Is (12 page)

My ears pricked up at that. The
SS
Great Britain was one of those boats Is had shown me in the museum. I looked across at her and grinned at the happy coincidence. But she didn't appear to notice me. She was staring straight ahead, in a way I knew spelt trouble.

‘… at the time it was one of the largest iron ships ever built…'

‘It wasn't one of the largest, Sir. It was the largest,' interrupted Isabel.

‘All right Isabel, it was the largest. That's hardly important, is it? The fact that it was a bit bigger than other ships of the time is of no consequence.'

‘It is of great consequence to me, Sir, it most certainly is,' replied Is firmly in a suddenly very adult and formal-sounding voice.

Mr Phillips looked taken aback by the way she had answered him, but before he managed to say anything, she continued in the same vein.

‘And I will have you know that the Great Britain was not – to use your inadequate words – “a bit bigger than other ships”. She was, Sir, at 3444 tons, twice the the size of her contemporaries.'

Mr Phillips recovered himself to say with a smirk: ‘Yes, well thank you for the history lesson, Isabel. We'll let you know when we want to find out some more.'

Is continued as if she hadn't heard a word he said.

‘People said that it would sink, of course. There are always sceptics in every society. Always there are those who cannot, who will not, believe. I had to suffer more than my fair share of such fools.'

‘I hope I don't have to repeat myself, Isabel. I seem to remember you adopting this ridiculous tone once before in my class. Well I have to warn you, I will not have it.' Mr Phillips was quite clearly bristling by now. But Isabel took no notice. She carried on as if there was nobody else in the room.

‘The
SS
Great Britain, of course, was nothing compared to my final triumph,' she said. ‘I was determined to launch the greatest ship in the history of mankind. And I did!'

‘Ssh,' I whispered at her and shook my hand from side to side to try to make her stop. But she wouldn't, she was completely oblivious of everything around her.

‘The Great Eastern was to be that ship. And I, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, was the engineer to design it.'

‘Shut up, Is!' I hissed. But it was too late; everyone started giggling. Mr Phillips tried to restore order.

‘Okay, that's enough, Isabel.' She obviously didn't hear him.

‘The Great Eastern was not merely a very great ship. She was, Sir, at 692 feet long, twice the size of anything else afloat. Six times the size of my own Great Britain. That is why we had to launch her sideways. She was far too long to launch in the normal manner.'

‘I said you can stop,' said Mr Phillips loudly.

‘Why, the hull alone weighed more than 12,000 tons. She had room for 4000 passengers and 3000 tons of cargo. No other ship could compare with her. Nobody had ever attempted to move such a weight before.'

‘Will you shut up!' Everyone went deadly quiet as we realised that Mr Phillips was about to blow up. Everyone, that is, except Isabel.

‘It took months to launch the great ship. Months! I poured my soul into that ship, my life. I do believe that is what finally killed me. I was mentally and physically drained by the effort. The strain was too much for me. It was forty-nine years before there was a ship to compare to her. I think sometimes perhaps the Great Eastern was too big, too far ahead of her time.'

‘Be quiet, Isabel!'

Then she slowly got up from her chair and stood very stiff and erect, gazing at Mr Phillips.

‘I will not have the likes of you telling me to be quiet, Sir. No, Sir, I will not have it! I will have my say.'

‘I've had it up to here with you, Isabel. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing!'

‘Naturally you cannot, Sir. As I said before, there are always sceptics, those who refuse to believe. And you, Sir, can be numbered amongst them.'

I think the only reason that Mr Phillips didn't do anything for a second or two was that he was so flabbergasted at Isabel's cheek. Then his eyes starting bulging and his mouth began twitching madly, and he took in a huge breath while clenching and unclenching his hands.

Finally he raised himself from his desk and screamed so loudly that Mrs Potter, who was teaching French in the next classroom, came rushing in to see what was the matter.

‘GET OUT GETOUT GETOUTGETOUT GET OUT!!!'

I thought for a minute he would explode and there'd be bits of Mr Phillips dangling from the striplights. But no such luck. Mrs Potter stood there at the door, horrified, as Is scuttled through the gap, tears streaming down her face.

10

Is is Gone

And that was the last Mr Phillips or St Leonards ever saw of Isabel Williams. She ran straight down the corridor and out of the side door. Mr Bartholomew happened to be coming in as she was rushing out and the door slammed in his face.

‘Ow! What the…' he yelled. ‘Come back here, I say, come back here when you're told!'

But Isabel was already out of the school gates and halfway down the path. Within a few minutes, most of Class 2F was out by the door too, staring with a mixture of disbelief and admiration at the fast-disappearing speck that was Isabel as she ran off down the road.

Mr Phillips, needless to say, was absolutely fuming. In fact I don't think I'd ever seen him quite so mad as he was that day. He could hardly contain his anger. He stood there growling and sucking in air between his teeth with a horrible murderous look in his eyes. And whenever anyone said anything to him he practically bit their head off.

Finally, after a few minutes of watching nothing in particular, he told us all to get back to our classroom.

‘Come on, the show's over,' he said, with a menacing tone in his voice. ‘I'll deal with Miss know-it-all Williams later.'

Mr Bartholomew was still nursing a sore hand where the door had smashed into it. Mrs Potter hadn't the faintest idea what was happening.

‘Will you please explain to me why Isabel ran out like that?' she asked Mr Phillips in her peculiarly high-pitched voice.

‘None of your business,' he snapped and pushed past her.

‘Oh!' she exclaimed, very put out indeed. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, Mr Phillips? How dare you?'

‘Don't you tell me what I dare, Mrs Potter. Don't you… dare.'

He stormed back to the classroom with all of us trailing behind, grinning all over our faces. What wonderful excitement! And, needless to say, it took Mr Phillips ages to calm down. I think there was still steam coming out of his ears at the end of the lesson, he was that mad.

He told us all to open our books and read about a rotten old experiment we were supposed to be doing. No one, but absolutely no one, was to talk. Not one word. Or their life wouldn't be worth living.

I don't think anyone could have learnt the slightest bit from the rest of that lesson, we were all wondering about Isabel. I couldn't concentrate on anything; that was for sure.

When the bell finally went to signal the end of the torture you couldn't see Class 2F for dust.

‘Where'd she go? I hope she's all right,' said Veronica, voicing what we all felt. Well, what most of us felt anyway.

‘You know I always thought she was a bit touched, that Isabel. Bit weird I reckon. Know what I mean?' said Kevin.

‘Kevin,' I found myself saying, ‘why don't you stuff a sock in your gob?'

Luckily for me Kevin realised he was in the minority and, since he didn't have Short Planks or any of his other ugly Neanderthal mates with him, he instantly shut up. I never knew I could have such an effect on people. Mind you, even if he had hit me I don't think I'd have cared just then. All I wanted to do was get round to Walton Road and check that Is was all right. The end of the day couldn't come quick enough.

But come it did and I dashed down the path and across the road, narrowly missing being knocked down by a car that I hadn't even noticed.

By the time I got to the laburnum tree, I could hardly speak, I was so out of breath. My heart was thumping and I had that pounding in the ears that you get when you've been running really too hard. Everything looked completely calm and quiet.

I had expected there to be some sort of commotion going on, but there was nothing.

I went up to the door and rang the bell. I waited, trying to get my breath back.

No reply.

I rang again, with desperation in the way I pushed the button.

Still no reply.

Then the neighbour's door opened and a woman (Mrs Higgins her name was) stuck her head out.

‘She's gone out.'

‘Where?' I gasped, still fighting for breath.

‘Dunno. Like I say, she's gone out.'

Suddenly I resented this nosy woman with her ghastly nylon floral housecoat and her hair bound up under an equally horrendous bright headscarf.

She looked at me with little piggy eyes like Mr Phillips too.

‘Well you're a fat lot of help, aren't you?' I shouted at her, and instantly I knew I shouldn't have. Mrs Higgins opened her mouth to say something then changed her mind, stared at me for a second, and disappeared back into her house, slamming her front door shut.

At that moment a ginger cat appeared and started rubbing itself around my legs. It never knew how close it came to being booted over the garden wall… With no other ideas, I set off dejectedly for home. After running all the way to Isabel's I took my time walking back, partly to get my breath back and partly because I wanted time to think. When I came to a bus shelter I sat down on the seat, swinging my feet to and fro and looking at the cracks in the pavement. It just seemed to me that life was so horribly unfair. Why should Mr Phillips and people like him get away with being so foul? I couldn't understand it. And where on earth could Mrs Williams have gone with Is?

By the time I finally got home it was much later than usual. I shuffled up to the door, aimlessly.

‘Where have you been?' said my mother, the minute I opened the door. ‘We've been worrying you'd gone too.'

‘Gone where?' I asked, perplexed.

‘Why, with Isabel of course,' replied Mum, ‘Mrs Williams is in the sitting room.'

She opened the door and there was Mrs Williams, sitting opposite the fireplace. I could see her eyes were all red as she looked up when we entered.

‘Hello, Robert.' She tried to smile at me, but failed miserably.

‘Hello Mrs Williams.'

‘Have you any idea…?' she asked. ‘We thought you might know where Isabel might have got to?'

‘I didn't know Isabel had gone anywhere,' I answered truthfully. ‘I've just come from your house. I went round to see if she was all right, after what happened.'

‘What did happen, Rob?' asked my mother. ‘Oh, she had this big bust-up with old Phillips, that's all,' I said. ‘She ran out of the classroom. But we all thought she'd gone straight home.'

‘When I got home, I found this,' said Mrs Williams. And she handed me a tatty piece of paper torn from a school exercise book.

On it, in Isabel's handwriting, was a short note: ‘Mum, I'm going away and I won't be back. I can't stand things any longer. I've gone somewhere where I will be welcome, Isabel.'

There was no ‘Dear Mum' or ‘Love Isabel' or anything like that. The handwriting was strange too. It was definitely Isabel's but parts of it were like the handwriting she'd done when she wrote her sick note the time we bunked off school, all swirls and flourishes.

I handed the note back to Mrs Williams with a sick feeling in my stomach.

‘I… I don't know where… where she could have gone, Mrs Williams. I'm sorry…'

‘You're sure now?' asked my mother in a more aggressive tone than I could ever remember her using.

‘Of course I'm sure,' I yelled angrily. ‘Of course I am.'

‘All right, all right, calm down,' said Mum. ‘We're all worried, I know. But I'm sure she'll turn up soon. I expect she'll be back when she starts feeling hungry.'

‘You don't know Isabel,' replied Mrs Williams. How true, I thought.

‘Well, she can't have got far. But we ought to let the police know, oughtn't we? Just to be sure, don't you think? Should have done that straight off really. Come on Penny, I'll come with you.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Mrs Williams, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand as I had seen her doing once before.

‘Of course.' Mum went out and got her coat. ‘Robert,' she called from the hall, ‘you'll be all right here for a bit won't you? If Isabel turns up, just make sure you keep her here, okay?'

‘Of course I will.'

‘Right, well you know where we are…' and with that, Mum ushered Mrs Williams out of the front door and into her Mini.