The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories

by George Layton

  We’d all got letters from the St Augustine boys and during one English lesson we had to write back. Melrose told us we had to write at least a page. He made Norbert write a letter even though he wasn’t going just to give him something to do in the lesson. The lad I’m swapping with is called Peter Jarvis. He’s got an older brother called Stephen and an older sister called Rosemary who’s at teacher training college. His father works in insurance and his mother works for charity sometimes but doesn’t get paid for it. He’s in the school chess team and his favourite subject is chemistry. I think they must have done their letters at home not in class ’cos he didn’t say much else. Just that he was looking forward to the trip and it was a shame we would never meet and that I could use his bicycle.

  . . . I live with my mum and she is looking forward to meeting you. She has made me tidy my bedroom up so that it will be nice for you. I have got a wireless in my bedroom so you can listen in bed. It used to belong to my grandad but he died two years ago. The Home Service is a bit crackly but not bad. I love listening to the wireless in bed. My favourite is Have a Go with Wilfred Pickles and Up the Pole with Jimmy Jule and Ben Worris. I think they are very funny. I like listening to plays as well but usually I fall asleep before the end or my mum comes in and tells me to switch off and go to sleep. The other night I listened to a play called Night Must Fall and it was a murder play and I was scared stiff and I could not sleep. I had told my mum I had turned it off but I was so frightened I had to own up so I could go into her bed until I fell asleep. I am in 1 Beta and our form master is Mr Bleasdale. He teaches Latin and he has a glass eye. My best friend is Tony Wainwright but be is in 1 Alpha. He is going on the exchange too. All the boys in our year are going except one. My mum is going to take you to Ilkley Moor to see the cow and calf. The cow and calf are two rocks and one is bigger than the other. The cow is the big one and the calf is the little one. It is a very famous place and it is great for climbing there. My mum is going to take you on some other trips but I won’t say where so it will be a surprise . . .

  Melrose told us to finish ’cos the bell was about to go so I just wrote that I hated chemistry and I was sorry that we wouldn’t meet and that he could use my bike as well. Then Melrose collected all the letters to post to St Augustine’s. Except Norbert’s. He threw his in the waste-paper basket.

  Dear Parents,

  School Exchange – Travel Arrangements

  Well, the big day approaches. Could you ensure that your son is at the school on Saturday at 8.30 a.m. for an 8.45 departure (prompt).

  We will be going to Leeds by charabanc and there we will pick up the 10.25 train to London (King’s Cross). The party will be led by myself, Mr Bleasdale and Mrs Jolliffe. The St Augustine boys will be arriving at our school at 5.15 p.m. (approx.) for you to pick them up.

  Attached to this letter is a list of clothes required, etc. As your son will be representing the school, would you please ensure that his blazer is in a presentable state (buttons, torn pockets, etc). Also on the list is the telephone number at St Augustine’s. Please telephone only in a case of emergency. Thank you for your cooperation. Finally, would those who have not paid their outstanding balance please do so by this coming Wednesday as I shall be out of pocket.

  Yours sincerely,

  Brian T. Melrose Cert. Ed.

  (Head of Sport)

  ‘Spencer . . .’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Thompson . . .’

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  ‘Tordoff . . .’

  ‘Sir!’

  We were all on the coach waiting to go while Mr Bleasdale ticked off our names. Well, not all. Keith Hopwood hadn’t turned up, but he’s always late for everything. I was sitting next to Tony. Me and my mum had got there early so the two of us could sit together and we were going to sit next to each other on the train as well.

  ‘Wainwright . . .’

  I nudged him and Tony put his hand up.

  ‘Present, sir!’

  Everybody laughed and Mr Bleasdale smiled. He’s quite nice really.

  ‘Walsh . . .’

  Everybody was so excited and talking to each other.

  ‘Walsh . . .’

  Brian Walsh was chatting away to Kenny Spencer and Duncan Cawthra. I leaned over and nudged him.

  ‘Hey Walshie, he’s called your name.’

  I suppose it’s hard for Mr Bleasdale to see properly when he’s only got one eye.

  ‘Is Brian Walsh here?’

  Walshie stuck his hand up.

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  Mr Bleasdale ticked his name off.

  ‘I know you’re excited, lads, but keep the noise down and listen for your names. I’m not telling you again . . .’

  He’d told us to pipe down about three times already. It was a good job it wasn’t Melrose taking our names – he’s not as nice as Mr Bleasdale.

  All the parents were standing on the pavement waiting to wave us off. I could see my mum talking to Tony’s mum and dad. Norbert had turned up as well. He was chewing bubble gum and he had his dog with him, a scrawny, scruffy-looking thing called Nell. He grinned at me and Tony and gave us a thumbs-up. I felt sorry for him.

  ‘I feel sorry for Norbert.’

  Tony looked at me.

  ‘Why? He’s not bothered. You know Norbert – he doesn’t give a damn, does he?’

  I knew different. I’d seen him in the playground. I didn’t say anything. There was no point. And my mum was right, it was a blessing in disguise. You couldn’t expect a stranger to stay at his house.

  Suddenly a few of the lads started shouting.

  ‘He’s here, sir. Hopwood’s here! Come on, Hopwood.’ I could see him running towards the coach with his mum and dad and everybody cheered as they bundled him on. Mrs Hopwood was in a right state.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Melrose, you know what the buses are like on a Saturday. We had to wait over half an hour . . .’

  And the next thing we were on our way. Melrose and Mrs Jolliffe got on and the driver started revving up and everybody on the pavement started waving.

  I looked out of the window and my mum gave me a little wave. I gave her a little wave back and she smiled. I smiled as well but I didn’t feel like smiling. All of a sudden I felt frightened. I didn’t want to go. All these weeks of looking forward to it and now I didn’t want to go. I’d never been away from home for this long. She came over and said ‘Are you all right?’ through the window. Well, she didn’t say it, she just moved her lips, but I could tell that’s what she was asking. I nodded. But I wasn’t all right. It was all I could do to stop myself from crying. It was going to be a week before I was going to see my mum again. I didn’t think I could last that long. A whole week without seeing my mum. Norbert was waving as well and I started wishing I was Norbert, staying at home. Lucky Norbert, not having to go away for a week, not having to stay with a family he didn’t know. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to get off, go home with my mum, but the coach started moving off and everybody began cheering and I could feel the tears behind my eyes. Don’t let me start crying, please don’t let me start crying.

  My mum started running alongside the coach. Why was she doing that? She looked funny. None of the other mums and dads were running alongside. Stop it, Mum, stop it. I looked away. Please stop, Mum, you look silly, you’re embarrassing me. I looked back and she was still there, running and waving and wiping her eyes with a hanky. Then thank goodness we started going faster and she slowed down. The coach stopped at some lights and I looked back. All the other mums and dads were walking off but she was still standing there, out of breath, waving and crying.

  ‘Have a nice time, love!’

  David Holdsworth and a few of the others went ‘Have a nice time, love’ and giggled.

  ‘See you in a week, love!’

  Why didn’t my mum just go? Why didn’t the lights change? Change lights, change!! They did change. But not in time. If they’d changed just a few seconds sooner nobody would have he
ard her.

  ‘Keep an eye on him, Mr Bleasdale. He’s all I’ve got . . .!’

  Everybody started laughing, and what made it worse was they were all trying to hold it in. Couldn’t she have shouted, ‘Keep an eye on him, Mr Melrose’ or ‘Mrs Jolliffe’? No, she had to shout, ‘Keep an eye on him, Mr Bleasdale.’ Mr Bleasdale! The only teacher with one eye!

  I turned away so nobody could see me crying. I wanted to blow my nose but I couldn’t. My mum had packed my hankies in my suitcase.

  THE SWAP

  PART TWO

  I could feel the tears in my eyes. I turned my head away and looked out of the window so that nobody could see. I think maybe Tony knew but he didn’t say anything, he was talking to Kenny Spencer across the aisle.

  I just kept looking out of the window and everything I saw made me feel worse. We went past Mrs Allsop’s High Class Hairdressing Salon where my mum goes with my Auntie Doreen every Saturday afternoon. She’d be going there that afternoon and it made me feel more sad. We went past the end of our road and I could feel the tears running down my face. I wiped them away with my sleeve. If only I could blow my nose.

  I was lucky. Nobody really noticed that I was crying. They would have done if it hadn’t been for Keith Hopwood, but I was lucky. He threw up. It went everywhere, mostly over David Holdsworth’s blazer. Everybody jumped back and started shouting.

  ‘Sir, sir! Hopwood’s been sick.’

  ‘All over my blazer, sir. It’s just been dry-cleaned, my mum’ll go mad!’

  Melrose told everybody to calm down and go back to their places. Holdsworth and Duncan Cawthra said they couldn’t ’cos there was sick on their seats.

  ‘Just sit down – anywhere! Use your common sense!’

  Melrose was all red in the face and the vein under his eye was throbbing. When that vein throbs you know Melrose is really mad. Hopwood just kept saying he was sorry. He kept saying it over and over. And ’cos of his stutter he could hardly get his words out.

  ‘I’m s-s-sorry, s-sir. I’m e-e-ever so s-s-sorry. Sorry, D-D-David . . .’

  And he threw up again, mostly in the aisle, and everyone got out of the way again.

  ‘S-s-sorry, s-sir, I c-couldn’t help it . . .’

  Mrs Jolliffe had a box of tissues and gave him some and Holdsworth took a few to wipe his blazer. Mr Bleasdale put his Yorkshire Post over Hopwood’s sick while Mrs Jolliffe put her arm round him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Keith, it’s not your fault. It’s running for the coach, that’s what’s made you sick. Here, blow your nose.’

  Then he started crying.

  ‘No it’s n-not. I’ve been f-feeling sick all n-night ’cos I was nervous about g-g-going. That’s w-why I was late, ’cos I d-didn’t want to g-go. I d-don’t want to g-go now. I w-want to g-g-go home. I want to g-g-go home . . .!’

  I leaned across and asked Mrs Jolliffe if I could have one of her tissues.

  ‘Help yourself, dear.’

  She didn’t look round, she was busy looking after Keith. She probably thought I needed to wipe the seat or something so I took a few and blew my nose.

  I felt better. Much better. Not ’cos I’d been able to blow my nose but ’cos I knew now that I wasn’t the only one who was frightened about going away from home. I bet lots of us were scared but some are just better at hiding it than others.

  ‘I want to g-go h-home, Mrs Jolliffe. P-please let me g-go home. I d-don’t w-w-want to go London!’

  And he started crying again.

  Everybody was looking at him. If Keith hadn’t been sick it would have been me everybody would have been looking at and me Mrs Jolliffe would have been comforting.

  ‘Come on, dear, you come and sit with me and we’ll have a little talk.’

  As she went past I heard her whispering to Bleasdale and Melrose that he’d be all right and to leave it to her. The vein under Melrose’s eye was throbbing like anything.

  I looked out of the window again. I knew just how Keith was feeling. I’d never felt so sad in all my life. I didn’t want to go to on this school exchange either. A whole week before I’d see my mum. And my Auntie Doreen. A whole week staying with strangers. I could feel the tears coming again. No! I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t. I wouldn’t let myself. I didn’t want everybody looking at me the way they’d all looked at Keith Hopwood. The way I’d looked at Keith Hopwood. Then I realised that Tony was looking at me. Looking at me the way he’d looked at Keith Hopwood.

  ‘Are you cryin’?

  ‘No, ’course not.’

  He didn’t believe me, I could tell.

  ‘Your eyes are all red.’

  ‘I know . . .’

  When my Auntie Doreen had come back from the doctor’s last Thursday she’d told my mum she’d got an eye infection, con-something, and her eyes were all red.

  ‘ . . . I’ve got an eye infection. I got it off my Auntie Doreen.’

  ‘You look like you’ve been cryin’.’

  ‘I know. So did my Auntie Doreen.’

  I turned away from him and looked out of the window again. We were just going past the GPO. The coach turned onto the Leeds road and headed out of town.

  I kept thinking to myself, this time next week it’ll all be over. That’s how I stopped myself from crying. Whenever something horrible is going to happen to me, like having to have an injection, or having to go to the dentist, that’s what I always think. In an hour, in a day, this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over, forgotten. Well, it was the same with this blooming rotten school exchange. I just kept thinking to myself, this time next week it’ll all be over – we’ll be on our way home.

  Hopwood was still crying when we’d got to Leeds station, but not as much. More sort of sniffing and he was sucking a barley sugar Mrs Jolliffe had given him. To calm his tummy down. Melrose got up and stood at the front next to the driver.

  ‘We are now at Leeds station.’

  We could see we were at Leeds station, there was a big sign that said so. Tony leaned over to me.

  ‘Does he think we can’t read?’

  I giggled.

  ‘What are you laughing at, lad?’

  I could feel myself going red.

  ‘Nothing, sir.’

  ‘’Cos if there’s something that amuses you, lad, let’s share it. Let’s all have a bit of a laugh.’

  I stared straight ahead at Melrose. Well, not at him, I sort of looked through him, behind him. It was the only way I could stop myself from crying. What was the matter with me? I could feel my bottom lip trembling. The driver winked at me and smiled. I suppose he was trying to cheer me up. I gave him a little smile back.

  ‘Take that grin off your face, lad.’

  I did. So did the driver. I don’t know whose smile disappeared the fastest, his or mine. He turned round in his seat and started fiddling about with a cloth, wiping all the dials, and I looked down at my feet.

  ‘I’m going to say something now and I shall only say it once. When I or Mr Bleasdale or Mrs Jolliffe is speaking, there will be absolute and total silence while you listen to our instructions. Is that understood?’

  Nobody said anything.

  ‘Is that understood?’

  Everybody jumped, even the driver. He stood up and started polishing his windscreen.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good . . .’

  The vein underneath Melrose’s eye was throbbing again.

  ‘ . . . because only if you listen carefully and follow instructions will we avoid any mishaps and misunderstandings. Is that clear, gentlemen?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Now when you get off the charabanc I want you all to line up in twos and I don’t want to hear any talking. Hutchinson – lead off.’

  We all followed each other off and started getting into twos like Melrose had said. But a few of them started arguing. Illingworth wanted to be with Emmott, Emmott wanted to be with Duncan Cawthra, Cawthra was already with David Holdsworth and John Tordoff wanted
to be with Tony ’cos they’re in the same class and I was telling him that Tony was already with me and Tordoff said when they walked to swimming in twos they were always together and that they sat next to each other in class and I said that had nothing to do with it ’cos Tony was my best friend and we’d been best friends since Primary School . . .

  ‘I said no talking! Into pairs – now!!’

  We all turned and looked for our partners as fast as we could but I couldn’t find Tony for a minute and the next thing I knew we were all in twos but Tony was with Tordoff and I’d ended up with Arthur Boocock. I can’t stand Arthur Boocock. He’s a bully and he’s got bad breath. What makes it worse, he comes up right close when he talks to you. His face is always about an inch away. Melrose was standing on the steps of the coach.

  ‘Better . . .’

  And he steals, does Boocock. I’m positive he took my Ovaltiney pencil case. I should have put my name in it.

  ‘Now that’s what I want to see when I tell you all to line up in twos . . .’

  It had disappeared one Friday afternoon and on the following Monday Arthur Boocock turns up with an Ovaltiney pencil case.

  ‘Hey, look what I’ve got, an Ovaltiney pencil case an’ all. It came on Saturday morning. I’ve scratched my initials inside so it doesn’t get mixed up with yours. Look.’

  It was mine. It had a dent where I’d dropped it on my Auntie Doreen’s kitchen floor. He’d scratched A.B. in my pencil case. But I couldn’t prove it. If only I’d put my initials inside.

  ‘I want you to take note of the person you are standing next to because this will be your partner for the week . . .’

  Oh no! I didn’t want to be with smelly Arthur Boocock every time we lined up . . . This was going to be the worst week of my life.

  ‘Now you will all go with Mr Bleasdale to platform 4. I will follow with the luggage. Do not get on the train until you are told to. Mrs Jolliffe – will you take up the rear?’