The Wind Singer. William Nicholson

Their father sat with his eyes closed, knowing it was all going as wrong as it possibly could, and there was nothing he could do about it.

      ‘Well, Pinto, you’re a fine fellow, aren’t you?’ The Examiner tickled Pinpin under the chin, and pressed her nose. ‘What’s this, then? Is this your nosey?’

      Pinpin remained silent. The Examiner pulled out the large gold medal which hung round his neck on a chain, and dangled it in front of Pinpin’s eyes. It shone in the morning light.

      ‘Pretty, pretty. Do you want to hold it?’

      Pinpin said nothing. The Examiner looked up at Mrs Hath in exasperation.

      ‘I’m not sure you realise,’ he said. ‘As matters stand at this moment, I shall have to give your child a zero rating.’

      ‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Mrs Hath, her eyes glittering.

      ‘I can get nothing out of him, you see.’

      ‘Nothing at all?’

      ‘Is there some rhyme or word game he likes to play?’

      ‘Let me think.’ Mrs Hath proceeded, rather ostentatiously, to mime the act of thinking, lips pursed, finger stroking brow.

      Bowman sent a thought to Kestrel.

      She’s cracking.

      ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Hath. ‘There is a game she likes to play. Try saying to her, wiss wiss wiss.’

      ‘Wiss wiss wiss?’

      ‘She’ll like that.’

      Bowman and Kestrel sent the same thought at the same time.

      She’s cracked!

      ‘Wiss wiss wiss,’ said the Examiner to Pinpin. ‘Wiss wiss wiss, little fellow.’

      Pinpin looked at the Examiner in surprise, and wriggled a little in his arms, as if to settle herself more comfortably. Mrs Hath watched, her nose now twitching uncontrollably. Bowman and Kestrel watched, their hearts thumping.

      Any minute now, they thought to each other.

      ‘Wiss wiss wiss,’ said the Examiner.

      ‘Any minute now,’ said Mrs Hath.

      Now, Pinpin, now, willed Bowman and Kestrel. Do it now.

      Mr Hath opened his eyes and saw the looks on their faces. Suddenly realising what was going on, he rose from the bench and reached out his arms.

      ‘Let me take her – ’

      Too late.

      Hubba hubba Pinpin! exulted Bo and Kess in the joyous silence of their thoughts. Hubba hubba hubba Pinpin!

      A faraway look of contentment on her round face, Pinpin was emptying her bladder in a long and steady stream down the Examiner’s arms. The Examiner felt the spread of the gentle warmth without at first understanding what was happening. Then seeing the look of rapt attention on the faces of Mrs Hath and her children, he dropped his gaze downward. The stain was seeping into his scarlet cloak. In utter silence, he held Pinpin out for Mr Hath to take, and turned and walked gravely back up the aisle.

      Mrs Hath took Pinpin from her husband, and smothered her with kisses. Bowman and Kestrel dropped to the floor and rolled about there, quaking with silent laughter. Hanno Hath watched the Examiner report the incident to Maslo Inch, and he gave a small private sigh. He knew what his wife and children did not, which was that they had needed a good rating this morning. Now, with no points at all, they would probably have to leave their house in Orange District and make do in humbler quarters. Two rooms if they were lucky; more likely one room, with the use of a kitchen and bathroom on a communal landing. Hanno Hath was not a vain man. He cared very little what others thought of him. But he loved his family dearly, and the thought of failing them hurt him deep inside.

      Ira Hath cuddled Pinpin tight and refused to think about the future.

      ‘Wiss wiss wiss,’ murmured Pinpin happily.

2

      Kestrel makes a horrible friend

      On getting to school, Bowman and Kestrel found they had forgotten to bring their homework.

      ‘Forgot?’ roared Dr Batch. ‘You forgot?’

      The twins stood side by side at the front of the long classroom, facing their teacher. Dr Batch smoothed his hands over his substantial stomach, and ran the tip of his tongue over his substantial lips, and proceeded to make an example of them. Dr Batch liked making an example of his pupils. He considered it part of his job as a teacher.

      ‘Let’s begin at the beginning. Why did you forget?’

      ‘Our little sister had her first test this morning,’ said Bowman. ‘We left the house early, and we just forgot.’

      ‘You just forgot? Well, well, well.’

      Dr Batch liked lame excuses.

      ‘Hands up,’ he said to the class, ‘hands up who else attended an infant test this morning.’

      A dozen hands went up among the serried ranks of desks, including the hand of Rufy Blesh.

      ‘And hands up who else forgot their homework.’

      All the hands went down again. Dr Batch turned to Bowman, his eyes popping out with friendly attention.

      ‘It seems you are the only ones.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Throughout this proceeding, Kestrel remained silent. But Bowman could hear the seething of her angry thoughts, and knew she was in one of her wild moods. Dr Batch, unaware of this, began to waddle up and down in front of them, conducting a ritual exchange with the class.

      ‘Class! What happens if you don’t work?’

      Back came the familiar response from fifty-one young mouths.

      ‘No work, no progress.’

      ‘And what happens if you make no progress?’

      ‘No progress, no points.’

      ‘And what happens if you get no points?’

      ‘No points ends up last.’

      ‘Last.’ Dr Batch relished the word. ‘Last! La-a-ast!’

      The whole class shivered. Last! Like Mumpo, the stupidest boy in the school. Some eyes turned furtively to look at him, as he sat glowering and shivering right at the back, in the seat of shame. Mad Mumpo, whose upper lip was always shiny with nose-dribble, because he had no mother to tell him to wipe it. Smelly Mumpo, who stank so badly that no one would ever go near him, because he had no father to tell him to wash.

      Dr Batch waddled over to the class ratings board, on which every pupil’s name was written in class order. Every day, at the end of the day, the new points were calculated, and the new class order written up.

      ‘I shall deduct five points each,’ said Dr Batch. And there and then, he recalculated the class order. Bowman and Kestrel dropped two places, to twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth respectively, while the class watched.

      ‘Slipping, slipping, slipping,’ said Dr Batch as he made the changes. ‘What do we do when we find ourselves slipping down?’

      The class chanted the response.

      ‘We strive harder, and reach higher, to make tomorrow better than today.’

      ‘Harder. Higher. Better.’ He turned back to Bowman and Kestrel. ‘You will not, I trust, forget your homework again. Take up your places.’

      As they walked back down the rows of desks, Bowman could feel Kestrel seething with hatred, for Dr Batch, and the big ratings board, and the school, and all Aramanth.

      It