The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories

by George Layton

  Miss Taylor had shared my jelly out in bowls and Jennifer Greenwood said it looked horrible and she wasn’t going to have any. So did Freda Holdsworth. But Norbert was already on his jelly and said it was lovely and he’d eat anybody else’s. Tony started his jelly and spat it out.

  ‘Ugh, it’s horrible.’

  I tasted mine, and it was horrible, but I forced it down.

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  Just then Tony said he could see my mum.

  ‘Isn’t that your mum over there?’

  He pointed to the door. She was talking to Miss Taylor and they both came over.

  ‘Your mother says you forgot your jelly this morning, here it is.’

  Miss Taylor put a lovely red jelly on the table. It had bananas and cream on it, and bits of orange. My mum asked me where I’d got my jelly from. I told her I’d made it. I thought she’d be cross, but she and Miss Taylor just laughed and told us to enjoy ourselves, and then my mum went off. Everybody put their hands up for a portion of my mum’s jelly – except Norbert.

  ‘I don’t want any of that. This is lovely. What flavour is it?’

  I told him it was a new flavour and I’d never heard of it before.

  ‘Well, what’s it called?’

  ‘Aspic.’

  ‘Y’what?’

  ‘Aspic jelly – it’s a new flavour!’

  Norbert ate the whole thing and was sick afterwards, and everybody else had some of my mum’s. It was a right good party.

  THE LONG WALK

  I loved it when my grandad took me out – just me and him. I never knew when I was going out with him. It just happened every so often. My mum’d say to me, ‘C’mon, get ready. Your grandad’s coming to take you out. Get your clogs on.’ That was the one thing that spoilt it – my clogs. Whenever my grandad took me out, I had to wear a pair of clogs that he’d given to me. Well, he’d made them you see, that was his job before he retired, clog-maker. I didn’t half make a noise when I was wearing them an’ all. Blimey, you could hear me a mile away. I hated those clogs.

  ‘Aw, Mum, do I have to put my clogs on?’

  ‘Now don’t ask silly questions. Go and get ready.’

  ‘Aw, please ask Grandad if I can go without my clogs.’

  ‘Do you want to go or don’t you?’

  My mum knew that I wanted to go.

  ‘Course I want to go.’

  ‘Then go and put your clogs on.’

  ‘Oh, heck.’

  Honest, I’d never ever seen anybody else wearing clogs. I wondered where my grandad would take me today. Last time I’d gone to the zoo with him. It was great. I was just about ready when I heard him knock at the front door. I knew it was my grandad, because he always had his own special knock. Everybody else used the bell. I could hear him downstairs, he was wearing clogs himself.

  ‘I’m nearly ready, Grandad.’

  I put on my windcheater that I’d been given last Christmas. It was maroon-coloured. My friend Tony had got one as well only his was green, but I liked mine best. Then I went downstairs.

  ‘Hello, Grandad.’

  My mum told me to give him a kiss.

  ‘He’s getting too big to give his old grandad a kiss, aren’t you, son?’

  He always called me son.

  ‘No, course not, Grandad.’

  He bent down so I could kiss him on his cheek. He was all bristly and it made me laugh.

  ‘Ooh, Grandad, you haven’t shaved today, have you?’

  He was laughing as well. We were both laughing, we didn’t really know why, and my mum started laughing. There we were, all three of us laughing at nothing at all.

  ‘No, son, I haven’t shaved. But it doesn’t matter today. It’ll bother nobody else today. There’s just the two of us.’

  ‘Where are we going, Grandad? Where are you taking us?’

  He looked at me. His eyes were watering a bit and he wiped them with a dark blue hanky he always had in his top pocket.

  ‘We’re going on a walk, a special walk.’

  He was almost whispering, as if he didn’t want my mum to hear, bending down with his whiskery face next to mine.

  ‘Where are we going, Grandad? Where are we going? Is it a secret?’

  ‘You’ll see, son, when we get there.’

  He looked a bit sad for a minute, but then he smiled and put on his flat cap.

  ‘C’mon, son, let’s get going.’

  My mum gave us each a pack of sandwiches, and off we went. We must have looked a funny sight walking down the road together, me and my grandad. Him dressed in his flat cap and thick overcoat and clogs. Me in my maroon windcheater and short grey trousers and clogs. But I was so happy. I didn’t know where we were going and neither did anybody else. Only Grandad knew, and only I was going to find out.

  ‘Are we walking all the way, Grandad?’ He took such big strides that I was half walking and half running.

  ‘No, son, we’ll get a trackless first to get out a bit.’

  By ‘trackless’ he meant a bus, and I’d heard him say it so often that I never wondered why he said trackless.

  ‘I’ll show you where I used to go when I was a lad.’

  We didn’t have to wait long before a bus came, and we went upstairs and sat right at the front. Grandad was out of breath when we sat down.

  ‘Are you all right, Grandad?’

  ‘Oh, aye, son. You get a better view up here.’

  ‘Yes, Grandad, you do.’

  Soon we were going through the ‘posh part’ where the snobs lived. This was on the other side of the park.

  ‘At one time there were no roof on’t top deck. That were before the trackless. Completely open it was – daft really.’

  The conductor came round for our fares.

  ‘One and t’lad to the basin.’

  I’d never heard of the basin before. I asked my grandad what it was.

  ‘What’s the basin, Grandad?’

  ‘That’s where we start our walk.’

  ‘What basin is it? Why is it called “basin”?’

  ‘The canal basin, it’s where the canal starts. You’ll see.’

  By now we were going through a brand new shopping centre.

  ‘Hey, look, Grandad, that’s where that new bowling alley is. My friends Tony and Barry have been. They say it’s smashing.’

  Grandad looked out of the window.

  ‘That’s where I used to play cricket a long time ago.’

  ‘Where the bowling alley is?’

  ‘That’s right, son, when they were fields. It’s all changed now. Mind, where we’re going for our walk, it’s not changed there. No, it’s just the same there.’

  We heard the conductor shout ‘basin’.

  ‘C’mon, son, our stop, be careful now.’

  While we were going down the stairs, I held tight on to my grandad. Not because I thought I might fall, but I was scared for him. He looked as though he was going to go straight from the top to the bottom.

  ‘Are you all right, Grandad? Don’t fall.’

  He just told me not to be frightened and to hold on tight.

  ‘That’s right. You hold on to me, son, you’ll be all right, don’t be frightened.’

  We both got off the bus, and I watched it drive away. I didn’t know where we were, but it was very quiet.

  ‘It’s nice here, isn’t it, Grandad?’

  ‘This is where my dad was born, your great-grandad.’

  It was a lovely place. There weren’t many shops and there didn’t seem to be many people either. By the bus stop was a big stone thing full of water.

  ‘Hey, Grandad, is that where the horses used to drink?’

  ‘That’s right, son. I used to hold my grandad’s horse there while it was drinking.’

  I couldn’t see anything like a basin.

  I wondered where it was.

  ‘Where’s the basin, Grandad?’

  ‘We’ve got to walk there. C’mon.’

  We we
nt away from the main street, into a side street, past all these little houses. I don’t think any cars ever went down this street because there was washing strung out right across the road all the way down the street. Outside some of the houses were ladies washing down the front step and scraping that yellow stone on the edges. A lot of the houses had curtains over the front door, so that you could leave the door open and the wind didn’t blow in. Mind you, it wasn’t cold even though it was October. It was nice. The sun was shining, not hot, but just nice. When we got further down the street, I saw that it was a cul-de-sac.

  ‘Hey, Grandad, it’s a dead-end. We must’ve come the wrong way.’

  Grandad just smiled.

  ‘Do you think I’m that old, that I can’t remember the way? Here, look.’

  He took my hand and showed me the way. Just before the last house in the road was a tiny snicket. It was so narrow that we had to go through behind each other. I wouldn’t even have noticed this snicket if my Grandad hadn’t shown it to me.

  ‘Go on, son, through there.’

  It was very dark and all you could see was a little speck of light at the other end, so you can tell how long it was.

  ‘You go first, Grandad.’

  ‘No, after you, son.’

  I didn’t want to go first.

  ‘No, you’d better go first, Grandad. You know the way, don’t you?’

  He laughed and put his hand in his pocket and brought out a few boiled sweets.

  ‘Here you are. These are for the journey. Off we go for the last time.’

  I was just going to ask him what he meant, but he carried on talking. ‘I mean it’ll soon be winter, won’t it? Come on.’

  And off we went through the dark passage. Grandad told me that when he was a kid they used to call it the Black Hole of Calcutta. Soon we reached the other end and it was quite strange because it was like going through a door into the country. We ended up at the top of some steps, high up above the canal basin, and you could see for miles. I could only see one barge though, in the basin. We went down the steps. There were a hundred and fifteen steps – I counted them. Grandad was going down slowly so I was at the bottom before him.

  ‘Grandad, there are a hundred and fifteen steps there. C’mon, let’s look at that barge.’

  I ran over to have a look at it and Grandad followed me.

  ‘It’s like a house isn’t it, Grandad?’

  ‘It is a house. Someone lives there. C’mon, let’s sit here and have our sandwiches.’

  And we did.

  The sun was very big and round, though it wasn’t very hot, and the leaves on the trees were golden, and the reflection in the water made the canal look golden. There was nobody else about, and all the noises that you never notice usually suddenly sounded special, different. Like the siren that let the workers know it was dinner time. I’ve heard sirens lots of times since then but they never sound so sweet. The same with the train. It must have been miles away because I couldn’t see any steam or anything, and you had to listen quite hard, but behind the hum of the country and town sounds mixed together you could hear this knockety-knock.

  When we’d finished our sandwiches we walked along the canal. Grandad showed me how to open the lock-gates, and we were both puffed out afterwards because it was hard work. After a while we walked away from the canal, up a country lane. I don’t suppose we were really that far away from home, but we seemed to be miles out in the country, and soon we came to a village. My grandad said we’d catch a bus home from there, but first he wanted to show me something, and he took hold of my hand. I didn’t have a clue where he was taking me, but I got a shock when we ended up in the graveyard. It had gone cold now. I wanted to go home.

  ‘C’mon, Grandad, let’s go home now.’

  But he didn’t seem to be listening properly.

  ‘In a minute, son, I just want to show you summat.’

  And hand in hand we walked among the gravestones.

  ‘There you are, son, there’s my plot. That’s where I’ll be laid to rest.’

  I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘When, Grandad?’

  ‘Soon.’

  He smiled and looked very happy and he bent down and pulled out a couple of weeds. It was a very neat plot.

  ‘C’mon, son, we’d best get going now.’

  When I told my mum that night that Grandad was going to die soon, she got very cross and told me not to talk like that.

  ‘He’s as fit as a fiddle is your grandad. Don’t you talk like that.’

  It happened three days later, at dinner time. It came as a great shock to everybody, except of course to me and Grandad.

  THE HOLIDAY

  It wasn’t fair. Tony and Barry were going. In fact, nearly all of them in Class Three and Four were going, except me. It wasn’t fair. Why wouldn’t my mum let me go?

  ‘I’ve told you. You’re not going camping. You’re far too young.’

  Huh! She said that last year.

  ‘You said that last year!’

  ‘You can go next year when you’re a bit older.’

  She’d said that last year, too.

  ‘You said that last year an’ all.’

  ‘Do you want a clout?’

  ‘Well you did, Mum, didn’t you?’

  ‘Go and wash your hands for tea.’

  ‘Aw, Mum, everybody else is going to school camp. Why can’t I?’

  Because you’re coming to Bridlington with me and your Auntie Doreen like you do every year.

  ‘Because you’re coming to Bridlington with me and your Auntie Doreen like you do every year!’

  I told you. Oh, every year the same thing; my mum, me, and my Auntie Doreen at Mrs Sharkey’s boarding house. I suppose we’ll have that room next door to the lavatory: a double bed for my mum and my Auntie Doreen, and me on a camp bed behind a screen.

  ‘I suppose we’ll have that rotten room again.’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky! Mrs Sharkey saves that room for me every year – last week in July and first week in August. It’s the best room in the house, facing the sea like that, and nice and handy for the toilets. You know how important that is for your Auntie Doreen.’

  ‘Aw, Mum, I never get any sleep – the sea splashing on one side and Auntie Doreen on the . . . aw!’

  My mum gave me a great clout right across my head. She just caught my ear an’ all.

  ‘Aw, bloomin’ heck. What was that for?’

  ‘You know very well. Now stop being so cheeky and go and wash your hands.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done it now. You’ve dislocated my jaw – that’s it now. I’ll report you to that RSPCC thing, and they’ll sue you. You’ve really had it now . . . ow!’

  She clouted me again, right in the same place.

  ‘It’s not fair. Tony’s mum and dad are letting him go to school camp, and Barry’s. Why won’t you let me go?’

  She suddenly bent down and put her face right next to mine, right close. She made me jump. Blimey, that moustache was getting longer. I wish she’d do something about it – it’s embarrassing to have a mum with a moustache.

  ‘Now, listen to me, my lad. What Tony’s mum and dad do, and what Barry’s mum and dad do, is their lookout. You will come with me and your Auntie Doreen to Bridlington and enjoy yourself like you do every year!’

  Huh! Enjoy myself – that’s a laugh for a start. How can you enjoy yourself walking round Bridlington town centre all day looking at shops? You can do that at home. Or else it was bingo. ‘Key-of-the-door, old-age pension, legs-eleven, clickety-click’ and all that rubbish. You could do that at home as well. And when we did get to the beach, I had to spend all day rubbing that oily sun stuff on my Auntie Doreen’s back. It was horrible. Then the rain would come down and it was back to bingo. Honest, what’s the point of going on holiday if you do everything that you can do at home? You want to do something different. Now camping, that’s different. Tony’s dad had bought him a special sleeping bag, just for going campi
ng. Huh! I wish I had a dad.

  ‘I bet if I had a dad, he’d let me go to school camp.’

  I thought Mum was going to get her mad up when I said that, but she didn’t at all.

  ‘Go and wash your hands for tea, love. Your spam fritters will be ready in a minute.’

  Ugh. Bloomin’ spam fritters! Not worth washing your hands for!

  ‘Yeh. All right.’

  I started to go upstairs. Ooh, I was in a right mess now. I’d told all the other lads I was going. Our names had to be in by tomorrow. We had to give Mr Garnett our pound deposit. Well, I was going to go. I didn’t care what Mum said, I was going to go – somehow! When I got to the top of the stairs, I kicked a tin wastepaper bin on the landing. It fell right downstairs. It didn’t half make a clatter.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  She would have to hear, wouldn’t she?

  ‘Eh. It’s all right, Mum. I just tripped over the wastepaper bin. It’s all right.’

  ‘Oh, stop playing the goat and come downstairs. Your tea’s ready.’

  What was she talking about, playing the goat? I couldn’t help tripping over a wastepaper bin. Well, I couldn’t have helped it if I had tripped over it, an’ well, I might have done for all she knew. Well, I wasn’t going to wash my hands just for spam fritters. Oh, bet we have macaroni cheese as well. I went straight downstairs.

  ‘Are your hands clean?’

  ‘Yeh.’

  ‘Here we are then. I’ve made some macaroni cheese as well.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘C’mon. Eat it up quickly, then we’ll have a nice bit of telly.’

  I didn’t say anything else about the school camp that night. I knew it was no good. But I was going to go. I’d told Tony and Barry I was going, I’d told all the lads I was going. Somehow, I’d get my own way. When I got to school next morning, I saw Tony and Barry with Norbert Lightowler over by the Black Hole. That’s a tiny snicket, only open at one end, where we shove all the new lads on the first day of term. There’s room for about twenty kids. We usually get about a hundred in. It’s supposed to be good fun, but the new kids don’t enjoy it very much. They get to enjoy it the next year.