Mr Bambuckle's Remarkables Go Wild Read online

  I smiled. It felt good to have some self-control.

  A slopping noise disrupted the moment. Cookie Simpson was on his hands and knees, gobbling one of the splattered caramel donuts on the floor. He slurped and slobbered, lapping up the mess like a vacuum.

  ‘Now that,’ I said, admiring a master in action, ‘is how to suck up.’

  A sense of pride filled Vinnie as she finished telling her story. It was the first time she had spoken at length to a group of such size. ‘Thanks for listening, guys,’ she said.

  Mr Bambuckle took the last marshmallow out of the packet. ‘I’m certain everyone would agree with me that you’d be craving this.’

  The class nodded wholeheartedly.

  Mr Bambuckle gently tossed the marshmallow across the camp fire. It sailed through the tips of three – maybe four – flames, before landing in Vinnie’s hands.

  ‘It’s perfectly cooked!’ she exclaimed, popping it into her mouth.

  ‘A most wonderful roasting method, refined by generations of mountain women in Eastern Europe,’ said the teacher.

  Albert shook his head in wonder. ‘You learn something new twice every day.’

  Snap!

  ‘What was that?’ said Evie, looking startled.

  Somewhere in the dark, it sounded like a fallen twig had been broken in two.

  Snap!

  ‘There it is again,’ said Evie, chewing her fingernails.

  Dodger fluttered down from the evening sky and landed on Mr Bambuckle’s shoulder, twittering a message.

  The students sat frozen around the fire, their ears straining through the dark. Something was moving behind the cover of the trees.

  Crack!

  ‘The speckled-dagger vulture,’ whispered Albert.

  ‘If there’s one thing to say,’ said Mr Bambuckle, seemingly unaware of the tension, ‘it’s that kindness is a most underrated possession.’

  Scarlett, who was feeling as anxious as Evie, frowned. ‘There’s something lurking in the bush and all you can think about is kindness?’

  ‘Yes, kindness,’ said the teacher. ‘That and teamwork … and barnacles.’

  ‘Barnacles?’ said Evie, her teeth chattering. ‘As in –’

  Snap!

  Mr Bambuckle simply smiled. ‘Miss Frost, do kindly join us.’

  The students tensed up as Blue Valley School’s assistant principal stepped into the light of the fire. She was dressed smartly in a white outfit and accompanied by a stylish camping bag, having no doubt come straight from her office at school. Her long silver hair was brushed up into her trademark bun, and the diamond bobby pin that held it in place flickered in the orange light of the fire. Despite her model looks, she put goosebumps on the arms of the children.

  ‘How long have you been listening to us?’ asked Ren.

  Miss Frost raised a finger to remind Ren not to call out. ‘Long enough to know you are wasting precious learning time with ridiculous stories.’

  Vinnie’s shoulders slumped. She had poured her heart and soul into sharing her tale.

  Albert put his hand in the air.

  ‘It had better be good,’ said Miss Frost. Her voice was an icy whisper.

  ‘How did you manage to find us?’ said Albert. ‘This camp site doesn’t seem to be on any of the maps I’ve studied.’

  Miss Frost’s breath was misty against the evening sky. ‘Let’s just say I’ve decided to embrace technology.’ She pulled out a small GPS monitor from her bag and rattled her car keys, adding, ‘I tracked you here – the bus. Your teacher’s position at Blue Valley School is under constant review, and I’m here to ensure this camp meets all the required outcomes.’

  The callous teacher flicked a cold glance in Scarlett’s direction. It was clear that she hadn’t forgotten about the time she’d been zapped to Ecuador by a computer program.

  The students’ mouths gaped open. It was one thing to have Miss Frost do a spot check at school, but an entirely different thing to be ambushed at camp.

  ‘We are always the better for your company,’ said Mr Bambuckle cheerily.

  Miss Frost dismissed the compliment with a flat reply. ‘You have broken occupational health and safety rule 756-H.’

  Mr Bambuckle slapped his thigh and laughed. ‘I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. I know the rule well.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’ll tell me what the rule is.’ Miss Frost was playing it cool, and she was enjoying having power over the teacher.

  ‘Rule 756-H states that no food may be thrown over a fire.’

  Miss Frost’s lips twitched. She hadn’t expected a correct response. ‘In any case, you broke the rule. I could have you fired for this.’

  Mr Bambuckle laughed. ‘A most wonderful pun! I see what you did there … fired! Your jokes are really … hot!’

  Miss Frost was not impressed. She straightened her skirt and frowned at the teacher.

  ‘You’ll be the flame of my heart if you can match me,’ added Mr Bambuckle.

  Miss Frost’s frown turned into a glare.

  ‘Do play along,’ sang Mr Bambuckle. ‘My puns will soon be extinguished without your blazing input.’

  The students were shaking violently, desperately trying to contain their laughter.

  ‘Rule 756-H is a serious matter,’ said Miss Frost, her voice stopping any shakes in their tracks. ‘I will have to report this to Mr Sternblast.’

  Mr Bambuckle was anything but fazed by the threat. ‘If I had indeed broken the rule, then I agree, it would be a most serious matter.’

  ‘You threw food over a fire,’ said Miss Frost. ‘Case closed.’

  ‘Not over the fire,’ said Mr Bambuckle, ‘through the fire. I believe there is a distinct difference.’

  Miss Frost’s lips quivered ever so slightly. She had been caught out on a technicality. ‘Well, there’s still the matter of your poor preparation. Camp planning rule 229-A clearly states –’

  ‘You’ll find this trip has been most thoughtfully considered,’ said the teacher. ‘I spent weeks planning ahead.’

  ‘Then explain the lack of food,’ said Miss Frost. ‘I’ve checked the bus and I couldn’t find a thing. I shone my torch into your tent and all I could see was cordial and chocolate biscuits. What are you expecting the children to eat? Surely you have more nutritious meals planned than roasted marshmallows?’

  Mr Bambuckle grinned from ear to ear. ‘The delightful Canteen Carol would be most disappointed in your lack of faith. I had a word with her earlier and she will be providing wondrous supplies for us, delivered by another of my splendid contacts.’

  Miss Frost was not convinced. ‘Prove it,’ she whispered, and for a split second the fire seemed to dim, casting dark shadows as far as the tent where Vex slept.

  Mr Bambuckle retrieved his phone from one of the many pockets in his jacket. ‘Technology is a wonderful thing. I’m thrilled you’ve decided to embrace it. I recorded the whole conversation with Carol.’ He pressed play. ‘You’re most welcome to listen.’

  The students stared in wonder at their heroic teacher. He had warded off Miss Frost’s attacks with merry diplomacy and uncanny organisation.

  ‘Snap,’ whispered Carrot Grigson, just loud enough for Sammy to hear.

  ‘Lol,’ said Sammy.

  Miss Frost tapped her foot impatiently. ‘And where exactly is the food you ordered?’

  Mr Bambuckle pointed to the twisted gum tree in the centre of the camping ground. ‘Inside there, of course – freshly delivered.’

  Miss Frost turned just in time to see the shadow of an incredibly short man vanish into the thick scrub.

  ‘Tell that marvellous boss of yours I owe him one,’ called Mr Bambuckle.

  ‘He says he owes you,’ sang a friendly reply from somewhere in the dark.

  Miss Frost’s lips twitched at the irregularity of the situation. Although she did well not to show it, she was furious with frustration. Mr Bambuckle’s methods were highly unorthodox and she didn’t like it
one bit.

  She advanced towards the tree, examining the inside of its trunk with her torch. There were piles of provisions and fresh food, all of it packed safely in a variety of cooling bags and plastic containers. There was cutlery and a toaster, and everything in between – gas cookers, utensils, plates and cups. The resourceful teacher had triumphed.

  ‘We would be most honoured if you’d join us for dinner,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘I budgeted for fifteen children and two adults.’

  Miss Frost’s reply was chilling. ‘Dinner is the last thing on my mind. I’ve come to assess you and your so-called “strategies”. I’ll have you know I’m staying for the entire duration of camp, and I will catch you out on something. Discipline is the new order.’

  Scarlett, who was feeling a little vulnerable, fidgeted on her seat.

  ‘How delightful,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘If you’re staying for the whole camp then we shall enjoy your company all the more.’ He placed a log on the fire, quenching its thirst for fuel.

  The evening stars were piercing the night sky. The children had never seen such a bright, starry display. Even Albert, who often enjoyed spending his evenings peering through a telescope, was impressed. ‘I should have brought my journal,’ he said. ‘It’s a celebration of constellations!’

  The students had had such fun setting up their tents and listening to Vinnie’s story, they hadn’t realised how hungry they’d become. The marshmallows, as tasty as they were, had simply roused their appetites.

  ‘Now, who would like to help with dinner?’ said Mr Bambuckle, addressing the students.

  ‘Yes, please!’ chorused the class, all of them eager to please their teacher.

  ‘Not so fast,’ said Miss Frost. ‘There are standards that must be observed.’ She slid out a thick folder from her bag and opened it to the first page. ‘I expect you’ve followed these protocols.’ She sat down on one of the logs and tapped the space beside her, inviting Mr Bambuckle into the frightening world of paperwork. ‘As for the students,’ she added, ‘I expect them to wait patiently.’

  Before adhering to Miss Frost’s demands, Mr Bambuckle turned to the children. ‘Kindness and teamwork – you’ll know what to do.’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Ren Rivera. ‘I may be good at detecting, but I’ve got no clue in this case. Miss Frost is not one for being interrupted.’

  ‘They’ve been poring over that folder for ages,’ said Sammy, with a groan. ‘My stomach is rumbling louder than Slugger’s snoring.’

  ‘Why are there so many rules Mr Bambuckle has to follow?’ complained Myra.

  ‘Because Miss Frost is changing our school,’ said Victoria. ‘Remember, discipline is the new order.’

  ‘I can’t take this much longer,’ said Sammy. ‘I’m so hungry, I could eat a hose.’

  ‘I think you mean “house”,’ said Slugger.

  ‘I’m sure it’s “hearse”,’ said Damon.

  ‘I’m so hungry I could eat a harp,’ suggested Vinnie.

  ‘Horse!’ corrected Albert.

  ‘Kindness and teamwork,’ pondered Miffy Armstrong, flexing the toned muscles in her arm. ‘Maybe we should get dinner ready ourselves? We could cook something yummy for the teachers.’

  ‘That’s it!’ cried Victoria. ‘How selfish of us not to work it out. We’ve been too busy complaining about our empty tummies. We should be looking outwards, not inwards.’

  Damon was the first to agree with Victoria. ‘What she said!’

  ‘Pure dead brilliant!’ said Harold. ‘Let’s make dinner.’

  ‘We’ll need a head chef,’ said Miffy.

  ‘Slugger!’ The decision was unanimous.

  Miss Frost, while usually one to take pleasure in catching children out, was so committed to torturing Mr Bambuckle with checklists and rules that she failed to notice the students moving about. Mr Bambuckle, on the other hand, kept one eye on the protocols and the other on his class. His chest filled with pride as they stealthily set to work.

  Miffy and Sammy used their strength to unpack and carry a trestle table over from the bus.

  ‘I’m stronger than a fox,’ said Sammy.

  ‘I think you mean “stronger than a box”,’ said Miffy.

  ‘Ox!’ called Albert from the other side of the camp site.

  They set up the table beneath the twisted gum tree before tending to the fire, which required another log. Even the sudden burst of flames wasn’t enough to draw Miss Frost’s grey-blue eyes away from her folder.

  Harold and Myra passed things from the hollow trunk to Slugger as he asked for them. The table soon became the sturdy base of a makeshift kitchen.

  Slugger, who had enlisted the help of Scarlett and Carrot, instructed his sous-chefs to prepare the vegetables for the main course. Scarlett peeled the potatoes while Carrot peeled the carrots – something he had always loved doing.

  Fresh water was carted from the nearby river in small containers by Albert and Victoria. They made multiple trips by torchlight – never complaining – and boiled the water over the fire, before pouring it into a large plastic tub that acted as a washing basin.

  Damon, who was jealous of the time Albert got to spend with Victoria, pushed the thoughts away for the greater good. He took the next best possible job for his interests – rinsing the snow peas and beans in the basin. He beamed every time Victoria returned from the river with more water.

  Evie was Damon’s offsider, enjoying the fact she could wash and rinse without being attacked by an appliance. She had once had a nasty experience with a washing machine, but it seemed a distant memory now.

  Ren and Vinnie, as only best friends can, brainstormed dessert ideas. Slugger was feeling generous and had asked for a suggestion.

  ‘Chocolate mousse?’ said Ren.

  ‘We don’t have any cream,’ said Vinnie. ‘What about iceblocks?’

  ‘No freezer,’ said Ren.

  ‘Jelly?’

  ‘Too wobbly.’

  ‘Pancakes?’

  ‘Mr Bambuckle’s specialty.’

  While they couldn’t agree to begin with, the best friends’ telepathy was in scrumptious synchronisation as they both thought back to their first sleepover. ‘Chocolate-dipped fairy bread!’ they cried together.

  ‘Chocolate-dipped fairy bread it is,’ said Slugger.

  Mr Bambuckle shook his head in amazement. The class were tapping into their true potential and he felt honoured to be witnessing it.

  ‘Why are you shaking your head?’ hissed Miss Frost. ‘Do you not understand the importance of section 36-P?’

  ‘Indeed, I understand,’ said the teacher. He turned back to the folder, but not before glancing over his shoulder into the trees.

  Peter Strayer was absent from the bulk of the action in the clearing. He was busy roaming deep in the bush, setting up something special at Mr Bambuckle’s request. Earlier, he had discovered a note in his bag explaining what he had to do. Right now, he was jumping between fallen logs and mossy dens – the teacher’s note and torchlight his only guides.

  The one student not buzzing with productivity was Vex. He remained fast asleep in his tent, unaware of all the positive energy outside.

  As Slugger finished plating the main course, the rest of the students banded together to set up a picnic area. They spread blankets over the grass in the clearing and laid them with cutlery and drinking cups. Using dozens of tea lights, they lit the area so it sparkled with the soft glow of quality dining. It was truly a masterpiece in design.

  If the students were pleased with their picnic set-up, it was nothing compared to how they would feel about Slugger’s cuisine. The bulky chef had dished up fire-cooked chicken with honeyed carrots, buttered potatoes and lemon greens. On a large tray, he had prepared Belgian-chocolate-dipped fairy bread and garnished it with flakes of toffee-caramel. The smell was divine.

  ‘There’s more water in my mouth than in the river,’ said Sammy. ‘Let’s eat!’

  ‘Wait,’ said Victoria
. ‘We need to make sure everything is perfect. Our teachers deserve the best, even if one of them can be a bit cruel at times.’

  ‘A bit?’ said Scarlett, who hadn’t forgotten the way Miss Frost looked at her when she first arrived at camp.

  ‘At times?’ said Harold.

  Victoria insisted. ‘We’ve put in so much effort already. Finishing strong is just as important.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Damon.

  The children moved to the picnic area, taking with them the steaming plates of chicken as well as the dessert tray. Slugger quickly added slices of lime to six jugs of water and had Scarlett and Carrot place them in the centre of each blanket. Everything was in place. Everything was perfect.

  ‘You invite the teachers over,’ whispered Victoria, nudging Miffy. ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘Kindness and teamwork,’ whispered Miffy, and she cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me, Mr Bambuckle and Miss Frost, we’ve made dinner for you.’

  The children straightened up, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the proof of their hard work on display in their hands. They were framed by the tea lights, and the wide smiles on their faces paraded their pride.

  Only Mr Bambuckle looked up at the happy class, his breath immediately taken away. ‘Oh my.’

  Miss Frost simply snapped the folder shut and turned towards the bus. ‘I’d rather eat my own food. I’ll be staying in my car if anyone needs me.’

  With a sniff, she walked away without even acknowledging the students’ efforts.

  The children were hurt. The cold reality of Miss Frost’s character stung like an icicle to the heart. Mr Bambuckle knew this, and his enthusiasm soon restored their spirits. ‘This is the most astonishing dinner I have ever had the privilege of smelling.’

  Slugger mustered a smile. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Just wait until you taste it.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Mr Bambuckle. With that, he motioned to the blankets, knocking Carrot’s plate out of his hand. It clattered onto the ground. ‘How very careless of me, dear Carrot. I’m sincerely sorry.’

  Carrot’s jaw dropped. He had never known his teacher to be clumsy. ‘I was looking forward to eating that.’