‘Hello, Tony. Hello, Barry.’
Norbert Lightowler spat out some chewing gum. It just missed me.
‘Oh, don’t say “hello” to me then, will ya?’
‘No. And watch where you’re spitting your rotten chewing gum – or you’ll get thumped.’
Barry asked us all if we’d brought our pound deposit for school camp. Tony and Norbert had got theirs, of course. Nobody was stopping them going. I made out I’d forgotten mine.
‘Oh heck. I must have left mine on the kitchen table.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, maybe Garnett’ll let you bring it tomorrow.’
I didn’t say anything, but Norbert did.
‘Oh, no. He said yesterday today’s the last day. He said anybody not bringing their deposit today wouldn’t be able to go. He did, you know.’
‘Aw, shurrup, or I’ll do you.’
‘I’m only telling you.’
‘Well, don’t bother.’
Tony asked me if I’d learnt that poem for Miss Taylor. I didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘What poem?’
Norbert knew, of course. He brought a book out of his pocket.
‘Drake’s Drum. Haven’t you learnt it?’
Oh crikey! Drake’s Drum. With all this worry about trying to get to school camp, I’d forgotten all about it. Miss Taylor had told us to learn it for this morning.
‘We’re supposed to know it this morning, you know.’
‘I know, Norbert, I know.’
Honest, Norbert just loved to see you in a mess, I suppose because he’s usually in trouble himself.
‘I know it. I spent all last night learning it. Listen:
‘ “Drake he’s in his hammock an’ a thousand mile away.
Captain, art thou sleeping there below?
Slung a’tween the round shot in Nombres Dios bay . . .” ’
I snatched the book out of his hands.
‘Come ’ere. Let’s have a look at it.’
‘You’ll never learn it in time. Bell’ll be going in a minute.’
‘You were reading it, anyway.’
‘I was not. It took me all last night to learn that.’
Barry laughed at him.
‘What, all last night to learn three lines?’
‘No, clever clogs. I mean the whole poem.’
Just then, the bell started going for assembly. Norbert snatched his book back.
‘C’mon, we’d better get into line. Garnett’s on playground duty.’
Norbert went over to where our class was lining up. Barry’s in Class Four, so he went over to their column.
‘See you at playtime.’
‘Yeh. Tarah.’
While we were lining up, we were all talking. Mr Garnett just stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at us, waiting for us to stop.
‘Thank you.’
Some of us heard his voice and stopped talking. Those that didn’t carried on.
‘Thank you.’
A few more stopped, and then a few more, till the only voice you could hear was Norbert Lightowler’s, and as soon as he realized nobody else was talking, he shut up quickly.
‘Thank you. If I have to wait as long as that for silence at the end of this morning’s break, then we shall spend the whole break this afternoon learning how to file up in silence. Do you understand?’
We all just stood there, hardly daring to breathe.
‘Am I talking to myself? Do you understand?’
Everybody mumbled ‘Yes, sir’, except Norbert Lightowler. He had to turn round and start talking to me and Tony.
‘Huh! If he thinks I’m going to spend my playtime filing up in silence, he’s got another think coming.’
‘Lightowler!’
Norbert nearly jumped out of his skin.
‘Are you talking to those boys behind you?’
‘No, sir. I was just telling ’em summat . . .’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, sir . . . er . . . I was just . . . er . . . telling them that we have to give our pound in today, sir, for school camp, sir.’
‘I want a hundred lines by tomorrow morning: “I must not talk whilst waiting to go into assembly.” ’
‘Aw, sir.’
‘Two hundred.’
He nearly did it again, but stopped just in time, or he’d have got three hundred.
‘Right. When I give the word, I want you to go quietly into assembly. And no talking. Right – wait for it. Walk!’
Everybody walked in not daring to say a word. When we got into the main hall, I asked Tony for the book with Drake’s Drum in, and during assembly, I tried to snatch a look at the poem but, of course, it was a waste of time. Anyway, I was more worried about my pound deposit for Mr Garnett. After prayers, the Headmaster made an announcement about it.
‘This concerns only the boys in Classes Three and Four. Today is the final day for handing in your school camp deposits. Those of you not in Three B must see Mr Garnett during morning break. Those of you in Three B will be able to hand in your money when Mr Garnett takes you after Miss Taylor’s class. Right, School turn to the right. From the front, dismiss! No talking.’
I had another look at the poem while we were waiting for our turn to go.
‘ “Drake he’s in his hammock an’ a thousand mile away.
Captain, art thou sleeping there below?” ’
Well, I knew the first two lines. Tony wasn’t too bothered. He probably knew it.
‘Don’t worry. She can’t ask everybody to recite it. Most likely she’ll ask one of the girls. Anyway, what are you going to do about Garnett? Do you think he’ll let you bring your pound deposit tomorrow?’
‘Yeh, sure to.’
If only Tony knew that it’d be just as bad tomorrow. I had to get a pound from somewhere. Then I’d have about four weeks to get my mum to let me go. But I had to get my name down today or I’d . . . I’d had it. Miss Taylor was already waiting for us when we got into our classroom.
‘Come along, children. Settle down.’
Miss Taylor took us for English and Religious Instruction.
‘Now today, we’re going to deal with some parts of the Old Testament.’
Tony and me looked at each other. She’d got mixed up. Today was English and tomorrow was Religious Instruction.
‘Now you’ve all heard of the Ten Commandments . . .’
Bloomin’ hummer. What a let-off. Tony was grinning at me.
‘Do you know the first of these Ten Commandments?’
Jennifer Greenwood put her hand up. She was top of the class every year. Everyone reckoned she was Miss Taylor’s favourite.
‘Yes, Jennifer.’
Jennifer Greenwood wriggled about a bit in her seat and went red. She’s always going red.
‘Please, Miss, it’s English this morning, Miss; it’s Religious Instruction tomorrow, Miss.’
Honest, I could’ve thumped her. Then Norbert put his hand up.
‘Yes, Miss. You told us to learn Drake’s Drum for this morning, Miss.’
I leaned across to Tony.
‘I’ll do him at playtime.’
‘Quite right, Norbert. Thank you for reminding me. Now, who will recite it for me?’
Everybody shoved their hands up shouting, ‘Miss, Miss, me, Miss, Miss’, so I thought I’d better look as keen as the rest of them.
‘Miss! Miss! Miss!’
I stretched my hand up high. I got a bit carried away. I was sure she’d pick one of the girls.
‘Me, Miss. Please, Miss. Me, Miss!’
She only went and pointed at me. I couldn’t believe it.
‘Me, Miss?’
‘Yes. You seem very keen for once. Stand up and speak clearly.’
I stood up as slowly as I could. My chair scraped on the floor and made a noise like chalk on the blackboard.
‘Hurry up, and lift your chair up. Don’t push it like that.’
Everybody was looking at me. Norbert, who sits i
n the front row, had turned round and was grinning.
‘Er . . . um Drake’s Drum . . . by Henry Newbolt . . .’
Miss Taylor lifted up her finger.
‘Sir Henry Newbolt!’
‘Yes, Miss.’
I was glad she stopped me. Anything to give me more time.
‘Carry on.’
I took a deep breath. I could feel Norbert still grinning at me.
‘Ahem. Drake’s Drum . . . by Sir Henry Newbolt.’
I stopped: then I took another deep breath . . .
‘ “Drake is in his cabin and a thousand mile away . . .” ’
I stopped again. I knew after the next line, I’d be in trouble.
‘ “Cap’n, art thou sleeping down below . . .” ’
The whole class was listening. I didn’t know what I was going to say next. I took another breath and I was just about to tell Miss Taylor I couldn’t remember any more, when Norbert burst out laughing. Miss Taylor went over to him:
‘What are you laughing at, Norbert?’
‘Nothing, Miss.’
‘You think you can do better – is that it?’
‘No, Miss.’
‘Stand up!’
Norbert stood up. Miss Taylor looked at me. ‘Well done. That was a very dramatic opening. Sit down, and we’ll see if Norbert Lightowler can do as well.’
I couldn’t believe it. Tony could hardly keep his face straight.
Norbert went right through the poem. Miss Taylor had to help him once or twice, but he just about got through. Miss Taylor told him he hadn’t done badly, but not quite as well as me. After that a few of the others recited it, and then we went on to do some English grammar.
After Miss Taylor, we had Mr Garnett. He gave the girls some arithmetic to do, while he sorted out the deposits for school camp. He went through the register, and everybody that was going gave him their pound deposit – until he got to me.
‘I’ve forgotten it, sir.’
‘You know today is the last day, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And all the names have to be in this morning? I told you all that yesterday, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, sir. Yes, sir – I’ll bring my pound tomorrow, sir.’
Mr Garnett tapped his pencil.
‘I’ll put the pound in for you, and I want you to repay me first thing tomorrow morning. All right?’
‘Er . . . um . . . yes, sir. I think so, sir.’
‘You do want to go to school camp?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right then. Don’t forget to give me your pound tomorrow.’
‘No, sir.’
I didn’t know what I was going to do now. I reckoned the best thing was to tell Mr Garnett the truth, so when the bell went for playtime, I stayed behind in the classroom, and I told him about my mum wanting me to go to Bridlington with her and my Auntie Doreen. He told me not to worry, and gave me a letter to give to my mum that night. I don’t know what it said, but after my mum had read it, she put it in her pocket and said she’d give me a pound for Mr Garnett in the morning.
‘Can I go to camp, then?’
‘Yes, if that’s what you want.’
‘I don’t mind coming to Bridlington with you and Auntie Doreen, if you’d rather . . .’
My mum just got hold of my face with both her hands.
‘No, love, you go to school camp and enjoy yourself.’
So I did – go to school camp, that is – but I didn’t enjoy myself. It was horrible. They put me in a tent with Gordon Barraclough: he’s a right bully and he gets everybody on to his side because they’re all scared of him. I wanted to go in Tony’s and Barry’s tent, but Mr Garnett said it would upset all his schedules, so I was stuck with Gordon Barraclough and his gang. They made me sleep right next to the opening, so when it rained, my sleeping bag got soaked. And they thought it was dead funny to pull my clothes out of my suitcase (my mum couldn’t afford a rucksack) and throw them all over the place.
‘Huh! Fancy going camping with a suitcase!’
‘Mind your own business, Barraclough! My mum couldn’t afford a proper rucksack. Anyway, I’m off to Bridlington on Sunday.’
And I meant it. Sunday was parents’ visiting day, and my mum and Auntie Doreen were coming to see me on their way to Bridlington. So I was going to pack up all my stuff and go with them. Huh . . . I couldn’t stand another week with Gordon Barraclough. I wished I’d never come.
So on Sunday morning, after breakfast in the big marquee, I packed everything into my suitcase and waited for my mum and my Auntie Doreen to come. They arrived at quarter to eleven.
‘Hello, love. Well, isn’t it grand here? You are having a nice time, aren’t you?’
‘Yeh, it’s not bad, but I want to tell you summat.’
My mum wasn’t listening. She was looking round the camp site.
‘Well, it’s all bigger than I thought. Is this your tent here?’
She poked her head through the flap. I could hear her talking to Gordon Barraclough and the others.
‘No! No! No! Don’t move, boys. Well, haven’t you got a lot of room in here? It’s quite deceiving from the outside.’
Her head came out again.
‘Here, Doreen, you have a look in here. It’s ever so roomy.’
She turned back to Gordon Barraclough.
‘Well, bye-bye boys. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. And thank you for keeping an eye on my little lad.’
I could hear them all laughing inside the tent. I felt sick.
‘Mum, I want to ask you something—’
‘In a minute, love, in a minute. Let’s just see round the camp, and then we’ll have a little natter before your Auntie Doreen and I go. Oh, and I want to say hello to Mr Garnett while I’m here. You know, on the way here today, I kept saying wouldn’t it be lovely if I could take you on to Bridlington with us. Wasn’t I, Doreen? But now I’m here, I can see you’re all having a real good time together. You were right, love, it’s much better to be with your friends than with two fuddy-duddies like us, eh, Doreen? Well, c’mon, love, aren’t you going to show us round? We’ve got to get our bus for Bridlington soon.’
I showed them both round the camp site, and they went off just before dinner. I didn’t feel like anything to eat myself. I just went to the tent and unpacked my suitcase.
THE GANG HUT
We used to have a gang hut, Barry, Tony, and me. It was smashing. It used to be in Tony’s back garden, in fact I think it’s still there. I remember one of the last meetings we ever had – it wasn’t long after August Bank Holiday. I went to the gang hut straight after school. There was a short cut you could take over a broken wall. You got a bit mucky, but it was quicker. I got to the hut and knocked the secret knock, two quick knocks, a pause, then followed by three more.
‘Give the password.’
That was Barry, our leader. I stared at the door which had ‘The Silent Three’ painted on it (I’d done that), and thought.
‘What password?’
‘What do you mean, what password?’
‘What do you mean, what do I mean, what password?’
Barry’s voice became deeper, and bossy!
‘Well, if you’d attended the last gang meeting, you would know what password!’
Oh, of course, that’s why I didn’t know this blooming password that Barry was talking about. Of course, I didn’t go to the last gang meeting. How can you go on Bank Holiday Monday? I’d gone with my mum and Auntie Doreen to Scarborough and it rained all blooming day. I’d felt a bit daft carrying my bucket and spade and ship on the sea front when it was pouring with rain. Yes, and when I’d cheeked my Auntie Doreen off my mum had hit me, and I’d cried – even though it didn’t hurt.
‘Come on, Barry, tell us what the password is.’
‘Well, you haven’t to tell anybody.’
‘Course not.’
‘All right then, it’s “Ouvrez la porte”.’
‘Y’wh
at?’
‘ “Ouvrez la porte”.’
I didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘It’s a blooming long password, isn’t it?’
‘It’s three words, they’re French. Not many people will know what it means.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘It means “open the door”.’
‘It’s a bit ordinary, isn’t it?’
‘Not if you say it in French.’
‘I suppose so. Anyway, open the door.’
‘Say the password!’
‘You know it’s me, let us in!’
‘Say the password!’
‘Oh, all right, “Ouvrez la porte”.’
At last I was in the den. It was only small, but at least it was ours, Barry’s, Tony’s and mine, that is, ‘The Silent Three’. And now that we’d got a lock and key from Barry’s dad, nobody else could get in. Come to think of it, neither could me and Tony, because Barry always kept the key, seeing as his dad had given us the lock. Tony had said that he should keep the key because the den was in his back garden. I’d agreed. Not that I wanted Tony to have the key either, but Barry always got things his way. He used to be like that a lot, Barry did, pushing his weight around and telling us how much better he did things than we did. Barry started going on about Tony being late.
‘Where’s Tony, isn’t he coming?’
Tony was in the same class as me.
‘Yes, but Miss Taylor kept him in for eating in class. Rotten thing. She’s always keeping people in, y’know.’
‘Yes, I know. She took us last year.’
Barry was in Class Four and was going in for his scholarship in December. Tony and me were only in Class Three. If I’d been taking my scholarship, I’d have been scared stiff, but Barry didn’t seem to be.
‘Eh, Barry, do you think you’ll be scared when you take your scholarship?’
‘Yeh, course, everybody gets scared. Wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh, yeh, I know everybody gets scared, but I just wondered if you did. Which school do you want to go to if you pass?’
The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories Page 4
