Thursday morning began reasonably normally.
Which, in the Brand household, meant that somebody couldn’t find a shoe, somebody else couldn’t find a water bottle, Alfie had already packed everything he needed for school the night before, and Barry was standing in the kitchen wearing one sock.
“Barry,” said Mrs Brand.
“Yes?”
“Where is your other sock?”
Barry looked down.
He seemed genuinely surprised.
“I don’t know.”
“You came downstairs wearing two.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
Barry thought about this.
“Maybe it went back upstairs.”
“Why would it do that?”
“Maybe it forgot something.”
Mrs Brand looked at Mr Brand.
Mr Brand shrugged.
It was too early for philosophy.
Eventually the missing sock was located underneath the sofa, which raised considerably more questions than it answered.
At school, Barry and Marmaduke walked into Reception happily.
Thursday was Animal Club day.
This was important.
Animal Club was one of Barry’s favourite things about school.
There were animals.
There were things to clean.
There were things to feed.
There were things to look at.
And, occasionally, there were opportunities for Barry to suggest ideas that Mr Henley immediately decided were not going to happen.
Barry loved it.
He hurried into the classroom.
“Morning, Mrs Abraham!”
“Good morning, Barry.”
“Where’s Mr Henley?”
Mrs Abraham smiled sympathetically.
“I’m afraid Animal Club is cancelled today.”
Barry stopped.
“What?”
“Mr Henley is unwell.”
Barry stared at her.
“Is he very ill?”
“I don’t think so. He just isn’t well enough to come into school today.”
Barry’s face fell.
“But it’s Thursday.”
“I know.”
“Animal Club is Thursday.”
“I know.”
“Animals don’t know it’s cancelled.”
Mrs Abraham smiled.
“I suspect the animals will manage.”
Barry looked devastated.
Marmaduke put a hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe they’re having a day off too.”
Barry looked at him.
“Animals don’t get days off.”
“I’m pretty sure they do.”
“No.”
Barry thought hard.
“Birds are always working.”
Marmaduke looked towards the window.
“Probably.”
Barry nodded.
“See.”
Mrs Abraham clapped her hands.
“Come on, everyone. Let’s get ready for the morning.”
Barry wandered towards the carpet.
But he wasn’t happy.
Animal Club had been cancelled.
This was, in Barry’s view, an administrative failure of quite astonishing proportions.
Fortunately, Barry had a solution.
If the school wouldn’t provide Animal Club…
He would simply create his own.
At break time, Barry whispered to Marmaduke.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Animal Club.”
Marmaduke followed.
They went into the playground.
There were bushes along one side and several trees beyond the playground fence.
Barry crouched down.
Marmaduke crouched beside him.
“What are we doing?”
“Watching animals.”
“What animals?”
Barry pointed upwards.
“Birds.”
Marmaduke looked.
There was a blackbird on a branch.
A pigeon landed on the roof.
Then another bird flew across the playground.
Barry whispered:
“Animal Club.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“I suppose.”
Barry sat down properly.
For once, he was completely still.
This was unusual.
Barry could normally turn standing still into a competitive sport lasting approximately eleven seconds.
But now he was watching the birds.
Marmaduke watched too.
They noticed one bird hopping along a branch.
Another flew down into a garden on the other side of the fence.
A pigeon strutted across the playground as if it owned the school.
Barry whispered:
“That one’s looking for food.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s a pigeon.”
This was apparently sufficient scientific reasoning.
They watched.
Then something else happened.
On the other side of the school fence, there was movement.
Barry looked up.
A teenage boy appeared.
He looked about seventeen.
He climbed over the fence and dropped quietly into the playground.
Barry and Marmaduke froze.
The boy looked around.
He appeared to be watching the other side of the fence, as though he was trying to hide from something.
Barry didn’t say anything.
Neither did Marmaduke.
The boy crouched down near the bushes.
Barry stared.
Marmaduke stared.
The birds continued their activities, apparently unconcerned by this development.
The boy looked back over the fence.
Then towards the playground.
Then back again.
Barry noticed his clothes.
Dark trousers.
A dark hoodie.
Trainers.
He noticed the boy had an earring.
Then Barry noticed something on the boy’s left lower arm.
A tattoo.
Skull and cross-bones.
Barry stared at it.
Marmaduke whispered:
“Look.”
“I see it.”
The boy shifted position.
Barry noticed another detail.
A small scar just above the boy’s left elbow.
Barry didn’t know what the boy was doing.
He didn’t know why he had climbed over the fence.
He didn’t know what he had been hiding from.
And, importantly, he didn’t go over to ask.
He and Marmaduke simply stayed where they were.
Quietly.
Watching.
For about four minutes.
Four minutes is a very long time when you are four years old.
It is approximately forty-seven years if you are waiting for someone to tell you that you can have a biscuit.
But Barry and Marmaduke remained still.
Eventually, the boy looked back towards the other side of the fence.
Then the school bell rang.
Barry jumped.
Marmaduke jumped.
The boy looked startled.
Children began moving across the playground.
Mrs Abraham called everyone back inside.
Barry looked towards the fence.
The teenager had moved away.
Barry and Marmaduke hurried inside.
“What were you doing?” asked Mrs Abraham.
“Animal Club,” said Barry.
Mrs Abraham looked puzzled.
“But Animal Club is cancelled.”
“We did birds.”
Mrs Abraham smiled.
“Well done.”
She had absolutely no idea.
The rest of the morning passed normally.
Barry coloured.
He listened.
He asked questions.
Marmaduke joined in.
But neither boy mentioned the teenager.
Not because they had decided to keep a secret.
They simply hadn’t really processed what they’d seen.
To them, it had been something strange that had happened while they were doing Animal Club.
Then came the afternoon.
Harvest Festival rehearsal.
The hall was busy.
Reception were practising their songs.
Mr Bloom was at the front.
There were words to remember.
Actions to remember.
Places to stand.
Places not to stand.
And, according to Mr Bloom, “absolutely no wandering about during the middle of the song.”
Barry found this instruction personally challenging.
The children practised.
“Big Red Combine Harvester” was rehearsed.
There were actions.
There was singing.
There was enthusiastic swaying.
There was one moment when Barry became slightly too enthusiastic with a harvesting movement and nearly knocked into Marmaduke.
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m harvesting.”
“I noticed.”
Eventually the rehearsal finished.
By home time, Barry was exhausted.
Marmaduke was exhausted.
They walked home together.
It wasn’t until later, at the Brand house, that everything changed.
Mrs Brand was in the kitchen talking to Marjory.
Barry and Marmaduke were in the hallway.
They weren’t deliberately listening.
They were simply standing there.
Which, as Mrs Brand had explained many times, was not technically the same thing.
They heard Mrs Brand say:
“Apparently there was some sort of incident near the school.”
Barry stopped.
Marmaduke stopped.
Mrs Brand continued.
“Someone had apparently been seen climbing over the fence.”
Barry looked at Marmaduke.
Marmaduke looked at Barry.
Barry whispered:
“That was him.”
Marmaduke nodded.
They walked into the kitchen.
“Who was climbing the fence?” asked Barry.
Mrs Brand turned around.
“What?”
“The boy.”
“What boy?”
“The boy we saw.”
Marjory looked at Mrs Brand.
“What boy?”
Barry explained.
The words came out quickly.
“There was a boy and he climbed over the fence and he was hiding and we watched him and he had a skull and cross-bones on his arm and an earring and a little mark on his arm.”
Mrs Brand stopped.
“Hang on.”
She crouched down.
“What exactly did you see?”
Barry explained.
Marmaduke added details.
They weren’t dramatic.
They didn’t guess.
They didn’t say what they thought the boy was doing.
They simply described what they had actually seen.
A boy.
Approximately seventeen.
Dark clothing.
Climbed over the school fence.
Appeared to be hiding.
Earring.
Skull and cross-bones tattoo on his left lower arm.
Small scar above his left elbow.
Mrs Brand looked at Marjory.
Marjory looked back.
Mrs Brand picked up her phone.
“I’m going to speak to the school.”
Not long afterwards, a police officer came to speak to them.
Barry was fascinated.
Marmaduke was slightly less enthusiastic.
The officer sat down.
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
Barry nodded.
The officer listened.
Barry explained where he and Marmaduke had been sitting.
He described the boy.
He described the fence.
He explained that the boy had climbed over from the other side.
“He looked like he was hiding,” Barry said.
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No.”
“Did you go near him?”
Barry shook his head.
“No. We were doing Animal Club.”
The officer smiled.
“Animal Club?”
“Mr Henley was ill.”
“Ah.”
Barry nodded.
“So we watched birds.”
The officer made a note.
Barry then gave the details he’d noticed.
“His tattoo was here.”
He pointed to his own left forearm.
“Skull and cross-bones.”
The officer nodded.
“And there was a little scar above his elbow.”
“Which elbow?”
“Left.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Definitely left.”
“And he had an earring,” added Barry.
The officer smiled.
“You have a very good memory.”
Barry shrugged.
“I look at things.”
Mrs Brand glanced at him.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “You certainly do.”
After the officer had gone, Barry and Marmaduke sat on the sofa.
Snowball wandered past.
Barry stroked her.
Mrs Brand sat opposite them.
“You boys did exactly the right thing.”
Barry looked up.
“We didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly.”
Barry frowned.
“But we watched.”
“You stayed where you were. You didn’t approach him, you didn’t follow him and you didn’t try to find out what he was doing.”
Barry nodded.
“You just noticed things and told an adult when you realised they might be important.”
Marmaduke smiled.
Barry looked thoughtful.
“So Animal Club wasn’t cancelled.”
Mrs Brand laughed.
“No.”
“It was just different.”
“Very different.”
Barry smiled.
Then he looked at Marmaduke.
“We saw birds.”
“And a boy.”
“And a pigeon.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“The pigeon was probably the most suspicious.”
Mrs Brand laughed.
Barry smiled.
“Tomorrow, can Animal Club happen properly?”
“If Mr Henley is better, he might consider it.”
“Good.”
Barry settled back against the sofa.
Snowball curled up beside him.
It had been a very strange Thursday.
There had been no guinea pigs.
No fish.
No stick insects.
No cleaning.
No Mr Henley.
Just birds, bushes, a teenage boy climbing a fence and a very memorable tattoo.
And somehow, Barry had learned something rather grown-up.
Sometimes being observant didn’t mean getting involved.
Sometimes it meant staying safe, remembering what you saw and telling the right adult.
Although Barry was still slightly disappointed.
Because as far as he was concerned, he had turned a cancelled Animal Club into the most interesting Animal Club of the entire term.
And, technically, there had been a pigeon.
Which was an animal.
So really, the day had been a complete success.
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