Free Class Act by Debbie Thomas

wasn’t until the afternoon that she phoned him. But he hadn’t taken his mobile.’ Alf shook his head. ‘I mean what kind of parenting is that? They’ve only got three kids. Talk about hands off.’
    It wasn’t like Alf to criticise, but Brian knew how much he disapproved of the Hunrattys’ relaxed attitude. If he could, Alf would buy a cell phone for each of his forty thousand bees so they could keep in touch while foraging for nectar. It was true that Alec’s parents hadn’t seemed very interested at the prize-giving. Brian recalled his mum fiddling with her phone and Mr Hunratty writing on his hand. But even if they didn’t show it, they must have felt proud of their son. Unlike Dad , he thought. Would he even notice if I went missing? And there’s only one of me.
    â€˜You OK, Cap’n?’ Alf patted his shoulder. ‘Look, I’m just finishing my shift. Why don’t you come round for a cuppa? Looks like you could do with a slice of Dr Alf’s Heartening Honeycake.’
    Brian nodded. ‘I’d better tell Dad.’ As if he’ll care. ‘Could I borrow your phone?’
    While Alf handed over to Anemia Pickles, Brian called home.
    Dad answered after ten rings. ‘No problem. See you later. Bye.’
    Alf lived in a ramshackle cottage at the edge of the village near Tullybough Woods. With their soft glades and secret light, the ancient woods had once been Brian’s favourite picnic spot. Not any more. After the Great Unspeakable he’d never set foot in them again.
    They had tea in the back garden. The air was squeaky with sunlight. Rose bushes spilled shadows onto the sloping lawn. At the bottom the River Tully ran past, dark and gleaming like a film reel.
    Alf cut a slice of cake and pushed the plate across the table.
    â€˜Thanks.’ Brian lifted the golden wedge.
    â€˜Watch out!’ Alf’s hand shot forward. He flicked at a bee that was nibbling the icing. ‘Buzz off, Sue.’
    â€˜Aah!’ Brian dropped the cake. The bee ambled off through the air. ‘I nearly swallowed her.’
    â€˜Ugh.’ Alf’s smile vanished. ‘My poor Susie.’
    Brian had been more worried about his throat. But he knew better than to say so. ‘How on earth do you know that was Susie?’
    Alf cut another slice of cake and put it on a plate in the middle of the table. Four bees settled on top.
    â€˜There you go, girls, feast your feelers on that.’ Alf pointed to them in turn. ‘Claire, Edna, Jan and Beyoncé. Course I know my bees. And I’d know if one went missing too.’ He gazed at Edna – or was it Beyoncé? – as she probed the dips and mounds of the cake with her antennae. ‘That’s the saddest part. Alec’s parents not noticing for nearly a day.’ He rolled a cake crumb between his finger and thumb. ‘They’re worried enough now, though. Poor Mrs Hunratty. She was wrung out this morning. Can’t have slept a wink. She kept saying, “You’re sure, Mr Sandwich? You’re sure you didn’t see him?” Like if she asked enough times, she’d get the answer she wanted.’
    On Brian’s list of top ten favourite people, Alec came fifty-third. But he had to agree it was a terrible thing. ‘I wish I could help,’ he murmured.
    â€˜Me too, Cap’n.’ The old man sighed. ‘But what can we do except keep a look-out and pray he comes back soon?’

C HAPTER 11
    RESINATING

    â€˜Little madams! Who do they think they are?’
    Sitting on his bed after dinner, Brian was beginning to wish he hadn’t woken Dulcie. He’d looked forward to hearing her views on the disturbing events. He knew she’d have plenty. Her crankiness was strangely relaxing – with enough huff for both of them, she saved him the effort – and it was comforting having someone there who’d shared every part of his day.