Free Ribblestrop Forever! by Andy Mulligan

Doonan.
    ‘Exactly.’
    Doonan smiled. ‘I thought we might start a cricket team instead of football. My brother said he’d send my bat over.’
    ‘Well, at the moment the only player’s going to be Caspar. And Henry, if he comes back.’
    Captain Routon peered at the phone and tapped in a message. ‘I imagine Sam’s will have been soaked, same as mine . . . No, sir, I still can’t get anything.’
    ‘We should sue the police,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It’s gross negligence.’
    ‘That’s what they said about us,’ said Doonan. ‘They said we were the most irresponsible so-called teachers they’d ever come across.’
    ‘They were extremely unpleasant,’ said Captain Routon. ‘We can expect a full prosecution, they said.’
    ‘Don’t tell me!’ said the headmaster. ‘I’ve had eviction notices from Lady Vyner again and threats from her solicitors. She wants to start a nursing home, she says,
so she’s hell-bent on getting rid of us.’
    ‘Why a nursing home?’
    ‘Money. Someone’s told her there’s a fortune to be made from old people with nowhere to go. We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t changed all the locks and thrown our stuff
into the street.’
    Professor Worthington took the headmaster’s hand and pressed it. ‘Don’t despair, Giles,’ she said. ‘We’ve come through worst crises than this.’
    Captain Routon sat back and threw the phone onto the table. Then, just as it bounced, they all heard the soft buzz of an incoming text. He snatched it back up and clicked to the message
inbox.
    ‘What is it?’ said Doonan.
    ‘I don’t believe it, sir.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘They’ve made contact. They’ve picked up our signal and they’ve made contact!’
    The headmaster jumped to his feet. ‘What does it say, Routon? How long’s a text take to come through?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘I thought they were pretty much instant. What’s it say? Open it!’
    Captain Routon dropped the phone in his haste and it was batted between hands. ‘I can’t get at it . . . I’m all thumbs.’
    Doonan grabbed it.
    The adults strained their eyes to see, shielding the little screen from the overhead striplights.
    ‘
Hello
,’ read Doonan, slowly. ‘
I hope u r well. Is that a teacher??? We r fine dont worry cannot take calls at the moment we are shopping.’
    ‘They’re fine!’ hissed the headmaster. ‘They say they’re fine!’
    ‘Shhh, sir! What else?’
    ‘If that is you, sir, did my dad get home ok?’
    The headmaster stood, motionless. ‘That’s Sam!’ he said quietly. ‘That’s Sam, isn’t it? Oh, dear me, they really are safe! Safe enough to text, anyway.
Shopping, for goodness’ sake! Why don’t they say where they are?’
    ‘Text them back!’ shouted Captain Routon. ‘Ask them!’
    The phone bleeped again, unprompted, and there was a follow-up text.
    ‘
We r having a bbq. ShoppaLot Superstore nr A30 ring-road home soon. Sam xxxx.
’
    It was Doonan who looked up first and saw the large banner stretched above their heads. His eyes instantly filled with tears and he crossed himself; he could not believe that a prayer could be
so promptly and favourably answered. Not only were the children safe, but they were close – for the banner read,
Welcome to ShoppaLot. You’ll be Amazed At What You Find
. . .
    It seemed pre-ordained then, that Anjoli should drift past the window at that very moment, sitting high on a shopping trolley. There was a slow-motion quality to the scene, because it was laden
with food. Sanchez and Millie were pushing and, one by one, the whole line of boys passed with bulging bags. Black-and-gold blazers, muddy knees and shoes . . . Doonan watched as Sanjay tried to
trip Ruskin’s heels, prompting Asilah to give him a sharp slap. He saw Oli drop a lettuce and Miles take a large box from a friendly-looking old lady, who pinched his cheek. Last in line were
Tomaz and Imagio, hauling yet another trolley, this one