The Bell

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Pugh moved his head and watched the reflection of his face distort in the shiny gold in front of him. He longed to touch the bell, to pick it up and give it a shake; hear the tones of the clanger on the metal. It really was a thing of beauty. The highly polished waist was criss-crossed with the scratches of time, the tip of the dome was slightly dented and the rim scuffed.  Of course they didn’t use it anymore, in fact Pugh had never heard it rung. Instead of the melodic ringing, his ears were invaded every thirty-five minutes by the grinding, grating buzzer telling the students the lesson was over. Despite being surplus to requirements, the bell sat just outside the head teacher’s office as a reminder of a bygone age. Pugh was also sitting just outside the head teacher’s office waiting for his latest bollocking. He knew what the head would say.

How many times is this now Pugh? I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. Blah, blah, blah.  Pugh had heard it all before and would no doubt hear it all again. He smiled into the bell and enjoyed the shape shifting effect of the curved dome.

“Come in Pugh,” Pugh turned his face from the bell and trooped into the office awaiting his punishment.

“Pugh, this is the fourth time in the last two weeks that I’ve had to talk to you.” the Head had adopted her serious face.

Pugh wasn’t listening, he was trying to work out a way he could ring the bell and get away with it. But it was impossible. Just moving the thing would let out a ring, the secretary would notice, the head teacher would come running out of the door, but it was so, so, tempting. But no, Pugh knew he was in enough trouble already. “I’ve discussed this with your head of year and we’ve decided it might be best to exclude you until the end of term.”

Dust floated around the office, dancing on the spring sunbeams shining in through the window.

“So what have you got to say?”

Pugh looked at Mrs Griffiths. “Can you repeat that?”  The head teacher rolled her eyes and repeated her little spiel. There was only two weeks left of term, so it wasn’t the biggest punishment, but Pugh’s dad would bloody kill him and his mum, well she would be genuinely disappointed, not the Mrs Griffiths’s version.

But then a thought crossed his mind.

“Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” he said, smiling at a baffled head teacher and leaving the office.
The wooden handle felt as good as it looked and the bell let out a gentle tingle as Pugh picked it up. He felt smooth surface in his hand, worn down by the hands of headmasters past.

“Pugh Williams put that down this instant.” Mrs Griffiths barked at him from the doorway but Pugh was not to be denied. He held the bell above his head and brought his hand down.  

It clanged and tingled, filling the room with the most delicious tone Pugh had ever heard.