by Jessica McKeown (age 10)
2004 Sense of Mischief winner
Primary school age group
Trollett Towers was a boarding school on a hill in the centre of a sleepy town called Little Cucumber. Trollett Towers was small and square, and built entirely of sandstone with a grey slate roof that only looked right if you looked at it sideways. Around the school and its leafy grounds was a high perimeter fence overgrown with high sweeping nettles and ivy. The fence was built to keep out stray cats and other unwanted animals, but it also kept in another wild beast - a 4ft frog called Nigel who was well known for attacking the milkman. The school was very quaint as boarding schools go, and was about to celebrate its 200th birthday.
The headmaster Ernest Plumbum was in the school hall when our story starts. He was directing a weedy-looking gardener and the school caretaker, who were putting up some wall banners in the school colours, which, he explained were "A beautiful contrast against the sandy walls". Cook was leaning out of the food hatch admiring the plates and stands of elegant food prepared by her muscular hands not a minute beforehand.
Mr Plumbum was waiting for an important phone call from the agent of Flash Dashing - Hollywood megastar, fashion guru extraordinaire and former pupil of Trollett Towers. You see, Mr Plumbum hoped he could invite back several ex-pupils to the school for the party celebrations. He knew that at least seven ex-pupils had gone on to do great things, and that fame dripped from their very fingertips. Inviting them back to the school would bring more publicity to Trollett Towers than the school had ever known.
He rubbed his squat hands together in excitement. He already knew that seven of the celebrities were able to come, but he knew that Flash Dashing would steal the hearts of the press and Trollett Towers would be written all over the newspapers, worldwide, in big black type.
Ring! Ring! Tring! Bring! The phone rang. Everyone in the hall held their breath (actually Cook held a cheesecake, until the gardener bumped into her). Plumbum walked over to the phone and nervously picked it up; "Hello, Trollett Towers...". There was a long pause and then some squeaking at the other end. Plumbum put down the phone. His fat pimpled face was beaming. "He said he'll come!" he yelled, grinning broadly and dancing up and down. Cook was so relieved that she dropped a second cheesecake and let it splodge onto the floor.
There was a knock at the door. Miss Monkpin opened it. There stood a tall red-haired woman with heavy green eye shadow and moon earrings. Her hand, with its multi-coloured nails, rested gently on her hip, and she was wearing stripy tights. "Hi there honey... I'm Luna Dingbat an' I'm like kinda invited to the... party thing here." She explained in a husky voice, smiling, her lips caked in black lipstick. Miss Monkpin ushered Luna, prize-winning journalist of Mystic Magazine, into the hall. She scrutinised the white limousine that had just pulled up onto the gravel drive.
A pouting chauffeur stared at the sandstone block that was Trollett Towers. A smartly dressed man in an evening jacket and bow tie adjusted his bowler hat and stepped out of the vehicle. "Ahh", Miss Monkpin gasped, "Mr Hogheart! How nice of you to come so soon... please come inside." She showed him in, and enquired as to how well his hotel business was doing, whilst praising him for his superb work.
She was so engrossed in her conversation, that the next celebrity to arrive walked in virtually unnoticed. Sir Icabod Van Tronklehoser - the world renowned expert on rare and exotic fleas - marched in, rifle under arm, curled moustache tickling his tanned cheeks. "Afternoon all!" he boomed, rattling the posh chandelier on the ceiling, "Just flew in from Calcutta... awfully hot flight, old beans. Couldn't have done it without those spiffing plane meals though!" Everyone fell momentarily silent.
Plumbum beckoned down the groups of awestruck school children who were now standing transfixed at the top of the grand staircase. They shuffled down all grins and smiles, and took their places at the table.
Just at that moment, there was a powerful roaring noise outside, and a private jet zoomed down onto the drive. It eventually halted and passengers began to get off. Flash Dashing flashed a flashingly dashing smile, and hopped lightly down from his plane, followed by many cameras, microphones and newspaper journalists. Flash flicked his quiff up, and strutted into the porch. "Oh Flash!" swooned the girls, "Oh Dash!" grumbled Plumbum (he'd forgotten his camera!). "Oh Mr Daaarshing!" called a tall blonde reporter with a microphone. But there was a second celebrity on the jet.
Lucretia Hamilton - Broadway heart stealer, super model, beauty queen and general pamperpuss billionaire - emerged into the streaming crowds, wearing her famous lily-white trouser suit and matching white glistening heeled sandals. Lucretia beamed to show off her famously glittering teeth, and then put on her largest dark sunglasses and flounced off through the crowd, her elegant 50's blonde perm bouncing. "Flash daaarling. I'm ready now!" she purred. News reporters surrounded her. "Miss Hamilton... why are you here in Little Cucumber? Is this where you went to school?" Lucretia didn't answer. She simply took Flash by the arm and trooped into the hall.
As soon as they both got inside, Miss Monkpin closed the heavy door and introduced Flash and Lucretia to the rest of the famous guests, "and this is Sir Icabod and you'll remember Luna Dingbat and..." Miss Monkpin's sentence was rudely cut short by a knock at the door. She ignored it and continued with her introductions. Thump! Thump! The knocking continued. This time she opened it. Standing on the porch stood three figures - one short, one very, very tall, and one of average height.
The short one was wearing a scientist's overall and a pair of pit boots, three sizes too large. His frizzy red hair hid the three telescoping lenses attached to his thick spectacle frames. This wasn't any ordinary scientist, this was Professor Sid Sweevly - world-renowned (if not world-respected), nuclear physicist. Accompanying him were Raven Shadowrider and Ruby Doom - two famous rock chicks both in successful bands.
The trio entered the feast and sat down at the three remaining chairs on table three. On the second table Miss Monkpin, Flash Dashing and Lucretia Hamilton also sat down, but on the first table, so as to keep out of the way of certain guests, Mr Plumbum took his seat. "Em, err... Good afternoon Professor, Miss Shadowrider and err... Miss Doom... and afternoon everyone else," he mumbled. "Ehum! Well, err... umm... Let's just begin, shall we?"
Very quickly, the eager hands of the children snatched at the food, filling their plates with mountains of goodies. Soups and casseroles were ladled out into bowls and creamy scrumptious puddings were served up. Of course there was an awful lot of talking. "So how's India these days, Icabod?" asked Luna, as he tucked into a large pecan Danish pastry. "Not bad Luna my dear... much better than my time at the Peanut-Hut Hotel in Delhi of course! I've recently discovered a truly remarkable rare flea specimen. It's spifflingly exotic... a kind of pale blue 'Crumpet' flea... and I've named it..."
Lucretia was making conversation with Humphrey Hogheart, whilst Professor Sweevly seemed to be experimenting with his glass of champagne. He tipped a little bottle of a steaming mixture into his glass, which instantly smashed into tiny frozen pieces and scattered around the room. "Ooops!" he mumbled, and hid himself behind a large turkey salad baguette. Ruby Doom's small black baseball boots (accidentally on purpose) kept landing on Mr Finchook the maths teacher's foot, and he was getting quite annoyed.
Flash Dashing was signing autographs and posing for photos with the pupils, his smile just as flash and dashing as always. He was enjoying himself so much that he almost forgot to give every fan a shake of his famous hand.
In fact everyone at the 200th Anniversary celebration was having a fabulous time, chatting to old pals and enjoying the delicious food. Even Ernest Plumbum was feeling more relaxed about the situation. Everything was going fine...
"Erhumf!" Humphrey Hogheart cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make!" Everyone looked at Plumbum, who just shrugged his shoulders. "Now this might come as a surprise to you," he continued, "but as you know I am a very wealthy man. My parents sent me to Trollett Towers as a four year old, and I hated it here!!" He stood up, banged his fist on the table and stared at the dumbstruck audience. "Yes, go on... disapprove all you want, but recently I have bought the deeds to Trollett Towers. On the 13th of this month, Trollett Towers will become my most famous first class five star Hogheart Hotel. My first in a chain of themed hotels. Yes, themed! Nigel, that 4ft frog that you hide in the school pond, shall be my theme... I shall own him also. Ha, ha, har!"
Everyone in the hall was stunned into silence. His shrill laughter echoed around the silent room. Lucretia was the first to speak, "Look here, Hogheart, you can't just close down the school like that! What about the children?" Icabod stood up: "This is preposterous, Hogheart! Now, just... just... just leave this old school alone, you double-crossing old bean! What do you think Nigel will make of this?" Ruby Doom threw a plastic plate in Humphrey Hogheart's direction, hitting him on the forehead. "Ged ouda here Hogheart!" she yelled.
Just then a loud bang issued from the direction of Professor Sweevly, and all the lights went out. "Ooops!" came a little voice.
The hall was pitch black, and there were too many people in the hall for everyone to be moving about. Only the notorious Humphrey Hogheart tried to leave the room. His wobbling footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. The footsteps got faster, his hands outstretched, feeling for the door handle. Laughing, he touched something wet. A low croak issued from the doorway, then a long tremendous gulp... When the lights finally came back on, Nigel was sitting comfortably in the corner of the hall, grinning a wide froggy grin, and looking rather fatter than usual. He gave a very loud and contented burp. Sticking out of the corner of his mouth was the brim of a bowler hat.
Nobody said a word... but where had that nice Mr Hogheart gone?
Read the other winning stories:
| Mel | Callum Murdo MacDonald and the Pinkish Blotch |
The Magic Place |
Trollet Towers is © Jessica McKeown 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Jessica McKeown, who asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of this work.