Six Stories

by Matt Wesolowski

  —He told us all about it at, I think, the second or third Rangers meeting – round the back of the church hall.

  —I know that Tom’s mum sent him to Rangers to try and steer him away from some of the problems he was having.

  —Well, maybe so, but he didn’t seem in any way repentant. It was pretty chilling, some of the things he told us. Him and those two older lads [names bleeped out – they have served their punishment and are not relevant to our story], there was a lot more going on than throwing coins.

  —What do you mean?

  —Tom was into fire. Him and those lads started out burning stuff on the streets, chucking fireworks into people’s gardens, that sort of thing. Tom told us about a time they threw a lit banger through the window of a Chinese takeaway. Then it progressed. They started setting off bangers near sleeping homeless people and running away, just to give them a scare. Then it went on to trying to set their sleeping bags alight. He wasn’t sorry or ashamed about this; if anything, he thought it was hilarious, he used to laugh himself stupid telling us about it.

  I think I understand why it’s taken this long to find this out about Tom Jeffries. This unpleasant little vignette is not something that would be widely known – if no charges were brought, there would be no official record; and who would tell? Certainly not Tom’s mother. Tom, it seemed, was careful about who he bragged to.

  Anyu and I discuss at length what it was about Tom that Charlie seemed to like so much. Anyu has drawn similar conclusions to me and is the third to remark that Jeffries had a manipulative streak about him, was able to exploit weakness. If anything, Anyu says, it was Charlie that looked up to Tom. All of this also explains, to an extent, why Eva was in no way forthcoming with any of this information. She doubtless knew all this, and slept with Tom despite it. She was young, drunk, stoned and we know she regretted it. The shame of sleeping with someone who had bragged about doing these sorts of things must have been immense. It clearly still is.

  As for Charlie, why he didn’t mention it to me, I’m not sure. It’s certainly possible he forgot, and it’s also possible there was shame surrounding his close association with Tom Jeffries. Yet, it still begs the question: Why did these four teenagers tolerate Tom’s presence? I put this to Anyu.

  —I think that was the whole problem. Just how tolerant we were. I think Tom knew fine well we weren’t the sort of people to turn around and tell him to get lost, even though we probably should have. And Charlie – if anyone would have done, it would have been him. Looking back, I think Tom saw that immediately, and honed his charm offensive – fought hard to get on Charlie’s good side.

  Tom took advantage of us, so even when he told those stories, even when he told us about what he’d done, we – and this includes me, I’m not innocent – we all sort of just got on with it. None of us knew what to do about it. But that’s how we were raised: to accept people, to forgive.

  —It sounds to me that this is something you’ve been wanting to say for a while.

  —It’s been nearly twenty years. I still remember everything in the press about what a good kid Tom was, all this sentiment because he was dead. It left no place for any of these kinds of thoughts, did it? I couldn’t exactly turn round and sell my story to the papers. I couldn’t say, ‘Actually, Tom Jeffries was a repulsive little bully and we hated him,’ could I? We all know what would have happened then.

  —You would suddenly become a prime suspect.

  —Correct.

  —So … why now; why do you think you can say these things to me?

  —This is a podcast. I know you get hundreds of thousands of listeners, that you’re popular, but still – and I don’t mean any offence – it’s hardly worldwide press attention.

  —No, it isn’t. Not yet.

  —I feel like the time is right, that I want to say to people, ‘Look what he was like.’ I mean the way he picked on Brian for a start.

  —That’s been mentioned by the others, but without a great deal of significance. It seems to me that it was gentle ribbing on Tom’s part to help him establish himself in the pecking order. Would you agree?

  —No. Not at all. You see, the thing is, unless you’ve been on the other end of bullying, you don’t really know how much these smaller things can affect you. People’s perception of bullying is still so archaic or clichéd: the ‘give us your dinner money’ schoolyard stuff, or else the ‘OMG you’re so ugly’ stuff online. Tom bullied Brian in a professional way.

  —‘Professional’. I’ve never heard it called that before.

  —No. But when I was younger I was professionally bullied, too. It’s the little things – the name-calling, the comments, the giggles when your back’s turned. That’s how the professionals do it. Like water-torture, or death by a thousand cuts. ‘Professional’ bullies crush your soul a sliver at a time.

  —That sounds … intense.

  —It is and already I feel like you think I’m exaggerating. I’m not. When I was younger, at school in England, I was made so aware of how different I was – not by anyone explicitly, but just hearing little comments, sniggers, the subtle way that children have of showing up difference. I heard it all.

  —And Tom Jeffries was this way to Brian Mings? It seems somewhat at odds with his personality. Surely he just would have come out with it.

  —That was the thing. Tom Jeffries knew that if he was too obvious, we would have turned on him. So he played the long game. Like I said, Tom Jeffries was a seasoned pro.

  —Tell me a bit about Brian. By all accounts, he’s not really played a huge part in this story.

  —No, that doesn’t surprise me. Brian wasn’t exactly memorable.

  —Harsh!

  —Maybe. But at least I’m being honest. Look, I know Brian liked me; he always did. I knew from when he first joined. He looked at me that way.

  —And what did you think?

  —If I’m totally honest, at first, I was surprised; that was the overriding feeling. I suppose I’d been led to believe that my difference, my foreignness, wasn’t endearing. Rangers helped with that; Brian helped with that. In his small way, his idolising of me, well, it made me.

  —Really?

  —Yes. But only after I realised what his affection had meant. How harsh is that? At the time I simply didn’t fancy him back; that was the problem. He sent me a card on Valentine’s Day; he must have got my address off Derek or something. This home-made card came through the post – all black paper and silver marker; it was lovely.

  —The others knew?

  —Not about the card. No way. I didn’t say anything. They would have just teased him. Everyone knew how he felt about me, but no one minded. That was the nice thing about that group. Brian was never pushy; he never tried to corner me, to force me. He was just persistent, dogged. I could let him off for that; I cut him a lot of slack.

  —Did you two never talk about it?

  —No. I mean, I made it my business not ever to be alone with him – not in a creepy way, but just so the situation wouldn’t arise, so that conversation would never happen. Brian wasn’t predatory like Tom. He was just a bit sad.

  —But it was Charlie who you liked?

  —Yes. Poor Brian. I don’t think he even knew; or if he did, he didn’t say anything. It was that teenage thing of wanting the person who wasn’t interested. It’s funny, because I saw a lot of me in Brian, if you know what I mean – in his pursuit of me.

  —Did you ever send Charlie a card or anything?

  —No. I wasn’t nearly brave enough. Some of those times when he’d go off, I just wanted to follow him, to hold him. In fact, I kind of respected Brian for having the guts to try all that with me. Fair play to him.

  —But you and Charlie never…

  —No. Never.

  I contemplate giving Anyu Charlie’s contact details, but think better of it. If they want to find each other again some day, they will. I refocus our conversation back on Brian Mings.

  —He was bullied?
Brian, that is.

  —Yes – definitely by Tom and, I suppose to a lesser extent, Charlie.

  —Really?

  —I wish I could say no; I wish I could say it didn’t happen. Maybe it was the thing that stopped me ever really attempting to get with Charlie, I don’t know. But, yes, before Tom arrived on the scene, Charlie wasn’t exactly what you’d call pleasant to Brian.

  —Why do you think that was?

  —I think it was because Brian was just so desperate for our friendship. Kids are awful like that, aren’t they? The more desperate someone is to be your friend, the more you push them away. I have no idea why the hell that is, but that’s just how it was. Brian was having a rough time at school; I think there was bullying there, too. He never said, but with someone like Brian, you just sort of know.

  —So what was it, do you think, that induced the same bullying in such a tolerant and accepting group like yours?

  — I think it’s some sort of universal thing. It’s hard to explain, but Brian managed to just wind people up. He didn’t have any personality of his own. He borrowed everything – mostly from Charlie: his dress sense; his mannerisms; everything. It used to drive Charlie insane. I wished someone could have just told Brian that it was OK to just be himself; that people would have respected him then.

  —But no one did?

  —Again, when you’re that age, you can’t see things in that mature, analytical way; things are really black and white, even for a group like us, who would proclaim to be more tolerant and accepting.

  —So what were some of the things Brian had to endure at Rangers?

  —I remember Charlie used to call him a ‘Thing’.

  —A what?

  —Do you remember that old film The Thing? Of course you do, you’re about my age. It was one of Charlie’s favourites. The monster in it, the alien could take the shape of anything it liked. Charlie once said that Brian was a ‘Thing’ that took his shape. Brian was his ‘Thing’ and I was Eva’s. I’ll never forget him saying that – it hurt me more than anything anyone’s ever said.

  —When was this?

  —Oh, this was early days. A long way back, when Brian and I first joined. I nearly didn’t go back after that.

  —But that’s all it was? Charlie just doing a bit of name-calling?

  —But what an apt name. I’m sure Charlie didn’t think of it so deeply, but how appropriate – an alien that must hate its own form so much, it just mimics anything else. That was Brian all over; and me, to some extent.

  —But you weren’t bullied at Rangers.

  —No. After that something inside me hardened. I thought, I’m not going to take that sort of crap, and I didn’t. Brian, on the other hand…

  —He just took it.

  —It got worse when Tom joined. Brian didn’t help himself, either.

  —There was an incident with a coat…

  —Oh god, I’d forgotten about that. Yes, it’s all coming back. I think Brian had got so fed up with Charlie calling him ‘Thing’ that he’d finally attempted his own style. He came to a Rangers meeting in this sort of bondage coat, with all these straps that hung down off the arms and fastened across the back with these metal clips. God only knows where he got it from; it looked ridiculous.

  So Charlie and Tom, they were all over him straight away; a pack of wolves. They started pulling all the straps off the coat, tying them around his wrists and ankles. They took his boots off and threw them out of a window as well, and it angered me so much.

  —Because it wasn’t like them to act like that?

  —No, not just that, but because Brian just stood there. He just stood and let them do it. He just allowed himself to be humiliated. It was horrible, really horrible. I think Eva tried to have a word with him afterwards, but it made no difference because of course, Tom turned up. So there was no apology after that; there was just Brian sat there like an idiot with his hands tied up and his socks on – Tasmanian Devil socks; you know that old cartoon? My heart sort of crumpled because he just looked so pathetic, like a little kid.

  This unpleasant story is the same as Eva’s. It certainly doesn’t seem like the sort of thing young people in a group like Rangers would do. But is it fair to say that it is all because of Tom Jeffries’ influence? Brian Mings came under a lot of fire from both Charlie and Tom, Anyu explains. She remembers watching Brian’s self-esteem crumble from ashes to nothing, and wonders why no one did anything about it.

  It’s important, Anyu tells me, to know that this bullying didn’t happen all the time; it wasn’t a constant barrage of abuse. Most of the time, Tom and Charlie simply ignored Brian. But it hadn’t always been this way.

  —No, Charlie and Brian were actually sort-of friends before Tom came along.

  —‘Sort-of ’ friends?

  —I don’t know – maybe that’s pushing it. Charlie just sort of tolerated Brian. When Tom came on the scene, though, it all went out the window.

  Anyu says she saw how all this was affecting Brian. He was getting more and more desperate to please Charlie and Tom, more and more desperate for them to accept him.

  In the weeks leading up to Tom’s disappearance, Tom and Charlie were spending more and more time off on their own. Again, like Eva, this irked Anyu.

  —I’m not sure it was solely because of Brian. As I said, Brian was never that forward, he was just persistent. He never gave up. I think the reason for it was Tom; I think he wanted Charlie all to himself. They just smoked weed and listened to music in that mineshaft, the place Haris showed them.

  —I think now’s a good time to talk about Haris Novak.

  —Yes, ok. Well, that was yet another thing that Tom spoiled.

  —So the first time you met Haris…

  — That was back in ’95, when he showed us the place. I’ll tell you now, and I’m not proud – I was a little scared of Haris.

  —Really?

  —I know; it’s not politically correct, is it? But he was just so strange; so alien to what any of us knew. I know now, obviously, that he was on the autism spectrum, that he had a learning difficulty, but still. It was the way he talked – just like a sort of malfunctioning robot. I know, it sounds horrible, but that’s what it reminded me of back then. I was scared of him.

  —Tom wasn’t…

  —That’s right. Tom was just awful to him; really bad. It was pure Tom Jeffries that; he saw a weakness and pounced, to establish his own dominance. But it was Brian who surprised me the most. That was one of the reasons I stopped having anything to do with him after what happened to Tom.

  —Brian?

  —Yes. We had a trip to Scarclaw in winter – ’95 or ’96.

  —The snowballs incident.

  —Right. Of course, you know about that.

  —What I’ve heard is that Tom gave Haris some cannabis, convinced him to eat it, then Charlie told that Nanna Wrack story, which scared him half to death, before Tom started pelting him with snowballs. Is that right?

  —Some of it. Some of it isn’t.

  This is interesting. Anyu and Eska moved back to Labrador not long after the ruling about Tom Jeffries’ accidental death had been confirmed. As far as I am aware, neither of them stayed in touch with their former friends. Perhaps that was due to the remoteness of where they had moved. Or perhaps it was because of something else entirely…

  —So what did happen, Anyu? Start on the minibus on the way. Tom and Charlie got picked up together, didn’t they?

  —They did. I remember being fed up because Tom just sort of took over. He was sitting next to Eva before they picked me up, so I had to sit at the back with Brian. I was trying to read a magazine – Vox, that old indie one – and he kept peering at it over my shoulder and trying to talk to me.

  I was more annoyed with Eva, though; you could see then what Tom was doing – buttering her up. I remember thinking, ‘Is that all it takes?’ – some stupid bloke to come along and give you a bit of attention, and that’s it?

  —Do
you think Eva was attracted to Tom?

  —I don’t think she was as such, but I think she allowed him to do what he was doing, if you know what I mean? She didn’t put up much resistance.

  —She slept with Tom that night.

  —Yes. She did. It was unpleasant to say the least, but we were all in a state. Tom had made those ‘lung’ things to smoke weed with. Brian kept asking me if he could give me a ‘blowback’, just like Tom was doing with Eva. I think he thought it was as close to kissing as we’d get.

  —There were other kids on that trip, weren’t there? Younger ones. Did that not bother any of you?

  —Well, it worked in our favour. Derek and Sally and the other adults, they were preoccupied with hot chocolate and washing-up, that sort of thing. It left us with plenty of cover. We also had Brian’s rucksack.

  —Go on…

  —Brian had this great long rucksack, like some sort of hiking bag. He brought it the first time we went to Scarclaw and Charlie had ribbed him so much, we’d not seen it again. But because it was waxy and waterproof, Tom and Charlie had convinced Brian to bring it this time.

  —What for?

  —It was to keep stuff in: like the booze and Tom’s ‘lungs’. Brian used to stash it under the centre. Because it was so heavy-duty, it could withstand the damp and the cold. If Derek or Sally had searched us, they would never have found it. Brian was so overjoyed at finally being some sort of use. Also, Tom was skinnier than the rest of us and he could sort of fold himself up and get inside it. That seemed to crack Brian up. He was so desperate. Eventually, one of them – probably Tom – gave that bag to Haris.

  —And the next day? The snowballs incident.

  —Oh, I was so pissed off with Eva after that night; so angry. I could barely even look at her. We got to the churchyard in Belkeld and Brian, he was so overjoyed because Tom and Charlie were sort of treating him as an equal. They made him carry all their stuff in that great big bag, but he didn’t care. He was bouncing about like an excited dog!