Mr Majeika and the School Inspector Read online

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Hamish, grinning even more, ‘but don’t you think they look silly, Mr Postlethwaite?’ And Hamish pointed.

  Mr Postlethwaite turned. But before Mr Majeika could make the soldiers vanish, Mr Postlethwaite had seen them. ‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘Teacher cheating.

  Using magic too. Four penalty points gone. That’s it.’ He turned to Mr Majeika. ‘Your Teacher Licence is withdrawn, and you will not be permitted to teach again. No more job. Thrown out on street.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika miserably.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ said Jody. ‘He was only trying to help us.’

  ‘Do not interfere,’ Mr Postlethwaite snapped. ‘Pupils who interfere will be removed from ordinary school and sent to institutions which will correct their behaviour. Now, lead us back to bus,’ he said to Mr Majeika.

  ‘Very well,’ sighed Mr Majeika. ‘Only, I think I may have lost the way.’

  ‘It’s just down there, Mr Majeika,’ said Thomas, but Mr Majeika motioned to

  him to be quiet. He led Mr Postlethwaite down a passage they hadn’t come through before. Class Three followed behind.

  ‘It’s not far to the bus,’ said Mr Majeika cheerily. But the passage got darker and darker, and soon they could not see where they were walking.

  ‘Mistake has been made,’ said Mr Postlethwaite, sounding rather nervous. ‘Better turn round. Try other way.’ And then he gave a shriek.

  In front of him, barring the way down the passage, was an enormous glowing figure, a big fat man in a crown, holding an axe. ‘It’s Henry the Eighth!’ whispered Jody. ‘I recognize him from pictures in the history books.’

  ‘Postlethwaite!’ roared the ghost. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  ‘Y-yes, Your Majesty,’ stammered Mr

  Postlethwaite. ‘You’re the ghost of Henry the Seventh. Er – I mean, Eighth.’

  ‘You mustn’t make mistakes like that, Postlethwaite!’ roared the ghost. ‘You get given penalty points for mistakes, and when you reach ten, do you know what happens? I chop off your head, Postlethwaite! You’ve got one penalty point already for your silly mistake, Postlethwaite. Now tell me what were the dates of my birth and death, the date I came to the throne, and the names of my six wives. That makes nine questions, Postlethwaite, and you know what’ll happen if you get all nine wrong, don’t you?’

  ‘Help!’ gasped Mr Postlethwaite. ‘Mind has gone blank. Can’t remember a thing. Not a single date or name.’

  ‘Can’t you, Postlethwaite?’ roared Henry the Eighth. ‘Let’s see if my axe helps you to remember!’

  Mr Postlethwaite fell to his knees. ‘No, no,’ he cried. ‘Spare me, and I’ll spare Mr Majeika. I’ll never inspect another teacher again, or take away his Teacher Licence. I’ll run away and join a circus.’

  ‘Better do just that, Postlethwaite,’ roared Henry the Eighth. ‘Because if you ever try to inspect another teacher

  again, or bring out that silly Official Curriculum, I’ll be waiting for you!’ And with that, the ghost of the king vanished.

  So did Mr Postlethwaite. He took to his heels and ran off down the passage. When Class Three and Mr Majeika came out into the open, they saw him disappearing across the countryside.

  ‘I hope he finds a circus,’ said Jody. ‘He’s dropped the Official Curriculum on the grass.’

  ‘Let’s leave it there,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Thank goodness, we won’t be needing it.’

  2. A fishy business

  In the corner of Class Three’s classroom stood a large glass fish tank. It was full of small fish of different colours, and there were lots of water-plants, and gravel on the bottom. It was in this tank that Hamish Bigmore had swum about, when Mr Majeika turned him into a frog.

  Everyone in Class Three had to take turns cleaning out the tank, and feeding the fish. When it was Hamish Bigmore’s turn, he never did it properly.

  ‘Don’t you like the fish, Hamish?’ said Jody. ‘Didn’t you make friends with them when you were a frog?’

  ‘Huh,’ said Hamish crossly. ‘The only fish I like is fish and chips.’

  One morning, Mr Majeika told Class Three to bring their chairs and sit in a circle around the fish tank, so that they could have a lesson about underwater life.

  ‘That’s boring!’ shouted Hamish Bigmore. He made a paper dart and threw it at Mr Majeika.

  ‘Hamish,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘you’d better behave yourself, or else…’

  ‘Or else what?’ sneered Hamish. ‘You wouldn’t dare turn me into a frog again. You wouldn’t dare do anything.’

  This was perfectly true. Whenever Mr Majeika lost his temper with Hamish and turned him into something, there was always a lot of trouble, and he wished he hadn’t.

  ‘I’ll send you to Mr Potter,’ Mr Majeika told Hamish crossly.

  ‘Ha ha!’ laughed Hamish. ‘When you do that, silly old Mr Potter just sends me back again.’

  This was true too. Mr Potter never seemed to know how to punish Hamish, except by sending him home, which of course was exactly what Hamish wanted.

  ‘Let’s get on with the lesson,’ said Mr Majeika miserably, trying to pretend Hamish wasn’t there. ‘Who can tell me what sort of creatures live underwater, besides fish?’

  A hand shot up. It was Hamish Bigmore’s. Mr Majeika ignored him, and turned to Thomas, who had put his hand up too. ‘Yes, Thomas?’ he said.

  ‘Me!’ shouted Hamish. ‘My hand went up first. Ask me!’

  ‘All right, Hamish,’ said Mr Majeika wearily. ‘What do we find living under the water besides fish?’

  ‘Submarine crews. Ha ha ha ha!’ laughed Hamish.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Hamish,’ said Mr Majeika. Jody had put her hand up, so Mr Majeika turned to her. ‘Yes, Jody?’

  But Hamish wasn’t to be stopped so easily. ‘Submarine crews,’ he said again. ‘And the submarines have got lots of bombs on board, and they can come zooming up out of the water, and bomb everyone to smithereens, zoom, bam, zap!’

  Melanie began to cry. ‘Boo hoo! I’m

  frightened of the submarines!’

  ‘Hamish!’ snapped Mr Majeika. ‘Behave yourself!’

  ‘You can’t make me,’ sang out Hamish. ‘I’m going into the craft area to make a submarine. Get out of my way!’ He barged his way past everyone and went through the door.

  ‘Oh dear,’ sighed Mr Majeika, ‘I ought to go and fetch him. There’s no one in the craft area to keep an eye on him.’ The craft area was where Class Three did painting and woodwork.

  ‘Leave him where he is, Mr Majeika,’ said Pete. ‘At least we’ll have some peace to get on with the lesson.’

  ‘I really shouldn’t,’ said Mr Majeika, but it was very nice to be without Hamish for a bit, so he went on teaching them about life under water.

  The lesson had just begun to get interesting, with Mr Majeika telling them about some of the strange creatures that you find on the river and sea bed, when in from the craft area rushed Hamish Bigmore, holding an enormous piece of wood. ‘Watch out, world!’ he shouted. ‘Here comes the Bigmore submarine, full of bombs!’ He rushed straight for the fish tank, barging past everyone and overturning their chairs.

  Probably he did not mean to do any serious damage, but Thomas and Pete made a grab for him, and this was the cause of the disaster. Hamish tripped, the big piece of wood went flying, and hit the side of the fish tank with a smack. The glass cracked and burst open, and water, fish and gravel poured out on to the floor.

  ‘Hamish!’ shouted Mr Majeika, quivering with rage. ‘I know I mustn’t

  turn you into anything, but – but – but –’ And with that, Mr Majeika vanished.

  Thomas stared. ‘What’s happened to him?’ he gasped.

  ‘I shouldn’t worry,’ said Jody. ‘I’m sure he can look after himself. We’ve got to save all the fish and everything before they die. Quick, there’s an empty tank in the science room – I’ll fetch it, and Pete, you go and get a bucket from
the caretaker and fill it with water and put the fish in quickly.’

  It took ages to sort everything out, but at last it was all back to normal, with the new tank on the table in place of the old, and the fish swimming about in it, looking a bit dazed but otherwise all right.

  ‘The only thing is,’ said Pete, ‘where’s Mr Majeika?’

  ‘What’s that crawling about under the desks?’ asked Thomas. ‘It looks like we didn’t put one of the water creatures back in the tank.’

  Jody peered under the desks. ‘Ugh, it’s got claws,’ she said. ‘I think it’s a lobster. I don’t remember seeing it in the tank.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ said Pete. ‘But we’d better put it in the water with the rest.’ He fetched a broom, and they shooed it into the bucket, and then tipped it into the tank, where it began crawling about on the bottom.

  Jody looked closely at it. ‘Do you remember,’ she asked Thomas and Pete, ‘that when Hamish got turned into a frog, the frog looked rather like him? Come and see if this lobster reminds you of anyone.’

  Thomas and Pete came and looked. ‘Oh no!’ gasped Thomas.

  ‘It’s Mr Majeika!’ said Pete.

  Sure enough, the lobster looked exactly like him. As they said his name, it came up to the glass and peered at them. ‘I think it’s nodding its head,’ said Jody. ‘It is him, it is Mr Majeika! What on earth has happened?’

  ‘My guess,’ said Pete, ‘is that he was trying hard not to lose his temper and turn Hamish into something, but he couldn’t stop himself doing a spell, and it was the wrong sort of spell, and now he’s turned himself into a lobster.’

  ‘So how is he going to turn himself back again?’ asked Jody.

  ‘He’s not!’ sneered a voice behind them. It was Hamish. ‘Silly fathead Mr Majeika, he’s really got himself in a fix this time. Good riddance to him! Yah! Silly old lobster!’ And Hamish pushed his face against the glass of the tank and stuck out his tongue at the lobster.

  ‘Oh dear,’ sighed Thomas, ‘I’m afraid Hamish may be right. How on earth is he going to get back to normal? Do you think lobsters can do spells?’

  The lobster seemed to be shaking its head.

  ‘I don’t think they can,’ said Jody. ‘That means it’s up to us.’

  ‘Us?’ asked Pete, puzzled.

  ‘Well, someone’s got to rescue him,’ said Jody. ‘We’ve got to try.’

  The bell rang for the end of afternoon school, and everyone began to pack up their things and go home. ‘I’ll think about it at home,’ Jody said to Thomas and Pete. ‘You think about it too. I’m sure we can come up with a rescue plan.’

  Next morning, Thomas and Pete came to school looking very gloomy. ‘Haven’t you got any ideas?’ Jody asked them when she met them at the school gate.

  They shook their heads. ‘Not really,’ said Thomas.

  ‘We thought we could try and find Mr Majeika’s spell book,’ said Pete, ‘and then say some of the spells, and maybe we’d find the right one.’

  ‘But maybe we wouldn’t,’ said Thomas, ‘and there might be awful trouble if we said the wrong spell.’

  ‘And anyway,’ said Pete, ‘we don’t know where his spell book is, and we’re not wizards, so probably none of the spells would work for us anyway.’

  ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t,’ said Jody. ‘We need a real wizard to undo the spell – or a witch. Which is why I’m taking this to the post office this afternoon, to get them to put it in the window.’

  She held out a card, on which she had written:

  URGENT

  Will the Witch known as

  WILHELMINA WORLOCK

  please contact Class Three,

  St Barty’s School,

  AT ONCE!!!

  Thank you.

  ‘Wilhelmina Worlock?’ gasped Thomas. ‘You’re not advertising for her?’ Wilhelmina Worlock was a very nasty witch, who was always turning up at St Barty’s in disguise and trying to take over the school.

  ‘She hates Mr Majeika,’ said Pete. ‘Surely she wouldn’t help us?’

  ‘She wouldn’t want to help us,’ said Jody. ‘But I’ve got a plan…’

  The card was put up in the post office window that afternoon, and all the next day, Jody, Thomas and Pete waited to see if Miss Worlock would appear at St Barty’s. Mr Potter, who had to teach Class Three because Mr Majeika had disappeared, got very cross with them for peering out of the window every time they heard a noise in the playground.

  ‘It’s not her,’ sighed Jody, after yet another false alarm. ‘I’m afraid she’s not coming.’

  ‘Probably witches don’t read advertisement cards in post office windows,’ said Pete.

  At that moment, the bell rang for the end of school. ‘You can go home now,’ called Mr Potter, and opened the door of Class Three. Then he jumped, because someone was standing right outside it: an old woman wrapped up in a big black coat.

  ‘Hello, dearie,’ she said in a voice that Jody, Thomas and Pete recognized at once. ‘I’m little Jody’s grandma, come to collect her. Mind out, will you?’ And she elbowed her way rudely into the classroom, pushing Mr Potter to one side.

  Mr Potter scratched his head. ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’ he asked the

  old lady. As she didn’t answer, he picked up his books and went off to his office, still looking puzzled.

  ‘Hello, Miss Worlock,’ said Jody. ‘You remember Thomas and Pete, don’t you?’

  ‘Why, of course, my little dears,’ said Wilhelmina Worlock. ‘And you remember the Wilhelmina Worlock School of Music, don’t you, tee hee?’

  Thomas and Pete nodded. They certainly remembered the dreadful time when Miss Worlock had formed a school orchestra, and had cast a spell which made them all get itchy fingers if they didn’t practise their instruments.

  ‘Would you like to do that again, Miss Worlock?’ asked Jody. ‘Have another school orchestra, and give a concert?’

  Pete dug Jody in the ribs. ‘You fool!’ he whispered. ‘We don’t want her to do that. We want her to turn Mr Majeika back from a lobster.’

  ‘Ssh,’ whispered Jody. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Why, yes, dearie, I’d love to,’ said Miss Worlock. ‘Especially if that silly weasly wizard Majeika doesn’t interfere this time. Where is he?’ she asked suspiciously, looking round.

  ‘Oh, he’s, er, gone for a seaside holiday, Miss Worlock,’ said Jody. ‘He won’t get in your way. Suppose we say tomorrow afternoon for the concert? Then we can invite all the parents.’

  ‘Tomorrow, dearie?’ said Miss Worlock. ‘That’s a bit soon. You won’t have time to learn the tunes, will you?’

  ‘Oh, we’ll practise very hard tonight, I promise we will,’ said Jody. ‘We ought to be going home now. I’ll put up posters for the concert, and tell everyone about it. We’ll see you in the school hall at two o’clock tomorrow for a practice, shall we?’

  ‘All right, dearie,’ said Miss Worlock. ‘I must say, you’re being very nice to Wilhelmina today. I don’t know what’s come over you all. See you tomorrow. Cheeri-bye!’ And off she went.

  ‘What are you up to, Jody?’ asked Pete, when Miss Worlock had gone.

  ‘There’s no time to explain,’ said Jody. ‘I’m rushing off home to make some posters. See you tomorrow.’

  When Thomas and Pete came to school next day, they saw the posters that Jody had put up:

  SCHOOL CONCERT

  THIS AFTERNOON!

  The St Barty’s School Orchestra will perform under the direction of

  MISS WILHELMINA WORLOCK

  At 2.30 p.m. Don’t be late!

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Jody,’ said Pete.

  ‘What I’ve got in mind is risky,’ said Jody, ‘but it might just work. Now, we need to carry the fish tank over to the hall. Come and help me.’

  The fish tank was very heavy, but they managed to move it safely, and set it up behind the stage, where it was hidden by a curtain. Then they put out music stands
for the concert.

  At two o’clock, everyone who could play an instrument arrived in the school hall for a rehearsal. Hamish Bigmore was there, with his double bass. ‘Why, if it isn’t my star pupil,’ said Miss Worlock, beaming at him. Hamish and Miss Worlock had always got on well. ‘Now,’ she called, ‘we’ll have another go at that piece we were playing last time, when stupid Majeika spoilt everything.’ She raised her conductor’s stick. ‘One, two, three!’

  The whole orchestra began playing the piece of music called ‘The Elephant’, which was a double bass solo for Hamish Bigmore. Like last time, Thomas and Pete had to do all the hard work on the double bass, fingering the right notes, while Hamish merely sawed away with the bow. And like last time, the noise was terrible.

  ‘Stop!’ screeched Miss Worlock. ‘This won’t do! My star pupil is playing

  brilliantly, but the rest of you – you deserve to be turned into toads. Try again!’

  They tried again. The noise was even worse: screeching, groaning, scraping and howling from all the instruments. No one had done any practice at all.

  ‘Right! I warned you!’ screamed Miss Worlock. ‘Toads I said, and toads you shall all be.’ She muttered a spell, and the school hall grew dark. Thomas, Pete and Jody found themselves dropping to the floor and becoming smaller and smaller, while their skin grew scaly. In a moment, they were all hopping about the hall as toads – all except Hamish Bigmore.

  ‘Wilhelmina wasn’t going to turn her little star pupil into a toad,’ Miss Worlock cooed at him. ‘Oh no. She’s going to go

  off with him and start the School of Music somewhere else, and leave all this silly lot hopping about as toads for the rest of their silly lives. Come along, my star pupil.’

  At this moment, the door of the school hall opened, and people began to come in. The first of the parents were arriving for the concert.

  Miss Worlock stopped in her tracks. ‘Er, good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,’ she called. ‘Wilhelmina’s concert has had to be cancelled, because all the children have gone away on a school trip, and they won’t be back for days and days. But instead, Wilhelmina’s star pupil, Hamish Bigmouth, will give a solo recital on the double bass. Off you go!’ she hissed to Hamish.