Captain Mack (6 page)

Danny shook his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you could ever be serious about anything.”

Caleb pulled a crazy face, then realised that Danny had failed to see the funny side. “Oh, come on, mate, lighten up.”

“You don't understand,” Danny said.

“All right then,” Caleb said, “I'll be serious, and I'll try to understand. In fact, I've decided I want to come with you to meet Captain Mack.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why not? I want to see what's so bad about this new place he's in.”

The two boys stood at the doorway of Redgrange.

“Now I want you to behave,” Danny ordered. “Promise?”

“Sure,” Caleb replied. “What do you think I am?”

“Never mind that. Just be good, OK? No making fun.”

“Cross my heart.”

They found Captain Mack in the TV room. There were six other elderly people in the room, and with the exception of Captain Mack and a small thinhaired woman hunched over and singing softly to herself in the corner, everyone was asleep. There was a strange smell in the air, a little like disinfectant but not quite the same. A game show was blaring on the TV, and Captain Mack was staring blankly at it.

“Are you watching that?” Danny asked him, giving a self-conscious salute.

“Ah, Snell, what news of Tierney?” Captain Mack asked, trying to sit up straight.

Danny could sense Caleb's amusement without even looking at him.

“I believe he's still well,” he answered, before changing the subject quickly. “Sir, this is my friend, Private Ross. I've brought him along to meet you.”

“Through enemy lines?” Captain Mack asked, eyeing Caleb. “My word, whatever for?”

Danny expected a casual or even careless answer from his friend. Instead Caleb stood straight and saluted. “I'm here to help with the escape, sir,” he said, not too loudly.

Captain Mack reached out and patted Caleb's hand. “Excellent answer, lad.”

“So what made you change your mind?” Danny asked as they reached the station.

Caleb played with his ear and thought. “Because I don't think you can pull it off on your own,” he said at last, smiling.

“I know I can, but I'm still not sure if I should do it at all.”

“Of course you should!” Caleb said. “It'll be great fun.”

“I'm not talking about how much fun it'll be.”

“Well, if you're worried about getting into trouble, then relax. We're too young. We just have to say that we didn't realise we were doing the wrong thing.” He slapped the back of his hand lightly. “That's all we'll get.”

“Yeah, but what if we
are
doing the wrong thing?” Danny said. “What if —”

“Huh?” said Caleb.

Danny just shook his head.

It was Saturday. Dad was going shopping, dropping Danny at Redgrange on the way.

“Just out the front is fine,” Danny said as they arrived, but Dad ignored him and drove into the visitors' car park instead.

“What are you doing?” Danny asked.

Dad parked the car and turned off the engine. “Come on, let's go. I want to meet your friend.”

“It's fine, Dad. I'll be all right.”

“I know you'll be all right. I just want to meet him. Is that OK with you?”

“I guess …”

Captain Mack was sitting in a chair beside his bed, gazing at the brick wall and bars, listening to the buzzing ceiling grate.

“Good morning, sir,” Danny said. Because Dad was there he didn't salute, hoping that Captain Mack wouldn't notice.

“Morning, Snell. Who's this?” Captain Mack asked, slowly checking Dad out from head to toe.

“This is my dad, David Snell.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Dad said, holding out his hand.

Captain Mack shook it cautiously. “Another Snell, eh? I see, lad,” he said to Danny. “Very good. Is this part of the plan?”

“What plan is that?” Dad asked with a smile, looking back and forth between them. “Is there a plan?”

“The Private will fill ye in, I'm sure,” Captain Mack said. “Best we don't discuss it here.”

A girl in a pink uniform came to the end of the bed. “Cup of tea, Mr McAuliffe?” she asked.

“Aye, I would like that,” he said, but as she walked back to her trolley in the hall Captain Mack said in a low voice, “Always trying to curry favour, these people.”

Dad smiled. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said. “I'll leave Dan here so he can visit for a bit longer.” He squeezed Danny's shoulder. “See you at home.”

“Nice man,” Captain Mack said when he'd gone. “We could use him.”

“What did you think?” Danny asked Dad when he got home.

“About what?”

“About Captain Mack.”

“I thought he seemed very nice. A bit … confused, I guess, but pretty harmless. Just like you described him, really.”

“What about the place? Pretty awful, huh?”

Dad raised his eyebrows. “Seemed all right to me. I mean, I'm no expert, but as nursing homes go —”

“What about the smell?”

Dad shrugged. “Didn't think about it, to be honest.”

“He doesn't like it there at all. It was much nicer where he was before.”

“Well, Dan, that's the way things go sometimes.”

“Dad thought it was OK, but Captain Mack hates it,” Danny said to Ellie.

She handed him his drink and closed the fridge. “I'm sure he does. It's a horrible place. It's got a reputation. They're always looking for staff, and they can never get them. I don't know what they do to make them leave, but whatever it is, it works.”

“So what would happen if he tried to … to escape?”

“Escape?” She laughed. “You make it sound like a prison.”

“Well, he thinks it is. So what would happen?” he repeated.

“I guess they'd just take him straight back. Anyway, he wouldn't.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Danny, do you realise how many times he threatened to leave Lady Smythe because he was unhappy with the temperature in his unit, or because the sheets were too wrinkled, or the mowers were too noisy outside his window? I lost count. He lives in this fantasy world where he's a brave soldier held in a jungle camp, but at the end of the day he's not brave enough to run off. It's really that simple.”

Danny shook his head. “But what if he
did
?” he argued. “Just say he did escape — what then?”

Ellie took a deep breath and looked Danny in the eye. “He's an adult, Danny. He's in a place that looks after old people like him, regardless of how well or how poorly they do it. He might hate the place, but it's food and shelter, and I think underneath it all he realises that. That's why despite his continual threats to leave, he never does. End of story.”

Danny watched his hands as they turned his glass around on the table. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“That's not to say that I'd blame him for running away from that dump,” added Ellie with a smile. “In fact, I might even think it was pretty cool.”

If Danny thought or hoped that Captain Mack might forget about his escape idea, he was wrong. Whenever he went to visit — which wasn't quite as often since the move, as the new hospital was a little more out of his way than the old one — Captain Mack would whisper again about how he intended to leave. In the beginning he'd always talk about going back to Lady Smythe, but gradually his plan changed. Now he was going home. It took some time for Danny to get around to asking where home was, but he finally did it one rainy Sunday afternoon.

“Glasgow, where'd ye think?” the old man answered impatiently. Then his face softened, and he almost smiled. “There's a pub there that I used to drink at. I'm going to walk in there on a Sunday afternoon and shout a round for all the lads. They won't believe that young Freddy McAuliffe's back from the jungle. I can't wait to see it.”

“Glasgow's a long way, isn't it?” Danny said. “Are you sure you want to go that far?”

“Aye, it's a long way all right, lad, but that's where I'm going.”

Danny didn't see much point in arguing.

Caleb and Danny were eating lunch in their usual spot, under the weeping willow beside the Technical Block. It was a cloudless autumn day, with a cool edge to the clear air. The interest centred around the cricket nets was waning, and the first of the footballs were out.

“So what's the appeal?” Caleb asked. “You know, I still don't really get it.”

“I keep telling you — he's old and lonely. He needs me, I reckon. That's all.”

“Needs you? For what — to buy razors, or to salute him?”

“You can laugh,” Danny said, “but I think he looks forward to seeing me.”

“Don't you think it's strange, you hanging out with an old guy?”

“Why is that strange? How about when you visit your grandma?”

Caleb thought about that one. “I don't exactly
hang out
with her, though,” he said.

“No, but you go and see her.”

“Yeah, the whole family does, every Christmas Eve.”

Danny stared at him. “Is that it? Just once a year?”

“Well, she's right over the other side of town. It takes ages to get there. Oh, look out — here's trouble,” Caleb said, spotting Shaun and Grant walking across the grass towards them. They were tossing a rugby ball back and forth between them.

“Hey, boys,” said Shaun as they got close. “Footy, anyone?”

“You know we don't play footy,” Caleb said.

“Oh yeah, I completely forgot. Well, you know, it's never too late to learn. We can teach you if you like.”

“We're quite happy here, thanks,” Caleb replied.

“Picnic,” said Grant. “They're having a picnic.” Then he snorted with amusement at his joke.

“Picnic, lunch, whatever,” Caleb said. “Either way, we don't want to play footy, thanks anyway.”

Danny stood up. “I don't know — maybe we do,” he said. He'd wondered for a while if perhaps it was time to try a new tack, since Dad's counting to ten idea wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. He walked over to the bin and threw his lunch papers in. “Come on, let's play,” he said.

Caleb was wearing a pained expression. Shaun and Grant were smiling smugly.

“Well, come on then,” Danny repeated, holding out his arms. “Let's go.”

“You sure about this, Smell?” Shaun asked. “Because you can get hurt playing footy.”

Danny tried his best to look cool and convincing. ‘Yeah, I know that. So let's see the ball.”

“Righto then.” Shaun passed the ball hard at Danny, much faster than Danny expected. It thumped into his abdomen, and despite a slight involuntary cringe, Danny thought he caught it reasonably well.

He tried to appear casual as he tossed the ball from hand to hand. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

“We kick it,” Shaun answered.

“Kick it where? Back to you?”

“If you want.”

“Like this?” Danny dropped the ball onto his foot and it looped to Grant, who caught it easily with one hand.

Shaun nodded, even looked slightly impressed. “Yeah, something like that. Here, try again.” He took the ball from Grant and passed it back to Danny. “Kick it again,” he prompted.

Danny tried it again. This time it wasn't quite as good, but it was still better than he would have expected, and Shaun made the catch look simple.

“You know, there's another skill we practise sometimes,” Shaun said. “It's called
taking the in-goal grubber.
Do you think that's too advanced for Smell?” he asked Grant.

Grant shrugged. “No, I reckon he could almost handle that.”

“All right, Smell, here's how it works. I'm going to kick the ball to you, and you try to scoop it up off the ground without fumbling, OK?”

“Danny,” Caleb said in a low voice.

“Yeah, yeah, wait on,” Danny said.

“Danny,” Caleb repeated.

“Hang on,” Danny said, waving his friend's warning away. “OK, let's have it.” He beckoned towards Shaun. “What are you waiting for?”

Grant kicked the ball low at Danny, and it bounced unevenly towards him. Concentrating hard, he bent at the knees and felt it nestle satisfyingly into his cradled arms.

“Danny!” he heard Caleb shout. He looked up to see Shaun and Grant rushing at him, only a metre or two away and closing fast. He braced himself, but it was too late, and they cannoned into his chest, knocking him flat on his back. They both landed heavily on him, and he heard them laugh. Surprisingly his glasses were still on his face.

“Maybe next time we'll show you how to kick the ball out of the in-goal area before you get nailed,” Shaun chuckled.

Danny rolled from beneath them and got slowly to his feet. Through some fluke or miracle he still had the ball in his arms. “Kick it? You mean something like this?” he asked, and he booted the ball with all his strength.

“Uh-oh, the Fat Controller,” he heard Caleb say.

The ball was sailing in the direction of Mr Whaley, who was patrolling the schoolyard with his orange plastic lunchbox tucked under his arm and his back to the ball. For a while it looked as though it might narrowly miss him, but to Danny's fast-growing horror it bounced, took a sharp right-hand turn, and smashed into the lunchbox, scattering sandwiches and assorted lunch rubbish over a wide area.

Mr Whaley turned as if he had all day. He picked up the ball, returned the rubbish to the lunch-box, then strode towards the four boys, silencing the laughter from the other students looking on with a couple of stern sideways glances.

“Well, lads,” he said as he stopped in front of them. He turned the ball over and read Shaun's name written in large black letters along one side. “So, who kicked this?”