by Anna Smith
*
Everybody piled out of the bus, relieved to be breathing some clean fresh air and marvelling at the wet pavements steaming under the sudden blaze of the sun.
Other buses had already arrived carrying schoolkids and old folk on day trips and the seafront was busy with kids darting along the promenade and jumping off the high wall on to the sand. Others made their way to the chip shops and cafés, and the smell made us long for a bag of chips soaked in vinegar and salt. Our packed lunches could never match that, but we wouldn’t have dared throw them out.
You could hear the hum of engines from the fairground at the end of the pier and see the lights flashing on the waltzers and dodgems. I loved the shows, and I was always mesmerized by the tough guys who worked the rides, with fags dangling from their lips as they did daring balancing acts on the moving waltzers while they collected money from customers.
A bunch of young kids were standing on the grass watching a Punch and Judy show. They were squealing with laughter as the ugly puppet Punch battered Judy with a stick and then set about the policeman. Tony, Dan and me all looked at each other, then glanced at Jamie, who was biting his lip. I hated Punch and Judy. Whenever I had the measles or something and my temperature was high, I used to see ugly faces like that in my sweaty nightmares.
Some other kids were queuing to get their pictures taken by a photographer who had a tiny monkey on his shoulder. The guy looked shifty and the monkey, dressed in a sailor’s suit and hat, jumped all over the place. When it opened its mouth wide I could see that it had no teeth and it didn’t seem a very happy way to spend your day if you were a monkey, standing around in Ayr when you should be swinging about in the jungle.
But the most magical sight of all was the waves rolling into the shore, and we couldn’t wait to get in there.
‘OK now, children, everybody gather round and listen to the rules.’ Miss Lannigan shepherded all the children on to the grass at the edge of the car park.
We all stood, shifting around impatiently, desperate to get our swimsuits on and into the sea.
‘Right, it’s midday now and we all must be back at the bus by three thirty in the afternoon. I don’t want anybody going into town unless they ask. There’s a mile and a half of beach to play on and there are shows at the pier. I’ll be around here and Miss Grant won’t be very far away if you need us. So everybody go off and enjoy themselves and don’t go into the water out of your depth. Now be careful and … just enjoy yourselves.’ Miss Lannigan knew she was giving us lots of space to run around unsupervised, but she also knew that nobody would disobey her for fear of the consequences.
Miss Grant stood beside her looking even more miserable and mean than usual. She must have really hated children.
As soon as Miss Lannigan dismissed us we ran to the changing huts at the edge of the beach as though if we didn’t hurry the sun would disappear and our day would be ruined. In a flash we were all changed and on to the beach, our milk-white bodies almost transparent in the glare of the sun. We were free. We jumped around and ran up and down, not going anywhere in particular, but just laughing and screeching with joy.
Then everybody looked towards the changing huts and doubled over with hysterical laughter.
Nora Brennan came sidling out, her head down, her face crimson with embarrassment. What was she wearing? It was some kind of adult bathing costume with big, hard breasts that made her look like a midget woman. I burst out laughing at the unbelievable sight, then stopped when I saw her pain. The boys were roaring with laughter. Some of them were rolling around in the sand clutching their stomachs in convulsions.
I ran towards Nora, who was standing at the edge of the changing rooms with tears in her eyes. When I got closer I could see that what she was wearing was in fact a big person’s swimsuit, maybe her mother’s or her big sister’s, but it had the bump shapes at the front like the movie stars wore and it was definitely not for a ten-year-old girl.
‘C’mon, Nora, it doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘The boys are just stupid. Nobody’ll notice in ten minutes. C’mon … stop crying.’ I took her by the arm.
‘It’s … it’s … my m … m … mum’s swimsuit. I haven’t got one. She said I could go in with my vest and pants on, but I wanted a costume. But look, Kath …’ She put her hands on the bumps. ‘It’s got big tits and everythin’,’ she sobbed.
I took her hand and pulled her towards the crowd on the beach. Nora was one of seven children and her dad was in a wheelchair. They were even poorer than most people in the village and got a lot of their clothes from the St Vincent de Paul. I glared at the boys, who were still smirking, but beginning to calm down when they saw Nora’s tears.
Joe Reilly, as ever, would not let up though.
‘Hey, Nora, you look like Marilyn Monroe wi’ yer big diddies.’ He burst out laughing and one or two others joined him.
‘Look, shut it, you,’ I snapped at Joe and looked at Tony, Jamie and Dan for moral support.
‘Yeah, c’mon, who cares? Last one in the sea’s a horse’s ass,’ Tony piped up, taking off and giving himself a head start.
Everyone ran after him, including Nora Brennan, her big stiff chest sticking straight out as she raced across the sand.
What a day we were having. We splashed each other and dived into waves of freezing water. Even in the strong sunshine our bodies were turning blue with cold and covered in goosebumps. We shivered, but we stayed in the sea, spitting out mouthfuls of salt water at each other and floating on our backs pretending to have drowned.
Jamie and Dan were picking up baby crabs and chasing the girls with them to hoots of laughter.
Tony and I had a walking race in the sea, collapsing with laughter when the waves knocked us off our feet. He took my hand and pulled me out of the water.
He was so beautiful. The drops of water glistened like tiny beads on his shoulders and his hair was soaked and dripping on to his face. He squinted at me in the sunshine so his pale blue eyes were just like half-moons. I never loved anybody as much in my whole life.
‘Will you marry me, Kath?’ Tony looked straight at me, his eyes with a funny kind of pleading like he would have died if I had said no. I almost swayed with the shock and excitement.
‘Aye. Yeah, course I will … but not till we’re older.’ I tried not to splutter. All I could hear was the sound of the waves and all I could see was Tony’s face. There was nobody else in my entire world right at that moment.
‘Would you let me kiss you, Kath?’ Tony stepped towards me, reaching his hand on to my arm.
‘Yeah, yeah … OK …’ I was babbling.
Then it was done. On the lips. In less than a second. His lips brushed mine and he looked into my face and smiled. I could taste the salt. Nothing would ever feel like this again.
‘That your first kiss?’ Tony said, splashing water on me and diving back.
‘No way. I’ve been kissed lots of times. Lots,’ I said, chasing after him, kicking water on him.
‘Oh yeah?’ he said as he ran off faster than I could catch him, and in a moment we were back with the crowd as if nothing had happened. But it had.
We all spread our towels down on the beach and sat down to have the lunches that had been lovingly packed for us by our mums. Everyone was eyeing each other’s sandwiches, asking what they had. The ones who had jam sandwiches, like Nora Brennan, were embarrassed. Others had cheap meat spread and Martin McGuire had butter and sugar, protesting when some people started laughing that it was all he wanted. When I pulled my cold poached egg sandwiches out of the duffel bag the smell filled the air.
‘What’ve you got, Kath? A jar of farts?’ Dan said, bursting out laughing, and the others held their noses.
‘Ha, ha, very funny.’ I tried to sound confident but I was embarrassed at the smell. No matter though, I was half starved and wolfed them down in no time.
We were all lying back feeling the sun burning our faces and the salt water making our skin feel tight. Tony, Dan, Jamie and I were as u
sual sitting in our own little group. Everything felt great. We were full up from the lunches we had scoffed and we just lay there listening to the waves crashing. Tony was sitting up staring along the beach when suddenly his eyes narrowed as he focused on something.
‘O-oh! Look what I see. Payback time, kids.’ He got on to his knees and screwed his eyes up, watching a figure in the distance.
We all sat up and looked in the direction he was watching. It was quite far away, past the end of the sand dunes and a long way from where there were any people swimming. But we could make out the figure of a woman in a swimsuit, folding her towel and her clothes in a neat pile on the beach, then limbering up by swinging her arms in big wide circles. There was no mistaking who it was. It was Miss Grant. We all looked at each other and sniggered.
I don’t know if the same thought was in everybody’s mind, but it was obviously in Tony’s because he was the first to mention it. And anyway he was the one who had been humiliated by her. He stood up, with his hands on his hips as if he was addressing his troops. We hung on his every word.
‘You know, guys, sometimes bad people just get away with it all the time, and kids like us never get to say nothin’. And sometimes a little chance arises when we can give back some of the shit they deal out. Well, today, it’s the turn of that fat-assed bitch to get what’s comin’ to her.’ Tony looked each one of us in the eye. We knew what he was thinking, and it was too good, too dangerous and too exciting not to go along with.
This was a major mission, more secret than anything we had ever done before. More perilous than ever, and we would have to swear that no matter what, we would never admit any part of it to anybody, even in the confessional. We were all agreed. We nodded to each other and piled each of our hands one on top of the other. We were special agents and we would never desert or betray each other, no matter how much they tortured us.
We crept along the sand dunes using the slopes and potholes for cover as we snaked our way towards Miss Grant, who we could see walking towards the water. On our bellies we crawled the last few yards so that we were looking down on her little pile of clothes lying wrapped in her towel on the deserted beach. We watched and waited. We had all the time in the world.
‘Right,’ Tony said, raising himself up on his elbows and whispering to us. ‘You three keep your eyes on Grant and make sure if she turns around you shout me and get off your mark. I’ll get her stuff and then we’ll run like the wind with it until we find a place to dump it.’
‘What, really dump it … like in a bin or something?’ Jamie said, wide-eyed.
‘Course, dopey. She’s gonna come out of that water and wonder what the hell has happened. She’ll get the biggest red face she ever had in her life. Hey, and what’s more, she’s gonna have to walk back on to the bus with her swimsuit on. Howya like that?’ Tony had a determined look on his face.
We all imagined the scene and we loved it, even if it was a little scary.
‘OK, I’m off,’ Tony whispered, and he was over the hill and crawling along the beach.
Miss Grant was splashing in the sea and swimming out further and further. She was a fearsome swimmer, strong and thrashing her big arms into the waves. She was enjoying herself alone in the water and I wondered why she had to be so bad to everybody all the time. But I couldn’t allow myself to feel sorry for her, because she had what was coming to her.
Tony was like some kind of desert hunting animal the way he crept his way across to the clothes and snatched them almost in one seamless movement. He scarpered a few yards then dived into the sand dunes for cover. The three of us watched in awe as he came towards us. What a hero. As he approached us he waved us to start running and we did. We ran a few hundred yards past the old bandstand and into the car park of a hotel where there was a huge dustbin.
‘Quick, in here,’ I said to Tony, who was running faster than any of us. As he ran towards the bin with us trailing after him he dropped a pair of pants and Dan lifted them up and waved them around giggling. We all collapsed with laughter when we saw the big hole in the back of them.
‘She must fart like thunder … I knew she was a secret farter,’ Dan giggled, poking his finger through the hole.
We could hardly stand up. Tony was laughing too, but he had more important things on his mind. He dumped the clothes into the dustbin, then grabbed the pants off Dan. He took a match out of his shorts and set fire to the pants then threw them into the bin. We watched, a bit shocked, as Miss Grant’s clothes went up in smoke. Through the smoke we could see the smiling faces on the wall of the hotel advertising Francie and Jose at the Gaiety Theatre. I smiled to myself, thinking of the funny Glasgow guys with the suits and the gallus walk.
‘Enjoy your swim, Miss Grant,’ Tony said as the clothes caught fire.
It was great, but it was scary as well. Maybe we had gone too far. We all hoped deep down we would be able to carry this off and keep it to ourselves. This was our biggest test yet. This was a rollercoaster. It was like hanging on to the back of a lorry and not knowing where you would end up. It was going to be some afternoon.
‘Jesus, Tony, what if we get caught? We’ll get killed.’ Jamie seemed worried but had the look of devilment in him and was still smiling.
Tony’s eyes narrowed as the smoke billowed out of the bin. He had a wild, angry look in his eye. I remembered it from the day Miss Grant beat him in the class.
‘We won’t get caught, ‘cos we did nothin’. We’ll deny it till we die. It’s our secret. Stuff her! She’s a bad bastard and she deserves it! All of them do, all of the bad bastards who piss our lives up. Stuff them all! Stuff Grant, stuff the Polack, stuff every scumbag bastard who wastes it for us!’ Tony’s eyes were blazing with a rage that none of us had seen on him before.
‘Yeah … stuff them. Stuff all the bastards! Stuff my da! Stuff them all!’ Jamie spat, his eyes red with anger, his mind in the dark place that passed for home.
‘Aye, and stuff … stuff … Father Flynn! Stuff the bastard!’ Dan blurted out, and everybody turned to him, bewildered. He was edgy, angry, his bare chest heaving as he tried to get the words out.
‘Father Flynn?’ I asked, bemused.
‘Aye. He, er, he … k … k … kisses me! He kisses me, the big poof!’ Dan’s face was tight with anger.
‘What?’ I said, shocked, dismayed, confused. ‘How? Where? How can he kiss you? He’s the priest.’
We all stood looking at each other, then looking at Dan. His fists were clenched. There were tears in his eyes. We didn’t know what to do, what to say. The silence seemed to go on for ages.
‘He … kisses me. In the sacristy … sometimes after mass.’ Dan faltered, the words barely audible. ‘He pulls me on to his knee and kisses my face … I don’t know what to do. Nobody’ll ever believe me! You probably think I’m telling lies, but I’m not … I think he does it to other boys as well, but nobody’ll say.’ Dan was nearly in tears.
‘He touches me I’ll punch his lights right out,’ Jamie said, raging.
Whatever this was, whatever was being said, we didn’t understand it. How could that happen? It was all confusing. Tony stepped in to bring us back to the mission of the moment.
‘Right, listen. We’d better get movin’. We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get back to the crowd before old farty bum gets out of the sea.’
We ran across the sand dunes, our hearts bursting with excitement. We couldn’t wait till the moment when Miss Grant would come out of the sea all refreshed only to find out she had no clothes. We could all picture the scene. But overshadowing all of that was the bewildering image that Dan had just painted. Even the adrenaline rush of what we had just done to Miss Grant could not erase the thought of Father Flynn kissing Dan in the sacristy after mass.
*
When the heavens opened up, it seemed it would rain for ever. We had just finished buying our presents at the shops and were heading for the beach to pick up our stuff. The rain had started to fall in huge drops, s
plattering on to us as we gathered our belongings. The sky had grown black and thundery, thick slate-grey clouds gathering in from the sea. Then the rain came in torrents as we made our way back to the bus. People were rushing from everywhere to get shelter in shops and cafés. Suddenly the whole place looked drab and sad.
The monkey man stood at the edge of the car park with the rain running out of him. He swigged from a half-bottle of cheap wine. The monkey sat on his shoulder looking tired and bored, the water dripping off its sailor’s hat.
Inside the bus we settled ourselves down, our faces and hair wet from the rain. I sat next to Tony, and Jamie and Dan were in the seat across the aisle from us.
We said nothing, glancing only fleetingly at each other when Miss Lannigan remarked that it was three thirty and Miss Grant still wasn’t on the bus. We were the only ones who knew the secret. We even knew that she had been wearing pants with a hole in them. It was magic.
I gazed past Tony and out of the window at the rain lashing down. I wondered if Miss Grant had drowned. I hoped not, or we might be implicated in it. Wherever she was at this moment she must be the angriest she had ever been in her whole life. I felt a smile on my face and I was surprised at how much I was enjoying this. I rubbed the steam away from the window and through the grime and rain I could see the figure shambling towards the bus. I nudged Tony, who looked out too, his face never even flinching. There she was in all her glory. Miss Grant. Soaked to the skin in her bright green swimsuit. Her hair hung around her shoulders like rat’s tails and her big rubbery thighs were the colour of raw link sausages. She was barefoot. She almost staggered towards the bus. Tony watched, his face impassive. Dan and Jamie strained their necks for a glimpse, but managed to keep their faces straight. This was the moment we had been waiting for. This was payback time.
Miss Lannigan got to her feet with the stunned look of someone who had witnessed something she could scarcely believe she was seeing. She bounded out of the bus and went towards Miss Grant, who was weeping hysterically. The driver dived out of his seat with his jacket and rushed out to cover Miss Grant’s embarrassment. There were shrieks and giggles on the bus, but they came to an abrupt halt when Miss Grant climbed up the stairs and stood before us, dripping wet, her body flushed and blotchy, her butterfly glasses all steamed up. There was such a silence we were all afraid to breathe in case it would give the game away.
