‘Let him go get a drink, Geeta. He might well need it.’ It was most unusual for his father to be the voice of reason.
Whilst neither thing either parent had said made much sense to him, at least now his mother was pulling on him, rather than pushing, and in the correct direction.
He saw Lottie scurry past and he called out to her.
‘Hi, Kam,’ she waved, waved and grinned far too much for it to be normal. ‘See you in a bit. I’m just helping the teams get ready. It’s gonna blow your mind!’
‘They have four teams of four…’ His dad launched into an explanation of how the tournament would proceed and Kam didn’t have the heart to tell him that he knew. He had been over it with Pippa, who always swore that this was the second best part of Feast Week after the Sea Shanties. ‘…and then when those first four teams have completed to the course, it’s opened up to the rest of the public and everyone can have a turn.’
‘So, let me get this straight, the first four teams sort of demonstrate how to follow the course,’ Geeta stated as if talking to a small child.
‘Yes, indeed.’ His father replied.
‘And this year the teams are the Parkin family representing their garage, a team from the local church, a team from the TV—’
‘I think it’s the guy fromGreen-Fingered and Gorgeousand a couple of his friends, one of which used to be on the news.’
‘Oh okay, and then the final team represent the Young Farmers, is that right?’
If it wasn’t so frustrating, this exchange between his parents would be mildly amusing. Did they think he didn’t know how this worked? They suddenly seemed to be founts of local knowledge despite living over four hundred miles away and his father not having visited Cornwall since a family holiday over ten years ago. They were certainly determined to make sure he understood It’s-a-Knockout though. A half smile played on his lips as he heard them out. Ben suddenly appeared from nowhere and, with a smirk, handed Kam a drink. His parents apparently having no time for niceties merely bowed their heads at his friend before continuing their lecture.
‘So, it’s really important we watch very carefully, don’t you agree, Dev?’
‘I do, now drink up, Kam, and we’ll go and get a good spot. Right at the front.’
They both started to pull on him again, dragging him to where they wanted him, his pint sploshing down the side of his glass. What was amusing him a second ago was about to lose its sheen very quickly.
Dragged to the front of the gathering crowd he raised his hand to wave to those taking part: Matt Masters, who was in a team with Sylvie from school, Sylvie’s partner, Alex, and some tall blonde man who looked like there was no obstacle he couldn’t merely stride over, all Thor-like.
The Parkins, however, were studiously avoiding his eye. Pippa was in some bizarre towelling cloak thing that looked like something a Victorian may have taken to the seaside and failed to respond to his waving. Her brother, though, finally caught his eye and winked before putting his thumb up.
He saw Alice, the teaching assistant in the frightening Mrs Adams’ class, who was on the church team along with Dan the vicar – who still looked like he had come straight from Hollywood casting and not like he should be in a dog collar – and a couple of weathered-looking older men. Kam knew that they were the local bell-ringers, so although older than the other teams, they had a strength to their upper arms that would make them a hard group to beat.
Suddenly, there was a screech of white noise that caused everyone’s head to turn towards Roger, who stood next to the little stage and was tapping on a microphone.
‘Hello, everyone, and welcome to Penmenna’s It’s-a-Knockout. The last event of Feast Week before you all head back to mine for a taste of the legendary Smuggler’s Scuttlebutt.’ He delivered this welcome address in a deadpan way that couldn’t have been less welcoming. Kam wondered if putting him in charge was an example of Penmenna humour. Roger went on to outline how the course would work before concluding that, unusually, the band would accompany the first part of the course, where the team members would be expected to take turns running through a huge inflatable course climbing, swinging, sliding, jumping and collecting puzzle pieces that they would have to assemble into something that hopefully made sense at the end.
‘However, this is Penmenna, so nothing is ever straightforward and I think you’ll find we’re going to have a surprise up our sleeve as this plays out. Keep your eyes peeled. You don’t want to miss the competition this year.’ And with a flourish, most out of character, he motioned to the band, who were still tuning up.
As he waited to see what would happen next, Kam felt his father place his hand on his shoulder. Kam turned a fraction to acknowledge his father, not a man prone to spontaneous displays of affection.
‘It suits you here, Kam.’
‘Thanks, Dad. I do love it. I can see myself staying for a while.’
‘I think you should. You seem to have fitted in well.’ Dev squeezed his shoulder and nodded three times. That was his way of saying ‘I’m proud of you, son’, and Kam felt pride of his own whoosh over him. He was proud to be part of his family, proud that his father had forgiven him. He gave his dad a pat on the shoulder that he knew would be interpreted as it was meant, as an ‘I love you, Dad’.
He turned back to face the stage, knowing his father wouldn’t want this dragged out, to see Rosy walking on stage with a microphone. He knew she could sing, her voice had been outstanding during the Sea Shanties – pure, confident and clean – and now she started to sing into the mic, scanning the crowds as she did so. Then Ethel, brandishing a saxophone, began to play, swiftly followed by the others, Flynn at their heels barking along. He tried to follow the song – he recognised the lyrics – and was just focusing in when the whole band paused, even the dog who appeared to have faultless timing. Roger shouted ‘one two three’ into the mic and all four teams got on their marks. Nothing unusual so far, apart from Pippa, who appeared to be slipping out of her towel thing – oh my gosh, she was! – to reveal that spandex outfit that had a sweet, sweet spot in his heart. Only now it had been redesigned and patched with bits of red to resemble the costume of an old-fashioned jester. All the teams started to run and Rosy carried on with her song, a song about being a fool in love.
Cogs began to whirr in Kam’s brain and as he saw his mum and dad’s expectant faces looking at him, he had a feeling something big was about to happen but he had no idea what.
Meanwhile the crowds were cheering. Pete had grabbed Pippa as she completed the course and brought back her part of the puzzle ramming a jester’s hat onto her head. By the time Rosy’s song finished, the young farmers seemed to be in the lead with three of their pieces assembled, whilst the other teams still only had two apiece, when suddenly the band burst into another song, this one much more recognisable.
Out of nowhere his sisters appeared on the course. They were going to get in the way and cause an accident if they didn’t move soon, but Mickey, still tuneful for one missing so many teeth, belted outStop! In the name of loveand the whole course froze. The vicar had his leg half over a bit of the inflatable, others were mid run, one with a puzzle piece but they all paused in their positions. Was this usual? Kam couldn’t remember seeing this before in any knockout games he had witnessed.
Pippa, the only contestant moving, turned and faced Kam, a look of utter fear on her face. He had never seen her so pale. He still wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew the compulsion to race towards her and wrap her up, protect her from whatever was making her look that way was strong. He started to move, but his father gently, silently placed his hand on Kam’s arm, keeping him where he was as his sisters moved behind Pippa and gave her the mic Rosy had been using for the previous song. The whole field, which had been murmuring as everyone froze, now stood stock still and silent, waiting to see what would unfold.
This was excruciating, what was happening?
