The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories

by George Layton

  ‘Patricia Jackson?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Trevor Jenkins?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Olwen Knowles?’

  ‘Present, miss.’

  I’d hated Olwen Knowles. She used to sit behind me and she was always whispering and giggling and making me turn round and then I’d always get into trouble.

  ‘Stop turning round. Face the front while I’m taking the register. Jacqueline Lambert?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  I didn’t like her either. Jacqueline Lambert! She used to eat with her mouth open and talk at the same time. It was disgusting. That was one of the good things about being at Grammar School. No girls.

  ‘Dennis Leach?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  Dennis Leach. He’d left in the middle of the next term. He’d jumped off a bus while it was still moving and banged his head. After that he wasn’t the same Dennis. He couldn’t read any more and he talked funny and spit always used to dribble out of his mouth. He’d left and gone to a special school near Ilkley. He still lives there and his mum and dad and little brother go and visit him at weekends.

  Even now when I’m going out on my bike or going to school my mum always says, ‘Be careful. Remember what happened to Dennis Leach.’ I once heard her telling my Auntie Doreen that he was a vegetable and when I’d asked her what she meant she just said he’d gone a bit simple. I knew that – that was why he’d gone to the special school – but I couldn’t see what that had to do with vegetables.

  ‘Mary Lewthwaite?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Norbert Lightowler? . . . Norbert Lightowler?’

  He wasn’t there.

  ‘Norbert Lightowler?’

  ‘Not here, miss.’

  We all used to sort of sing-song it together.

  ‘Not here, miss.’

  Miss Taylor had tutted to herself and carried on.

  ‘David Naismith.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  Just then the classroom door had opened and he’d walked in. We’d all stared at him. Olwen Knowles had giggled. She used to giggle at anything, did Olwen Knowles, but I don’t think she’d meant to be nasty. It was seeing Norbert come in like that. He’d got a black eye and his lip was all swollen. He’d looked awful. The only one who hadn’t noticed straight away had been Miss Taylor ’cos she was still doing the register.

  ‘Jennifer Parkinson?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Why are you laughing, Olwen?’

  She’d gone red and pointed at Norbert.

  ‘I’m sorry, miss. It’s Norbert . . . Look at his face, miss . . .’

  She’d looked.

  ‘Norbert! Whatever’s happened?’

  Norbert hadn’t said anything for a minute. He’d looked like he was going to cry. Then he’d blurted it out.

  ‘My dad hit me, miss!’

  Miss Taylor had taken him to the headmaster and his mum and dad had been called to the school.

  That was the last time Norbert ever said that his dad had hit him.

  His mum hadn’t come, just his dad, and when he’d turned up Norbert told the headmaster and Miss Taylor that he’d been lying. He said he’d been playing in the park and that he’d fallen out of a tree and that’s how he’d hurt his face and he’d blamed it on his dad ’cos he knew he’d have been in trouble for not going straight to school. It was all a lie. He hadn’t fallen out of a tree, his dad had hit him. I know ’cos Norbert had told me that afternoon, on our way home from school.

  ‘I wasn’t gonna say he’d done it when he was standing there looking at me. So I made it up. Said I’d fallen out of a tree.’

  He’d sworn me to secrecy. He tells me everything, does Norbert. He says I’m his best friend. I suppose I am really. He hasn’t got any others. I just feel sorry for him. I always have, ever since that day when he’d stood there with this black eye going blue and his lip all swollen telling me what had happened in the headmaster’s study.

  ‘What did the headmaster say?’

  Norbert had wiped his nose on his sleeve and shrugged.

  ‘He made me apologise to my dad.’

  That night his dad had hit him again – but not where it showed . . .

  ‘Come on, Lightowler, there’s nothing to be frightened of, lad. Who hit you?’

  ‘Nobody, sir . . . Honest . . . I fell off a wall, sir.’

  Melrose looked at him. Norbert looked worried. He knew that Melrose didn’t believe him. That’s why I said it.

  ‘It’s true sir, he fell off a wall. I was with him, sir.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday, sir.’

  What could I do? I hate lying but if Melrose didn’t believe Norbert he might take him off to the headmaster like Miss Taylor had done in our old school. And his mum and dad might be called in. I didn’t want him to get into trouble with his dad.

  ‘He just slipped, sir. We was playing “dares”, sir . . .’

  Now I couldn’t tell if Melrose believed me.

  ‘Were playing dares. You were playing dares.’

  ‘Yeah, we was, that’s how he hurt his back, sir . . .’

  I hate being Norbert’s best friend. He’s not my best friend, Tony’s my best friend. But Norbert hasn’t got anybody so I have to help him.

  ‘I dared him to walk on Pickersgill’s wall, sir.’

  Norbert looked at me like I’d gone mad. It was sort of true. We had walked on Pickersgill’s wall, but it was a few weeks back and it was me that had fallen, not Norbert. Pickersgill’s is a big garage near our school. We go past it on our way home and there’s a high wall with a sign saying TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED and all along the top there’s bits of green glass to stop people climbing on it and we’re always climbing on it. Norbert had dared Tony and me to walk on it. Tony hadn’t ’cos he’d remembered his mum was taking him to the doctor for his athlete’s foot and he’d gone straight home. So Norbert and me dared each other and that’s when I’d fallen. I hadn’t hurt myself too bad, just grazed my knee and my elbow. But I’d ripped my blazer and my mum had gone mad when I’d got home.

  ‘I don’t know what you get up to at school! Look at this!’

  She’d spread the blazer out on the kitchen table trying to work out the best way to mend it.

  ‘How did you do it?’

  I hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d done it climbing Pickersgill’s wall. Then she’d looked up and pointed her finger at me.

  ‘Have you been fighting?’

  ‘No . . .!’

  I’d been so pleased to be able to tell her something that wasn’t a lie.

  ‘ . . . I haven’t been fighting.’

  ‘Are you sure? If you’ve been fighting, young man, I’d rather know.’

  ‘Mum, I’ve not been fighting. Honest.’

  Well, it was the truth. I hadn’t done it fighting. If my mum’d said to me ‘Did you do it climbing Pickersgill’s wall?’ I’d have said yes ’cos I don’t like lying.

  ‘How did you do it then?’

  I still didn’t say anything . . . I sort of shrugged – but I didn’t say anything, I didn’t lie. But I was lying now to Melrose. I had to, to protect Norbert. He was looking at us. He turned to Norbert.

  ‘Is this true, Lightowler?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He dared me so I did it and I fell off. It looks worse than it is, sir.’

  Norbert’s good at lying. I believed him the way he said it.

  ‘Bit of an idiotic thing to do, don’t you think, climbing high walls that have got bits of glass embedded in them?’

  We both nodded.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Especially when the Head made an announcement about it in assembly last week . . .’

  Had he? I hadn’t known that. When?

  ‘Only last Friday the headmaster told the whole school that he’d had complaints from Pickersgill’s garage about boys climbing
on their wall . . .’

  Last Friday? I hadn’t heard him make any announcement . . .

  ‘And he made it quite clear what would happen if any boys were caught doing it again . . .’

  Last Friday . . .? Last Friday . . .?

  ‘They would be severely punished!’

  I remembered now, I hadn’t been in assembly last Friday. I’d been late for school ’cos we’d had a leak in the bathroom and my mum had told me to wait at home for Mr Cranley, the plumber.

  ‘I can’t take time off work – you’ll have to be here to let him in.’

  ‘But Mum, I’ll be late for school. I’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s an emergency.’

  And she’d given me a note for Mr Bleasdale explaining about the leak and everything.

  ‘Now once Mr Cranley gets here you can go straight to school. All you have to do is let him in and show him where the leak is.’

  I’d been quite pleased. We have maths first thing on a Friday and I didn’t mind missing it. But Mr Cranley had turned up not long after my mum had gone so all I’d missed was blooming assembly. I’d got to school just as everybody was filing out and nobody’d blooming noticed. I hadn’t even had to give the blooming note in. You can be sure any other time somebody would have noticed and I’d have been in trouble.

  ‘So – you’re both in big trouble, aren’t you?’

  We nodded.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He blew his whistle.

  ‘Right, you lot, while I’m gone, three times round the playground . . .’

  While he was gone? Where was he going? I was hoping it wasn’t what I thought it was.

  ‘I’ve got to go and see the headmaster for a few minutes.’

  It was. He was going to tell the headmaster. It wasn’t fair. I’d only been trying to help Norbert. David Holdsworth put his hand up.

  ‘Sir, it’s raining.’

  ‘Four times round the playground . . .’

  Everybody jeered and Kenny Spencer asked Holdsworth why he didn’t keep his trap shut.

  ‘Five times for you, Spencer!’

  Everybody laughed and Melrose turned to me and Norbert.

  ‘You two, follow me. Lightowler, put your top on.’

  The gym is separate from the rest of the school and we followed Melrose across the playground to the main building. He was walking so fast that we had to run to keep up with him.

  I couldn’t believe it. We were being taken to the headmaster for something we hadn’t done. We had climbed on Pickersgill’s wall, yes, but that had been ages ago, nothing to do with the headmaster’s announcement last Friday. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut? Just ’cos I felt sorry for Norbert. Well, I felt sorry for myself now and I wasn’t going to be his best friend any more.

  The others were on their first lap. Arthur Boocock and Gordon Barraclough were leading – as usual. They’re the best at sport and they’re Melrose’s favourites. Boocock’s the best at running and Barraclough’s the best at football and they’re both blooming good at cricket.

  ‘That’s it, Arthur, Gordon. Show them how it’s done, lads.’

  That’s it, Arthur, Gordon. Show them how it’s done! Blooming Melrose. It was ’cos it was Melrose that I’d stuck up for Norbert. Melrose is always picking on him. Well, he’ll have to stick up for himself from now on. And why was his dad always hitting him anyway? If he hadn’t got such a horrible dad none of this would have happened. I’d hate to have a dad like Norbert’s . . . If I had a dad. Arthur and Gordon were miles ahead now. Kenny Spencer was next, then Duncan Cawthra, but they were nowhere near. At the back Keith Hopwood was strolling along talking to Douglas Bashforth.

  ‘Hopwood! Bashforth! Get moving! Put some effort into it!’

  They both groaned and started running. Slowly. Arthur and Gordon would be lapping them in a couple of minutes. It’s no wonder that they’re so good at sport – their dads are good at it. Gordon’s dad once had a trial for Manchester United and Arthur’s does cross-country running. At Sports Day last year they came first and second in the fathers’ race. Gordon says his dad’s going to win this year ’cos he’s been doing special training but Arthur says he hasn’t got a chance.

  ‘He might be good at football, your dad, but my dad’s best at running. He won last year and he’s gonna win this year.’

  ‘No he won’t, ’cos my dad’s best.’

  ‘I bet you half-a-crown.’

  ‘You’re on!’

  So they’ve bet each other half-a-crown. Who cares? It doesn’t mean much, the fathers’ race, if you haven’t got a dad.

  We got to the main building and followed Melrose up the corridor to the headmaster’s study. He knocked and a couple of seconds later a green light came on saying ENTER.

  ‘You two wait here.’

  As soon as he closed the door I turned to Norbert but before I could say anything he called me an idiot.

  ‘Y’what?’

  ‘Why did you have to go and tell him it was Pickersgill’s wall I fell off? Idiot!’

  ‘I didn’t know, did I? I wasn’t in assembly last Friday. I was only trying to help you. I wish I hadn’t now!’

  Norbert went quiet. ‘I know. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘No, it’s bloody well not, it’s your rotten dad’s fault! He shouldn’t bloody hit you!’

  That’s when he thumped me. Well, he didn’t thump me really, more sort of pushed me away. But it was what he said . . . I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘At least it’s better than not having a dad!’

  How could he say that? I wanted to say to him, how can you say that? Your dad hits you. He belts you. He’s always belted you. And you daren’t tell anybody ’cos he’d belt you even more. And you think that’s better than not having a dad? How can you say that? But I couldn’t speak. I just couldn’t get the words out. And I didn’t have to. It was as if he could tell what I was thinking.

  ‘He’s still my dad, in’t he? He’s still my dad . . .’

  The door opened and Melrose came out.

  ‘When you’ve seen the Head come straight back to the gym.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Melrose went. Me and Norbert waited there. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even look at him. I was mad with myself. I’d got myself into trouble for sticking up for him and here was Norbert sticking up for his dad. I couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t true. It can’t be better than not having a dad. I was better off having no dad than a dad like his. I must be. I’d hate to have a dad like his.

  The green ENTER light came on and we entered. The headmaster went mad with us.

  ‘What were the two of you thinking of . . .?’

  Neither of us said anything.

  ‘Well . . .?’

  ‘Don’t know, sir . . .’

  ‘Don’t know, sir . . .’

  ‘What did I say in assembly last Friday . . .? Eh . . .? What did I say? Anybody playing in the vicinity of Pickersgill’s garage will be severely punished!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I thought about telling him that I hadn’t been in assembly last Friday but it wouldn’t have made any difference. He’d have just said we shouldn’t have been there in the first place . . . and I’d have probably got into more trouble for not giving the note in . . . Anyway Norbert had been in assembly so there was no excuse.

  ‘Have either of you got anything to say before I punish you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  He went to the cupboard. Oh no! I knew from other lads what he kept in there. He brought it out. The cane! We were going to get the cane. It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t done anything wrong and we were getting the cane . . .

  I thought about it. For a split second I thought about it – ‘Sir, he didn’t fall off Pickersgill’s wall. We were nowhere near Pickersgill’s wall. His dad hit him. His dad’s alway
s hitting him . . .’ I looked at Norbert. Maybe he’d tell him . . . Tell him, Norbert, tell him . . .! But he didn’t. He just stared straight ahead.

  ‘Right, who’s going first?’

  I wanted to get it over with. I wanted to go first.

  ‘Me, sir.’

  But Norbert already had his hand up.

  ‘Right, Lightowler. Bend over, lad.’

  Oh no, I’d thought it was going to be on my hand. We’d only got our gym shorts on. It was going to hurt even more. This was the worst day of my life. Norbert bent down and the headmaster lifted the cane up in the air. I couldn’t watch. I looked away and closed my eyes. It whooshed through the air and I felt sick as I heard it hit him. What was I going to feel like when it was my turn?

  I took a deep breath. My teeth were clenched together like anything. I turned to take Norbert’s place but he was still bent down and the cane was up in the air again. Whoosh! This time I saw it. He hit him as hard as he could. He’s going to do this to me next, that’s all I could think of, he’s going to do it to me.

  ‘Last one, Lightowler.’

  Another one? Whoosh! Three times! I’m going to be caned three times! I couldn’t believe it . . .

  ‘Well done, lad.’

  ‘Well done’? What did he mean, ‘well done’? ’Cos he didn’t cry? ’Cos he didn’t shout out? Is that what he means by ‘well done’? If I cry or scream does that mean I won’t have done well? Does it mean I’ll get an extra one for not ‘doing well’? I felt sick.

  ‘OK, lad. Bend over.’

  I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It was like I was in a dream. Whoosh . . .! It was the worst pain I’d ever felt.

  Whoosh . . .! I thought I was going to throw up. All I’d tried to do was to stop Norbert getting hit by his dad and here I was getting hit by the headmaster.

  Whoosh . . .! The last one. It was over. I think he said ‘Well done, lad’, I couldn’t remember.

  We didn’t talk on the way back to the gym. But just as we were going in Norbert mumbled something.

  ‘He only hits me when he’s been drinking you know . . . my mam says he can’t help it . . .’

  I could only just make out what he said. I didn’t care anyway.

  ‘I don’t care, it’s nowt to do with me.’

  ‘He’s all right most of the time . . .’