On Thursday morning three gunmetal grey minibuses, emblazoned with the school's coat of arms and name in silver vinyl decals, were idling in a row on the gravel oval outside the entrance to Reception. Water vapour rose like steam from the bonnets as they thawed.
Lisa Marney stood at the top of the stone entrance steps looking like she would rather be in a Governors' meeting than waiting impatiently in the freezing cold, at 7 a.m., in heels. She looked down at the Year Sevens shivering below her.
"Good morning, everyone. Settle down now, settle down." Her breath clouded as she addressed the class. The headteacher held a transparent acrylic clipboard in her right hand and was chewing the end of a black and yellow pencil between her teeth. "Unfortunately," she called out, "Professor Duff is... unavailable."
A couple of the professor's more eager students dropped their heads in disappointment. Jack Wilson chirped up from the back of the group. "Has he bored himself to death, miss?" he quipped. Several of his classmates sniggered.
"Don't be ridiculous, Wilson," scolded Mrs. Marney. "A personal family matter. Which means, at extremely short notice, you get the pleasure of my company instead."
"You can come sit at the back of our minibus, miss," shouted Jack eagerly.
"Final warning, Wilson," cautioned Mrs. Marney. "Thin ice." She continued. "Professor Duff has instructed that you are to all have a travelling buddy for today's trip. He left me a list." She waggled the clipboard above her head.
Her news was met with a collective groan, but the protestations were quickly tamped down by the headteacher, who fanned her clipboard at the students as if trying to put out a fire.
"Pin your lugs back and no complaining." She beckoned to them, "Everybody gather round."
Charlie listened with mild dread. He had not been looking forward to the trip in the first place. He did not want to get one of the annoying Moss twins or Sebastian and his crap card tricks. After most of the names were read out, he looked around to see who was left. Isla Marney and the ambassador's daughter were still waiting patiently, as were Elliot and Amelia.
"Wood," called out Mrs. Marney. "With Wilson."
Brilliant.
You never know, Charlie wondered. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Maybe not, thought Charlie as he saw Jack's nasty grin. The two new girls were paired together, which meant Amelia had to babysit Elliot.
Mrs. Marney was still talking. "Pair up immediately and sit together on the buses. Remain with your buddy for the duration of the trip. Next stop, the abandoned Aldwych tube station in central London!"
Charlie exhaled with resignation. Ninety minutes in a sweaty vehicle sat next to that big spotty lump.
Mrs. Marney hauled herself up into the first minibus. Mr. Benjamin, the music teacher, who always managed to blag his way on to school trips, was leaning against the second. Mrs. Richardson, one of the mathematics teachers, was already seated on the front row of the final minibus, with a ball of wool and a pair of knitting needles nestled in her lap.
Amelia wandered amiably over to Elliot. "Hey," she said, displaying a perfect set of bright white teeth. "Elliot, right? We were not properly introduced in the swimming pool. I am Amelia McIlroy."
Elliot's face flushed with colour and heat. She remembered. And she knew his name! He wanted to say thank you for saving his life. He wanted to say that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life. What he managed to say sounded like a bad hand at Scrabble.
"FTWXGLT."
"That is exactly what you said when you were upside down in the deep end," Amelia giggled.
Elliot realised that if he did not look directly into Amelia's big sapphire blue eyes, he could just about keep it together. "I'm so sorry about that," he said, staring at his Clarks patent shoes. "There wasn't a pool at my old school. Swimming's not really one of my strong points," he admitted.
"Not something you can learn from a book," Amelia teased.
Elliot's usually so reliable brain had abandoned him. "The pages would get wet," he muttered before cursing his stupid joke.
After a few awkward seconds, Amelia giggled again and gestured with her open hand towards the nearest minibus door. "Smart and funny," she smiled. "Shall we?" she asked.
"Ladies first," Elliot managed with a slight bow.
"The perfect gentleman." She stepped graciously onto the bus.
Elliot felt a nudge from behind and turned to see Charlie grinning at him.
"Someone did alright in the 'buddy lottery'," he enthused.
"I'm in heaven and hell at the same time," replied Elliot anxiously. "I've absolutely no idea what to say to her for the next hour and a half, or how to convince my mouth and brain to work in sync!"
Charlie gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder. "Just be yourself," he advised.
"Have you and her never...?" asked Elliot.
Charlie shook his head. "I've known her forever. She's my best friend. Which is why I know you'll be fine. Get on board!" Charlie commanded as he booted Elliot up the backside to encourage him up the steps.
It was then that Charlie could smell danger. And rotten eggs. "Ever heard of a toothbrush?" he grimaced as he turned to face Jack Wilson.
"I must've left it in McIlroy's room last time I was there," replied Jack with a smug grin.
That was quite funny, admitted Charlie to himself. He had to accept that he had nothing. No comeback.
"Just get on the bus," he grunted and shoved Jack towards the last minibus.
***
The journey from Blankrook School to central London was typical. Elliot repeatedly had his ears flicked from behind. Jack drew rude pictures on the steamed-up windows. At least one kid on every bus threw up into a carrier bag. By the time they pulled up near a traditional red telephone box on the corner of the Strand and Surrey Street, everyone was gagging for fresh air and personal space. There was a green tartan stampede as the side doors slid open and the students spilled out onto the footpath. Elliot tripped over a 'Starbucks' cup, spilling coins across the pavement. A disgruntled shape growled from a grubby sleeping bag propped up against the phone box.
Mrs. Marney instructed them to line up in their pairs alongside a heavily padlocked building entrance. Charlie had to step over broken glass from a nearby bus shelter as he looked up and read the impressive lettering in the dark red brickwork:
PICCADILLY RLY
STRAND STATION
"Miss," chirped up one of the Moss twins.
Charlie was going to have to learn how to tell them apart. The school had, in its wisdom, placed them both in Vulture House so they were dressed identically. He plumped for Olivia.
"Miss," repeated the girl, her arm waving frantically. "I thought we were coming to Aldwych station."
"Well spotted, Bonnie," replied Mrs. Marney.
Dammit, thought Charlie.
"The station originally opened as 'Strand'," explained the headteacher, "but the name was changed, along with two other stations in the area, in 1915."
A small flap opened in the entrance door and an angry face appeared, with long white hair that was surely a wig. She had a patchily powdered face and liberally applied black lipstick.
"What do you lot want?" she squawked, startling some of those at the front of the queue. "This station is closed. No trains today," she announced. "Go on. Get lost!" The head disappeared and the flap slammed shut.
They waited.
Shortly after, a skinny youth of about eighteen years old appeared through a smaller doorway to the side of the large, padlocked doors. He was failing miserably at trying to grow facial hair and was hastily wiping white powder from his cheeks, streaking it onto his chin, whilst attempting to lick his lips clean. He was dressed in a creased black uniform with red piping at the lapels and cuffs and an elasticated matching tie.
"I am afraid you will have to forgive our resident ghost, Margaret, she is a bit cranky in her old age," he announced theatrically. "She has been stuck wandering along the tracks for more than a hundred years!"
Nobody laughed.
"Good morning thrill seekers," he hollered at the group. "My name is Herbert Cheeseborough and I am the station manager here at Aldwych tube station. The fire exits are illuminated," he informed them. "If anyone sees me go through one, please follow me quickly."
"Whatever they're paying this guy, it's too much," murmured Rose to Isla.
Herbert removed an oversized set of iron keys from a clip on his brown leather belt, brandishing and jangling them with a flourish. "Let us begin the tour," he proclaimed. "The year is 1907. Follow me into the past!"
Herbert disappeared inside. What was the point of the keys, wondered Charlie? The green snake of children stepped into the darkness in single file. They gathered in the cramped entrance space that was dimly lit with overhead emergency lighting. They were greeted by an empty row of telephone booths, the fixed pay phones long gone. They could hear orchestral music, presumably being piped through hidden speakers for dramatic effect.
Herbert was nowhere to be seen.
They wandered past the booths and a large sign on the wall that said 'ENTRANCE TO BOOKING HALL' on the cream and green tiles. They continued into the next room where the tiling became more ornate.
Suddenly the room was engulfed in bright white light from a small window to their right. It was a hatch with the word 'ASSISTANCE' written in transferred letters above the glass. A head appeared from below, rising slowly and dramatically.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" declared the head. It was Herbert. Or at least it looked like Herbert. He had somehow managed to perform a full outfit change and was now wearing a white grandad collared shirt buttoned at the neck and a charcoal-grey waistcoat with a silver pocket chain. His sleeves were rolled up and held in place with garters.
"My name is Gordon Eckersley," he announced, "I am the ticket seller here at Aldwych."
Gordon had a rubbish Yorkshire accent and proceeded to bore them with the history of the small, cramped ticket office, which was hardly the centre of the universe when it came to tales of adventure and wonder.
After a tedious story about the change from beige to light brown tickets in the 1920s, Gordon announced that Herbert was due back any second. He dropped a roller blind, spotted with mould, from the top of the window frame, that said 'POSIT N CLO ED' in faded, peeling letters. Behind the twitching blind, the class could hear signs of a struggle and fast, laboured breathing. Something smashed loudly onto the floor.
"That was already broken when I got here!" shouted a panicked voice.
A door flung open to their left and Herbert appeared, somewhat dishevelled. The top button of his shirt was undone and the elastic from his tie was caught on the outside of his collar. He was hurriedly fastening the shiny copper buttons on his jacket into the wrong buttonholes whilst simultaneously trying to tuck his shirt tails down the back of his trousers.
"Thanks for waiting," he beamed. "Official station business. I hope Gordon kept you entertained. Good looking fellow!" he joked.
"His wisecracks are getting worse," whispered Rose to Isla.
"They seem to like them," replied Isla, nodding towards four girls that were giggling and fawning after Herbert as they followed him like sheep.
"What's your real name?" asked Annabelle Cameron, twirling her blue tie nervously.
"Who wants to know?" replied Herbert chewing his gum open-mouthed, trying to look cool.
"Nobody!" smirked Olivia Moss, flushing pink in the face.
"Well, you can tell 'nobody', that it is Isaac. Isaac Flanagan."
Lottie Grace, from Hawk House, took out her mobile phone and opened TikTok to add Isaac to her friends list.
"Unfortunately," said Isaac with a wry smile, "the Victorians did not think to make the station Wi-Fi ready, so you will not get a signal down here I am afraid."
The girls burst into spontaneous laughter again.
HerbertGordonIsaac continued the tour and led them towards a large metal staircase. "The original lifts remain, although they do not work. This was one of the reasons the station closed. This staircase takes us directly on to one of the original platforms where, if you are very lucky, there might be a train for you to catch..." He stopped halfway down the stairs next to a small doorway. "I have some pressing business through this door," he revealed. "If you continue down to the platform, you might meet a character from the past who can help you on your journey."
He punched a four-digit code into a small panel next to the door which opened with an electronic click. In a flash, he was through the gap and the door slammed shut behind him.
"You heard him, people," called out Mrs. Marney from the near the top of the stairs at the back of the line. "Down to the platform, please!"
The children and teachers navigated the stairs and gathered on a cracked strip of concrete at the foot of the steps. A tube train from the 1970s was parked against the buffers, its red doors closed. Slowly, and atmospherically, the lights began to brighten on the platform. Ancient, worn posters stretched the length of the wall, displaying wartime advice warning that 'Careless Talk Costs Lives', and advertising 'Preserve your food with ROK' – whatever that was.
The silence was broken by an irregular clack of footsteps coming from the far end of the platform. Whoever it was seemed to be limping or struggling to walk. From behind a pillar, an Edwardian lady appeared in full costume, complete with bustle, lace gloves and a net veil across her face. The lady stumbled awkwardly towards them in heels.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to platform one," she announced in an unconvincing high-pitched voice.
"You've got to be kidding me," said Elliot with horrified realisation.
"What is it?" asked Amelia.
"It's Isaac in a dress!" declared Elliot loudly.
As the 'lady' came closer they could clearly see HerbertGordonIsaac's face through the veil, contorted in concentration as he battled to stay on his feet.
"I stand corrected," conceded Rose. "Whatever they're paying this guy, it's not enough."
"My name is Lady Emily Chadwick," she said, her voice cracking occasionally as she tried to shout over the rising laughter. "I was a regular passenger on this service when it first opened."
The train doors 'magically' hissed open and HerbertGordonIsaacLadyEmily ushered them inside.
"Take care to mind the gap," she tittered.
"Am I missing something?" asked Rose as she stepped up into the first carriage. "This is just a normal subway train, right?"
"At least this one doesn't smell like a public toilet," said Isla optimistically.
"Not very Edwardian though, is it?" smirked Rose.
Lady Emily's grating voice resonated as she twittered on about the history of Aldwych station and guided them through to the adjacent carriage. "This platform and the train are used as preparation for the Underground's Emergency Response Unit, and it has also been used as a film set. The old posters you can see are actually reproductions."
Six of the students lagged behind in the front carriage. Charlie and Jack sat in the tired fraying seats. They were fed up. Even Amelia looked bored, but she did have to put up with Elliot following her round like an obedient puppy.
Charlie felt a compulsion. "I'm thinking of getting into the tube station tour business," he pronounced, rising from his seat. "Anyone up for an 'alternative' tour?"
"What are you going on about, Wood?" grunted Jack.
"I think we'd be better off exploring this place on our own terms," replied Charlie, "without that RADA wannabe boring us to death!"
"How do you propose to do that?" demanded Rose.
"If you paid attention to the tour, Miss Song," Charlie replied, "You would know that the station opened in 1907."
"You're as boring as that out of work actor!" sighed Jack.
"Let me finish," offered Charlie. "1-9-0-7 was the code that Isaac entered to open the door on the staircase." He set off in the opposite direction to the rest of the class. "Whatever's behind that door has to be more interesting than this yawn-fest."
"I don't like to admit when you're right, Wood," acknowledged Jack, "but I'm in!" He stood and followed Charlie.
"No way is this permitted," protested Amelia.
"Come on Amelia, it will be fun," encouraged Charlie as he called back from the stairs. "Look after me, will you?"
Amelia knew they would be in a whole world of trouble. But she could not leave her friend to his own stupidity. She grabbed her school backpack and slung it over her shoulder as she jogged after Charlie and Jack.
"I don't want to be expelled in my first term!" squeaked Elliot. "Or any term, for that matter!"
"Come on, Elliot," sighed Amelia. "We are going to have to protect them...from themselves!"
"Ok, Amelia, whatever you say," simpered Elliot, trotting after her.
"Isla, are you coming?" asked Rose.
"It's ok for you guys, but my mum will notice straight away if I'm not there!" sighed Isla.
"You were told, under no circumstances, to become separated from your travelling buddy, right?" Rose replied.
"I suppose...?" said Isla.
"You should be commended for staying with me in spite of my ignoring your protests," stated Rose. "You were only doing as you were told. Which, if caught, I'll describe in great heroic detail on your behalf," she smiled. "Surely, she wouldn't expel her own daughter. From her own school!"
"Oh, alright," accepted Isla. "It could be fun!"
The two girls hurried after the other four, leaping from the train and jogging up the staircase.