“It felt like that. Like playing,” said Dennis confidently.
“I used to like playing,” said John, almost to himself, as they continued down the street.
“What the…?” said John, as he and Dennis entered Raj’s shop to find Raj resplendent in a bright green sari.
And wig.
And full make-up.
“Morning, boys!” said Raj in a ridiculously high-pitched voice.
“Morning, Raj,” said Dennis.
“Oh no, I’m not Raj,” said Raj. “Raj is not here today but he has left me in charge of the shop. I’m his Aunt Indira!”
“Raj, we know it’s you,” said John.
“Oh dear,” said Raj dejected. “I’ve been up since dawn putting this look together. What gave it away so quickly?”
“The stubble,” said Dennis.
“The Adam’s apple,” added John.
“Those big hairy hands,” continued Dennis.
“All right, all right, I get the point,” said Raj hurriedly. “I was hoping I’d get my own back by fooling you, Dennis, after you played that trick on me!”
“Well you very nearly did fool me, Raj,” said Dennis kindly. “You were incredibly convincing as a woman.” He smiled, looking admiringly at Raj’s outfit. “So where did you get the sari?”
“It’s my wife’s. Luckily she’s a very big lady so it’s a good fit.” Raj lowered his voice for a moment and looked around so no one else could hear. “She doesn’t know I’ve got it on so if you see her it’s best not to mention it.”
“It’s OK, Raj, we won’t,” said Dennis.
“Thank you so much. Good tip about your headmaster Mr Hawtrey, yes?” said Raj with a wink of his eye-liner caked eye.
“Oh yes, thank you, Raj,” said Dennis, winking back.
“What’s that about Hawtrey?” asked John.
“Oh nothing. He just likes to read the Sunday Telegraph that’s all,” said Dennis.
“Well, we’d better go, we’re gonna be late,” said John tugging his brother’s arm. “Erm just this bag of Quavers, please, Raj.”
“Buy two bags of Quavers, I give you one extra one free,” said Raj with great delight at his new special offer.
“All right then,” said John. “That sounds good.” He picked up another bag of Quavers and gave it to Dennis.
Raj then produced a single Quaver from a bag. “And there is your free Quaver. So that’s two bags of Quavers… 58p. Thank you so much!”
John looked confused.
“Good luck today, Dennis,” exclaimed Raj as the two boys left his shop. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
Entering the school gates, Dennis spotted Darvesh waiting for him holding a brand new football.
“Do you fancy a kick-about?” asked Darvesh. “My mum bought me this yesterday. We’re allowed to play with proper footballs in the playground now,” he added, bouncing the ball triumphantly.
“Really?” said Dennis. “I wonder why Hawtrey changed his mind…”
“Do you wanna play then?” asked Darvesh eagerly.
At that moment Dennis saw Miss Windsor parking her yellow Citroen 2CV. It wasn’t so much a car, more a dustbin on wheels, but it was French, and she loved it.
“I’ll catch up with you at break, OK?” said Dennis.
“OK, Dennis, we’ll have a proper game then,” replied Darvesh, doing keepie-uppies as he made his way to the classroom.
“John, wait here a moment, will you?” said Dennis. “There’s one thing I still need to do.”
Dennis took a deep breath. “Miss?” he called out. John hung back a little.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Miss Windsor frostily. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. I am. I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have said that you didn’t have a good French accent.”
Miss Windsor remained silent and Dennis squirmed, trying to think of something else to say.
“Because you do. You actually have a really good French accent, Miss. Mademoiselle. It sounds like you are actually a proper French person.”
“Well thank you, Dennis, or ‘merci beaucoup, Dennis’ as I would say in français,” said Miss Windsor, warming a little. “Well done on Saturday. Wonderful match. You actually looked very convincing in a dress, you know.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” said Miss Windsor. “You see, I’ve written a play…”
“Oh yes…” said Dennis with trepidation.
“It’s a play about the life of Joan of Arc, the fifteenth century French religious martyr…”
“Wow, that sounds… erm.”
“None of the girls want to play her. Anyway I thought it would be fascinating to have a boy play her, as she of course was a girl who wore boy’s clothing. Dennis, I think you would make a very memorable Joan.”
Dennis looked to his brother for help, but John just smirked.
“Well it certainly sounds… interesting…”
“Wonderful. Let’s meet up at break-time and discuss it over a pain au chocolat.”
“OK, Miss,” said Dennis, trying to hide his dread. He walked away slowly and quietly, as you might retreat from a bomb that may be about to go off.
“Oh, I should have said–the play is entirely in French. Au revoir!” she called after him.
“Au revoir,” he called back in the most un-French accent he could manage.
“Now that I can’t wait to see!” said John laughing.
As they walked off together towards the main school building, John put his arm around him. Dennis smiled.
The world felt different.
Thank yous:
I would like to thank my literary agent at Independent Talent, Paul Stevens; Moira Bellas and everyone at MBC PR; all at HarperCollins, especially my publisher Ann-Janine Murtagh and my editor Nick Lake for their belief in the project and tremendous support of me; James Annal, the cover designer; Elorine Grant, interior designer; Michelle Misra, eagle-eyed copy-editor; the other side of my brain that is Matt Lucas; my greatest fan and mum, Kathleen; and my sister Julie for dressing me up in the first place.