Innocents at play

The main opposition to Olive was headed by Tofu, a boy of Bertie’s age but of a very different disposition. Tofu, who was the son of well-known vegan parents, ran several small-scale rackets in the playground. The most lucrative of these involved protection, with subscribers paying ten pence a week to ensure that nothing went wrong with any items of property they brought to school. Tofu’s other source of income was a numbers racket, participation in which was virtually compulsory. Each participant was given a number between one and twenty, valid for a weekly draw, at which Tofu would announce the winning number. The profits that Tofu made were used mainly for the purchase of various salamis, which he bought from one of the senior students whose father ran a delicatessen. These he discreetly consumed in the school grounds each afternoon while waiting to be collected by his father. He had the time to do this, as his Mactavish, the well-known Glaswegian dwarf and circus performer. The puppy had been with Ranald since Saturday, when they had brought it home from the circus on the Meadows, and Bertie was eager to hear how it had settled in.

“He’s fine,” Ranald reassured his friend. “I’m keeping him in our shed. I’ve made him a bed and he’s got a bowl of water.”

“And food?” asked Bertie. “What has he had to eat? You have to feed dogs, you know, Ranald.”

“I know that,” said Ranald Braveheart Macpherson. “I gave him some smoked salmon and I found some lamb chops in the fridge. He ate everything. He really likes smoked salmon, Bertie.”

It was while they were discussing their plans for the puppy that Olive and Pansy, flanked by two lesser acolytes of Olive’s, Marigold and Hermione, approached the two boys.

“Look out,” said Ranald Braveheart Macpherson. “Look out, Bertie – here

Ranald drew back. “You don’t know anything, Marigold,” he said. He spoke as firmly as he could, but his voice lacked conviction.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ranald,” jeered Olive. “You tell him, Marigold.”

Marigold grinned. “My cousin lives next to you, Ranald. She’s called Peggy Bogie. She goes to South Morningside School. She’s the cleverest girl in the school. She has a certificate that says that.”

“I know all that,” said Ranald, affecting indifference. But his heart had already sunk. Peggy Bogie and he were not on the best of terms.

“She says that she saw you and Bertie in the garden the other day,” Marigold continued. “She can see right into your garden, Ranald. She can see everything. And she says that if she stands on a stool she can see right into your Mummy’s bedroom.”

Ranald blushed.

“Yes,” continued Marigold. “And you know what she saw the other day? She saw you and Bertie putting a dog away in your shed. She says that you and Bertie have a secret dog.”

Bertie glanced at Ranald in dismay. This information, which needed to be kept as secret as possible, had fallen right into the worst possible hands.

“Well,” Olive crowed. “Aren’t you going to deny it, Ranald Braveheart Macpherson? Perhaps not – because it’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s none of your business, Olive,” said Ranald. “Nor of yours, Marigold.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” said Olive. “You can’t keep a dog in secret like that. You aren’t allowed to have a dog, Ranald, and you know it. If your parents knew, you’d get into real trouble, sure as anything.” She paused. “The only reason I tell you that we know, Ranald – and you, too, Bertie – the only reason is that we are concerned about the dog’s welfare.”

Bertie decided to appeal to Olive’s better nature. “Please don’t tell, Olive. Please.”

Olive flounced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I have to do my duty, Bertie. I know you’re not as stupid as Ranald, but you shouldn’t get involved in this sort of thing, you know. You should think about the consequences of what you do, Bertie – you really should.”