The Wind Singer. William Nicholson
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On getting to school, Bowman and Kestrel found they had forgotten to bring their homework.
‘Forgot?’ roared Dr Batch. ‘You forgot?’
The twins stood side by side at the front of the long classroom, facing their teacher. Dr Batch smoothed his hands over his substantial stomach, and ran the tip of his tongue over his substantial lips, and proceeded to make an example of them. Dr Batch liked making an example of his pupils. He considered it part of his job as a teacher.
‘Let’s begin at the beginning. Why did you forget?’
‘Our little sister had her first test this morning,’ said Bowman. ‘We left the house early, and we just forgot.’
‘You just forgot? Well, well, well.’
Dr Batch liked lame excuses.
‘Hands up,’ he said to the class, ‘hands up who else attended an infant test this morning.’
A dozen hands went up among the serried ranks of desks, including the hand of Rufy Blesh.
‘And hands up who else forgot their homework.’
All the hands went down again. Dr Batch turned to Bowman, his eyes popping out with friendly attention.
‘It seems you are the only ones.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Throughout this proceeding, Kestrel remained silent. But Bowman could hear the seething of her angry thoughts, and knew she was in one of her wild moods. Dr Batch, unaware of this, began to waddle up and down in front of them, conducting a ritual exchange with the class.
‘Class! What happens if you don’t work?’
Back came the familiar response from fifty-one young mouths.
‘No work, no progress.’
‘And what happens if you make no progress?’
‘No progress, no points.’
‘And what happens if you get no points?’
‘No points ends up last.’
‘Last.’ Dr Batch relished the word. ‘Last! La-a-ast!’
The whole class shivered. Last! Like Mumpo, the stupidest boy in the school. Some eyes turned furtively to look at him, as he sat glowering and shivering right at the back, in the seat of shame. Mad Mumpo, whose upper lip was always shiny with nose-dribble, because he had no mother to tell him to wipe it. Smelly Mumpo, who stank so badly that no one would ever go near him, because he had no father to tell him to wash.
Dr Batch waddled over to the class ratings board, on which every pupil’s name was written in class order. Every day, at the end of the day, the new points were calculated, and the new class order written up.
‘I shall deduct five points each,’ said Dr Batch. And there and then, he recalculated the class order. Bowman and Kestrel dropped two places, to twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth respectively, while the class watched.
‘Slipping, slipping, slipping,’ said Dr Batch as he made the changes. ‘What do we do when we find ourselves slipping down?’
The class chanted the response.
‘We strive harder, and reach higher, to make tomorrow better than today.’
‘Harder. Higher. Better.’ He turned back to Bowman and Kestrel. ‘You will not, I trust, forget your homework again. Take up your places.’
As they walked back down the rows of desks, Bowman could feel Kestrel seething with hatred, for Dr Batch, and the big ratings board, and the school, and all Aramanth.
It doesn’t matter, he thought to her. We’ll catch up.
I don’t want to, she replied. I don’t care.
Bowman came to a stop at the desk where they were now to sit, two places behind their old desks. But Kestrel went on, all the way to the back, where Mumpo sat. Beside Mumpo there was an empty place, because he was always bottom of the class. Here Kestrel sat down.
Dr Batch stared in astonishment. So did Mumpo.
‘Hallo-o,’ he said, breathing his stinky breath all over her.
Kestrel turned away, covering her face.
‘Do you like me?’ said Mumpo, leaning closer.
‘Get away from me,’ said Kestrel. ‘You stink.’
Dr Batch called sharply from the other end of the room.
‘Kestrel Hath! Go to your correct place at once!’
‘No,’ said Kestrel.
The whole class froze.
‘No?’ said Dr Batch. ‘Did you say no?’
‘Yes,’ said Kestrel.
‘Do you wish me to deduct five more points for disobedience?’
‘You can if you want,’ said Kestrel. ‘I don’t care.’
‘You don’t care?’ Dr Batch went a bright red. ‘Then I shall teach you to care. You’ll do as you’re told, or – ’
‘Or what?’ said Kestrel.
Dr Batch stared back, lost for words.
‘I’m already at the bottom of the class,’ said Kestrel. ‘What more can you do to me?’
For a moment longer, Dr Batch struggled with himself in silence, searching for the best way to respond. During this moment, in which the whole class held its breath, Mumpo shuffled closer still to Kestrel, and Kestrel twisted further away from him, screwing up her face in disgust. Dr Batch saw this, and the look of bewilderment on his face was replaced by a vindictive smile. He set off at a slow pace down the room.
‘Class,’ he said, his voice smoothly under control once more. ‘Class, turn and look at Kestrel Hath.’
All eyes turned.
‘Kestrel has found a new friend. As you see, Kestrel’s new friend is our very own Mumpo. Kestrel and Mumpo, side by side. What do you think of your new friend, Mumpo?’
Mumpo nodded and smiled. ‘I like Kess,’ he said.
‘He likes you, Kestrel,’ said Dr Batch. ‘Why don’t you sit closer? You could put your arm round him. You could hug him. He’s your new friend. Who knows, maybe in later years you’ll marry each other, and you can be Mrs Mumpo, and have lots of little Mumpo babies. Would you like that? Three or four little Mumpo babies to wash and wipe?’
The class tittered at that. Dr Batch was pleased. He felt