The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories

by George Layton

  ‘It’s all right for you. Nobody shouts at you.’

  ‘Well, who shouts at you?’

  ‘Gordon Barraclough.’

  ‘You don’t want to take any notice. Now hurry up.’

  My mum came in with my kit.

  ‘Yes, hurry up or you’ll miss your bus for football.’

  ‘We won’t miss our rotten bus for rotten football.’

  She gave me a clout on the back of my head. Tony laughed.

  ‘And you can stop laughing, Tony Wainwright,’ and she gave him a clout, as well. ‘Now go on, both of you.’

  We ran to school and got there in plenty of time. I knew we would.

  Everybody was getting on the bus. We didn’t have to go to assembly when it was football. Gordon Barraclough was on the top deck with his head out of the window. He saw me coming.

  ‘Hey, Gordon Banks . . .’

  He always called me that, because he thinks Gordon Banks was the best goalie ever. He reckons he was called Gordon after Gordon Banks.

  ‘Hey, Gordon Banks, how many goals are you going to let in today?’

  Tony nudged me.

  ‘Don’t take any notice.’

  ‘Come on, Gordon Banks, how many goals am I going to get against you . . .?’

  Tony nudged me again.

  ‘Ignore him.’

  ‘ . . . or am I going to be lumbered with you on my side, eh?’

  ‘He’s only egging you on. Ignore him.’

  Yes, I’ll ignore him. That’s the best thing. I’ll ignore him.

  ‘If you’re on my side, Gordon Banks, you’d better not let any goals in, or I’ll do you.’

  Just ignore him, that’s the best thing.

  ‘Get lost, Barraclough, you rotten big-head.’

  I couldn’t ignore him. Tony was shaking his head.

  ‘I told you to ignore him.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  Gordon still had his head out of the window.

  ‘I’m coming down to get you.’

  And he would’ve done, too, if it hadn’t been for Norbert. Just as Gordon was going back into the bus, Norbert wound the window up, so Gordon’s head was stuck. It must’ve hurt him, well, it could have choked him.

  ‘You’re a maniac, Lightowler. You could have choked me.’

  Norbert just laughed, and Gordon thumped him, right in the neck, and they started fighting. Tony and me ran up the stairs to watch. They were rolling in the aisle. Norbert got on top of Gordon and put his knees on his shoulders. Everybody was watching now, and shouting:

  ‘Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!’

  The bell hadn’t gone for assembly yet, and other lads from the playground came out to watch.

  ‘Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!’

  Gordon pushed Norbert off him, and they rolled under a seat. Then they rolled out into the aisle again, only this time Gordon was on top. He thumped Norbert right in the middle of his chest. Hard. It hurt him, and Norbert got his mad up. I really wanted him to do Gordon.

  ‘Go on, Norbert, do him.’

  Just then, somebody clouted me on the back of my head, right where my mum had hit me that morning. I turned round to belt whoever it was.

  ‘Who do you think you’re thumping . . .? Oh, morning, Mr Melrose.’

  He pushed me away, and went over to where Norbert and Gordon were still fighting. He grabbed them both by their jackets, and pulled them apart. He used to be in the Commandos, did Mr Melrose.

  ‘Animals! You’re a pair of animals! What are you?’

  Neither of them said anything. He was still holding them by their jackets. He shook them.

  ‘What are you? Lightowler?’

  ‘A pair of animals.’

  ‘Gordon?’

  ‘A pair of animals, sir. It wasn’t my fault, sir. He started it, sir. He wound up that window, sir, and I got my head stuck. He could have choked me, sir.’

  Ooh, he was a right tell-tale was Barraclough.

  ‘Why was your head out of the window in the first place?’

  ‘I was just telling someone to hurry up, sir.’

  He’s a liar as well, but he knew he was all right with Melrose, because he’s his favourite.

  ‘And then Lightowler wound up the window, for no reason, sir. He could’ve choked me.’

  Melrose didn’t say anything. He just looked at Norbert. Norbert looked back at him with a sort of smile on his face. I don’t think he meant to be smiling. It was because he was nervous.

  ‘I’m sick of you, Lightowler, do you know that? I’m sick and tired of you. You’re nothing but a trouble-maker.’

  Norbert didn’t say anything. His face just twitched a bit. It was dead quiet on the bus. The bell went for assembly and we could hear the other classes filing into school.

  ‘A trouble-maker and a hooligan. You’re a disgrace to the school, do you know that, Lightowler?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I can’t wait for the day you leave, Lightowler.’

  ‘Neither can I, sir.’

  Melrose’s hand moved so fast that it made everybody jump, not just Norbert. It caught him right on the side of his face. His face started going red straight away. Poor old Norbert. I didn’t half feel sorry for him. It wasn’t fair. He was helping me.

  ‘Sir, can I . . .?’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Melrose didn’t even turn round, and I didn’t need telling twice. I shut up. Norbert’s cheek was getting redder. He didn’t rub it though, and it must’ve been stinging like anything. He’s tough, is Norbert.

  ‘You’re a lout, Lightowler. What are you?’

  ‘A lout, sir.’

  ‘You haven’t even got the decency to wear a school blazer.’

  Norbert was wearing a grey jacket that was miles too big for him. He didn’t have a school blazer.

  ‘Aren’t you proud of the school blazer?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Why don’t you wear one, then?’

  Norbert rubbed his cheek for the first time.

  ‘I haven’t got a school blazer, sir.’

  He looked as though he was going to cry.

  ‘My mum can’t afford one.’

  Nobody moved. Melrose stared at Norbert. It seemed ages before he spoke.

  ‘Get out of my sight, Lightowler. Wait in the classroom until we come back from football. And get your hands out of your pockets. The rest of you sit down and be quiet.’

  Melrose went downstairs and told the driver to set off. Tony and me sat on the back seat. As we turned right into Horton Road, I could see Norbert climbing on the school wall, and walking along it like a tightrope walker. Melrose must’ve seen him as well. He really asks for trouble, does Norbert.

  It’s about a ten-minute bus ride to Bankfield Top. You go into town, through the City Centre and up Bankfield Road. When we went past the Town Hall, everybody leaned over to look at the Lord Mayor’s Christmas tree.

  ‘Back in your seats. You’ve all seen a Christmas tree before.’

  Honestly, Melrose was such a spoil-sport. Course we’d all seen a Christmas tree before, but not as big as that. It must have been about thirty feet tall. There were tons of lights on it as well, and there were lights and decorations all round the square and in the shops. Tony said they were being switched on at half past four that afternoon. He’d read it in the paper. So had know-it-all Gordon Barraclough.

  ‘Yeah, I read that, too. They’re being switched on by a mystery celebrity.’ Ooh, a mystery celebrity. Who was it going to be?

  ‘A mystery celebrity? Do you know who it is?’

  Gordon looked at me as though I’d asked him what two and two came to.

  ‘Course I don’t know who it is. Nobody knows who it is, otherwise it wouldn’t be a mystery, would it?’

  He was right there.

  ‘Well, somebody must know who it is, because somebody must’ve asked him in the first place, mustn’t they?’

  Gordon gave me another of his looks.

&n
bsp; ‘The Lord Mayor knows. Of course he knows, but if you want to find out, you have to go and watch the lights being switched on, don’t you?’

  Tony said he fancied doing that. I did as well, as long as I wasn’t too late home for my mum.

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be good, but I’ll have to be home by half past five, before my mum gets back from work.’

  When we got to Bankfield Top, Melrose told us we had three minutes to get changed. Everybody ran to the temporary changing room. It’s always been called the ‘temporary changing room’ ever since anyone can remember. We’re supposed to be getting a proper place some time with hot and cold showers and things, but I don’t reckon we ever will.

  The temporary changing room’s just a shed. It’s got one shower that just runs cold water, but even that doesn’t work properly. I started getting into my football togs. I tried to make the shorts as short as I could by turning the waistband over a few times, but they still came down to my knees. And the boots were great big heavy things. Not like Gordon Barraclough’s Bobby Charlton ones. I could’ve worn mine on either foot and it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  Gordon was changed first, and started jumping up and down and doing all sorts of exercises. He even had a Manchester United tracksuit top on.

  ‘Come on, Gordon Banks, get out on to the park.’

  Get out on to the park! Just because his dad took him over to see Manchester United every other Saturday, he thought he knew it all.

  The next hour and a half was the same as usual – rotten. Gordon and Curly Emmott picked sides – as usual. I went in goal – as usual. I nearly froze to death – as usual, and I let in fifteen goals – as usual. Most of the time all you could hear was Melrose shouting: ‘Well done, Gordon’, ‘Go round him, Gordon’, ‘Good deception, Gordon’, ‘Give it to Gordon’, ‘Shoot, Gordon’, ‘Hard luck, Gordon’.

  Ugh! Mind you, he did play well, did Gordon. He’s the best player in our year. At least today I wasn’t on his side so I didn’t have him shouting at me all the time, just scoring against me! I thought Melrose was never going to blow the final whistle. When he did, we all trudged back to the temporary changing room. Even on the way back Gordon was jumping up and down and doing all sorts of funny exercises. He was only showing off to Melrose.

  ‘That’s it, Gordon, keep warm. Keep the muscles supple. Well played, lad! We’ll see you get a trial for United yet.’

  Back in the changing room, Gordon started going on about my football kit. He egged everybody else on.

  ‘Listen, Barraclough, this strip belonged to my uncle, and he scored thousands of goals.’

  Gordon just laughed.

  ‘Your uncle? Your auntie more like. You look like a big girl.’

  ‘Listen, Barraclough, you don’t know who my uncle is.’

  I was sick of Gordon Barraclough. I was sick of his bullying and his shouting, and his crawling round Melrose. And I was sick of him being a good footballer.

  ‘My uncle is Bobby Charlton!’

  That was the fib.

  For a split second I think Gordon believed me, then he burst out laughing. So did everyone else. Even Tony laughed.

  ‘Bobby Charlton – your uncle? You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?’

  ‘Believe what you like, it’s the truth.’

  Of course they didn’t believe me. That’s why the fib became a lie.

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  I spat on my left hand. They all went quiet. Gordon put his face close to mine.

  ‘You’re a liar.’

  I was.

  ‘I’m not. Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  I spat on my hand again. If I’d dropped dead on the spot, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Thank goodness Melrose came in, and made us hurry on to the bus.

  Gordon and me didn’t talk to each other much for the rest of the day. All afternoon I could see him looking at me. He was so sure I was a liar, but he just couldn’t be certain.

  Why had I been so daft as to tell such a stupid lie? Well, it was only a fib really, and at least it shut Gordon Barraclough up for an afternoon.

  After school, Tony and me went into town to watch the lights being switched on. Norbert tagged along as well. He’d forgotten all about his trouble with Melrose that morning. He’s like that, Norbert. Me, I would’ve been upset for days.

  There was a crowd at the bottom of the Town Hall steps, and we managed to get right to the front. Gordon was there already. Norbert was ready for another fight, but we stopped him. When the Lord Mayor came out we all clapped. He had his chain on, and he made a speech about the Christmas appeal.

  Then it came to switching on the lights.

  ‘ . . . and as you know, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we always try to get someone special to switch on our Chamber of Commerce Christmas lights, and this year is no exception. Let’s give a warm welcome to Mr Bobby Charlton . . .’

  I couldn’t believe it. I nearly fainted. I couldn’t move for a few minutes. Everybody was asking for his autograph. When it was Gordon’s turn, I saw him pointing at me. I could feel myself going red. Then, I saw him waving me over. Not Gordon, Bobby Charlton!

  I went. Tony and Norbert followed. Gordon was grinning at me.

  ‘You’ve had it now. You’re for it now. I told him you said he’s your uncle.’

  I looked up at Bobby Charlton. He looked down at me. I could feel my face going even redder. Then suddenly, he winked at me and smiled.

  ‘Hello, son. Aren’t you going to say hello to your Uncle Bobby, then?’

  I couldn’t believe it. Neither could Tony or Norbert. Or Gordon.

  ‘Er . . . hello . . . Uncle . . . er . . . Bobby.’

  He ruffled my hair.

  ‘How’s your mam?’

  ‘All right.’

  He looked at Tony, Norbert and Gordon.

  ‘Are these your mates?’

  ‘These two are.’

  I pointed out Tony and Norbert.

  ‘Well, why don’t you bring them in for a cup of tea?’

  I didn’t understand.

  ‘In where?’

  ‘Into the Lord Mayor’s Parlour. For tea. Don’t you want to come?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be lovely . . . Uncle Bobby.’

  Uncle Bobby! I nearly believed it myself! And I’ll never forget the look on Gordon Barraclough’s face as Bobby Charlton led Tony, Norbert and me into the Town Hall.

  It was ever so posh in the Lord Mayor’s Parlour. We had sandwiches without crusts, malt loaf and butterfly cakes. It was smashing. So was Bobby Charlton. I just couldn’t believe we were there. Suddenly, Tony kept trying to tell me something, but I didn’t want to listen to him. I wanted to listen to Bobby.

  ‘Shurrup, I’m trying to listen to my Uncle Bobby.’

  ‘But do you know what time it is? Six o’clock!’

  ‘Six o’clock! Blimey! I’ve got to get going. My mum’ll kill me.’

  I said goodbye to Bobby Charlton.

  ‘Tarah, Uncle Bobby. I’ve got to go now. Thanks . . .’

  He looked at me and smiled.

  ‘Tarah, son. See you again some time.’

  When we got outside, Tony and Norbert said it was the best tea they’d ever had.

  I ran home as fast as I could. My mum was already in, of course. I was hoping she wouldn’t be too worried. Still, I knew everything would be all right once I’d told her I was late because I’d been having tea in the Lord Mayor’s Parlour with Bobby Charlton.

  ‘Where’ve you been? It’s gone quarter past six. I’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mum. I’ve been having tea in the Lord Mayor’s Parlour with Bobby Charlton . . .’

  She gave me such a clout, I thought my head was going to fall off. My mum never believes me, even when I’m telling the truth!

  THE FIREWORK DISPLAY

  Norbert was hanging from this branch, swinging his legs about, and trying to break it off. If the Park Ranger had c
ome by and seen him, we’d all have been in trouble. Barry got hold of him round the ankles.

  ‘Norbert, I’ll do you if you don’t come down.’

  Norbert pulled his legs free, and moved along the branch towards the trunk. Barry chased after him and tried to pull him down again, but Norbert had managed to hoist himself up on to his tummy and was kicking Barry away.

  ‘Gerroff!’

  Barry punched him on the back of his leg.

  ‘Well, get down then, or you’ll get us all into trouble. Park Ranger said we could only take dead stuff.’

  We were collecting for Bonfire Night. We were going to have the biggest bonfire in the district. It was already about twelve feet high, and it was only Saturday, so there were still two days to go. Three if you counted Monday itself.

  We’d built the fire in Belgrave Street where the Council were knocking all the houses down. There was tons of waste ground, so there was no danger, and we’d found two old sofas and three armchairs to throw on the fire.

  Norbert dropped from the branch and landed in some dog dirt. Barry and me laughed because he got it on his hands. I told him it served him right for trying to break the branch.

  ‘You’re stupid, Norbert. You know the Park Ranger said we could only take the dead branches.’

  Norbert was wiping his hands on the grass.

  ‘I thought it was dead.’

  I threw a stick at him.

  ‘How could it be dead if it’s still growing? You’re crackers you are, Norbert.’

  The stick caught him on his shoulder. It was only a twig.

  ‘Don’t you throw lumps of wood at me! How would you like it if I threw lumps of wood at you?’

  ‘Don’t be so soft, Norbert, it was only a twig.’

  Norbert picked up a big piece of wood, and chucked it at me. Luckily it missed by miles.

  ‘You’re mad, Norbert. You want to be put away. You’re a blooming maniac.’

  ‘You started it. You shouldn’t have chucked that stick at me.’

  He went back to wiping his hands on the grass.

  ‘Was it heckers like a stick. It was a little twig, and it’s no good wiping your hands on the grass, you’ll never get rid of that pong.’

  Suddenly, Norbert ran at me, waving his hands towards my face. I got away as fast as I could but he kept following.

  ‘If you touch me with those smelly hands . . . I’m warning you, Norbert!’