‘My highest mark ever was close to twelve feet.’ Tony looked up at the rafter. ‘I can reach that, no problem.’
‘Off the back of that Collingwood player, right?’ said Heather. ‘Jimmy Moyes? Napoleon and I were at that game.’
Napoleon recited, ‘. . . the leap into heaven, into fame, into legend – then the fall back to earth (guernseyed Icarus) to the whistle’s shrill tweet.’
‘Is that a poem about football?’ asked Frances.
‘It is, Frances,’ said Napoleon in a teacherly way. ‘It’s called “The High Mark” by Bruce Dawe. It’s about how the mark is the manifestation of the human aspiration to fly.’
‘It’s really lovely,’ said Frances.
‘Oh my God, could we leave the poetry and the football and maybe just focus on getting out of here?’ said Lars, as he picked up an empty water bottle, aimed it like a javelin and threw it up towards the ceiling. It hit the rafter and bounced back again.
‘I’ll get that parcel,’ said Tony, and his chest swelled and his shoulders went back like a superhero emerging from a telephone box.
chapter fifty-six
Yao
‘What are they doing?’ asked Masha.
‘I think Tony is going to try to launch off their backs like he’s in a game of football,’ said Yao worriedly.
‘That’s crazy,’ said Masha. ‘He’s too heavy! He will hurt them!’
‘They’re hungry and tired,’ said Yao. ‘They’re not thinking straight.’
‘It’s so obvious what they should do,’ said Masha.
‘Yes,’ said Yao. Lars had the right idea.
‘Why are they not building a simple human pyramid?’ said Masha.
Yao looked at her to see if she was serious.
‘They are just not that smart,’ said Masha. ‘This is the problem we face, Yao. They are not smart people.’
chapter fifty-seven
Frances
Napoleon and Ben had positioned themselves beneath the rafter, their heads lowered, their bodies tensed.
‘Should we jump at the same time?’ suggested Napoleon. ‘Give you more height?’
‘No,’ said Tony. ‘Just stand still.’
‘I don’t think this is such a good idea,’ said Carmel.
‘It’s a ludicrous idea,’ said Lars.
‘Now that you mention it . . .’ began Heather, but it was too late.
Tony ran from the doorway at full pace.
He leaped up vertically, one knee dug into Napoleon’s back, the other into Ben’s shoulder. For a fraction of a second, Frances saw the young man within the old. The athlete he’d once been was there in the length of his body and the resolve in his eyes.
He got up there! Impossibly high! He was going to do it! What a hero! One hand slapped the rafter, but then he crashed to the floor on his side with an almighty thud. Napoleon and Ben staggered in opposite directions, muffling curses.