THE POWER AND THE FURY Read online

  Archie and Daisy scampered off down the corridor, the noise of their footsteps echoing off the old sandstone walls. Mr Solomon looked at his watch, mumbled something about the time and, as he turned, he noticed Isabella lingering.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Isabella,’ the headmaster said impatiently, ‘what is it now?’

  ‘Well, it’s the weather, sir.’

  Solomon sighed. ‘Yes, what about it?’

  Isabella hesitated. For the first time in her life she didn’t know what to say; it was as if her brain had jammed. ‘I’ve made a barometer, to study the weather,’ she spat out.

  ‘Yes, congratulations on your skilful endeavour,’ he replied. ‘Mrs Douglas notified me. I’m told atmospheric pressure isn’t even on your syllabus—’

  Isabella ignored him. ‘From my readings,’ she began, ‘there’s going to be a simply massive—’

  ‘Storm?’ Mr Solomon interrupted with a sly smile. He bent down a little. ‘Well I’m pleased that your readings match up with the area forecast, but I don’t believe there will be anything to worry about. A bit of rain and some thunder perhaps. But just as a precaution, please remind your class to take their umbrellas and waterproofs as I mentioned in assembly.’

  The headmaster scratched his chin and smiled at her. ‘While you’re here, let me remind you that it would be a very bad idea to go racing on to the pitch as you have done in the previous two football matches. You must leave events on the pitch to the referee and other officials – whatever the circumstances and however difficult.’ Solomon smiled in a fake, head-masterly way and straightened.

  ‘I expect nothing less than immaculate conduct, Isabella. There will be serious repercussions if you do it again.’ He paused for effect. ‘Do I make myself perfectly clear?’

  Isabella nodded.

  ‘Good. Now, thank you for your concern but I really must fly,’ he rubbed his hands together. ‘Geogo test with year eight.’

  The headmaster marched off down the corridor, his steel capped shoes tip-tapping on the old stone floor. That girl was one of the finest pupils they’d ever had – bright as a button and eager to learn. He liked that a lot. And she was loyal, with a temper that could flare up like a storm, especially with incidents surrounding her twin brother and sister. And there were a surprising number of incidents.

  He chuckled as he thought about his analogy of her and a storm. Well, it was perfectly sweet of her to warn him but he had a leaving party and other pressing things to organise. Nothing would stop his celebrations; certainly not a little storm and a warning from a pupil with a homemade barometer.

  Isabella cut inside one of the main doors and burst into the changing rooms, which she knew would be empty at this time in the morning. She went directly to her locker and sat down on the wooden bench in front of it, pulled her knees up to her face and closed her eyes.

  Why hadn’t she been able to spit it out?

  She looked at her watch. Science started ten minutes ago; Mrs Douglas knew she was seeing Solomon and, anyway, she’d talked about her homework already, arguing that her methods were wrong. Mrs Douglas got so cross Isabella thought steam would come out of her ears. She won’t mind, Isabella thought; in fact she’ll probably be relieved I’m not there.

  Her thoughts turned to Archie. Why hadn’t she given him a once-over and tidied him up before he’d gone in to assembly? She hated that their behaviour seemed to rebound on her all the time. How come the twins were polar opposites of her? Daisy, popular and sporty, and Archie, well, Archie was a total shambolic disaster!

  Isabella shook her head. What was the point of being popular if it made you late or scruffy or dumb? Why did she feel so responsible for them just because their parents were always away? They were only two academic years beneath her, it wasn’t that much. Why should her desire for excellence be pulled apart by the twins at every step?

  Maybe she shouldn’t watch the game tomorrow morning; why should she damn well bother? She’d leave them to their football match and have a lie-in. She’d slept so badly recently, with a strange repetitive dream – a nightmare so clear and real that it felt as if she’d been transported away to a different place.

  She hardly dared tell Sue that it sounded almost identical to hers. Could best friends share dreams? Poor Sue had been really affected – shocked even. Should she say something? No. Sue would only think she was making it up to make her feel better.

  Isabella closed her eyes, trying to forget the nonsense of it all, but no matter how hard she tried the strange images just wouldn’t go away.

  Sue looked up as Isabella opened the door. She noted how, when her straight brown hair hung like a curtain over her forehead, it made her look slightly older, like a fifteen-year-old. She was frequently told how similar they were and the joke went round that they were more twins than Archie and Daisy, who looked nothing like one another.

  They were alike in so many ways: top of the academic pile, both enjoyed intellectual challenges rather than sporting endeavour and their features were remarkably similar: Isabella with straight mousy hair, Sue wavy mousy hair. Both had narrow faces, straight noses and brown eyes, although Sue’s lips were fuller and her eyebrows finer.

  But Sue’s appearance turned heads – she exuded sex appeal – and she looked after herself, her clothes and hair had a sense of style, whereas Isabella had a nerdy more academic air and her clothes often sat on her like cloth sacks. Isabella regarded boys’ general infatuation with Sue as a complete waste of time.

  Oh heck, what’s up now? Sue thought. Isabella’s scowl had pulled her brow over her nose as though it were held by an invisible clip. ‘Is everything alright?’ she said.

  Isabella slumped into a chair. ‘You won’t believe what I did,’ she began. ‘I told Solomon there was going to be a massive storm.’

  Sue gasped. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I told him about the barometer.’

  ‘Are you insane?’ Sue said, turning a little red. ‘I hope you didn’t tell him it stemmed from my dream?’

  ‘No way!’ Isabella held her head in her hands. ‘It was so embarrassing – he said he’d seen news of the storm on the forecast. I mean, what was I thinking?’

  ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Sue said, draping an arm around her and trying hard not to smile. ‘But at least you tried.’ Sue ran her hand over the scientific instrument her friend had made. ‘Maybe your barometer’s faulty – perhaps the calibration’s wrong.’

  ‘No, it’s not possible,’ Isabella said, frowning. ‘Every time I reset it, exactly the same thing happens.’

  After she’d told Isabella about her premonition of the storm, Isabella gathered up the necessary parts and, with the help of the Internet, made a homemade weather centre in only a few hours.

  Isabella had simply got on with trying to find a way of dealing with it in a logical way, like only Isabella could. That was what a best friend was for, Sue thought. But she hadn’t told Isabella the whole story. And she knew she must, and soon.

  ‘Please don’t spend too long fiddling with it,’ Sue said. ‘You’ve got to watch the football tomorrow. It might be Daisy’s final game. In any case, I’m required to keep you under control after last week.’ Her eyes flashed at Isabella. ‘You’ll be expelled if you’re stupid enough to do it again.’

  Isabella felt a burning sensation filling her cheeks. ‘I know, I know. Solomon reminded me. But I just don’t seem able to help myself—’

  ‘Well you must. You can’t verbally abuse the referee and then get yourself manhandled off the pitch, screaming like a loon. And you’ve done it twice—’

  ‘But Daisy gets kicked and flattened more than anyone—’

  ‘I know,’ Sue said, ‘Daisy gets smashed in but doesn’t make a squeak. It’s a mystery she makes it through week after week and continues to smile as if nothing happened. It’s half the attraction – what makes her unique. And the fact that she’s a footballing genius.

 
‘You need to do the same and control that temper of yours.’

  6

  Storm Warning

  ‘The thing is,’ Isabella said, ‘I don’t know if I’m overly tired or not thinking straight, but I’ve done some calculations and I’m beginning to think that you might be right!’

  ‘You really think so?’ Sue said.

  ‘Yes!’ Isabella whispered. ‘Going on what you’ve told me, I think it’s going to be absolutely massive. Look, here’s some data showing severe weather depression models exactly like—’

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘I pulled it off the web,’ Isabella replied. ‘Hacked into the Met Office data bank and downloaded all their flood sequences and weather system models from around the world.’ She ran her finger down the page. ‘Look, here’s the flooding data from Pakistan a couple of years ago, and this one’s from Queensland, Australia; and here, this one’s from that super-storm in Eastern USA; and this one’s from Eastern Europe. Can you see the similarities in humidity and cloud density; it’s unbelievable – inches of rain – a proper deluge; potential for devastation on a huge scale.’

  Sue sat down and whistled. ‘You’re predicting rainwater at a couple of inches every twenty minutes covering a surface area of say ten square miles – based on what I saw in my sleep! We’ll be white water rafting in less than two hours—’

  ‘I know! Scary, huh. You told me that the rain was so hard and heavy you felt you could hardly breathe – that it was weighing you down, right? So I’ve tried to figure out how much rain that would be and then multiplied it by the area involved, the potential volume the land can absorb and the capacity of the river to drain it away. Then I’ve added in the tidal flow of the river at York, and the increased effects of a full moon—’

  Sue was astonished. ‘Look, Isabella,’ she began hesitantly. ‘Let’s get this straight. I had a really bad nightmare about you and the twins and a flood here at school. It was very real, sure, but it was only a dream.’ She looked straight into her eyes. ‘All of this,’ she waved a hand at the barometer, ‘it’s great – really amazing, but it’s pretty mad too.’

  Isabella stared back. ‘I’m doing this because I believe you, Sue.’

  ‘You do?’

  Isabella drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘Yes, of course.’ She paused as if wondering what to say. ‘If you must know, I’ve had a similar nightmare.’

  Sue nearly fell off her chair. ‘Really? Why didn’t you say something? How similar?’

  ‘Well, most of it was to do with water, but the rest is sort of different,’ she said. ‘And it’s been peeing me off. Anyway, who says you’re wrong? The evidence stacks up in your favour, even if the weather forecasters are saying it’ll just be a localised storm. I mean – what if we’re right and they’re wrong – they’ve got it wrong before. Don’t you think we should say something?’

  ‘Forecasters screwed up years ago, before they knew what they were doing – before they had satellites and computer models,’ Sue said. ‘And anyway, the problem is, you can’t go round with a megaphone and announce that there’s a storm coming that’s going to rip through the village because of the readings on a homemade, slightly random, barometer and a couple of freaky dreams. No one will believe us; look how Solomon reacted. We’ll be laughed out of school and just imagine what morons like Kemp would say? The humiliation would be—’

  ‘OK, OK, I understand,’ Isabella said, rubbing her brow. ‘I’ll keep my mouth zipped, for now at least, I promise. You sure you’re alright?’

  ‘Yeah, a bit shaken. I can’t seem to get rid of those images in my head – however hard I try. And Bells, there is one more really important thing I need to talk to you about—’

  But before she had a chance to expand, the door was kicked open and smacked into the wall. Sue jumped and then groaned when she saw who it was.

  ‘Aha!’ said the voice she least wanted to hear. ‘I’ve found the nerds.’

  It was Kemp and his friends, Mason and Wilcox.

  ‘Oh, marvellous!’ Sue said sarcastically under her breath.

  Isabella straightened. ‘What can I do for you, Kemp?’ she said curtly. ‘Come to break my arm like you did my sister’s?’

  Kemp went to a desk in the middle of the room, turned a chair around and sat down heavily. ‘And what would you do if I did? Run outside and scream and scream and scream and tell me off, like you usually do?’ Kemp and the boys chuckled. ‘I’ve got a message from chief nerd, Mrs Douglas. She wants to see you,’ he said. ‘Seriously, it’s a real request and I’m just being friendly.’

  Isabella smiled but her eyes were narrow and icy. ‘Kemp, thank you. You’ve delivered your message; now you can leave ... we’re busy.’

  Kemp opened a book. ‘I’m fine staying here for a while,’ he replied putting his feet up on the desk. ‘I believe I’m allowed to—’

  ‘Allowed to what?’ Sue cut in.

  Kemp ran his eyes up and down Sue’s body. ‘Fancy a date, sexy Sue? Take you to the cinema. There’s a new Bond film.’

  Sue stood up smartly. ‘Listen. I will never be interested, Kemp. Besides, you’re far too young. Now go away.’

  ‘Woah, no need to be like that,’ Kemp said, standing up and grasping his heart as though mortally wounded. He turned to his mates and winked. ‘Oh well, worth a try. One day eh, you and me.’ Kemp extended his arm and patted Sue’s bottom.

  Sue rounded on him, slapping his face, the sound like the crack of a whip. ‘Don’t you ever, ever touch me you filthy animal, or I’ll report you for assault.’

  Kemp’s happy face vanished and a look of anger flashed in his dark eyes. ‘You’ll do what? Tell on me? Tell on me ... again,’ Kemp fumed. ‘Yeah, well big deal! Do you have any idea the number of hours I’ve spent in detention because of you two—?’

  ‘You deserve everything you get,’ Isabella said calmly.

  ‘Forty-two,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘That’s how many. Forty-two wasted hours.’ He thumped the table. ‘The teachers must think you’re making it up – the way you pick on me—’

  ‘Pick on you. Get lost, loser,’ Isabella said, ‘you make me want to vomit.’

  Kemp smiled. ‘Well now, speaking of vomit, a little bird tells me you’ve made a ba-rom-eter?’ He said the word very slowly and as he did he felt under the desk and pulled away some sticky tape. He held up a small recording device. ‘Hello little birdie.’

  Isabella shrieked.

  ‘Brilliant isn’t it?’ Kemp said, turning the black box around in his hands. ‘Superb reception for such a tiny thing. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he continued, rubbing home his advantage, ‘just before the football starts I’ll announce – perhaps with Coach’s megaphone – that there’s a big storm on its way which will devastate the whole area. What was it, boys?’ he turned to the sniggering pair. ‘Ah, that’s it ... white water rafting in two hours ...’ He looked triumphant. ‘And all because you dreamt about it. Isn’t that lovely.’

  The boys laughed, thickly.

  Isabella’s face was like thunder. ‘That’s immoral and illegal, Kemp!’

  He waved her protest away. ‘Now, pray tell where this clever barometer thing is.’ He took a couple of paces to their desk. ‘Christ, is this it?’ he said picking it up.

  ‘Don’t you dare—’

  ‘A glass jar filled with liquid and a straw.’ Kemp seemed genuinely disappointed. ‘What a pathetic, terrible, useless piece of sh—’

  ‘Put it down!’ Isabella demanded.

  ‘Why? If anyone saw this you’d be laughed out of school.’ He turned it around in his hands.

  ‘Put it down—’

  ‘Give me one reason?’

  ‘Because I asked you to, that’s why.’

  ‘Not good enough—’

  ‘Because it’s an important part of my module—’

  Kemp sneered. ‘No it isn’t. It’s not even on your syllabus.’

  ‘Please—’

  ‘What wi
ll you do if I don’t?’

  ‘Put it down!’ Isabella roared.

  The door swung open.

  ‘Archie,’ Isabella gasped, relieved, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh!’ he looked at their faces. ‘I’m dropping off a book ... what’s going on?’

  Kemp held the barometer in the air. ‘Archie, my friend. Your sister thinks she should tell the world about a huge storm that’s coming based on this hilarious scientific instrument. What do you think?’ Kemp placed the barometer on the edge of the desk where it swayed for a moment and then righted itself.

  Archie frowned. ‘Er, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well if you don’t know, Archie, then I really should break it – to save these girls showing it to anyone and making complete idiots of themselves—’

  ‘No!’ Isabella cried.

  Kemp ignored her and raised an eyebrow, ‘and of course, to protect the great academic reputation of Upsall School.’ Kemp laughed and slapped the desk with his free hand.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Archie said, trying to read his sister’s face. ‘Why don’t you give it back?’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Kemp, turning on him. ‘Don’t get me wrong, but I’m the one who’s going to decide whether they can or can’t have it back. Tell you what,’ said Kemp, addressing the girls again, ‘if Sue goes out with me, I’ll give it back.’

  ‘Never!’ Both girls instinctively replied. Sue slid her chair back so fast it fell backwards and clattered on the floor.

  ‘There are rules for a reason, Kemp,’ Isabella said, regaining her composure, ‘so listen up. Here’s what happens; you put the barometer down and leave it exactly as it is, while we go and get Mr Bellwood. Do you understand?’

  Kemp scratched his fat nose. ‘Bellwood will never believe you – and I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing. Your little brother can prove that, can’t you Archie?’