Inside the Worm by Robert Swindells

not.
    â€˜Now.’ The vicar regarded the quartet sternly. ‘I’m going to ask the four of you a question, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Is that understood?’
    Gary Bazzard nodded. The others mumbled, ‘Sir.’
    â€˜Where were you at ten past eleven last Saturday morning?’
    â€˜At my granny’s,’ said Gary at once. ‘You can ask my mam.’ The others looked at him and said nothing.
    The vicar sighed. ‘And you, young lady – where were you?’
    Lisa looked from Gary to the vicar and back again, biting her lip. ‘It’s no use, Gary,’ she said. ‘He knows.’
    â€˜Yes.’ The vicar’s tone was icy. ‘He knows, but he’s waiting to hear it from you. Where were you?’
    â€˜Butterfield’s,’ mumbled Lisa.
    â€˜Supermarket,’ said Ellie-May.
    â€˜In costume,’ admitted Trot.
    â€˜Thank you,’ said the vicar quietly. ‘You might be interested to know that one of the shoppers in Butterfield’s that morning was my wife. Your antic upset her quite badly, but unlike everybody else she knew about the play and realized where the monster must have come from.’ He frowned. ‘I suppose you know what a wicked thing it was that you did?’ Nobody answered. ‘You know, don’t you, that your silly prank might have had disastrous consequences? Somebody frail – a weak heart perhaps, and they might have died. Did you think about that? Did you consider the possibility of somebody being trampled, crushed – somebody’s baby? Did you think at all before you did what you did?’
    Lisa sniffled. ‘No, Sir.’
    â€˜No, Sir.’
    The vicar gazed at them. ‘Why did you do it, eh? Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?’
    â€˜Possessed?’ Gary glanced sharply at the vicar. ‘Nothing possessed us, Sir. It was a stunt. A publicity stunt, to advertise our play. We thought it was a good idea, Sir, that’s all.’
    The vicar looked at the boy. ‘Your idea, was it?’
    â€˜Yes, Sir.’
    â€˜Well, it was not a good one, Gary. Far from it. People were injured. Frightened. Property was damaged. And there was nothing to connect the event in people’s minds with your play. If, as you say, it was a publicity stunt, it was poorly thought out and brutally executed, and I’m ashamed of you. Your classmates have worked hard to produce an outstanding presentation, and the four of you have let them down with this act of – of vandalism. Do you know that the police are involved?’
    â€˜Police?’ Trot looked scared.
    â€˜Of course.’ The vicar sighed again. ‘Oh, it’s all right. You needn’t worry. I’ll go to them. Tell them it was a publicity stunt gone wrong. I’ll talk to Mr Butterfield too. It will be all right. But I want you to promise me that you’ll never ever do anything of the sort again. Do I have your promise?’
    They nodded. ‘Yes, Sir.’
    â€˜Good. Then we’ll say no more about it. That’s a very fine costume you’ve constructed. Most realistic. Keep on rehearsing, and good luck for Saturday.’
    â€˜Thank you, Sir.’
    The vicar strode away, and the quartet walked slowly across the yard. ‘What now?’ asked Lisa. ‘We’ve given our promise.’
    â€˜Our promise?’ Gary kicked a stone. ‘What’re you – an infant? Our flipping promise!’
    â€˜He’s the vicar, though. A promise to a vicar’s sort of special, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’ The boy grinned wolfishly. ‘It’s special all right. ‘I’ll get special pleasure out of breaking it, that’s what’s special about it.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
    TUESDAY MORNING, SEVEN-THIRTY . The Morgans at breakfast. Mrs Morgan sips coffee. Mr Morgan hides behind the
Star.
All you can see of him is his fingers and the top of