CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Most Angry Bird
Fiona swallowed the vestiges of her hot dog and wiped the mustard and ketchup off her fingers with a white crumpled serviette. ‘Considering you bashed the side of his van, smashed his plates and broke his radio into pieces, it was nice of Mr Growler to cook us some food,’ she told Rachel.
‘And he didn’t charge us a penny,’ Sophronia chipped in.
‘He’s grateful we stopped the Millers from winning,’ said Rachel.
‘My mum told me there’s always been bad blood between those two families,’ offered Olivia, ‘but she can’t remember how the feud started.’
‘C’mon – we don’t want to miss the final race,’ Fiona piped up.
‘What race is that?’ asked Rachel with eager eyes.
‘The Egg and Spoon race,’ said Sophronia guardedly, ‘and after the last round of casualties – I wonder if anyone’s going to enter.’
✽✽✽
Rachel and Sophronia sat cross-legged near the front of the stage.
Their headmistress stood before them. In between bouts of coughing and clearing her throat, Rose rattled off the results of the races.
Stewart, William and Alfred cheered and whooped as she read out the game of Marbles as a draw, but the other schoolchildren looked positively stunned on hearing the result. After drinking the entire contents of some disgusting pea-green liquid, Rose’s eyes rolled, and she burped so loudly into the microphone that Peggy almost had a heart attack.
‘Our sports day is almost at a close,’ Rose told the crowd who rallied round and protested in good cheer. ‘However, as most of you know, there is just one race left. Bellingtons’ Egg and Spoon race has challenged the mighty… it has challenged the just… and it has challenged the bold and foolhardy… but it has never, ever, challenged the chicken,’ she added with a broad smile and grinned back at the chuckling crowd.
Rachel glanced around. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why everyone thought Rose’s joke was so funny.
‘Once again, we owe Mr Lionel Warbler our deepest gratitude, as he has kindly donated six eggs and spoons for the race,’ Rose added.
Lionel stood up at the front of the crowd and accepted their applause.
‘Regrettably, our new Head Girl, Alice Winterbright, is currently indisposed in the medical wing, so we’ll need another person to take her place in the race,’ croaked Rose with an asthmatic frog in her throat.
The crowd went silent, and you could’ve heard a pin drop as their roving eyes stared everywhere except the stage and Rose’s pleading face.
‘Anyone?’ asked Rose, who went even higher up on tiptoes.
Rachel thought hard about Mrs Asquith-Wells’ daughter, Penelope, who had won every Egg and Spoon race at Plums. Without thinking it through, she decided to throw caution to the wind, raised her hand and said, ‘Mrs Dandelion – I’d like to enter the Egg and Spoon race.’
Rose’s face looked a picture as she accepted her offer, but Rachel’s friends thought she had completely lost her marbles!
✽✽✽
Lionel and Rose gathered the six Egg and Spoon contestants around a table. At the centre of the table stood a small wooden crate (with the words THIS SIDE UP emblazoned on its lid). Lionel carefully jimmied the cover open and unrolled the thick woolly layers of wrapping therein.
Everyone peered inside.
Six large colourful eggs lay nestled in golden straw. Lionel rubbed his hands together and blew softly on his fingers. He took a deep breath and carefully prised a pale blue egg out of its downy bedding.
‘Now then,’ he said in a low voice, almost whispering. ‘Can anyone tell me what type of bird this egg will grow into?’
Rachel’s nose wrinkled, as did the rest of the other contestants.
‘A smelly one,’ replied the mousy-haired girl.
Everyone laughed.
‘It looks like a fancy chocolate Easter Egg,’ said the boy with murky brown eyes. ‘Why does it smell so bad?’
‘It’s the egg of a Marsh Nibbler,’ said Rachel. ‘The pale blue speckled eggshell with the wavy yellow ridges along its circumference is a dead giveaway, and with the five green dots at one end and six pink dots at the other, there’s no mistaking this egg for a bird of prey.’
Everyone stared at her in astonishment.
Lionel’s face bristled with pride. ‘Well done, Miss Cook,’ he told her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘At least someone’s read my books.’
‘It appears we have a budding ornithologist in our mists,’ Rose told Rachel with equal praise. ‘When you’ve settled in at Bellingtons – you should join Mr Warbler’s after school class.’
‘I’m sure your uncle would approve, as Professor Shire’s a bit of an expert himself,’ Lionel chuckled and placed the stinky egg back into the crate. ‘Well, it’s almost time to start the race – now, Mrs Dandelion would you be so kind and explain the rules of the race to our contestants.’
Rose cleared her throat. ‘The object of the Egg and Spoon Race is to use your spoon to carry the egg across the field. However, I must stress that time is of the essence. Slow and steady will not win you the race.
Now, one of you will be carrying the egg of a Marsh Nibbler. It’s disguised amongst the chicken eggs, but you’ll soon know who has it,’ she told them in a gravelly voice. ‘Whoever gets the Marsh Nibbler over the finishing line wins the race. But remember – the Marsh Nibbler’s a slippery customer,’ she added hoarsely.
Someone coughed. Sister Wiggly rushed over to Rose and handed her a tumbler of amber liquid. ‘And please, no broken bones, gouging of eyes and especially no biting,’ Peggy told the contestants, briefly coming out of her shell. ‘Matron Crowling is busy disinfecting the hospital wing – so we don’t want to burden her with any more patients this afternoon.’
The contestants nodded glumly. Behind them, the restless crowd made loud squawking noises and flapped their arms about.
‘Looks like the crowd’s eager for the race to begin,’ chortled Lionel. ‘OK, everyone – follow me to the starting line.’
✽✽✽
Rachel sniffed her egg once more: her speckled shell smelt of musty hay, not marshland. Who had the Marsh Nibbler, she thought, still keeping an eye on her egg as it rocked gently in her cumbersome silver spoon.
‘Would the contestants for the Egg and Spoon race please get ready,’ Lionel announced over the excited hubbub of the crowd.
Rachel placed her right shoe up against the white line.
‘ON YOUR MARKS…’ Lionel shouted.
Rachel gripped the spoon’s handle and steadied her nerves.
‘GET SET…’
The crowd waited expectantly…
‘GO!’
The crowd screamed as the contestants took to their heels.
Rachel knew her speed wouldn’t help her win the race, so she hung back and kept a close eye on her competitors’ eggs, wondering how she would know which one of them carried the egg of the Marsh Nibbler –
The other contestants’ spoons dropped to the ground.
Rachel’s hand shuddered and dropped as well: her spoon felt like dead weight. Her egg cracked wide open, and a yellowish chick stared back at her. Right in front of her eyes, the chick changed colour and grew at a disturbing rate. The chirping chick moulted and kept on growing. Brown hues of plumage rippled out of its pale skin, and a red fleshy lump sprouted out from its crown. Her fully-grown cockerel gave her a shrill, ‘cock-a-doodle-do’, flapped down to the ground and squawked away.
Over to her left, the mousy-haired girl’s grin flourished as a razor-sharp talon cut a craggy hole through the top of her eggshell.
Behind her, scattering fowl flew out of the way of a wild scrawny girl who blazed across the field, and with an ear-piercing scream of triumph, she rugby tackled the mousy-haired girl to the ground.
To Rachel’s astonishment, a fledgeling Marsh Nibbler flapped about, trying to free itself from the girls’ clawing clutches.
‘GET OFF ME, JUDITH,’ the mousy-haired bellowed.
‘NOT A CHANCE, PENNY,’ the scrawny girl shouted back.
Rachel’s eyes widened even more as the Marsh Nibbler doubled, then trebled in size, breaking free and screeching at the girls who suddenly screamed out in utter disgust. With their long hair and school uniforms dripping with oily black goo, they slipped and stumbled away from the squawking bird that continued to grow to well over six feet tall.
The words from Lionel’s book came flooding back, and she backed away from the Marsh Nibbler as it rose and raised its wings in defence.
Its long sabre-sharp beak snapped at the girls as they ran for cover.
Peggy rushed to the girls’ aid, but she gagged and covered her nose with her sleeve to stem their foul, overpowering odour. Over by the rubbish bins, a redheaded boy rushed at the Marsh Nibbler’s spindly legs.
‘STEPHEN, KEEP AWAY FROM IT,’ bellowed Lionel.
The boy clamped his arms around the bird’s long legs; it flapped its wings so fast, it took him high into the sky, but he lost his grip due to the slippery goo, and he hit the ground with a sickening snapping sound.
With her medical kit trailing behind her, Peggy bolted towards him, but the Marsh Nibbler faced her and raised its wings threateningly.
Lionel came dashing out onto the field. ‘Peggy, get back,’ he screamed. ‘It’s grown far too much,’ he added with foreboding and waved her away.
The Marsh Nibbler snapped at the boy’s head.
‘Lionel – just look at his arm,’ yelled Peggy. ‘I have to get to him.’
Rachel had to get Peggy to the injured boy, but she needed a shield or something to protect herself from the bird’s deadly beak – and then she saw it. Keeping a wary eye on the Marsh Nibbler, she tore across the field and grabbed a metal lid from one of the rubbish bins.
Set in deep custard-yellow sockets, the Marsh Nibbler fiery ruby eyes followed her every move. As she zigzagged towards the bird, it stamped its right leg and lowered its head as if it was about to charge.
Lionel and Peggy stood frozen to the spot – not daring to spook it.
Rachel trod cautiously, and as the boy’s eyes met hers, she put her finger to her mouth, urging him not to make a sound, but at that precise moment, a loud bang thundered and rumbled through the air.
The Marsh Nibbler whirled its head around towards the sound, and Rachel seized her chance and bolted towards the distracted bird.
Stephen suddenly let out a scream and clutched at his twisted arm.
The Marsh Nibble spun around, but Rachel’s striking speed won out, and she slammed the lid against the side of its head, hoping to knock the bird out, but its serrated beak punched the lid as if it were butter.
With its saw-like beak barely missing her fingers, Rachel leapt out of harm’s way, but she stumbled badly and collapsed onto the ground.
With most of the stuffing well and truly knocked out of her, she fought the throbbing chest pain and slowly got back onto her feet. The Marsh Nibbler smashed the lid against the ground in a tireless frenzy, so it hadn’t noticed she’d dashed towards the bins and grabbed another lid.
Rachel looked on in utter horror as the bird stumbled back – almost trampling Stephen, who cowered helplessly beneath its sweeping wings. There wasn’t time to think, and she ran and then launched herself at the Marsh Nibbler again, but this time the bird’s blazing speed and cunning won out, and it brought its lethal talons to bear with murderous accuracy.
And at that moment, Rachel dropped to her knees and felt its talons skimming the top of her head. The talons missed by a hair’s breadth, but they sliced through the lid, and she didn’t hesitate and brought the severed lid down on its right foot. As the Marsh Nibbler screamed and staggered about in agony, she shot to her feet and quickly stepped back.
The stricken bird faltered for a few seconds, but it raised its head and smashed the lid so hard against a splintered tree trunk, it came free and spinning metal and bits of wood flew over the tops of the stunned crowd.
With its flaming ruby eyes full of fury, the Marsh Nibbler rounded on Rachel with a cruel penetrating stare that oozed malicious intent.
‘GO, PEGGY GO,’ Lionel bellowed with panic plastered across his pallid face, quickly reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a ball of string; he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a piece of metal.
Peggy rushed to Stephen’s side.
‘Rachel – I’m going to try to lure it away,’ Lionel called out as he tied one end of the string around the metal and spun it high above his head.
The Marsh Nibbler turned towards Lionel. It put its head on one side and stumbled over towards him as if hypnotised. He watched with relief as Peggy dragged Stephen away, all the while spinning the metal object above his head, backing away from the crowd of shocked onlookers –
With a sharp twang, the metal object broke away from the string, and the humming ceased. The Marsh Nibbler snapped out of its drowsy daze and gave a deafening screech as its wings ploughed down. Its powerful feet found their mark and smashed into Lionel’s chest, knocking him over the table, sending his crate of fragile eggs flying with him.
As the furious bird spread its wings and loomed menacingly over his unmoving body, Rachel sped towards the nearest table, scooped up a black cotton sheet and sped back towards it as fast as she could.
With its wings spread even wider, the Marsh Nibbler swung around and faced her. Thinking on her feet, she pressed home her advantage and threw the sheet over her shoulders.
Rachel puffed up her cheeks and edged slowly towards the belligerent bird. With the Marsh Nibbler thoroughly distracted and its eyes on her, Peggy and Mary rushed the blubbering boy away on a stretcher.
Lionel groaned and started to stir. Rachel had to lure the bird away from him, so she flipped her tongue against the roof of her mouth and prayed his third book on birds spoke the truth about its Achilles’ heel.
Rachel mimicked the bird’s stance, made herself look even bigger and barrelled towards it, clicking her tongue even faster as she charged.
With a petrified squawk, the Marsh Nibbler turned tail, staggered and stumbled as it pounded the ground in its haste to escape.
Flapping in desperation, the bird gave a final terrifying screech and took to the skies over the heads of the cowering crowd.
Physically exhausted, Rachel crashed to her knees and watched the Marsh Nibbler as it swooped high over Bellingtons’ altitudinous towers.
The crowd leapt out of their seats and let out a raucous roar.
Peggy rushed over towards Lionel. ‘C’mon, Lionel – let’s get you back onto your feet,’ she told him. ‘Easy now – you took quite a knock from that angry bird,’ she added soothingly, but Lionel wasn’t listening and stared at Rachel with wondrous wide eyes.
Sophronia bolted out of her seat, closely followed by Stewart, Alfred, William and George, who rushed towards Rachel and cheered her as they held her aloft. Above the applauding and swelling crowd, Sophronia’s elated voice bellowed, ‘BEST EGG AND SPOON RACE EVER!’
✽✽✽
At the bustling awards ceremony, Rachel stood with her friends in the sea of schoolchildren. Ian Inchman had certainly mastered Thomas Shire’s appearance and mannerisms, she thought, but as he dished out the awards, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.
Rose took over the stage and asked for silence. ‘Thank you, Professor Shire, for honouring our pupils with your presence today,’ she told him warmly and motioned the crowd to applaud their benefactor.
The crowd showed their appreciation until Rose stepped forward and hushed them. ‘I have a special announcement to make… Now, it’s with a heavy heart that Bellingtons will no longer host the Egg and Spoon race,’ she said, giving Lionel a shot of regret.
The crowd shook their heads at the unexpected grave news.
‘However…’ she continued, ignoring their disapproving muttering and murmurings. ‘However, Bellingtons, with the approval of Professor Shire, would like to honour the past contestants who’ve tried to achieve the unachievable, so would you please show them your appreciation and adulation,’ she added and joined in with the crowd’s jubilation.
As the crowd eventually fell silent, Mary stepped forward and took over the proceedings. ‘I’ve only been at Bellingtons for a short while, but I’ve managed to meet most of you by now,’ she said warmly. ‘This school has a growing reputation in instilling in its pupils to choose the right thing – no matter what, so before I bring our sports day to a close, our governors wish to honour one such person who’s gone above and beyond.
This selfless person put herself in danger to protect others. There is no higher praise than we can give her, but to award Miss Rachel Cook the winner of our Egg and Spoon race and our deepest thanks,’ she added proudly and waved Rachel to come and join her on stage.
Rachel’s face turned the colour of beetroot. Her friends smacked her on the back and pushed her forward. Pupils she didn’t even know were whistling and chanting her name, and with every step, camera flashes blinded her as she waded through the crowd and onto the stage.
Mary placed the black ribbon and gold medal over Rachel’s head and whispered, ‘I never got to thank you for being there for Jack.’
Rachel went to say something, but Mary pulled away and with tears welling up in her eyes, she spoke into the microphone, ‘As I bring our sports day to a close, would you please put your hands together for the only pupil to ever get a Marsh Nibbler over the finishing line.’