by DaNeo Duran
‘You mean when a teacher tells you to just ignore bullies?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Ignoring bullies is unbelievably bad advice given by fools. Don’t listen to fool’s advice. Bullies won’t give up unless they can be convinced that what they thought was weakness wasn’t. And never believe fools who say bullies are just cowards. Face them but don’t underestimate them; they might be the younger dogs wanting to take over the pack.’
‘I believe that,’ Johnny said thinking of the thugs at his previous school.
‘Most fools who advise ignoring bullies have either never had to face them or are too afraid to get involved.
‘Sounds like you don’t have much time for teachers.’
Keith laughed. ‘You forget. I am a teacher, here at least. I don’t have time for foolish teaching is all.’
‘I’m still not sure what to do.’
‘You’ll think of something but you must do this yourself. There’s no point complaining to the teachers because at best they’ll discipline the bullies. But that just sooths the symptoms. Only you can cure yourself of bullying.’
Again Johnny said, ‘I hear what you’re saying I just wish I knew what to do.’
‘The answer will come by visualising your desired outcome. Keep asking yourself what needs to happen for that outcome to be realised. Whatever you think of will most certainly be a challenge. You have to recognise your own truth, ask, can you see the challenge through?’
After a few minutes remembering his upbringing Johnny put the broom away. ‘I’m confused, I see now how important bullies can be but I can’t see that it’s right to be cruel to young kids who haven’t developed or husbands who beat up their wives.’
‘Don’t for a minute confuse social bullying with sickness. A man who promises to love his wife until death but then causes her deliberate pain needs to recognise his sickness and get help. If you know anyone like that bring them down here and we’ll help them.’
* * *
After the session Johnny went back to the cover and lay in bed thinking. As per Keith’s advice he took stock searching for rightful outcomes. Though he hated his social standing he could tolerate it.
But not having a guitar tortured him and the very idea of visiting Liz and Graham without his guitar tortured him more. He couldn’t bear to imagine admitting he’d lost the guitar after Liz and Graham’s kindness. Equally he had no idea how he’d get through the summer holidays without a guitar. Though he’d been told by the school his guitar wouldn’t be replaced he knew the desired outcome.
Relaxing in the darkness he connected with his mother’s guidance. She reiterated Iftekhar’s words. He had a tiger’s heart; it thumped as the rest of his body dried like clay. He knew what must be done.
Friday 08th June 1984
Five hours after leaving Amarillo the band pulled into Santa Fe with singed nerves and sweaty dust-ruined hair. Only Dane rose above the heat and zeitgeist of irritation. His chubby body peeled out his seat, his tightly curled hair looking no worse given its natural frizziness.
‘I really don’t know what’s got into you guys lately,’ he said addressing the grumpy faces.
Christine exchanged glances with Johnny still clueless as to whether Dane could be involved or not.
Apart from possibly Dane, Christine considered, the notion of tracing who’d ripped them off had evaporated like everything else in New Mexico’s arid climate. Of course, if Dane had been party to the scam he’d be the key to recovering the money.
But as she listened to the day’s schedule, which initially proposed checking into the motel for cold showers, she discovered she wished Dane innocent.
Unlike the lads she’d noticed he seemed to be finding his feet and making better decisions. She figured he surely wouldn’t work so hard for a doomed band. Surely he’d aim to wrap things up and get off the road.
* * *
First to shower Christine and Mazz dressed in cut-off jeans and T-shirts crossed the road to wait for the lads in a quite diner.
They sat at a table away from the few truckers lazing around.
‘I don’t think Dane’s part of the scam,’ Christine said.
Mazz sipped her first lemonade having also noticed the manager’s improvement. ‘I never thought he was. The lads are making too big a deal of uncertain details.’
‘They’re not inconsequential. Whoever ripped Johnny off knew our tour schedule,’ Christine said.
‘So?’
‘You can understand his thinking.’
‘But anyone could get our schedule. They wouldn’t need Dane.’
‘And that they ripped him for the same amount as our GMD advance?’
‘I know,’ Mazz sighed. ‘But I just think we owe Linda a mountain of cash and if we don’t find a way to get it back, she might go bust and then where will we be?’
Downing her first, Christine ordered a second lemonade. ‘Maybe we should leave the conspiracy to the lads and we’ll concentrate on raising ten-thousand dollars.’
‘That’s what I’m thinking.’
‘Any ideas?’
Mazz looked around. ‘There’s a guy over there. You reckon you could charge him ten K?’
Looking round Christine saw a sleepy trucker in a Broncos cap. ‘He doesn’t look good for ten dollars let alone ten-thousand.’
‘Okay, so I haven’t thought of anything yet.’
‘But I agree Mazz, Johnny’s wasting energy hating Dane.’
‘It would help if we knew he was innocent.’
‘Maybe we should interrogate him,’ Christine said.
‘And then convince Johnny to give him the benefit of the doubt?’
‘Exactly.’
Mazz raised an eyebrow. ‘How?’
‘D’you remember the guitar Johnny had when we me the boys?’
‘Yeah, it was like the one he’s got now only it wasn’t awesome.’
‘Right. D’you hear the story of how he got it?’
Monday 01st July 1974
Johnny had almost cancelled his Sunday visit to Liz’s but decided seeing Graham would shame him into facing his bully.
Despite attending school on Monday with no guitar or sympathy from classmates Johnny, ironically found Tooly complaining about having being sent to the headmaster.
Ignoring him and his hard-knock friends, Max and Marbles, Johnny waited until after school where he disappeared into the exodus of kids but followed Tooly right to his front door.
Rather than confront him at that moment Johnny retreated to the cover for a meal he had little appetite for.
After that he packed for judo and headed back out via Tooly’s house. Countering his fear he jogged directly past a parked work van baring the family name and hammered on the front door.
‘Go away we’re having tea,’ a man’s muffled voice said from inside.
A firmer knock caused a grumble before the door opened.
A tubby man dressed in work overalls filled the gap. ‘He’s having his tea.’
‘I’m very sorry to disturb you Mr Toulson,’ Johnny said despite his intention of causing as much inconvenience as necessary, ‘there’s a problem that needs sorting.’
‘Is that right?’ the man’s voice slowed.
‘Afraid so. Your son has done irreparable damage to my guitar. It needs replacing.’
‘Come here a sec Kenneth.’
Already positioned in the corridor Tooly said, ‘He’s lying.’
‘D’you hear that?’ the man said glaring. ‘You’re lying. Now clear off before I call the police.’
The door slammed in Johnny’s face. Having expected as much Johnny knocked again. And again.
The door swung open revealing Mr Toulson’s now purpling complexion. ‘D’you want me to call the police?’
‘Yes,’ Johnny lied. ‘Kenneth’s already been to the headmaster.’
The angry father turned to face the seething Tooly.
‘Alight,’ he said. ‘It was an accident. H
onest. It probably didn’t work anyway; it was a rubbish brown thing. ‘
‘I agree it didn’t look much but it worked well enough.’ A minor lie.
‘Well you’ve come to the wrong place. My son says it was an accident and the headmaster’s dealt with it. Case closed.’
The door slammed in Johnny’s face again.
This time he left them to it. He looked at the front window but didn’t acknowledge the lady or little girl looking on.
He headed off to Judo. That he’d upset the family would do for starters.
Tuesday 2nd July 1974
The next day at school Tooly’s contempt grew. Johnny neither saw this as good or bad. He guessed Tooly hadn’t told Max or Marbles about his visit. But, if the Toulson’s thought they achieved an easy victory they’d be in for surprise when he turned up at their house that night.
That evening Johnny packed his bag for Thai boxing along with broken guitar. Leaving the cover he made the detour and banged on the Toulson’s door. Waiting he took his broken guitar from its bag.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again.
And every minute until finally the door opened and Mr Toulson stood dabbing his mouth with a napkin. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind waiting whilst I finished my meal.’
‘Not as long as you don’t mind my knocking on your door all night,’ Johnny said watching the smugness vanish from his expression. ‘I thought seeing the damage to the guitar might help. Pointing he said, ‘See how the body’s split from the impact?’ he said before Mr Toulson could speak.
‘Why don’t you just let me batter him?’ Tooly said from behind.
‘Let’s have no fighting,’ the mother called from somewhere.
‘Well said Mrs Toulson,’ Johnny shouted into the house.
No response.
Mr Toulson said, ‘Kenneth tells me your just some orphan kid living in a hostel.’
‘So what?’ Johnny said startled.
‘So, what’s a kid like you doing with a guitar anyway?’
‘Practicing,’ Johnny felt his temper awakening. ‘That guitar’s virtually the only thing I own. Now you can see it’s just a cheap old thing you can see it won’t cost much to replace. Do that, and I’ll leave you alone.’
‘You’re so dead at school,’ Tooly said.
‘I doubt it,’ Johnny said. ‘The teachers have seen you bullying me.’
Mr Toulson said, ‘Look, I’m not paying for the repair of that piece of crap nor its replacement. I’m closing the door and if you knock on it I’m calling the police and they won’t make me pay either.’
The door closed and Johnny headed off for the gym. Glancing back he saw two female faces in the front room window.
Wednesday 03rd July 1974
The next day Tooly got physical, shoulder barging Johnny after registration.
Johnny guessed things must be getting serious at home. Keith had told Johnny the previous night to exercise persistence. If they called the police he’d just have to think of something else.
At the front of his double maths lesson Johnny could feel hatred emanating from Tooly, Max and Marbles.
Whilst Mrs Millican chalked the blackboard Pamela, the poor soul who’d been left sitting next to Johnny, turned in her seat accepting something. She handed him a folded note with his name on it. He opened it to see the words, You’re dead.
He showed it to Pam who didn’t respond. Then, he closed his books, put them in his bag and stood.
‘Excuse me,’ Mrs Millican said when he opened the door.
He stopped, handed her the note and wordlessly left her classroom. The moment he crossed the threshold he sprinted down the corridor and into the yard. He kept running until he’d ducked into a street beyond the school’s perimeter.
Zigzagging through streets he wandered deciding what to do next. He sat on a garden wall. When he’d received the note he’d first thought to challenge Tooly right there.
Something had stopped him and he realised if he’d fought he’d have lost all chance of getting anything from the Toulsons. Suddenly Johnny knew what to do.
* * *
At the Toulson’s front door by their empty drive he took a deep breath hearing the sound of vacuuming inside. When it stopped he knocked a gentle rhythm.
The door opened and Johnny looked Mrs Toulson up and down. She had shower-wet hair and a pink dressing gown on looking more portly than he would have guessed having only seen her face in the window previously.
‘Oh my days,’ she cried. ‘Didn’t you hear what my husband said about the police?’
‘My apologies but I really don’t care whether you call the police. That guitar was all I had.’
Mrs Toulson stood routed to the spot in her slippers. ‘Why aren’t you in school?’
‘Your son threatened to kill me. I didn’t fancy hanging around for that.’
She rolled her eyes and said, ‘Right, stay there.’
She turned away.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ll be right back,’ she said slamming the door.
He sat but after time passed he rose wondering whether to knock again. He held his hand to the door but heard her approaching.
Mrs Toulson opened the door. ‘Come in. And don’t touch anything.’
Johnny followed the woman who’d dressed in blouse and denim skirt too tight for her thighs. In the hall she flicked through the Yellow Pages.
‘Mrs Toulson I really don’t mean to cause you any trouble.’
‘But you are. And I want this ended. Understand?’
‘I’m sure that’s what we all want.’
She looked in her purse. ‘I’m not giving you money just to see you back a week later wanting more.’
‘I wouldn’t—’
‘We’ll do this properly. Once and for all.’ She flicked through the Yellow Pages and dialled a number. ‘Hello, can you tell me, how much your cheapest guitar—’
‘Electric,’ Johnny cut in.
‘… Electric guitar is?’ Pause, ’You’ve nothing cheaper?’ Pause, ’Okay, I might see you soon.’
She huffed and Johnny waited whilst she repeated the phone call to different shops.
‘Come on,’ she said grabbing her purse and slipping her shoes on. He followed her to a street parked Mini.
She unlocked the passenger side first. Getting in Johnny reached across unlocking the door for her.
Tapping his knee he moved so she could search under his seat for the A-Z street map.
She started the car and drove none too slowly saying, ‘I hope you appreciate this. We’re not made of money.’
Johnny knew as much having seen the inside of their house. ‘I don’t care how it looks. Just the cheapest working electric will do. Just something to practice with.’
She glanced at him. ‘Good lad.’
After parking Mrs Toulson barged into a customer-less music shop; Johnny on her heels.
‘I phoned a few minutes ago,’ she said.
Johnny felt weak at the knees seeing rows of acoustic and electric guitars. He smelt the smell of … he didn’t know what; many guitars he guessed.
‘There’s a couple that might be of interest to you,’ the man said in an American accent.
‘Whichever’s cheapest,’ Mrs Toulson said.
Johnny starred up at a wall mounted blue Fender Stratocaster with brass fittings.
‘Oh she’s a beauty,’ the man said. ‘Maybe next time. Come and see these two.’
Johnny went to the man who invited him to sit at a stool where he handed him a sparsely styled instrument. ‘You been playing long?’
‘About three years,’ Johnny said feeling the neck and checking the intonation at the twelfth fret.
‘It shouldn’t be too bad. The action’s a little high though.’
Johnny nodded enjoying the friendly accent and strummed a clean sounding chord. The American asked, ‘Is this your first electric?’
‘Third.’
/> ‘Third?’ the American said shooting Mrs Toulson a look. Johnny played the, get the girl piece, Mr Evans had taught him and before he knew it his fingers had warmed and he played half his repertoire.
‘Your son’s technique is impressive.’ The American faced Mrs Toulson, ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw someone his age play so well.’
Mrs Toulson rolled her eyes. ‘Can we get on with it please?’
‘I appreciate money’s tight but if you could just stretch a little further—’
‘Well I can’t, he’s not my son, he’s a bloody nuisance.’
The American looked at Johnny looking back with big eyes.
‘I don’t mean to be,’ he said. ‘Her son broke my old one. I just want something to practice on.’
The American turned away.
Johnny looked at the instrument he’d been playing. He didn’t get the familiar feeling of hope he’d expected.
‘Try this one,’ the American said returning with a blue Squire Stratocaster. ‘The neck pickup needs replacing but it should feel better. If you agree you can have it…’ he faced Mrs Toulson, ‘… at no extra cost. Just remember me when you’re buying strings. The name’s Nate by the way.’
Johnny tried the guitar’s middle and bridge pickups and could have cried. It looked as good as a Fender, felt lovely in his hands and sounded, to him right then, perfect. ‘It’s better than I could have hoped.’
‘There you are young man,’ the American said. ‘If you scrape some pennies together we’ll have a look at fixing that neck pickup too.’
When they left Mrs Toulson drove Johnny to the cover. ‘I enjoyed listening to you play. It’s good to know I’ve not wasted my husband’s money.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But this is the end right? No more pestering.’
‘I’ll never let it out my sight. I’m extremely grateful to you.’
‘Then we’re even?’
Johnny opened the passenger door and lifted his Strat from the Mini’s back seat. ‘We’re even. But, Kenneth thinks I’m weak.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘Well, like you, I just want to be left alone. If he can do that great; if not, I don’t know but you should know I fight better than I play guitar.’
‘I’ll speak to him right after my husband.’
‘Good luck with that Mrs Toulson,’ Johnny said wishing her well.
He headed for the cover’s door. Mrs Toulson called, ‘Promise me you’ll get back to school after lunch.’
‘No deal. I’m playing guitar all day. I’ll go back once you’ve spoken to Kenneth.’
