The Third-Class Genie (14 page)

“Just trying to get it right, Miss.”

“But it’s wrong all three times, Alec.”

Oh no.

As Miss Welch wandered away again, Alec heard Ronnie Carter murmur, “What does Bowden have that other men don’t? It can’t be his tobacco. It can’t be his aftershave. But all the best looking women just hover round him.”

Alec’s ruler caught him neatly behind the ear. Ronnie yelped.

“Ronald Carter, are you ill?” asked Miss Welch.

“Just a bit of cramp, Miss,” replied Ronnie. Reaching down behind him, he took Alec’s foot and twisted it.

“Gerroff!” cursed Alec and kicked at the torturing hand. Miss Welch homed in like a rocket.

“What
is
going on here?”

“Sorry, Miss. It’s my foot. It got caught.”

Miss Welch glared at them both.

“Lucky for you two, I’m a gentle soul. Stop grinning, or I’ll bang your heads together. Imagine that,” she addressed the class. “What sort of a noise would it make? Maybe we could use it in the Christmas Play instead of coconuts.”

Alec breathed again. The danger was past. He looked at the clock. Why did time go slower on one day than another? He must ask Mr Jameson about that.

But the afternoon did pass finally. The class was dismissed and Alec cleared the school gates like a space rocket leaving the pad at Cape Canaveral. On his way to the station he called in at the baker’s in Station Road and bought two meat pies.

He hoped they were mutton or horse or something, but not pork. Muslims didn’t eat pork, or was that Jewish people? He couldn’t remember. There were so many different ways of offending people, once you started. Still, he couldn’t discuss the matter with the baker. He left the shop and raced along the street to the station, where Eulalia and Ginger were waiting.

“Where’ve you been, Skinny?”

Alec waved the meat pies.

“Listen,” said Ginger. “We have to go into the Tank from your side this time.”

“Why?”

“Because last night we were spotted coming out of the Boner’s Street side by Miss Morris. And she had a creep from the council, one of Blaggett s spies, with her.”

“Oh, no!” said Alec. “What did they say?”

“Didn’t say anything,” answered Eulalia.

“They just pointed, so we split. We didn’t wait to ask them to explain.”

Alec’s early warning system was right; there was trouble brewing.

“Come on,” said Eulalia. “Let’s go. We’ve got a plan. But it can keep until we see Abu.”

“Hey,” said Alec. “Did you take him some food this morning?”

“Of course we did. What do you think we are? We said we would, and we did.”

“Sorry,” murmured Alec. They hurried on under Station Bridge out on to the Penfold Road, and then turned left into the estate. As they walked up the hill, Alec could see that some people were staring at them. It couldn’t be helped. But they’d have to be careful getting through the fence into the Tank.

“This way,” said Alec, when they reached the top of the hill and turned down the path past the allotments. There was no one about round here. They stopped by the high fence and Alec began to count the planks.

“You’ve got this organized, Skinny,” said Ginger. Alec found the plank and pushed.

As he did, someone shouted from the top of the slope.

“Hey, you kids down there! What are you doing?”

Alec turned.

“Look,” he said, “over the other side of the allotments.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Mr Hardcastle from the Housing Department and PC Hadley, that’s all. And they’re coming after us.”

“Quick,” said Ginger, “let’s get through the fence.”

“No,” said Eulalia, “that’ll lead them to Abu.”

“It’s OK,” said Alec. “Pound to a penny, they can’t get through this gap.”

“Well, move then,” said Ginger. “You first, Skinny.”

Alec dived through, Eulalia came next, then Ginger. They had a struggle, for they were bigger than Alec was. But that only meant that Hadley and the council man couldn’t get through at all.

“Quick,” said Alec, “over the canal by my bridge.”

“You two go over first,” ordered Ginger, “then I’ll get rid of that plank. That’ll make sure they can’t follow.”

“But how will you get over?” asked Alec, as they hurried down to the towpath.

“Oh, don’t you worry about Wonder Boy,” said Eulalia, as she scrambled over the bridge with Alec close behind her.

They turned on the other side of the canal to see Ginger take the plank in both hands, heave it up and let it sink in the green-black ooze. Then he turned and walked back towards the fence.

“Where’s he going?” asked Alec. His question was answered as Ginger turned again and came running down, heading straight for the canal.

Alec’s eyes opened wide as Ginger took off at the edge of the towpath and long-jumped the canal, landing in a heap about a yard away from them. He picked himself up, rubbed his hand and knocked the dust off his trousers.

“A good five metres, that.”

“All right, Mr Olympic, 2000,” said Eulalia. “We’ve got things to do.”

The crane room was quiet as they climbed the stairs and opened the door. As Alec suspected, Abu was asleep and snoring gently, curled up on the table.
Sleeping
was Abu’s second profession, Alec thought.

“Salaam Aleikum,” he called.

“Aleikum Salaam,” Abu replied, sitting upright.

“Keef Haalak?”

“IlHamdulilaah.”

Eulalia grinned at Ginger.

“The boy’s a genius.”

Abu sat on the table, slowly stretching himself and scratching his stomach.

“You must be hungry, Abu,” said Alec. “We’ve brought more food.”

“Hungry? I could eat a horse,” replied Abu.

“Who knows?” said Ginger. “You may do just that.”

They set the packages on the table and opened them.

Abu’s eyes gleamed. If he had any religious problems about meat, he must have been having a day off, because both the pies vanished along with the rest of the food, and the black coffee Eulalia had brought in a Thermos flask.

“A mighty feast,” said Abu. “Why, you are all genies of the First Order.”

“Listen, Abu,” interrupted Alec. “We were followed when we came here, so we haven’t much time. Now, Eulalia and Ginger have a plan which they’ll tell you about.”

Abu folded his arms.

“Speak on. I hear.”

But Abu never heard what the plan might be, for right at that moment, from below, through the broken window of the crane room, they heard an angry bellow.

“They’re up there in that old dump across the canal.”

Alec leant forward and peered out of the corner of the window, for he recognized the voice.

Disaster had turned into catastrophe.

On the other side of the canal, waving his arms and pointing up at the crane room, was Councillor Blaggett.

Y
ES, CATASTROPHE HAD
arrived in the person of Councillor Blaggett who was prowling up and down the far bank of the canal like a tiger. How had he managed to get through the gap in the fence? Councillor Blaggett was big and fat and looked rather like a rugby ball in clothes. He wore a long black coat and Homburg hat, for he was the chief undertaker in Bugletown and must have come straight from a funeral.

“How did he get in?” asked Alec.

Ginger crouched down beside him at the corner of the window. “They must have got the padlock off the gate,” he said. Sure enough, the big gate stood open and in the gap were Mr Hardcastle and the broad figure of PC Hadley in his uniform.

“It’s a full-scale boarding party,” said Alec.

“Ah, but they can’t get over,” said Ginger.

“But for how long?” asked Eulalia from the other side of the crane room. Abu had changed into an old shirt and pair of jeans, and Eulalia was wrapping his robes up in a paper bag.

“Look, Ginge, can’t you two sneak out at the Boner’s Street side with Abu?”

“Not a chance. They’ll see us when we get clear of the main building. We’re stuck.”

“Yes, but they don’t know Abu’s here now, do they? They only saw us three come in.”

“Oh, they must know there’s someone else here. They wouldn’t make all this fuss over three kids,” said Eulalia.

“So, what do we do?”

“We’ll have to think of something. For the moment, they can’t get over.”

Councillor Blaggett must have been thinking along the same lines. He turned and shouted to the council man, “Go and get a plank or something so that we can get across.”

“I can’t see a plank anywhere, Mr Blaggett,” came the reply. “There are a lot of planks on the other side,” Mr Hardcastle added helpfully.

“Perhaps you’d like to go over and get one, then,” said Councillor Blaggett sarcastically. PC Hadley turned away as though he were laughing.

“I can’t see why you think it’s so amusing, Constable.” said Blaggett. “You haven’t exactly been helpful so far.”

The policeman placed his hands behind his back and looked over towards the crane house.

“I’ve been instructed to investigate reports that there is an illegal immigrant in this area. So far, I’ve seen three children, and I know who they are.”

“I bet you do,” muttered Ginger, peering out of the corner of the crane room window.

Councillor Blaggett strode up and down the canal bank while Mr Hardcastle and the constable waited. Blaggett turned and said:

“Go up to one of the houses and see if you can borrow a plank. Hurry, man, hurry.”

Mr Hardcastle hurried away through the open gate, while Blaggett went on with his pacing. He stopped by the massive iron structure of the crane gantry.

“Where does this ladder lead to?” he asked the constable. PC Hadley walked slowly and deliberately along the bank to stand by the councillor. He eyed the gantry up and down and from side to side and weighed the matter carefully.

“I think it was once used when they did maintenance work on the crane, sir.”

“Then we can get across that way, can’t we?”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mr Blaggett. Something of a skilled job, walking across a girder.”

“Oh, nonsense, Hadley.” Blaggett began to struggle out of his greatcoat, revealing a black suit underneath. He took off his jacket, folded both coats neatly, and placed them on the towpath. Then he began to roll up the sleeves of his snow-white shirt.

“Why doesn’t he take his hat off?” said Ginger.

“I think he’s a bit thin on top,” whispered Alec.

Councillor Blaggett gripped one of the iron rungs of the ladder and, puffing gently, began to climb. PC Hadley put out a hand as though to stop him, and then thought better of it. He shrugged his shoulders and moved off a pace or two. Blaggett climbed and climbed, his face growing more red. But he did not stop.

“Man, he’s got nerve,” whispered Ginger.

“Look what he’s doing now,” said Alec.

Blaggett had reached the top of the ladder and paused for breath. The colour slowly returned to normal in his cheeks. Indeed he looked a little pale as he peered down into the greeny-black depths of the canal. But he hesitated only a second or two before he began to scramble on to the girder. Then, squatting down astride the iron, he began to inch his way over.

He had reached the middle of the girder, when the constable, who had been watching the gate, suddenly jerked up. The look of surprise on his face, upon seeing the councillor in mid-girder, made them all laugh.

“Sir, are you sure you should be doing that? It can’t be very safe.”

“Rubbish, Constable. There is something unauthorized going on in that building across the canal and I intend to get to the bottom of it,” gasped Blaggett.

The councillor could hardly have put it better. For, right at that moment, he lost his balance on the girder. He grabbed wildly at the chains which hung from the small hand-operated crane, some three feet away. The effort only unbalanced him more. His hands missed the chains, while his legs lost their grip on the gantry.