Not Thomas

by Sara Gethin

  * * *

  I’m watching for Kaylee and her mammy through the window. I’ve been watching a long long time. I’m waving to the lady across the road too but she’s not waving back. She’s just moving her white curtains.

  Kaylee and her mammy are here and they’re stopping by the gate. Kaylee’s mammy is holding a big box. I’m running to the door and I’m running down the path. ‘Is it Thursday?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kaylee says. ‘Have you got your box?’

  ‘I’ll go and get it. I’ll be fast.’ I’m running back up the path. I’m going round the back and I’m opening the door. I’m looking in the kitchen. I’m looking in the cupboards. I’m looking in the front room. I’m looking behind the big black chair. I’m looking behind the settee. I’m running up the stairs and I’m creeping into Mammy’s bedroom. I’m trying not to wake her. I’m looking for my box and my red shiny paper. I’m looking under the pile of clothes. I’m looking under the bed. I’m looking and looking and looking and looking. I can’t find them anywhere. ‘Mammy,’ I say. I’m trying to be very quiet. ‘Mammy, it’s Thursday. Where’s my box and my shiny paper?’

  Mammy’s opening one eye a tiny bit. She’s looking at me through her yellow hair. ‘Uh?’

  ‘My box from Tesco. It’s Thursday. I need it.’

  Her eye is closing again. She’s making snorey noises.

  ‘Please, Mammy.’ I’m tapping her arm a bit.

  ‘Wharr?’ she says.

  ‘I need my box for school so I can be a present.’

  She’s not moving. She’s making snorey noises again.

  ‘Mammy,’ I say. ‘Mammy, I need my box today.’ I’m running to the window and I’m looking out. Kaylee and her mammy are waiting for me by the gate. I’m running back to the bed. I’m tapping her arm again. ‘Please, Mammy. Please. I need the box.’

  She’s opening her other eye and she’s moving her head a bit. ‘The wharr?’

  ‘The box. For me to be a present. In the concert that you are coming to see tomorrow.’

  She’s moving. She’s moving a bit. She’s turning over onto her tummy. Her hand has flopped onto the floor.

  ‘Mammy.’ I am tapping her shoulder. I’m tapping and tapping. ‘I need my box.’

  She’s moving her hand a little bit. She’s moving it on the floor. Her hand is trying to find something. It’s trying and trying. She’s picking up Brick’s cigarettes and she’s turning the box upside down. The cigarettes are falling out onto the floor. She’s lifting her hand. She’s holding the empty cigarette box. She’s holding it out to me.

  ‘Yerr,’ she says. ‘Take this.’

  * * *

  ‘Right, Tomos,’ Miss says. She’s smiling at me and her eyes are very kind. ‘That’s all sorted. Give your nose another good blow.’ I’m blowing my nose on the tissues Miss gave me. The tissues are very squidgy now. ‘Drop those in the bin,’ she says.

  I’m dropping them in the bin. I’m dropping them next to the cigarette box. ‘Have some clean ones.’ Miss is holding the tissue box out to me. I’m taking two. She is shaking the box. I’m taking two more.

  ‘Right.’ She’s still smiling. ‘In a minute you can go to the toilets and put lots of water on your face.’ She’s looking at Seren. ‘You’ll look after him, won’t you?’ Seren is nodding. Miss is looking at me again. ‘Seren will go with you and wait outside the toilets. And then…’ Miss is getting some things out of the cupboard. She’s giving us a black bag each. ‘It’s our class’s turn for litter picking, so you and Seren can do that for me this morning. It’ll give you a chance to get some cold air on your face, Tomos.’

  ‘Can we use the pinchy things?’ I say. My voice is all bumpy. I’m wiping my nose again on the tissues Miss gave me. ‘I like the pinchy things.’

  ‘Yes.’ Miss is getting them down from on top of the cupboard. ‘Don’t use your fingers, just these.’ She’s showing us how to make them pinch. She’s giving them to Seren. ‘Right, off you go, both of you.’

  We are going down the corridor. I’m going into the toilets and Seren is waiting for me outside the door. She’s holding my black bag and my pinchy thing. She’s singing a song about cherry Chapstick.

  I have filled up the sink where we wash our hands. I’ve filled it with cold water. I’m splashing the water on my face. It feels nice on my eyes. I’m thinking of Nanno. She showed me how to wash my face. Nanno would say, ‘Have a good swill.’ And I would splash and splash my face.

  Seren is still singing. I can hear her outside the door. I can hear her shoes squeaking and squeaking on the floor. She’s singing about kissing a girl. She’s singing ‘And I liked it.’ I’m wiping my face on the tissues Miss gave me. They’re turning into lots of tiny bits and they’re falling all over the floor.

  Seren has stopped singing. ‘Are you ready?’ She’s saying it from outside the door.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. I’m trying to pick up the little bits of tissue. There are lots and lots of them and they’re hard to pick up. I’m putting them in the bin. I’m running out of the toilet. Seren is giving me my black bag. ‘Can I have my pinchy thing?’

  ‘When we get outside,’ she says.

  We’re going along the corridor and past lots of classrooms. We’re going through the doors to the playground. ‘Here.’ Seren’s giving me the pinchy thing. I’m making it pinch pinch pinch pinch. ‘You stay up here,’ she says. ‘I’m going down to the bottom of the playground.’ She’s running off.

  I’m looking for something to get with my pinchy thing. I’m looking and looking. I’m going over to the drains. There are lots of bits round the drains. I’ve found a brown leaf but it’s quite hard to pick up. It keeps jumping away when I pinch it. I’m pinching and pinching and the leaf is jumping and jumping. There are some more things in the drain. I’m trying to pinch them. It’s quite hard. It’s taking me a long time to pinch them with the pinchy thing.

  ‘Tomos, isn’t it?’ a big voice says.

  I’m turning round fast. Sir is standing behind me. ‘Yes, Sir,’ I say.

  ‘Tomos Morris with the wonderful voice. You’re doing a good job there. What have you got?’

  I’m opening my big black bag. We are looking in. We’re looking at the brown leaf and the sweet paper. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Well done.’ I’m smiling up at him. He’s smiling down at me then he’s squashing his eyebrows together. ‘Has something upset you, Tomos?’

  I’m taking a big breath. It sounds all jumpy. ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ I say. ‘I didn’t have a box.’

  ‘You didn’t have a box?’

  ‘I did have a box, but it was too small.’

  ‘Too small? What was it too small for?’

  ‘For me to fit in,’ I say. ‘It was a cigarette box.’

  ‘I see,’ he says.

  ‘And I didn’t have shiny paper.’ Sir is looking at me through his big glasses. ‘Mammy said she was getting them from Tesco,’ I say. ‘But she forgot.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sir’s big glasses are slipping down his nose.

  ‘But Miss had a spare box and spare shiny paper. She has green shiny paper,’ I say. ‘Green is almost as good as red.’

  ‘It is,’ Sir says.

  Seren is running up the playground. She’s carrying her black bag and it’s quite bulgy. Sir says, ‘You’ve got a lot there, Seren.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Griffiths.’ Seren’s looking at my bag. My bag that has a leaf in it and a sweet paper. Seren’s opening her bag and we’re all looking into it. It’s full of crisp packets and cola bottles.

  ‘Well done, Seren.’ Sir’s taking her black bag. He’s taking mine too. Now he’s taking our pinchy things. ‘Come to the office, you two,’ he says. ‘I’ve got another important job for you.’

  * * *

  We have got another very important job. We must go to all the classes and show the teachers a piece of paper with Sir’s writing on it. They must read the paper and put their nam
e on it. Seren is holding the paper and I’m holding the pen. It’s Sir’s special pen. I must take it back to him when we’ve finished our job.

  We must start with Year Six. We’re going into their classroom slowly because it’s very scary. Seren is going first. She’s holding out the paper. The children are very big in Year Six. They have big chairs and big tables and a big Christmas tree. It’s silver and red and sparkly like the one in our class. It’s quite noisy in the classroom. The children have got shiny paper on their tables. And scissors and glue sticks and pots of glitter. Mrs Gregory is their teacher. She has red lips and bouncy hair.

  ‘Mr Griffiths wants you to read this,’ Seren says. She’s giving the paper to Mrs Gregory.

  Mrs Gregory’s reading it. ‘Yet another meeting about the Christmas concert. Well, there goes my break time.’ She’s trying to give the paper back to Seren.

  Seren is keeping her hands behind her back. She’s knocking me with her shoulder. ‘Pen,’ she says. She’s saying it with the side of her mouth. I’m holding out Sir’s pen to Mrs Gregory. ‘You have to write your name,’ Seren says.

  Mrs Gregory is taking the pen. She’s smiling at Seren and me. ‘Mr Griffiths has found two excellent helpers.’ She’s writing on the paper and she’s smiling at me with her red lips. ‘You’re the boy with the lovely voice, aren’t you?’ I’m looking at her. I don’t know what to say. ‘You’re the one singing the solo in the concert,’ she says. I’m nodding. It’s gone very quiet in the class now. Everyone’s looking at us. They’ve stopped making their glittery things. ‘Well, you sing it beautifully,’ Mrs Gregory says. ‘I think we’ve found quite a little star.’ She’s giving the paper back to Seren.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Gregory,’ Seren says.

  Mrs Gregory’s giving the pen back to me and I’m taking it. Seren is knocking me again. She’s whispering the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’.

  ‘Oh! Thank you,’ I say to Mrs Gregory.

  We are going out of Year Six. We’re going into Year Five. It’s quite scary in Year Five. The children are still very big. I’m holding the pen tight tight.

  * * *

  We have been to Year Six and Year Five and Year Four and Year Three. We are standing outside Mrs Pugh Year Two’s class. We are waiting for her to tell us to come in. She’s waving her hand at us and we’re starting to go into her classroom. She’s sitting at her big desk. There’s a Christmas tree on it in a blue pot. It’s a very small tree. It’s not sparkly like Mrs Gregory’s tree. It’s very quiet in Mrs Pugh Year Two’s class. The children are all doing their work. They’re all writing. I can see the back of Wes’s head. He’s sitting by the big cupboard. In the corner.

  I’m going into the classroom with Seren.

  ‘Stop there, Tomos Morris,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. She’s holding out her hand like a policeman stopping cars. She’s getting a little bottle out of her bag. She’s spraying it on her clothes. She’s spraying it into the classroom now. It smells like pink. It smells like Nanno’s bathroom. ‘What are you two bothering me with?’

  ‘Mr Griffiths sent us,’ Seren says. She’s giving the paper to Mrs Pugh Year Two. I’m trying to give her the pen. I’m trying and trying. But I’m too far away because I had to stop by the door. I’m stretching out my arm. I’m standing on my toes. I’m holding the pen out as far as I can. I am stretching and stretching. But I’m a long way away from Mrs Pugh Year Two. My arm isn’t long enough to give her the pen.

  ‘So Mr Griffiths wants us all in the staffroom at break time,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. ‘To talk about the rehearsal.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Pugh,’ Seren says.

  ‘I’ll have to write down that I’m on playground duty.’

  Seren is taking the pen from me. She’s giving it to Mrs Pugh Year Two.

  ‘Did you remember a box today, Tomos Morris?’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. She’s writing a long letter on the paper. She’s looking at me now. She’s stretching her neck so she can see round Seren. She’s tapping Sir’s pen on her desk. I’m looking at my shoes. There’s a lot of black fluff stuck to my Velcro.

  Seren says, ‘I remembered a box, Mrs Pugh.’ She’s taking back the piece of paper.

  ‘I know you will have remembered,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. ‘We can depend on you. But what about Tomos Morris?’ She’s shaking Sir’s pen at me. She’s tapping it on her desk again. She’s scratching her head with it. She’s putting it in her pencil pot.

  Seren says, ‘Tomos has got a box, haven’t you, Tomos?’ She’s saying it in a loud voice. Wes has turned round and he’s looking at me.

  I’m nodding. ‘I have.’ I’m saying it to Mrs Pugh Year Two. My voice is still a bit bumpy and my nose is still a bit runny. ‘I have got a box.’

  Wes is jumping up. He’s pointing to me. ‘Look at his eyes!’ He’s laughing. All the children are looking at me. ‘He’s been crying,’ Wes says. He’s very loud. Now he’s singing ‘You’ve been crying. You’ve been crying.’

  ‘Wesley Weston-Rees! How dare you shout out in my classroom. Sit down at once.’

  Wes is sitting down again. He’s making faces at me. Seren is pulling my arm. She’s pulling me towards the door.

  ‘The pen.’ I’m saying it to Seren. I’m saying it quietly because I don’t want Mrs Pugh Year Two to hear me.

  ‘What?’ Seren says.

  ‘She kept Sir’s pen. It’s in her pencil pot.’

  Seren is looking at Mrs Pugh Year Two’s desk. She’s walking back to it like a soldier. Mrs Pugh Year Two is looking up. Her mouth is making a little circle. Seren is putting her hand over the pencil pot and she’s taking the pen out. She’s taking it very fast. ‘This is Mr Griffiths’ pen,’ she says. She’s saying it to Mrs Pugh Year Two. Seren is turning round. She’s walking back to me. She’s walking very fast. She’s holding out the pen. She says, ‘Here you are, Tomos.’ I’m taking the pen and I’m holding it tight. Seren is opening the door and she’s going out. She’s got the paper ready for Miss in our class.

  I’m looking at Mrs Pugh Year Two. She’s sitting at her desk. Her mouth is still like a circle and her eyebrows are up high. They’re like two furry brown caterpillars on top of her glasses. I’m walking through the door. I’m walking backwards. I am bending my head and my shoulders. I’m bending them like a king. I am like a king in front of baby Jesus. And I’m walking backwards through the door.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Pugh Year Two,’ I say. I am bending and bending like a king. ‘Thank you, thank you. Goodbye.’ And I’m closing the door tight.

  * * *

  It’s a very important day today because it’s the day of the Christmas concert and it’s the day I am being a present and singing the solo and I’m waiting for Kaylee and her mammy. I’m waiting for them to stop by our gate. I’ve been waiting a very long time and I’ve been waving to the lady across the road too. I’ve been waving and waving but she isn’t waving back.

  There’s a van going past our gate. It’s going very slowly. It’s a big red van and a man is looking out of it. It’s stopping near next door’s gate and the man is getting out. I’m watching him. The lady across the road is watching him too. He’s looking at me through the window and he’s waving to me. I’m bending down fast fast. And I’m peeping through the bottom of the window. The man is coming up our path. Now he’s knocking on our door.

  I’m running to the door and I’m hiding behind it. His knocking is very loud. I don’t want him to wake up Mammy. The letter box is opening. I can see his mouth through it. There’s a lot of white hair round his mouth.

  ‘Hello,’ his mouth says through the letter box. ‘Is this Rhiannon Morris’s house?’ His mouth and the hair have gone. I can see his eyes instead. They are quite smiley eyes. They’re looking through the letter box at my eyes. ‘Hello there,’ his eyes say. ‘Is your mummy in?’

  I’m not allowed to say Mammy’s in bed. She told me a long time ago. I have to say Mammy’s somewhere else. ‘She’s in the bath,’ I say. ‘She can’t come to the
door.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ his eyes say. ‘I’ve got some things for her.’ His eyes are opening and shutting a lot but they’re still smiley. ‘Is her name Rhiannon? Rhiannon Morris?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Rhiannon Morris. She’s in the bath.’

  ‘Oh well then,’ his eyes say. ‘I’ll leave them with you. Can you open the door?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to open the door,’ I say. ‘When she’s in the bath.’

  ‘I haven’t got time to come back later.’ I can see all his face through the letter box hole now. I like his face. It’s nice like Dat’s. It has a white beard and a red nose but Dat doesn’t have a white beard and he doesn’t have a red nose. ‘Tell you what.’ His eyes have come back again. ‘I’ll put them round by the back door for her.’

  The letter box has closed. I’m running to the window. He’s going down the path to his red van. He’s opening the big door in his van and he’s getting some things out. He’s coming back up the path again and he’s wearing a red hat now. It has fluffy white stuff on it. He’s carrying a big box with gold paper all round it. There’s something on top of the box. It’s a white bag. It has pictures of Father Christmas on it and it has writing on it too.

  He’s going round the back of our house. I’m running out of the front room into the kitchen and I’m looking through the glass door. He’s putting the box down outside. The bag is still on top of it and I can see the writing on the bag now. I can read the words too. They say ‘Santa Sack’.

  ‘Is it Christmas?’

  ‘What’s that?’ He’s putting his head near the glass in the door.

  ‘Is it Christmas?’

  ‘Soon. Enjoy the presents.’ He’s waving to me through the glass. He’s smiling too. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ he says. His white beard is moving up and down. ‘Merry Christmas one and all!’ He’s still smiling at me. He’s waving now. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ His round tummy is jumping up and down under his jumper. I’m watching him turn round. I’m watching the fluffy white bit of his hat swing swinging. He’s going round the corner.