about.”
The children got up.
Mrs Abraham led them towards the door.
“Walking feet.”
The children walked.
Mostly.
There was a great deal of excitement.
Every classroom was doing exactly the same thing.
Doors opened.
Teachers led children out.
Classes moved along corridors and towards the exits.
The school was suddenly full of people.
Mr Henley appeared with another class.
Mrs Alves led her group out.
Older children were moving towards their designated areas.
And Reception were trying very hard to remain an orderly little line.
Mrs Abraham looked over her shoulder.
“Stay together, everyone.”
Barry nodded.
Marmaduke nodded.
They walked.
Barry looked left.
Then right.
Then left again.
Forest school was visible beyond the playground.
The trees.
The bushes.
The paths.
The little wooded area where they had toasted apples.
Barry’s eyes narrowed.
Marmaduke noticed.
“No.”
Barry looked at him.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Barry pointed.
“Look.”
Marmaduke looked.
Forest school.
Barry whispered, “We could explore.”
“We’re supposed to line up.”
“I know.”
“Mrs Abraham said.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
Barry sighed.
Marmaduke was occasionally inconveniently sensible.
The Reception class reached their muster station.
The children were supposed to stand together in their class line.
Mrs Abraham counted them.
“Everyone here?”
“Yes!”
She counted again.
“Twenty.”
Excellent.
All present.
All safe.
All accounted for.
Except Barry and Marmaduke had already noticed something.
The muster station was very close to the edge of the forest school area.
Very close.
Almost suspiciously close.
Barry whispered, “We’re basically at forest school.”
Marmaduke whispered back, “Yes.”
“We could just look.”
“No.”
“From here.”
“No.”
“Very slightly further.”
“No.”
Barry looked at him.
“You’re ruining my expedition.”
Marmaduke shrugged.
“We’re doing a fire drill.”
Barry sighed.
“Fine.”
Mrs Abraham spoke to the children.
“This is a practice. We’re checking that everyone knows what to do if the alarm sounds.”
Barry listened.
For approximately four seconds.
Then something caught his eye.
A little path.
It ran behind the trees.
Barry stared at it.
Marmaduke stared at Barry.
“No.”
“I just want to see where it goes.”
“No.”
“What if it goes somewhere?”
“It’s a path.”
“Exactly.”
Marmaduke looked exhausted.
Barry whispered, “Come on.”
Marmaduke hesitated.
This was where Marmaduke’s excellent judgement met Barry’s extraordinary persistence.
The judgement lost.
“Fine.”
Barry grinned.
The two boys slowly shuffled sideways.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
They were still close to the class.
Nobody noticed.
They moved behind a large bush.
Barry crouched.
Marmaduke crouched.
Barry whispered, “We’re explorers.”
Marmaduke whispered, “We’re going to get in trouble.”
Barry smiled.
“That’s part of exploring.”
They moved along the path.
It was only a few metres from the rest of the class still.
But to Barry it might as well have been the Amazon rainforest.
He pushed aside a branch.
“Look!”
There was a tree stump.
Marmaduke looked.
“That’s a stump.”
Barry crouched beside it.
“It could be a clue.”
“A clue to what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
They carried on.
There was a pile of leaves.
A stick.
Another stick.
A tiny hole in the ground.
Barry gasped.
“A tunnel.”
Marmaduke looked at it.
“It’s a hole.”
“It might be a tunnel.”
“It might be a hole.”
Barry examined it.
“Only one way to find out.”
“No.”
Barry sighed.
“Fine.”
They moved further.
Back at the class line, Mrs Abraham was counting her students again.
One.
Two.
Three.
…
She stopped.
She counted again.
“Where are Barry and Marmaduke?”
A nearby teacher looked around.
“I thought they were with you.”
Mrs Abraham’s eyes widened.
“They were.”
Now there was a small but very serious problem.
Two four-year-olds had disappeared during a fire drill.
Mrs Abraham looked towards the playground.
Then towards the trees.
She knew Barry.
She knew Marmaduke.
She knew exactly where they were likely to be.
She took a deep breath.
“Barry!”
Nothing.
“Marmaduke!”
Silence.
Then, from behind a bush:
“YES?”
Mrs Abraham closed her eyes.
There was a pause.
“Barry, come here please.”
Barry emerged.
Marmaduke followed.
They both looked extremely innocent.
They were also covered in leaves.
Mrs Abraham stared at them.
“Where have you been?”
Barry looked around.
“Exploring.”
Mrs Abraham folded her arms.
“This is a fire drill.”
“I know.”
“You’re supposed to stay with your class.”
“I know.”
“You’re supposed to stay where we can see you.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you leave?”
Barry thought about this.
“I haven’t explored for a while.”
Mrs Abraham stared at him.
Marmaduke quietly added, “I told him not to.”
Mrs Abraham looked at Marmaduke.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you then go with him?”
Marmaduke nodded.
Mrs Abraham sighed.
“Of course you did.”
Barry looked pleased.
“We found things.”
Mrs Abraham looked at the leaves stuck to Barry’s jumper.
“I can see that.”
Barry held up a stick.
“This is a really good stick.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“And there’s a hole.”
“Wonderful.”
“And a stump.”
“Thrilling.”
“And a path.”
“An incredible discovery.”
Barry smiled.
Mrs Abraham crouched down.
“Barry, fire drills are important. If the alarm is real, you must stay with your class so we know where you are.”
Barry nodded.
“Okay.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Okay.”
Mrs Abraham smiled.
“Good.”
Then she stood up.
“Now come and stand with everyone else.”
Barry walked back.
Marmaduke followed.
The other Reception children stared at them.
One child asked, “Where did you go?”
Barry whispered, “Forest school.”
The child looked impressed.
Mrs Abraham heard.
“Barry.”
“Sorry.”
The fire drill continued.
Teachers checked their registers.
The headteacher moved between classes.
Everything was orderly.
Everything was calm.
Exactly as it was supposed to be.
Except for one small stick hanging down beside Barry’s foot.
Mrs Abraham noticed it.
“What’s that?”
Barry looked down.
“My stick.”
“Why have you brought it?”
Barry thought.
“It was part of the investigation.”
Mrs Abraham sighed.
“Put it down.”
Barry reluctantly placed the stick on the ground.
The headteacher eventually announced that the drill was complete.
The children could return inside.
Mrs Abraham gathered Reception.
“Okay, everyone. Back to class.”
Barry walked alongside Marmaduke.
He whispered, “That was a good expedition.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“It was.”
“But we’re not allowed to do that during a fire drill.”
“No.”
“Even though we found the path.”
“No.”
“And the stump.”
“No.”
“And the hole.”
“Especially no.”
Barry considered this.
“Next time we’ll explore after school.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“That sounds safer.”
Mrs Abraham, walking directly behind them, heard every word.
“Barry.”
“Yes?”
“There won’t be a next time.”
Barry looked disappointed.
“But what if there’s another fire drill?”
Mrs Abraham stared at him.
Barry smiled.
“I’m joking.”
Marmaduke laughed.
Mrs Abraham shook her head.
Four-year-olds.
They were astonishing.
They could count in tens.
Recognise shapes.
Sing Harvest Festival songs.
Learn guitar chords.
And understand why a fire alarm meant they had to leave a building safely.
But apparently, none of this prevented them from seeing a small wooded path and thinking:
Excellent. An adventure.
Back at home that afternoon, Mr Brand asked Barry how school had been.
“Good.”
“What did you do?”
“Fire drill.”
“Oh. Did you do it properly?”
Barry nodded.
“Yes.”
Marmaduke, who had come home with him, looked at Barry.
Barry looked at Marmaduke.
Mr Brand noticed.
“What?”
Barry smiled.
“We explored.”
Mr Brand closed his eyes.
“Of course you did.”
Mrs Brand looked over from her laptop.
“Where?”
“Forest school.”
“During the fire drill?”
Barry nodded.
“It’s been ages since I’ve explored.”
Mr Brand stared at him.
“You do realise a fire drill is specifically designed to practise getting everyone to safety?”
“Yes.”
“And you wandered off?”
“Yes.”
“With Marmaduke?”
“Yes.”
Marmaduke added, “I did tell him not to.”
Mr Brand looked at him.
“And then you went with him.”
“Yes.”
Mr Brand nodded slowly.
“I see.”
Barry climbed onto the sofa.
“We found a really good stick.”
Mr Brand looked at Mrs Brand.
Mrs Brand looked at him.
Neither spoke.
Barry smiled.
“I think I’m going to keep exploring.”
Mr Brand sighed.
“Maybe somewhere you’re actually supposed to be.”
Barry considered this.
“Can I explore the fridge?”
“No.”
“The garden?”
“Yes.”
“The shed?”
“Maybe.”
“The roof?”
“No.”
“The neighbour’s house?”
“Definitely no.”
Barry nodded.
“Okay.”
There was a pause.
Then he whispered to Marmaduke:
“Tomorrow we’ll explore the garden.”
Marmaduke smiled.
“Okay.”
From her basket, Snowball opened one eye.
She looked at Barry.
Then at Marmaduke.
Then at Mr Brand.
She appeared to understand exactly what was coming.
The adults had thought the fire drill had taught the children something important.
And it had.
The children now knew exactly what to do when a fire alarm sounded.
Stop.
Leave the building.
Stay with their class.
Walk calmly.
Go to the muster station.
Wait to be counted.
And, most importantly of all, do not wander off into forest school.
Barry had learned every single one of those instructions.
He simply hadn’t yet decided that they applied to him.
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