CHAPTER FIVE

As we got closer we saw a group of people gathered, staring hopelessly up at the burning building. I felt my stomach drop towards my toes, as if I was looking down from the high wire. A billowing plume of dark smoke filled the air and flames were licking through the window frames of the second floor. The sound of breaking glass and the groans of the building were enough to let us know that there was no saving it; it was being gobbled up by the greedy flames. I heard a gasp next to me, and turned to see Kip and Ingrid’s horror-struck faces as they stared up at the blaze.

Swivelling around, I spotted Miss Susan standing on the front lawn, her usually tidy hair standing out around her face and a long sooty smear down the side of her cheek.

“Miss!” I exclaimed, running up to her with Kip and Ingrid hot on my heels. “Is there anyone inside?” I asked, my hand grabbing on to her arm. I noticed that she was shaking and she seemed to look straight through me. “Miss!” I cried again.

“Poppy,” she said in a muffled, half asleep voice. Her eyes came into focus on my face and she gave her head a little shake as if she was trying to wake herself up. “No,” she said more crisply now. “Everyone is out. There was some sort of rehearsal on, I think, but Mr Grant and I were waiting here with the bus. Once we saw the smoke we ran in and managed to get everyone out.” She gestured to the nearby group of bedraggled-looking people. They were huddled together and most were wearing the same dazed look as Miss Susan; some were crying. Mr Grant was there, making sure everyone was standing well back, and the front of his shirt also streaked black with soot. He was handing out bottles of water from the icebox on the school bus.

Most of the students had arrived by now to catch the bus, and we all stood in shock staring up at the fire. The sound of distant sirens alerted us that help was on its way.

I frowned. “How long ago did it start?” I asked Miss Susan. She was gazing at the building and she didn’t seem to hear me. I repeated my question.

“It’s only been a few minutes,” she said shakily. “It . . . it happened so fast. I suppose that’s the way with these old buildings.”

We were interrupted by the wail of sirens, announcing the arrival of two fire engines. Firefighters spilled out and swiftly began to tackle the blaze.

“Elaine!” called Mr Grant, gesturing to Miss Susan. She made her way over to his side and the two of them began to fill one of the firefighters in on what had happened. If it hadn’t been so scary it would have been quite thrilling.

These thoughts were interrupted by a commotion behind me, and I looked to see a tall dark boy, who had been standing with the group from inside the town hall, slowly crumpling to the ground like a hefty sack of spuds.

A high-pitched shriek pierced the air – Annabelle. She sped forward towards the fallen boy. Flopping down beside him she cradled his head in her lap, weeping noisily over his unconscious form.

“He’s – he’s dead!” she wailed.

Miss Susan and the firefighter were moving towards the pair, but Ingrid beat them to it. With a flourish she grabbed one of the open bottles of water from someone’s hand and emptied it over the boy’s head, also drenching Annabelle who squealed angrily. She was distracted, however, by the boy’s eyes fluttering open. He looked up at Annabelle and blinked.

“Th-th-thank you,” he whispered in a weak voice.

Annabelle dissolved once again into noisy tears and Ingrid rolled her eyes before heading back to us.

“Pretty quick thinking, Ing!” Kip said, before throwing a disgusted glance at the tender scene that Annabelle and the boy were now acting out, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. It was like something from a soppy film . . . and with that thought, the penny dropped.

“That’s that Loo Cast Quest!” I exclaimed, recognizing the boy from the photograph.

“Of course. He’s in the production of Macbeth that they were rehearsing in the hall,” said Ingrid thoughtfully.

“Urgh!” said Kip, eyeing the growing circle of Lucas’s admirers, who were all staring moonily at his prone figure while Miss Susan asked him lots of questions about how he was feeling. “Dunno what all the fuss is about,” Kip continued in his loud voice. “That Love Vampire film was so rubbish. I tried to watch it once but it made me feel a bit sick.” He finished with a snort, but he looked a bit frightened when a host of angry Lucas Quest fan club eyes snapped in his direction.

However, there was no time to worry about Kip’s personal safety because we were interrupted once again, this time by another scream breaking through the hubbub.

“BUTTONS!” A plump grey-haired lady was being held back by a firefighter as she tried to push her way into the burning building. “My Buttons! I need to get to him!” she cried, pointing to the roof of the burning hall. There, right up at the top of the clock tower on the roof of the town hall, a petrified-looking cat was clinging to the weathercock and mewling pitifully. “Oooh! My poor sweet kitty! The fire will spread and he’ll be burnt to cinders!” the woman wailed, clasping her hands to her chest. “Buttons!” she whispered helplessly, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Well, I know it probably wasn’t the most sensible or well thought out plan in the world, but here was someone (or, more accurately, somecat) in trouble, and I knew that I, Poppy Pym, could save him. In the blink of an eye I was shinning up the maple tree that stood at the side of the building and that reached up to the roof. I could hear people shouting my name below but I knew perfectly well that the trick to being up so high was that you don’t ever look down. After some more stealthy climbing I was level with the roof and I clambered up, nimbling along to the base of the clock tower. Taking a deep breath, I held out my arms to steady myself, trying not to think about the fire that I knew was creeping ever closer, or – the image suddenly flashed through my mind – the bad dream I kept having about falling. The flames hadn’t yet reached the top floor but there was quite a bit of smoke and it was obvious I didn’t have any time to waste.

“Come on, Buttons!” I clucked encouragingly, trying to sound calm and to keep the tremble out of my voice. I stretched one hand up towards him, but Buttons seemed to be paralysed with fear and so I took another deep breath and with only slightly wibbling knees I started to scramble up the clock tower itself. “Here kitty, kitty,” I called again, and this time Buttons seemed to move towards me just a tiny bit. “Thaaaat’s right,” I crooned, “come on! Nearly . . . there. . .”

With a sudden and terrific MEOW, Buttons flung himself down the tower, bolted right past me and along the roof, and hurled himself down the tree, ending up in the arms of his frantic owner. “Thanks a lot,” I muttered, backing up veeeeery slowly along the roof, holding my breath the whole time, as the smoke seemed to be rising up to meet me. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought I could feel the heat from the flames curling around my feet. For a sickening moment I remembered my nightmare and the feeling of falling towards the floor. Gritting my teeth, and pushing those thoughts from my mind, I climbed back out on to the swaying tree branch and clambered down as quickly as I could to the sound of cheers below.

“Nice one, Poppy!” I heard Kip’s voice bellow. When my feet were firmly back on the nice solid ground I found myself being pulled into a pretty uncomfortable group hug with the stout lady and Buttons the cat.

“Thank you, my dear, thank you!” the woman said, practically smothering me to death as she clutched me to her chest. “I can’t thank you enough, and neither can my dear sweet little Buttons!” Like me, Buttons didn’t seem to be enjoying the squishy hug very much and he was flailing around, meowing shrilly in my ear.

“No problem,” I managed to gasp once I had disentangled myself from her grateful embrace.

“I am forever in your debt!” she cried dramatically, seeming to enjoy the attention from the crowd that had gathered around us.

“No, no,” I stuttered. “Happy to help out.”

“But you MUST allow me to thank you! You saved the life of my precious lickle baby-waby-kins!” She started making kissy faces at the poor squirming cat.

“No thanks necessary,” I said quickly. “Anyway,” I tried to change the subject, “you’d better get poor Buttons home after that adventure.”

At that her attention snapped back to the mewling fur ball in her arms. “Yes, yes, quite right. Come on, my little Buttons-y Wuttons-y,” she crooned as she shuffled off with the still -wriggling Buttons looking like he desperately wanted to make a break for it.

“Poor cat,” I muttered and turned to find myself face to face with Miss Susan. She was shaking again, but one look at her pale, pinched face told me that this time it was because she was angry.

“Poppy,” she said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Just exactly what did you think you were doing?”

“Well, miss,” I began, “the cat was in trouble and I knew I could get up there very quickly—”

“Oh really?” Miss Susan interrupted sharply. “Do you know who else could have got up to that cat?” The look in her eyes warned me that she didn’t really want an answer to that question. “How about one of these excellent firefighters?” She gestured towards the three fire engines that were now on the scene, and the firefighters who seemed to have managed to get the blaze under control. “There are quite a few of them around, I see. They’re probably quite experienced when it comes to dealing with buildings being on fire. They could have even used one of those new-fangled inventions; perhaps you’ve heard of them? They’re called LADDERS.”

“I—” I began.

“I don’t want to hear it,” snapped Miss Susan. “Poppy Pym, playing the hero again. You were foolish and reckless and you put yourself in real danger. You leave me no choice. . .” And then she said the words I’d been dreading.

“When we get back to school, Miss Baxter will hear about this.”