Benworden Page 9

  “I wouldn’t dare allow temptation to destabilise my position at this remarkable school or jeopardise the good name of Benworden and I would like to...”

  “All right, all right!” he interjected. “You’ve made your point, but if I find out that you or anyone else wearing that ridiculous ring have formed a club the repercussions will be severe!”

  Without hesitation I began spouting off again, “Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. If someone dares to challenge your authority, Sir, they deserve all they get.”

  “Hmph!” he replied as he turned and marched off down the corridor.

  Students quickly backed up against their lockers. They knew from his pronounced march and mumbling that he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

  Sometimes I worried about what might happen if we were found out, not so much for myself but for the other members and most importantly my parents, but this type of thinking would diminish quickly and was replaced by thoughts of the good work that we’d been doing for those who we felt needed a helping hand.

  Years ago when new rooms were being excavated in the club the members had struck a gold vein running through one of the walls. They dug out a large room where it existed and set up a small smelter where they would clean and melt the gold down to make ingots. A partition divided the room and a small office was set up on the other side which contained a desk, chair, computer and a safe that had been secured into the wall. The safe contained ingots, ledgers, stock certificates, a large amount of cash and credit cards.

  Over time, the club had set up numerous accounts and registered businesses such as cleaning, along with handyman and mowing franchises. Wages were transferred directly into workers’ accounts and the profits that were made were paid directly into the club’s business account. We had more money than we needed so we sought out charities and worthwhile causes that could do with a helping hand.

  An example of this was Emily Richards, a student at Benworden. Her father was killed in a car accident and her mother Louise had been waiting a long time for her husband’s insurance policy to come through. Finances were looking grim for Emily’s family and Louise was about to pull Emily out of Benworden as she could no longer afford the fees.

  A week before the fees were due an anonymous letter arrived at Emily’s house addressed to her mother. The letter read: “Hi Louise, you don’t know me but your husband (God rest his soul) helped me out with some money when we were younger. I invested that money wisely and I am now a millionaire. When the business was young and not turning over a lot of profit I offered to pay him back a little at a time but he refused to take it and jokingly said, ‘Fix me up when you’re a millionaire.’ We lost touch after a while due to us both working long hours and pursuing our individual careers and when I picked up the paper and read of his tragic death I became overwhelmed with grief and guilt. So although this may seem selfish, I would like you to accept this cheque on behalf of your husband so that I can free my mind of the debt I owe to a good man who helped me become who I am today.

  Warm regards, A Friend.”

  Enclosed in the envelope was a bank cheque for a sum of money that would keep them going until they were back on their feet. The club felt that the family had been through enough and they knew Emily’s mother was a proud woman who wouldn’t accept charity, so if it was something owed it was easier for her to accept, which she did.

  We also helped other areas of the community with small donations here and there, and other money was spent on gadgets and devices or whatever the club might need.

  Mr Gowdy’s full-on approach was still dwelling in the back of my mind and I just felt there was something more behind it. He had made me feel like he was a man on a mission and nothing was going to get in his way. We all knew he had his suspicions about the club and this had been well documented in the diaries and log books in our club rooms. All of this dated back to when he was a boarder at Benworden, but today was different; there was urgency and a direct confrontation regarding the rings and the club.

  I spoke to Geraldine and she agreed that it was time to get on the offensive and take action of our own, so Roo and Bungles were asked to go to Mr Gowdy’s office that evening and see what they could find.

  That night Roo and Bungles took the tunnel to Mr Gowdy’s. Once they were directly underneath they grabbed the gaff that was bracketed on the wall, and hooked onto the folding stairs that were attached to the underside of the floor of the office at the top of the tunnel. After pulling the stairs down they climbed up and unlatched the trap door. The floor of the office was covered in 100-year-old marble tiles which were never to be pulled up, as the building was listed with the National Trust. It was four of these tiles that concealed the trap door to the tunnel below. Once inside, the boys began foraging around for any worthwhile information. There was good reason why we selected these two guys – they were great snoops and were most inquisitive when it came to fossicking through other’s rooms.

  This particular night led to one of the most exciting yet fearful discoveries that they had ever made.

  The boys were about to use their skeleton key to unlock the filing cabinet when Bungles stumbled in the dark, dropping his flashlight. The light rolled under Mr Gowdy’s desk and when Bungles went to retrieve it he hit his head on a low-lying ledge beneath the desk. Bungles called out to Roo and pointed out this obscure object and both pointed their flashlights upward.

  Under the desk was a false drawer. It was hidden from view at the front of the desk by the timber panel and was recessed far enough from the back of the desk where Mr Gowdy sat to make it almost impossible to detect. There were no key holes or handles on it and the boys pushed and prodded but couldn’t find a way to open it.

  What the boys didn’t notice was a drawing pin that had been dropped by Mr Gowdy by accident. While Bungles was pulling himself into a position where he could get a better look he sat on the pin, catapulting him upright and hitting his head on the front of the object. Somehow this released the hinged front of the hidden draw and revealed what was inside. Bungles now had two lumps on both the front and back of his head which was nothing out of the ordinary for him.

  Roo reached into the cavity of the drawer and felt around. He soon retrieved a binder folder that had been converted into a diary, written by Mr Gowdy. The diary dated back to his first year at Benworden and every year since then. It told of how he had wondered where some of the boarders had disappeared to during the night and how he had tried to follow them without success. Throughout the diary he wrote how the old building must have hidden rooms or access to old tunnels but he had never been able to find them. As the boys read on they discovered that Mr Gowdy had never given up the search and now believed there may be a mine shaft below the school or boarding house.

  Mr Gowdy wrote that he had had a chat to the science teacher, Mr Neal, about his friend Paul Joseph who had a drilling company. He wanted Mr Neal to ask Paul to give a quote on testing the soil within the school surroundings. The diary went on to say that Mr Neal was so keen to help Paul out he didn’t realise what Mr Gowdy was up to. He also wrote that Mr Neal was a naive fool and that he had not sent his requests for promotion to the education board as he knew there was a chance of him becoming headmaster one day.

  Mr Gowdy had put a very good case to the school board regarding drilling on the school grounds by explaining that Ballarat was notorious for collapsing mine shafts and quite a few people had been hurt recently. He went on to say that he had concerns that there may be mine shafts beneath the school or boarding house and the dangers this may present. He said it would be a simple matter of drilling down and testing the density of the soil. The board gave its permission, and he wrote that it wouldn’t be long before he could get his plan underway, and he could finally have his revenge on those who had been taunting him for all those years.

  The boys were shocked at what they were reading and felt this could be the demise of their beloved club. They impatiently waited for the photocopier to warm up
and set about copying every page in the folder. No sooner had they done this than they heard footsteps approaching up the hall.

  Roo told Bungles to get down the trap door with the copy while he put the original back. Bungles headed for the trap door, tripped and fell head-first down the hole. A faint murmur came up through the hole; “I’m ok,” declared Bungles, sporting yet another bump to match the ones on his forehead.

  Just as Roo got everything back to its original state and the floor tile back in place the security guard opened the door, glanced around and left, satisfied everything was in order.

  15

  THE FULL MOON

  I’ll never forget the week of the full moon. I had heard stories of how a full moon affects people and events but I honestly believe that Bungles had a mysterious connection to this time of the month. Whenever anything went wrong, you knew Bungles wouldn’t be far away. He was like a magnet to bad luck made of metal.

  Monday and Tuesday had seen more mishaps for Bungles than ever before and it just seemed to be getting worse. On Wednesday he had caught his blazer on one of the door handles, piercing a hole clear through his sleeve; he then split his pants while bending over, and his pen had leaked into his shirt pocket leaving a blue silhouette on the outside that appeared to look like human buttocks.

  All day the other students laughed and tormented him with remarks like, “Hey, have a look at this. Bungles painted a picture of his butt on his pocket!” or “Gee, that’s a bummer! How did that get there?”

  Club members tried to protect him by telling him just to ignore their comments and it was easy to see he just wanted the day to be over. Wednesday came and went and Thursday started badly again for him. Bungles had gone back to sleep after his morning wakeup call and was running very late for school. He raced down the stairs and into the dining room to have his breakfast. He grabbed himself some cereal and at this point he was starting to panic as he knew all the other boarders had left for school. Bungles began throwing food into his mouth quicker than he could swallow it but what he hadn’t realised was that he was spilling milk and cereal all down the front of himself. Once he felt the cold liquid penetrating through his shirt and onto his skin his head dropped in a downward descent to scan how much damage had been done. Just a quick glimpse made him realise that he would need to change his shirt, and the cry of “NO!” echoed throughout Benworden. Even the crows that had been so noisy shut down their mournful cries and it seemed as though the world had stopped for that split second.

  He leapt to his feet and raced up the stairs to change and it wasn’t long before he reappeared with a shirt half-buttoned and his tie dangling around his neck like a dead snake. Bungles was now at full speed, racing down the stairs and straight out the door with a long sprint along the pathway to the school ahead of him. I watched in astonishment from my upstairs classroom as this tangled mess of school bag, shirt, blazer and tie stumbled and tripped along the path. The only way to describe what it looked like was a clothesline trying to run the four-minute mile covered in a full load of washing. He had made up great time and was on the home straight and heading for his classroom when he heard that deathly sound.

  “Young man, come here!”

  Bungles knew that voice only too well; it had to be Mr Gowdy’s and if he was right he also knew he was in for it, so he pretended not to hear him.

  “DID YOU HERE ME? COME HERE!” Mr Gowdy shouted, and Bungles was now compelled to stop and face him. He eventually came to a halt but he couldn’t bring himself to turn and face Mr Gowdy, so he stood there like he was in a trance, hoping this was a bad dream. He thought that when he did eventually turn around his nightmare would disappear into a puff of smoke but, alas, that didn’t happen, and due to his hesitation in turning he had ignited a bomb that was ready to explode.

  “Sorry sir?” Bungles said as he slowly turned to face the principal.

  “Look at you, son!” Mr Gowdy retorted. “You’re a disgrace to your school and fellow students. How dare you come here dressed like that! Have you no respect for yourself?” he asked, while holding his glasses in one hand and pointing with the other.

  Bungles was overwhelmed by a sense of panic and replied, “No Sir. I mean, yes Sir. Sorry Sir.”

  “Get your uniform straightened out and get yourself to class immediately,” Mr Gowdy continued. “Do you hear me? Immediately! I’ll be watching you so you better be careful young man!”

  Bungles stood upright as if he was being put through a drill by a sergeant major and replied, “Yes Sir, careful Sir. I’ll be careful.” Although Bungles was clumsy he was forever the optimist, and because Mr Gowdy hadn’t given him detention he remembered how I had been given legend status when I was late. He kept telling everyone that his luck had changed and now there were two people in the school who had escaped detention from Old Grumpy Gowdy.

  All through the morning things went well; he even received praise from Miss James after he handed in his music assignment early and by lunchtime he was at an all-time high. During the line up in the canteen, Bungles turned to Roo and told him about the great day he was having and how it just kept improving. He even pointed out that they were dishing up his favourite lunch – spaghetti with extra cheesy sauce.

  Both boys joked and laughed as they headed for their table and that’s when things went terribly wrong. Bungles tripped on the leg of a chair as one of the other students got up from the table and he hurtled forward like a swimmer off the blocks at an Olympic final. Isabel just happened to be walking towards them and didn’t have time to react as she had her head turned away while eavesdropping on a conversation between two girls nearby. Just as she turned, Bungles’ plate of spaghetti with special cheesy sauce slapped her in the chest and ran down the front of her spotless white shirt like worms that were late for their daily fill of compost.

  Meanwhile, when Bungles had thrown his hands out to break his fall he’d knocked a glass of juice over one of the girls who Isabel had been trying to eavesdrop on. As the cold liquid hit her lap she leapt to her feet without pulling back her chair which in turn tilted the table upwards, and the remainder of food and drinks on the table splashed over the other girl sitting opposite her.

  Bungles, on hands and knees, looked up at the turmoil and said, “Sorry?”, as if he was asking a question rather than making a statement.

  Girls were yelling, boys were pointing their fingers and laughing and Isabel ran screaming from the room and straight to the principal’s office.

  Bungles was soon summoned to Mr Gowdy’s office by Miss Fickle who attempted to reassure him that everything would be ok if he just explained to Mr Gowdy what had transpired and how it was an accident. Deep down inside, however, they both knew it was never that simple when it came to Mr Gowdy, especially with the mood swings he had been having recently.

  While sitting outside the office waiting to be called in, Bungles felt no fear of the repercussions. He knew they were inevitable. Something had clicked inside him like a light switch and he had now begun to feel emotionally numb. Bungles had been in trouble before but this wasn’t about that – it was about feeling lucky for the first time in a long time and believing that things were finally going to go his way, but as reality kicked in so did thoughts of despair, and even his optimism deserted him when he most needed it.

  Bungles was finally called into the office and, just as he anticipated, Mr Gowdy came down on him like a ton of bricks and then chucked on an anvil for good measure. No matter how hard Bungles tried to explain what had occurred in the canteen and how it was no one’s fault, the morning’s encounter with Bungles was still fresh in Mr Gowdy’s mind. To top it off, the principal was constantly staring down at the ring Bungles was wearing on his finger.

  “Two hours, my friend. Two hours of helping the cleaner with toilets after school. And the reason I’ve kept you waiting outside my office for so long is because I needed to make a phone call to the head of boarding telling him you would be late back tonight. I have also reques
ted that you be sent to your room immediately after dinner.”

  Bungles hung his head on his chest and replied, “Yes Sir, whatever you say.” He then turned towards the door and headed out. On reaching the reception area outside the office Miss Fickle asked him how everything went. “It’s like I told you, Miss, it didn’t matter what I said. It was going to be the same outcome.” Then he went on to tell her the punishment he’d received. Miss Fickle frowned and told him not to worry and then hugged him. This shocked him as Miss Fickle had always been diplomatic and had never taken one side or the other.

  Once Bungles left the room, Miss Fickle marched straight up to Mr Gowdy’s office and rapped on the door.

  “Come in,” he said, which had the undertones of “If you have to.”

  We all knew that Mr Gowdy and Miss Fickle had a thing for each other but neither had taken it any further than starry-eyed glances. It was only natural that they would connect as both their interests revolved around the school and they both lived on their own (apart from Miss Fickle’s Malteses of course), but even their relationship was beginning to strain under the constant negativity that Mr Gowdy was pumping out.

  She took a couple of steps into his office and stared at him as if they had been in a relationship for years.

  “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him? After all, it was an accident,” she said.

  Mr Gowdy’s eyes lit up and he snapped back. “Is that all you came in here for? To bother me with that tripe? Miss Fickle, I would thank you not to question my authority or decision-making when it comes to the discipline of the students of this school!.”

  Miss Fickle jumped as he slammed his fist on the desk.

  “This boy is like every one of those horrid brats who wear those fancy-nancy rings. They deserve everything they get. In fact, he was fortunate he got off so lightly. Let me tell you, I was lenient on him because it was an accident!”