The Midnight Gang

“Tom Charper!” said the man, scribbling it down on the form. “That’s question one done. Just a hundred and ninety-one to go. Now, who brought you to the hospital today? Are your mummy and daddy here?”

“No,” said Tom. He could be sure of that. His parents weren’t here. They were never here; they were always there. For some years now, they had packed their only child off to a posh boarding school deep in the English countryside: St Willet’s Boarding School for Boys.

Tom’s father earned a lot of money working in desert countries far away, extracting oil from the ground, and his mother was very good at spending that money. Tom would only see them on school holidays, usually in a different country each time. Even though Tom had travelled alone for hours to see them, his father would often still have to work all day and his mother would leave him with a nanny while she went shopping for more shoes and handbags.

The boy would be lavished with presents upon arrival – a new train set, a model plane or a knight’s suit of armour. But with nobody to play with Tom would get bored quickly. All he really wanted was to spend time with Mum and Dad, but time was the one thing they never ever gave him.

“No. Mother and Father are abroad,” answered Tom. “I am not sure who brought me to the hospital today. It must have been a teacher.”

“Oooh!” said Doctor Luppers excitedly. “Might it have been your games teacher? There was a man in the waiting area dressed as a cricket umpire with a straw hat and long white jacket, which I thought was unusual, as we tend not to have cricket matches in the waiting area.”

“That must have been my games teacher, Mr Carsey, yes.”

Doctor Luppers’s eyes flicked down to his form. They flashed with panic once again. “Oh dear, it only says ‘parent’, ‘guardian’, ‘friend’ or ‘other’ on the form. What am I going to do?”

“Tick ‘other’,” instructed the boy, taking charge.

“Thank you!” said the doctor, looking relieved. “Thank you so, so much. What is the nature of your injury?”

“A bump on the head.”

“Of course, yes!” replied Doctor Luppers as he scribbled that down on the form. “Now, next question, would you say the general appearance of LORD FUNT HOSPITAL has ‘been lower than your expectations’, ‘has met your expectations’, ‘has exceeded your expectations’ or ‘has greatly exceeded your expectations’?”

“What was the first one again?” asked Tom. The pain in his head made it hard for him to think straight.

“Ooh, that’s ‘been lower than your expectations’.”

“What is?”

“The general appearance of the hospital.”

“I’ve only seen the ceiling so far,” sighed the boy.

“And how would you rate the general appearance of the ceiling?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll put that it ‘has met your expectations’. Next question, would you say that the care you have received today at the hospital has been, ‘poor’, ‘fine’, ‘good’, ‘very good’ or in fact ‘too good’?”

“It’s been all right,” replied Tom.

“Mmm, sorry, but ‘all right’ isn’t on the form.”

“‘Good’ then?”

“Not ‘very good’?” said Doctor Luppers, a hint of pleading in his voice. “It would be nice to say I got a ‘very good’ on my first week.”

Tom sighed. “Put ‘too good’ then.”

“Oooh, thank you!” replied the doctor, his eyes dancing with delight. “No one ever gets a ‘too good’! Though I worry whether ‘too good’ might actually be a bad thing. Can I just put ‘very’?”

“Yes, put whatever you like.”

“I’ll put ‘very good’. Thank you very much! This will go down very well with the hospital principal, Sir Quentin Strillers. Now, next question. We’re racing through them now. Would you recommend LORD FUNT HOSPITAL to family and friends, ‘with a heavy heart’, ‘half-heartedly’, ‘wholeheartedly’ or ‘very wholeheartedly’?”

Suddenly Nurse Meese bustled through the curtains. “There isn’t time for all your stupid questions, Doctor!”

The man put his hand up to his face as though he thought he was going to be slapped. “Don’t hurt me!”

“You silly boy! As if I would!” replied the nurse, before clouting him round the ear hard with her thick, heavy hand.

“OW!”screamed Doctor Luppers. “That hurt!”

“Well, at least you are in the right place for an injury! Ha ha!” The woman laughed to herself, and almost managed a smile. “I need this station back right now! I have a newsagent being rushed here in an ambulance who managed to staple his own fingers together. Stupid man!”

“Oh no!” replied the doctor. “I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Get this boy out of here before I’m back or I will clout you round the other ear!” With that, Nurse Meese whipped back the curtain and stomped off down the corridor.

“OK,” began Doctor Luppers, “let me speed this up as much as I can.” The man began speaking very fast. “Bad swelling. Keep you here for a few nights. Just to be safe. Hope you don’t mind.”

Tom didn’t mind staying at the hospital at all. Anything to miss time at his dreaded boarding school. It was one of the most expensive schools in the country, and so most of the boys who went there were exceedingly posh. Tom’s parents were rich because of his father’s well-paid job abroad, but the family were not posh at all. Lots of the boys looked down their aristocratic noses at Tom.

“I am just going to send you up to the children’s ward right away. Nice and peaceful up there. You should get a good night’s sleep. Porter?”

Tom froze in fear as the terrifying man limped back in.

“Yes, Doctor Luppers, sir?” he slurred.

“Take … sorry, sorry, sorry … What was your name again?”

“Tom!” replied Tom.

“Take Tom up to the children’s ward.”

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The porter wheeled the trolley Tom was lying on into the hospital lift. The old misshapen man hummed quietly to himself as he pressed a button for the top floor. Tom hated being alone with him. It wasn’t as if he had done anything

; he just looked

.

The boy had never seen anyone so spectacularly ugly before. Yes, there were teachers at his posh boarding school that were so unfortunate-looking they had been given cruel nicknames by the boys, but none was as scary-looking as the porter.

There was:

Mrs Rabbit