‘He said it would be better, miss, if I stayed at school next week and not go on the trip.’
Miss Pruitt looked surprised. ‘Did he?’
‘Yes, miss. He said, you said that I'm a danger to everyone and to myself.’
‘Yes, I did say that,’ began the teacher, ‘but –’
‘And that I draw trouble towards me like a magnet.’
‘Well, you certainly do that, but –’
‘And that I attract calamity like a honey pot attracts bees.’
‘Mr Merriman's not far off the mark there, Dominic, but –’
‘So, he thinks it would be better if I joined the class below next week while you are on the school trip to Thundercliff Bay.’
Nathan Thomas, on the next table, nudged his neighbour and whispered something which made his small companion snigger.
‘Nathan Thomas!’ snapped Miss Pruitt. ‘Get on with your work and stop eavesdropping. And that goes for you as well, Darren Wilmott. It is impolite to listen to other people's private conversations and not nice to laugh at other people's misfortunes. Now Dominic,’ she continued in a quieter voice, ‘I did say that you could be a very trying and troublesome boy, but I didn't think Mr Merriman would ban you from coming on the school trip. I assumed that he would just give you a good telling-off and leave it at that.’
‘It's probably for the best, miss.’
‘What's probably for the best?’ asked the teacher.
‘That I should stay at school next week, miss.’
‘I shall decide whether it is or whether it is not for the best, Dominic,’ replied Miss Pruitt, bristling. ‘Don't you want to go to Thundercliff Bay with us?’
‘Yes, miss, I'd love to. I've been looking forward to it for ages.’
‘Well, I'll have a word with Mr Merriman at afternoon break, but I want you to promise me that you will be on your very, very best behaviour if we do decide to let you go.’
Nathan Thomas made a sort of grunting noise followed by a ‘Huh’.
‘Is there something wrong with your voice, Nathan?’ asked Miss Pruitt, looking over the top of her glasses.
‘No, miss,’ replied the boy, smirking like the cat that got the cream.
‘Then stop making that peculiar noise and get on with your work. You sound like an anteater with sinusitis. And take that silly grin off your face. One day the wind might change and your face will stay like that.’ The teacher turned her attention back to Dominic. ‘Now, I am still very angry with you, Dominic, about what happened in the storeroom.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘And if I can persuade Mr Merriman to let you go to Thundercliff Bay, then you must promise me you will be on your very best behaviour.’
‘I will, miss.’ Dominic gave a great wide grin and stared up at the teacher's blue face. Michael Chan smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign.
‘Miss?’ said Dominic.
‘Yes?’
‘I'm sorry about the paint.’
When Miss Pruitt had returned to her desk, Dominic's other friend, Sean Murphy, pushed a note across the table to him which read: ‘I'm really glad you'll be going. It wouldn't be the same without you.’
Dominic nodded and smiled back at him. ‘Thanks Smurph,’ he mouthed.
Later that morning, when Miss Pruitt was busy trying to rid herself of the remains of the powder paint, Nathan Thomas leaned over his desk.
‘Well, I hope “Mighty Mouth” Merriman doesn't let you go,’ he said nastily. ‘You might wrap “Dizzy Lizzy” Miss Pruitt round your little finger with your, “It's probably for the best that I don't go on the trip, miss,” and your “I'm sorry about the paint, miss.” But you won't get around old Merriman that easily.’
At afternoon break Dominic was summoned to the headteacher's room. Mr Merriman sat at his desk looking stern, his fingers steepled before him.
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ said Dominic nervously.
‘I don't know what you said to Miss Pruitt, Dominic,’ said the headteacher, ‘but she's been to see me, pleading your cause and asking me to let you go on the school trip next week.’
‘Great!’ gasped Dominic.
‘Now, don't think the incident with the paint has been forgotten because when you return there will be various jobs about the school for you to do to make amends. And don't think you will be having an easy time next week. As you are aware, your class is joining up with a class from Cransworth Junior School in the charge of Mr Risley-Newsome, whose reputation goes before him. From what I have heard of Mr Risley-Newsome, he stands no nonsense, no nonsense at all. I have mentioned your name to him, just now on the telephone, so he will be keeping a special eye on you and making quite certain that you remain out of trouble. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Dominic's smile stretched from ear to ear. ‘Thanks, sir.’
Mr Merriman had not had a particularly pleasant conversation on the telephone with the teacher in question, if truth be known.
‘I may be old-fashioned,’ Mr Risley-Newsome had told Mr Merriman pompously, ‘but I believe in high standards of behaviour. It is essential that accidents do not occur and that children follow instructions to the letter. I do pride myself on my excellent safety record.’
‘Really,’ Mr Merriman had replied wearily.
‘And I mean to maintain that excellent safety record,’ Mr Risley-Newsome had announced. ‘So have no fear, I shall be watching the Dowson boy with eagle eyes.’
Later in the staff room, Mr Merriman had shared his reservations about Mr Risley-Newsome with a gloomy-looking Miss Pruitt. ‘He does sound a bit of a stick in the mud, Elizabeth,’ he had remarked. ‘A trifle on the serious side, a rather intense man by the sound of him, but I am sure you will get on famously.’ There was no conviction in his voice.
Miss Pruitt had smiled weakly. ‘I hope so,’ she had said. ‘I do hope so.’
Two
Gran's Gold Sovereign
‘Now, are you sure you've got everything?’ Dominic's mum was poking her head round his bedroom door the Sunday night before the school trip to Thundercliff Bay.
‘Yep.’
‘Socks?’
‘Yep.’
‘Shirts?’
‘Yep.’
‘Jumpers?’
‘Yep.’
‘Waterproofs?’
‘Yep.’
‘Boots?’
‘Stop worrying, Mum,’ replied Dominic. ‘I've got everything. I've checked, double-checked and triple-checked.’
‘Yes, well I've heard that one before. You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on. I know you of old. I remember when we went to Blackpool and you forgot your swimming trunks and then you left your camera on the bus coming home.’
‘Honest, Mum, I've got everything.’
‘Well, just so long as you're sure. Anyway, tea's ready, so fasten up your case and come on down.’
Dominic crammed the last article of clothing into the small, brown, rather battered case.
‘That case has seen better days,’ his mum said. ‘I remember your gran had it when I was a girl. It was old then.’
‘It's probably an antique,’ said Dominic, snapping the catches shut. ‘But it's fine, Mum.’
‘Oh, it's an antique all right,’ chuckled his mum. ‘And that rucksack you borrowed from your Uncle Michael looks as if it's been through two world wars.’
‘I told you, Mum, it's not worth buying a new case and rucksack just for one trip. I'll probably never use them again.’
Dominic's mum wished she could have afforded to buy new ones but money was a bit short at the moment and it was coming up to Christmas. She smiled at Dominic. He was a good lad. He wasn't hard to please. ‘Come on, then, tea's ready.’
‘I'll just make double sure I've got everything,’ he said.
Dominic lived with his mum and his gran in a small red-bricked terraced house with a greasy grey roof and small square windows. The kitchen looked out on a cracked, grey concrete yard with an ou
tdoor store, and the front door opened directly on to the pavement and the busy, dusty main road. There wasn't very much room in the house. His mum had one bedroom, his gran another and he had the small boxroom with just enough space for a bed, bedside table and a wardrobe. He often wished he lived in a great big rambling house like Nathan Thomas's, with its curved, sweeping, gravel drive, huge pointed roof, large lawned garden and a bedroom overlooking the golf course. It was his next-best-favourite dream.
His very favourite dream was about his dad. He dreamed that one day, his dad – whom he couldn't even remember – would walk through the door. He'd be really famous and rich and drive a huge car and live in a mansion with a swimming pool, and a bathroom with solid gold taps.
Dominic's mum never talked about his dad. She had told him that he had left when Dominic was little and that was that. When he mentioned his dad, his mum quickly changed the subject. Gran had told him once, when he had gone on and on about him, that his father was a very quiet, serious man – a dreamer, not cut out for family life, someone who just couldn't settle down, who had to be on the move all the time.
Dominic often thought to himself that he must be a bit like his dad. He loved to dream as well, and would go to sleep at night thinking of all sorts of exciting adventures. He knew deep down that his dreams would remain dreams, that they were as fantastic and far-fetched as the ones Mr Merriman was always going on about – extravagant tales, weird and wonderful stories which would never come true, but it never stopped him dreaming.
Dominic's mother worked hard and did her best for him, but she always seemed to be short of money. He knew she had found it hard to pay for the trip to Thundercliff Bay. Perhaps it would have been better if he had, after all, stayed at school for the week. At least it would have saved her the money. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard his mum's voice at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Dominic! Will you get down here now! Your tea's on the table.’
In the living room, Dominic's gran was sitting in her chair, with a tray on her knee, watching television.
‘Hello, love,’ she said as Dominic entered the room. Her eyes always brightened up when she saw him. She called him ‘the apple of her eye’ and sprang to his defence whenever he got into trouble. Like the episode with the rock bun, the seagull, the mad woman and the chihuahua. But that was another story.
‘Hi, Gran,’ Dominic said cheerfully.
‘Someone's in a good mood.’
‘I am,’ replied her grandson, giving her a kiss.
‘Are you all set, then?’
‘Yep, all packed up and ready to go,’ he said, heading for the small kitchen.
‘And you've got everything?’ she asked.
‘Yep,’ he replied, emerging a moment later with a plateful of steaming chips and sausages.
‘Have you got plenty of clean underpants?’
‘Yes, Gran, loads and loads, enough to sink a battleship.’
‘That'll do,’ came his mum's good-natured voice from the kitchen.
‘Because if you get knocked down, you don't want to arrive at hospital with dirty underwear on, do you?’ said Gran.
Dominic's mum appeared. ‘Don't give him ideas, Mother,’ she warned. ‘He's not going to get knocked down. There are going to be no accidents.’ She looked knowingly at her son. ‘Are there, Dominic?’
‘You never can tell, what with all these busy roads, Maureen,’ continued Gran undeterred. ‘You can't have too many pairs of underpants, that's what I always say. I remember when I was at school, Jimmy Sargeson was sewn into his vest for the winter. My goodness, you knew if you had to sit next to him. Pooh, he did smell, and no mistake. What the doctors would have thought if he had had an accident and been taken to hospital. Then there was Ethel Clegg, wet her knickers on her way to school and Miss Price, our teacher, made her put them on the old stove in the classroom to dry out. Ooooh, the steam and the smell. I remember it to this day. And poor Ethel, sniffling and snuffling, she was so embarrassed. We might not have had much money when I was a girl but we always had clean underwear.’
‘Gran, I'm trying to have my tea, here,’ said Dominic laughing, ‘and all you can talk about is dirty underwear.’
‘It's always best to be on the safe side and pack a few extra undergarments,’ persisted Gran. ‘That's what I always say. You can never be too sure. Anyway, Dominic, fetch me my bag, will you?’
‘If you've got a clean pair of underpants in there,’ Dominic told her mischievously, ‘I don't need them.’
‘Go on with you,’ chuckled Gran. ‘Go and get my bag.’
‘He's just started his tea, Mother,’ sighed her daughter. ‘Can't he get your bag later?’
‘It'll only take a minute, Maureen. I'll forget if I don't do it now.’
Dominic put down his plate and scrambled up the stairs, returning a moment later with a large, black, battered handbag which he placed next to his gran. She gave him the tray from her lap and began rootling in the bag until she found a shiny pound coin which she held up.
‘Whatever's that?’ she teased.
‘A pound, Gran.’
‘And I wonder who's it for?’
‘Me, Gran,’ said Dominic.
‘Is it?’
‘Yes, Gran.’
‘This is for the best boy in the whole wide world. I wonder who that can be?’
‘Me, Gran,’ replied Dominic, playing along with her and laughing.
‘Is it? Well, you better have it, then,’ she said. ‘To buy an ice cream.’
‘Thanks, Gran,’ he said.
‘And are you too big to give your gran a kiss?’ she asked.
Dominic wrapped his arms round his gran and gave her a great kiss. She smelt of flowers and sandalwood soap, and her cheeks, soft and wrinkled as an old apple, had a light-brown powder on them as if she had sprinkled a dusting of cinnamon on them. Dominic immediately thought of Miss Pruitt. He saw that there were tears in his gran's eyes. She once told him that people sometimes cried when they were happy.
‘You know, Dominic, when I was a girl my grandma had a pound coin. She used to clean for an old gentleman called Mr Lloyd. A doctor he was. Used to have a silver-topped cane. When he died it was left to her in his will.’
‘The silver-topped cane?’ asked Dominic.
‘No, no, the pound coin.’
‘He only left her a pound!’ exclaimed Dominic. ‘One single measly pound!’
‘It doesn't sound a lot now, does it,’ said Gran, ‘but it was worth quite a lot of money in those days. A pound went a long way when I was a girl. I used to love looking at that coin, all bright and golden. It was called a sovereign. Shiny, it was, with the head of the old queen on one side and St George fighting the dragon on the other. It was worth its weight in gold, not like these modern coins. My gran kept it in her purse and brought it out sometimes to show me. I'd hold it in my hand and curl my little fingers over it and she'd say that one day it would be mine.’
‘Have you still got it, Gran?’ asked Dominic.
‘No, love, I haven't. I never did get it.’
‘What happened?’ asked Dominic.
His gran sighed and gave a small, sad smile. ‘Well, love, we were short of money. We had to eat and we had to have shoes. Nothing's changed, has it? My grandma had to spend it.’
‘Well, when I become rich and famous, I'll get you a sovereign,’ said Dominic. ‘Real gold, and you can wear it round your neck on a great, big, thick, golden chain.’
‘You're a good boy, Dominic,’ said his gran. ‘I'll miss you next week. It'll be very quiet around here without you.’
‘I'm only going for five days, Gran,’ he told her.
‘Well, don't go getting into any bother, will you.’
‘No, Gran.’
‘And stay away from seagulls.’
‘Yes, Gran.’
‘Mother, will you let him get his tea. It's going cold,’ said Dominic's mum.
‘It will be like a cemetery around her
e without my Dominic,’ said Gran thoughtfully.
‘A bit of peace and quiet, for a change,’ said his mum, smiling. She, too, would miss him.
‘You'll make your mum and me very proud one day,’ said his gran. ‘Now, are you sure you've got plenty of clean underpants?’
It was a cold, clear Monday morning when Dominic opened his eyes. Through the small window, pale winter sunlight lit up the bedroom like theatre spotlights. Early morning traffic could be heard rumbling and grumbling along the road outside. He glanced at the small plastic clock in the shape of a dinosaur (a present from Gran) on the bedside cabinet, yawned massively, snuggled down under the blankets and buried his head in the pillow. Seven o'clock – time enough before he braved the chilly room.
This week at Thundercliff Bay is going to be terrific, Dominic thought to himself. The children, seventeen from Cransworth Juniors together with his class from St Jude's, were setting off that morning, returning the following Friday, so that was five full days off school. No long assemblies, no lining up in the playground in the cold, no maths and no school dinners for a full week.
He wondered what the pupils from Cransworth would be like. Cransworth was at the other side of the town, where there were all the big houses and the park and the playing field. Gran used to say that that was where all the rich people lived. The Cransworth pupils will probably be really snooty and big-headed, thought Dominic, with loads of spending money and expensive equipment. Then there is their teacher – Mr Risley-Newsome. Mr Merriman's words echoed in his head: ‘he stands no nonsense, no nonsense at all.’
Dominic banished such thoughts from his mind. Nothing was going to spoil his week away at the seaside. He examined the cracks on the ceiling and imagined the long walks along the sandy beaches, clifftop rambles, a visit to Robin Hoods Bay, hikes across the lonely moors, maybe a trip on a boat and then there would be the evenings – telling ghost stories, midnight feasts, exchanging jokes. Miss Pruitt had let them choose the friends they wanted to share a room with and Dominic had picked his two best pals – Sean Murphy (Smurph) and Michael Chan. He was glad he was not in the same room as Nathan Thomas. That would have been really, really awful.
Dominic's Discovery Page 2
