Introduction

What could possibly go wrong with a little snooze after lunch?

All schoolchildren know that there is a time of day, when tiredness trumps attention. On this baking summer afternoon WG is struggling. In the way that a fly will escape a handclap, WG’s attention slips from his grasp and his eyes close.

Briiiiiiinnnnggg!

A loud alarm rings. The geography teacher Mr Born calls the class to attention.

‘Boys and girls, please pack up your things and move to the assembly hall. Now. That includes you, Worcester.’ 

‘Thundering Therapists,’ WG sprays in his half-stupor, ‘what’s happening?’

‘Who knows, but it’s time to go,’ his friend Esther responds.

‘Get moving, come on!’ Mr Born adds.

As if it were a magnet, the assembly hall attracts all the pupils and teachers to its door. They form into a super-long school python that squeezes through its portals.

Worcester’s inner voice speaks:

Why do boys always jostle each other when they are crowded together, yet girls chat away without the pushing and shoving? He made a mental note to ask his parents later. Are boys and girls so different? Yes, it must be true: he is nothing like those little squirt twin sisters of his.

The school python slithers into the assembly hall, breaks up and disperses itself across the seats, while the teachers sit on the podium. WG notices that one male teacher – Mr Born – is wearing coloured socks. The other male teachers, and those female teachers in slacks, wear grey socks. What is Mr Born telling the world with that choice? Conversely, what are the grey-socked teachers not telling the world with their non-choice?

A blaze of noise and anticipation halts his ruminations and fills the hall. The pupils have no idea what to expect. The teachers are no better informed. A door squeaks open and the minute figure of the headmistress Mrs Newton enters. 

The room goes quiet. What Mrs Newton lacks in height she compensates with her formidable reputation. WG looks around at the other students. Esther smiles back at him. He glances at the teachers on the podium. Not one of them engages him with eye contact. The air in the hall is thick with apprehension. 

The only sound is the light tip-tap of Mrs Newton’s high heel shoes on the wooden floorboards. Mrs Newton steps up to the microphone. It squawks and whistles as she lowers its height to meet hers.

‘Students,’ Mrs Newton begins, ‘there is a serious matter I need to address.’

A low hum vibrates in the hall as the children mumble their fears and questions to each other. As the children turn around to talk to others, the mumbles become more vocal, causing the hum to increase to a din.

‘Quiet please! This is very, very serious. I had a visit from Mr Wimbledon, who is Wilhelmina Wimbledon’s father. In case you don’t know, Wilhelmina is one of our most promising young students.’

Mrs Newton pauses to adjust her glasses then continues.

‘She has been missing since early this morning. I informed him that she hasn’t been seen at school today. She left this note for her parents. I will read the note to you.’

Mrs Newton takes a piece of paper from her pocket and reads:

Dear Daddy

Please don’t worry. I have gone out. Not for long I hope. I am solving a criminal case just like Worcester Glendenis has done. I will make my bed when I come back. Love W.

‘Worcester Glendenis please come to the podium now and explain this.’

Worcester stands up and shuffles past Esther, then his other friends Lincoln, Geoffrey, and Vibbly, his head held low. Vibbly, being Vibbly, trips him up. Splat! WG falls on his face. He isn’t hurt physically. In fact in one acrobatic movement he springs up, gives Vibbly the death stare, then marches on as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, the messy behaviour in the hall mutates into a jungle of confusion. To Worcester the assembly hall feels like a huge mouth closing its jaws on him. His feet pad softly on the wooden floorboards. His vision’s a blur, his ears are ringing with the noise, and his stomach churns with fear. 

The podium seems kilometres away as he approaches, then as he reaches it, he takes seven steps upwards and stops next to Mrs Newton. Because she is not tall, he has no need to extend his height by standing on his tippy-toes.

At that second, time stops for him. He can’t hear the hubbub any longer. His field of vision is a big fuzz except for one detail. He can make out Esther’s sympathetic features. As always, she’s there for him.