by Phil Earle
Although wiry, Joseph was not a light child, and when you factored in the intensity of his anger, there was no way an ageing man should’ve been able to restrain him, but that is exactly what Gryce did, and with one hand, he lifted the boy from his feet and positioned him head-first across the nearest desk.
This was not the first time the headmaster had caned a child in front of an entire class. It had been a common occurrence throughout his tenure: a deterrent to others. It was, however, the first time he had ever caned a child on their first day.
And as for Joseph, he’d lost count of the number of canings he’d received, in private or otherwise, but it didn’t stop him bucking and kicking under the headmaster’s grasp. Didn’t stop his arms and legs going rigid with shock and pain, when Clarence first made contact with his backside.
He’d known this would happen, one way or another, when Mrs F told him where he was going that morning, but that did little to dilute the humiliation or pain of it.
‘I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH INSOLENCE IN MY SCHOOL,’ came the roar from above him, and with every strike, Clarence tattooed the sentence onto his skin, not stopping until Joseph’s limbs finally fell limp, defeated.
Then, and only then, did Gryce stand upright, slicking a strand of lank hair back across his forehead as he caught his breath.
‘Miss Doherty, I will leave the child with you. See to it that there are no repeat performances. I do not wish to be disturbed again.’
Joseph did not move until he heard the door slam shut, and even then he only stood when he felt the gentler touch of his teacher’s hand on his shoulder: bolting from her to the safety of a space beneath the window, where he crouched on his haunches, arms pulled around his knees, head buried in the same place.
‘All right, children,’ Miss Doherty said, voice thick with emotion, ‘if you can pick up any furniture close to you, and return your books to where you were, we will read silently until the bell for playtime.’
The class followed her instruction out of shock, but also out of a very real fear that Clarence was still twitching in the corridor. Desks were scraped and chairs righted, until silence reigned, and the only noise to be heard was the occasional page turning, though how much was being absorbed was debatable.
Joseph stayed where he was, resisting and recoiling from every approach Miss Doherty attempted, not even moving when the bell rang, and the children were dismissed.
It took a glass of water being placed at his feet to break even the tiniest hint of his trance.
‘You should drink this.’
He didn’t move.
‘I’m sorry you had to endure that.’
He didn’t believe her.
‘Joseph, I don’t understand why you reacted like that, but I did hear what Bert said. It clearly hurt you.’
Joseph sniffed and pressed his head into his arms. No one could hurt him. Certainly not a kid.
‘And is it true, Joseph? What Bert said? Is reading difficult for you?’
He pushed his chin further into his knees, eyes so focused on the ground that he was in danger of burning a hole in the floorboards.
‘Please, Joseph. Talk to me. Because... well, I don’t see what else could’ve upset you so badly? You’d barely walked in the door. So I’d like you to come sit with me, just for a minute, so I can see where you are with your reading. Then I can help you.’
He shook his head. How could he allow himself to do that after what had already happened? It was like she wanted him to lose his temper again. Well, he wasn’t going to do that. He’d sit as long as he had to. Till Christmas, if needs be.
His stubbornness showed.
‘Joseph, I want you to listen to me now. Mr Gryce is going to question me about where you are with your studies. And on top of that, there are his monthly tests, where he will expect you to read aloud. Now, you might be prepared to lie to him, but I’m afraid I’m not. So the choice is simple. You can either come and read with me now, or you can leave it to chance the next time he pays a visit. I know which I’d prefer, and I think you do, too.’
She left him at that point, returning to her desk and pulling the chair out next to her, as if posting a very public invitation.
This was a standoff, but he refused to back down. Even though he wasn’t watching her, Joseph could sense her restlessness, caught her looking at the clock on the wall, forcing her to approach him, just before the bell sounded to mark the end of playtime.
‘Take this home with you then, please,’ she sighed, placing a book in his lap. ‘Read it with Mrs Farrelly and ask her to send a note back, letting me know if it was too easy or hard.’
Joseph said nothing, but allowed the book to rest on his lap. It was a small, yet painful victory, and he’d had precious few of any kind since arriving here. Heaven knows how he’d hold on to that feeling once Mrs F sat down with him to read.
16
The walk to the zoo was a slow one.
He didn’t want to go there, granted. Didn’t want to start a conversation with Mrs F about his reading, and wasn’t overly happy to be escorted by Syd, who thankfully stayed a pace ahead and was unusually quiet (presumably due to what had happened in class).
But this wasn’t the reason for his laboured pace.
He walked slowly because of the shooting pains he felt with every step, courtesy of Clarence. He’d been mostly numb at first, in his body and brain, but as the day progressed, and his isolation deepened and adrenaline dropped, he’d struggled to work out which hurt more: his backside, or his pride.
‘Sweets,’ said Syd, turning suddenly.
‘What?’ Joseph answered, confused.
‘Sweets. That’s what you need now. I mean, before the war, that’s what you’d have, to cheer you up. Bloomin’ Hitler. Couldn’t even leave us those, could he? I’m guessing you’re a lemon sherbet fan.’
She was wrong. It was Jelly Babies for Joseph. Though he could barely remember how they tasted any more.
‘Do you want to stop for a while?’ Syd asked, her voice soft – kind, even.
‘Why?’
‘Well, I can see you’re not comfortable. And I know how much being caned hurts.’
Joseph doubted very much that Syd had ever done anything to warrant a visit from Clarence, but if she was lying then she was covering it well.
‘No point,’ he sighed. ‘Not like I can sit down, is it?’
‘Hardly,’ and she grinned at him, exposing a row of tombstone teeth too big for her mouth. ‘There’s not a cushion fat enough to numb the pain, from what I remember.’
‘I can’t believe you’ve been caned. What did you do? Refuse to shut up?’
‘There’s lots you don’t know about me,’ she replied. ‘And vice versa.’
‘What do you mean?’
She stopped and thought for a second. ‘How can I put this? You seemed... very quick to lose your temper. And all right, I’ve seen you do it before, but, well... not like that. It was scary. Not for me. It just looked scary for you.’
Joseph shrugged but kept his guard up. ‘Didn’t bother me. She should’ve left me alone, that’s all.’
‘But she’s a teacher. What else should she have asked? I mean, you’re a new boy in a new school. A question about how good you are at reading was always going to be at the top of the list, wasn’t it?’
He said nothing.
‘Because,’ she went on, despite Joseph’s scowling, ‘if you haven’t learned to read yet, it’s not the end of the world, you know.’
‘I have learned.’ He tried to work out how much he wanted to say. ‘Tried, anyway. Tried bloomin’ hard.’
‘But...’
‘But what?’
‘But you still can’t read?’
‘No, but it’s not my fault.’ His voice went up a tone defensively. ‘It’s the words.’
&n
bsp; ‘What, the words are to blame?’
‘Well, yeah.’ He blushed. ‘Sounds daft, but it’s true. They won’t stay still on the page, will they? Every time I try, right from the first day of school, they won’t have any of it. They move about. Dance, almost. I can hear what noise the teachers say they should make, but how am I supposed to make sense of it if the ruddy things won’t stay still?’
Syd didn’t have an answer, which made the insecurity of being honest even worse for Joseph.
‘You think I’m mad, don’t you?’
‘Not mad, n—’
‘Cos that’s what they all think, all the teachers I’ve ever had. I’ve thought it myself, too. Every time I’ve tried to explain it, they think I’m mad, or lazy, or both. That’s why I didn’t want to go in this morning, not cos I’m idle, but cos I knew I’d end up on the end of one cane or another. It alwayshappens.’
Syd opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.
‘Forget it,’ he said, ‘what do you care anyway? It’s not your problem, is it? It’s mine.’
‘Doesn’t mean I can’t help.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Are you serious? People help because it’s what they do. People help because they care.’
‘Not ’bout me, they don’t.’
‘Maybe,’ Syd replied, sadly. ‘Or maybe they’ve just given up because you won’t let them.’
That brought a scoff from Joseph. What did she know?
‘Well, the offer’s there,’ Syd went on. ‘Might not be anything I can actually do, but I’ll try. You know, if you want me to.’
She trotted on. The zoo gates were in sight. And she clearly had work to do.
‘Oh, Syd?’ He’d remembered something. Something important. ‘You’ll not tell her about what happened today will you? Mrs F, I mean?’
‘What do you think?’ she replied. ‘You’ll have to trust me, won’t you?’ And with a smile that he didn’t see, and certainly wouldn’t have appreciated, she bustled on.
Trust, thought Joseph to himself. It was hardly a currency he dealt in, but as it was all he had, it would simply have to do.
17
He found Mrs F sitting in her office. She stood as soon as he entered, sheepishly, like she’d been caught with her fingers in the biscuit barrel. Joseph may have only known her for days, but he knew she wouldn’t have been sitting for long: the flush to her cheeks and stained overalls told him she’d been busy.
‘How was it, then?’ she barked, by way of a greeting.
‘What?’ he replied.
‘Parachuting into occupied France,’ she said. ‘School. What else?’
‘Fine,’ he said, eyes not meeting hers.
‘And... ?’
‘And what?’
‘Well, is that it?’
That wasn’t it. Clearly it wasn’t. The ache across his backside screamed otherwise, but to admit he’d been caned on day one would merely confirm what she already thought of him. And he was damned if he was going to give her that satisfaction.
‘So, what did you do?’
‘You know. Stuff.’
‘What, maths? Spellings? Reading?’
‘All those, yeah.’ The thought of the final one sent a red-hot streak of pain spiralling through him.
‘Were the other children welcoming?’
‘Not many others there,’ he replied, which was a better, more convenient truth than anything else he could offer.
She eyed him suspiciously, probably filling in the blanks herself, thought Joseph.
‘Right, well,’ she said. ‘Have you any homework to do? Before you get started here?’
The reading book in his bag was barely thirty pages long, but in that moment, it felt like he was carrying a dozen bibles. It was a burden that he simply couldn’t share with the woman, so he shook his head. Shovelling more camel dung was preferable to reading with her. Or explaining why he couldn’t.
‘Right. Well, your overalls are where you left them, and the wolves and camels are due a meal.’
He said nothing, just accepted the orders and shuffled back towards the door.
‘Oh, and when you’ve done that. You can sort out Adonis, too. His feed is already by his bars.’
Perfect, thought Joseph, feeling more imprisoned than the ape he was about to serve.
He shuffled slowly round the zoo, turning his nose up at any greeting that came his way. Not that the residents were great conversationalists: only the birds seemed to chirp at his presence, and even then, they seemed to be laughing at him.
He started with the camels, or rather, they started with him. Joseph had it in his head that camels were lazy beasts, prone to loping rather than sprinting, but at the first sight of him clutching a bale of straw, they came alive, pinning him in the corner of the cage, putting his fingers at risk as they fed greedily. He considered retrieving the book from his bag: he’d see if they were hungry for knowledge as well, but as they pushed him harder into the bars, he settled for leaving without being devoured himself.
The wolves were equally welcoming, but as with the camels, Joseph was under no illusions about why. When they saw him, they saw dinner: a veritable steak in comparison to the offal that slopped inside the bucket. Mrs F really wasn’t joking when she said that she took whatever food she could find. He was no lover of liver or tripe in the first place, but the serving he was carrying looked and smelled like it should’ve been eaten weeks ago, staining Joseph’s hands with a stench that he feared he would never shift.
All he could do was hurl the meat from a safe distance, flinching when the wolves fell ravenously on it, turning on each other when the rations were all too quickly gone.
He was relieved when the bucket held nothing but blood and the smell of death. The only problem was, now the wolves had been seen to, his ‘to feed’ list included only one word: Adonis. It took gritted teeth to make him shuffle in the direction of the ape’s kingdom, finding him imperious on his muddy throne, eyes fixed on the zoo’s entrance.
‘Oi! Food,’ Joseph called at him, without enthusiasm. Adonis didn’t spare him a glance, or even a blink, which didn’t surprise the boy, but served as a sad reminder of how he was regarded. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feed the ape, and get the woman off his back, if he was so invisible? He didn’t fancy approaching the bars like she had. He doubted he’d walk away with his arms still in their sockets if he tried.
Instead, he pulled a handful of grass from the pail and waved it in the air. ‘Come on,’ he shouted. ‘Grub’s up.’
There was no movement from inside. Not even a glance.
‘Come on,’ he huffed. ‘Give me a chance! I mean, you’ll take food off Mrs F, won’t you? And don’t think I didn’t see her in there with you either, being all chummy. So what’s wrong with my food, then? I’ll get a right rollocking if you don’t eat nothing.’
He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be inside the cage with Adonis. The trust they must have in each other, to know that nothing was going to go wrong. Although he didn’t really know it, it was a trust Joseph had barely felt in his whole life.
Begrudgingly, he swapped the grass for a cabbage that had seen better days, and waved it in Adonis’s eyeline. ‘Any better?’
Not a flicker. His eyes didn’t move from the zoo’s entrance.
‘It’s no good staring over there,’ he said, ‘looking for your sweetheart. I know what happened. Syd told me. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back, so come and take this off me, then you can do something else. Hang off a tree, beat your chest, I don’t know, cos what you’re doing right now is a waste of time. I’m telling you this for nowt – once they go, they never come back.’
It may have been a coincidence, but Adonis chose that moment to notice the boy, head turning slowly, eyes singeing the space between the two of
them. Joseph felt himself stiffen. Was Adonis going to charge at him again? He was scared, but didn’t want to be, so he pushed his chest out in defiance and vowed not to blink unless the beast did first.
‘Do you want this?’ he asked again, though he felt less confident when the ape slowly heaved himself to his feet and stepped towards him. It took every bit of bravery he had to hold his ground. It didn’t matter that the bars divided them; there was a force to the animal’s movements, a power that seemed magnified by the slowness of its stride.
‘Oh, you are hungry are you?’ What should he do with the food? Hurl it through the bars? Or dare he approach like Mrs F had done?
He daren’t do that. Adonis already felt too close for him to safely stand his ground, so he took a step back, while throwing the food through the bars.
If the ‘feast’ excited Adonis, he didn’t show it. His pace didn’t change, his gaze didn’t leave the boy until there were mere feet between them. Then, and only then did it shift, as he lowered himself into a sitting position, and surveyed what was on offer, as if perusing a menu.
Joseph watched as the leaves were sniffed and poked before being grumpily discarded.
‘Picky, aren’t you? Not keen on cabbage, eh? Better than sprouts, I can tell you. But only just. And there’s nothing better in here for you, pal.’
He tried a manky head of broccoli instead, but when it was propelled back at him at speed he took another step away, dumped the bucket on its side and retreated to the bench, keen to rest, but finding no way of sitting without his backside reminding him of his shocking day.
What was he going to do about school tomorrow? He had no intention of talking to Mrs F about his reading but knew Miss Doherty wouldn’t forget either. The instructions were clear: go home, read with Mrs F, and return with her view... or face Gryce and Clarence.
It left him with the most terrible of choices. Humiliate himself in front of the woman or face another freshly flayed backend. Well, forgive me, he thought, if both choices seemed as enticing as the contents of the wolves’ bucket.
