The Secret Football Club (Pocket Money Puffin) Read online

  And you could never be sure if someone was listening – or not.

  The Secret Football Club

  That week at the end of September was one of the best Lily and her friends could remember. They weren’t just playing football; they were playing secret football.

  And secret football was something special. Knowing that only eight of them were in on the secret felt good. So was playing under the nose of Mr Edwards.

  But they didn’t neglect school. They worked hard in the classroom, then worked hard on the pitch. Morning break. Lunchtime. Afternoon break.

  The score after the first week was 32–30 to James’s team. Really close – and really exciting.

  Mrs Baker was still teaching them about the fourteenth century, and that was what Year Six decided to do as a theme for the school’s centenary.

  Mrs Baker helped the children design the clothes and Maddie’s mum cut out the patterns for rough trousers and tops that might have been worn in the fourteenth century. Then the children had to sew their own trousers and shirts together.

  Zack suggested they dress up as mob footballers and re-enact a game. And – to everyone’s surprise – Mrs Baker agreed. She said it was history – and, therefore, it was fine.

  Lily looked over at Oliver Sykes as she said this. She could see him frowning. She even felt a bit sorry for Oliver: him hating sport so much.

  The game that lunchtime was very one-sided. Lily was determined to get back into the lead. She’d spent all morning firing up her team so they’d hit James’s team hard.

  And that’s what they did. Fifteen minutes into the lunchtime game they were level at 32–32. Fifteen minutes after that it was 36–32 to Lily’s side. And Lily had scored them all.

  When she scored their thirty-sixth goal she noticed James was red in the face. She knew that it was a bad sign. If James was red in the face something dangerous might be about to happen.

  James started shouting at his team. ‘Batts! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be a defender. And, Khal, you haven’t scored all day. You’re supposed to be a striker. So strike!’

  Lily ran over to James. ‘Stop shouting, will you? They’ll hear you.’

  ‘I won’t!’ James said, still shouting. ‘It’s all very well for you to say “stop shouting”, but you’re not getting hammered. You’re winning!’

  Once James had finished, Zack put his hand up. He was glancing back at the playground.

  ‘I can see two dinner ladies looking in,’ he said. ‘Hit the ground.’

  Everyone fell down on to the pitch. Even James. They knew that they could have been heard arguing. And that – if they had – the Secret Football Club might be in grave danger.

  They lay for five minutes. Waiting to see if anyone would come to look for them.

  But nobody did. So they all stood up and walked carefully off the pitch, out of the woods, across the playground and into school.

  Foul Play

  ‘Before we sing,’ Mr Edwards said, ‘a few announcements.’

  It was assembly on Friday morning.

  ‘Firstly, plans are going well for the school’s centenary on the tenth of October. Mrs Baker is coordinating a wonderful series of fancy-dress projects in classes. I am sure it’s going to be a memorable day.’

  Lily smiled at Zack. She couldn’t wait to dress up as a fourteenth-century footballer.

  ‘Secondly,’ Mr Edwards continued, ‘the chess team had a great win last night, reaching the final of the city chess challenge. Well done, team.’

  Applause crackled round the school hall. And Lily grimaced. She wished she could be soaking up the applause for how well her team was doing against James’s. But Mr Edwards knew nothing about that.

  ‘And finally,’ Mr Edwards said, his smile slipping, his features sharpening, ‘the dinner ladies have made me aware that voices were heard in the woods yesterday.’ He paused, then went on. ‘I am investigating, but need to say please do not go in the woods. They are out of bounds. They are dangerous. And if you see or hear anyone in the woods, please tell a teacher or dinner lady immediately.’

  Lily could feel the colour draining from her face. She decided not to look at James, even though she was furious with him. It was his shouting that had led to this.

  Her mind was a chaos of thoughts. What did Mr Edwards mean when he said he was investigating? She wanted morning break to come. And soon.

  They stood in silence when they gathered at break time. No one wanted to blame James, even though it was his fault.

  Lily wanted James to say sorry. Then they would be able to move on. But she knew he wouldn’t, and she knew no one else would push him. It was down to her to get them through this.

  ‘I think,’ Lily started to speak. ‘I think that we should all take the blame for Mr Edwards hearing us in the woods.’

  She saw James was eyeing her, as if he thought she was going to turn on him.

  ‘We all need to make sure we don’t get angry – and that we don’t make each other angry.’ Lily looked at the others. Maddie and Zack were smiling at her.

  Lily noticed that now everyone was watching her and James. It felt as if they were somehow leaders and it was up to them if they played or not. Then she saw a smile growing on James’s face. So she smiled back at him.

  ‘I agree,’ Batts added.

  ‘Me too,’ Maddie said.

  Lily and James nodded. And the rest of Secret FC cheered.

  They would play. They couldn’t stop now. They loved it too much. And the problems they had were forgotten.

  Once they were playing, Lily felt great. Even though James’s team had hit back with three goals, and the gap in the scores was reduced: 36–35. She felt happy because she was doing what she loved. With her friends – and that included James.

  The ball came to Lily’s feet. A short pass from Zack. She trapped it and looked up. James and Khal were in front of her. Maddie ahead of them. She could see the trees waving in the breeze. A light shower of leaves falling on their football pitch. Then she chipped the ball over the heads of James and Khal. To Maddie.

  Maddie turned with the ball and slotted it past Batts.

  Goal!

  Things were good again. For now.

  Gathering Storm

  Mr Edwards was staring out of his office window. Thinking. He’d been at the school for five weeks now and he felt he was on top of things. He had shown he was in charge. And that was important.

  He glanced at his Porsche in the car park. It was safe, he knew. But he always had to check.

  He liked the school. He was happy. Even though there were cars and trains and buildings everywhere, the woods meant there was lots of birdlife. Sometimes he watched them through his binoculars. He liked birds. He drove out into the countryside at the weekend to spot rare waders and geese. He remembered he had started watching birds – alone – after he no longer had his friend Peter to play football with as a child. After his accident.

  Mr Edwards’ mind flitted from birds to his pupils. He liked them too. They were nice kids. And a part of him regretted the start he’d made with them. Banning football: it was not a good way to endear himself to a hundred and twenty children. But it had to be done. For safety reasons. So there were no accidents.

  As he gazed into the trees, he saw a movement. A flash of colour among the trees. Mr Edwards grabbed his binoculars. Was it the red throat of a swallow? Surely it was too late in the year for swallows? The leaves were coming off the trees; it was autumn. The swallows would have all migrated back to South Africa for the winter by now.

  No. It wasn’t a swallow; there were people in the woods!

  Mr Edwards dashed to the door. Who were these people? He didn’t know, but they were a threat to his children. And anyone who was a threat to the safety of his children had to be stopped. He hated to see children in danger. It was why he had become a head teacher: to look after children.

  He ran through the staffroom, calling to other teachers. As they came out o
f the school doors, to run across the playground, he had four teachers and a caretaker trailing behind him.

  The children in the playground looked OK. Everyone seemed safe. But he was worried something was happening among the trees.

  Mr Edwards entered the woods from behind the back of the sheds. He worked his way through the undergrowth, dead leaves wet under his feet. The sound of the other teachers behind him.

  And then he stopped.

  At first he felt relieved. Relieved to see eight of his children playing football. And a part of him wanted to laugh and let them carry on, as he and the other teachers watched in surprise.

  But he knew he had to show that he was in charge. That was his job, after all.

  The first thing Lily knew about Mr Edwards discovering the Secret Football Club was when she played a perfect pass through to Maddie, but, instead of going on to score, Maddie stopped and let the ball roll away.

  When Lily noticed Maddie staring in horror over her shoulder, she turned. And there she saw several teachers and dinner ladies standing breathless on the edge of the tennis court.

  Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

  And in that time Lily realized it was all over. Playing football. Their secret pitch. And all the consequences that would come of them breaking so many school rules.

  Striking Out

  Back in his office, Mr Edwards stood with the eight children who he had caught playing football.

  What should he do with them? He had to be firm. He had told them that playing football at school was banned. If he didn’t enforce the ban, he would lose everyone’s respect.

  And he regretted this, a small part of him wishing he hadn’t banned football at all.

  ‘You have all disobeyed two school rules,’ Mr Edwards said in a low voice. ‘One: that you are not allowed in the school woods. Two: that you are not allowed to play football.’

  Mr Edwards looked out of the window at the trees. He wondered how long this had been going on. It was the first time he’d seen them playing. But he felt sure this was not the first time they had played.

  And as he was staring at the trees, he noticed leaves falling, a red and orange shower as the wind blew. That was why he’d seen them: the trees were losing their leaves. Because it was autumn. They had been hidden until now. Mr Edwards almost smiled. But he had to be a head teacher. He had to appear firm.

  ‘I will be telephoning all your parents and asking them to come in so I can speak to them,’ he said. ‘This is a very serious matter.’

  He looked at the children. Their faces were pale. At least two of them looked like they were going to cry.

  After the children had gone, Mr Edwards sat at his desk and sighed. This whole business was troubling him deeply. It had brought back bad memories: memories he had tried to forget.

  He closed his eyes and saw two clear images of his friend the day he was injured. One of him lying still after he had fallen and Mr Edwards thinking he was dead. The other of his friend running alongside him down the wing, then playing the ball to his feet, for him to score.

  It was only when Mrs Baker coughed that he saw her. How long had she been standing there?

  ‘I knocked,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Edwards said quietly. ‘I was miles away.’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you,’ Mrs Baker said, ‘about Lily and her friends.’

  Mr Edwards nodded. ‘I know.’

  And he gazed out of the window again. This was supposed to be a happy time: the school celebrating its centenary. Not a sad time. He wished his friend Peter was here. Maybe he would have a good idea how he could find a way of solving this problem.

  Unbearable

  Lily felt stupid putting on her fourteenth-century clothes for the school celebration. She didn’t feel like celebrating anything – certainly nothing to do with school.

  Any day now her mum and dad were going to get a call from Mr Edwards. All weekend she’d been trying to work out how to tell them.

  So what if the TV news were coming to film them? And that Mr Edwards wanted everyone on their best behaviour – to show Kingsfolly Primary School to be the best school in the borough. Lily wasn’t sure it was the best school. How could it be if they weren’t allowed to play football?

  At the school gates – with all the year groups mixed up – the school looked ridiculous. There were World War One soldiers talking to astronauts and Victorian beggars arguing with Vikings.

  It just made Lily even madder. This whole anniversary was a joke. A farce.

  Mrs Baker spoke to class before the celebrations began.

  ‘You all look wonderful,’ she said. ‘The perfect fourteenth-century football team.’

  Maddie looked up from picking at her dress.

  ‘That is what you are, isn’t it?’ Mrs Baker asked.

  ‘We might as well be,’ Lily said, ‘seeing as we’ve been banned too.’ She saw Zack and Khal nodding opposite her.

  ‘Well, I think you look great. But you need one more thing,’ Mrs Baker said. And, out of her bag, she lifted a football. But it was not an ordinary football. It was painted. Blue and yellow and white. With words in black, written beautifully, saying KINGSFOLLY FC.

  The class stared.

  ‘Remember I told you about the fourteenth-century footballers.’

  ‘The ones who were banned?’ Khal interrupted.

  ‘Yes. The ones who were banned. But who carried on playing.’

  Lily smiled as Mrs Baker caught her eye.

  ‘And that they played with highly decorated balls.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Well, this is your ball. Just for the photographs, you understand. And the TV cameras.’

  As the rest of the class nodded, fireworks went off in Lily’s head: she’d had an idea.

  In the playground each year group was asked to stand in their designated place.

  The TV people had arrived, along with lots of parents who had been invited to watch the celebrations, which were going out live on a morning news show.

  Each year group staged a short re-enactment of their time in history.

  The parents watched.

  The cameras filmed.

  Mr Edwards smiled: this was making the school look good. Like it was a nice school.

  When it came to Year Six’s turn, Lily was meant to start their play. The idea was that they should throw the ball around, to show how mob footballers dressed. And what their ball looked like.

  The TV man behind the camera put his thumbs up, meaning they should start.

  But Lily was not feeling right. She’d never been on television. The idea of millions of people watching her made her feel very nervous – and she knew she had something she needed to do.

  So she sat down. On the ball.

  ‘And what is it you’re doing?’ the TV interviewer said, looking slightly uneasy.

  ‘We’re fourteenth-century mob footballers,’ Lily said. ‘But King Edwards had banned us from playing football. So we can’t re-enact the game any more.’

  ‘But you can pretend today, can’t you?’ asked the interviewer, smiling. ‘It’s not like football is banned at this school, is it? In the twenty-first century?’

  And, for a second, Lily didn’t know what to say.

  Let’s Play

  After Lily had nodded her head in answer to the interviewer’s question, deciding it was best not to say anything, the TV camera team turned to Mr Edwards, who was standing behind them.

  ‘You’re the head of this school, aren’t you?’ the interviewer asked. ‘Mr Edwards, right?’

  Mr Edwards nodded.

  ‘And is football really banned?’

  ‘It is,’ he replied.

  The interviewer turned to Lily. ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘Sad,’ Lily said.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ the interviewer said. ‘Mr Edwards, may we ask why football is banned at your school?’

  ‘Because it is dangerous. And I do not w
ant my children hurt.’

  ‘But surely it’s only football?’

  ‘People can get hurt,’ Mr Edwards said firmly.

  The interviewer looked confused and she said, ‘But people can get hurt crossing roads, opening doors. Surely it’s no more dangerous than anything else.’

  ‘We have no playing fields at this school,’ Mr Edwards said. ‘If we did, then it would be possible. But all we have is this small playground. And it is up to me to protect everyone in the playground. A playground that is shared by Years One to Six, I should add. And I choose to offer that protection by banning ball games.’

  No one spoke for a few seconds.

  Then another voice cut in. It was Oliver Sykes. ‘You could play in the woods,’ he said.

  Lily stared at Oliver. Oliver the football hater – suggesting they should be allowed to play football? He smiled back at her. And Lily realized what he was doing. He was helping because he thought the football ban was wrong, even though he didn’t like football.

  ‘The woods?’ said the interviewer.

  ‘The children have been playing in the woods,’ Mr Edwards interrupted in a quiet voice. ‘They made a pitch. To play in secret.’

  ‘I have a great idea!’ the TV interviewer said after a short pause. ‘How about a game? In the woods. Teachers versus children. And if the teachers win, then football stays banned. And if the kids win, football is allowed.’

  Some of the parents who had been eavesdropping cheered. Mr Edwards looked at the ground. As if he wanted it to open up and swallow him. Then he felt Mrs Baker’s hand on his arm.

  He looked at her. She was nodding, urging him to agree.

  Mr Edwards turned to the children and shrugged. ‘Very well,’ he said, with a slight smile. ‘Teachers versus children. The winner takes it all.’