Please Don't Make Me Go

by Fenton, John

  ‘Why the fuck did you kick Hicks?’ Bernie asked. ‘It was only a roll-up and now you’re going to get caned and more than likely a kicking from those arseholes.’ He took another rollup out of his sock and lit it. He handed it to me after taking two quick puffs. ‘You’re going to have to be careful when we go for lunch. Either of those bastards may have you.’

  I touched the swelling on my cheek from Fuller’s punch. It was very tender and I knew that it would turn into a nasty bruise. Bernie was eyeing me in bewilderment. I said, ‘I can’t choose who I fight. I promised myself that I will fight anyone who tries to bully us.’ I spat on the floor. ‘I know I stand no chance against Fuller and Hicks but I also know that the cane will hurt them as much as it hurts me.’

  Bernie shook his head. ‘It seems stupid to me. Why get yourself the cane just so they get the cane as well?’

  ‘Because it hurts them. Because they’ll know that every time they bully us they will get hurt.’

  ‘But you’re getting hurt twice. Once by them and once by De Montfort.’

  ‘Who gives a fuck, Bernie?’ I couldn’t understand Bernie’s reluctance to look after himself, just as he couldn’t understand my attitude. ‘I won’t be bullied by arseholes any more.’

  The whistle blew for lunch. I cautiously made my way to the washroom to clean myself up. I didn’t see Hicks lurking in one of the cubicles as I was too busy watching Fuller walking towards me. Suddenly I was grabbed by Hicks from behind and thrown face downwards towards the cubicle floor. The side of my face crashed into the top of the porcelain bowl and I felt a blinding pain in my mouth. I knew that I was kicked several times in the body but because of the pain in my mouth I felt nothing.

  A short time later I found myself alone and kneeling on the floor. I stood up carefully and made my way over to one of the sinks. Looking in the mirror, I saw that the side of my jaw had a huge purple swelling on it. I pushed my tongue around the inside of my mouth and flinched as it encountered a very sharp broken tooth. All the nerves were exposed and it was excruciating when cold air reached them.

  I staggered back into the yard and approached Brother Ambrose, who had just come out of the recreation room.

  ‘I’ve had an accident, Bro,’ I said awkwardly, my speech slurred from the swelling in my mouth. ‘I’ve broken a tooth.’

  The pain must have shown on my face as without another word he took me to matron and she immediately arranged for me to be taken to the dentist in Dartford. An hour later I returned to the school with a completely numb jaw and an empty cavity where the tooth used to be. That dentist never did fillings or repair work; any problems with a tooth and he yanked it out. My face was swollen and out of shape and I had several bruises on my body from where Hicks and Fuller had kicked me. I looked around the recreation room and saw the two arseholes sitting on a bench, laughing at the state I was in. There wasn’t a visible mark on them and I was bruised and hurting all over.

  Bernie came over and shook his head. ‘I told you that it wasn’t worth it. You stood no chance against them and look how you’ve ended up. You’re fucking stupid.’

  I walked away. I couldn’t listen to Bernie’s chicken-shit talk. I headed over to the far wall and sat down on an empty bench. Hicks and Fuller immediately came over to where I was sitting and stood arrogantly in front of me.

  ‘How much baccy have you got, Fenton? We want it.’

  I stood up and fumbled in my pocket as though I was searching for something. The stupid arseholes thought that they’d beaten me and were grinning all over their faces. They were caught completely unawares when I suddenly crashed my forehead into the centre of Hicks’s smiling face. There was a crunching noise and blood streamed out of both nostrils. Fuller immediately jumped on me but as we grappled I managed to get two fingers inside his mouth and rip his cheek outwards. He screamed in pain and pulled away from me. Tom Banks and Brother Arnold rushed over to break it up and the three of us were marched to De Montfort’s office.

  Forty-five minutes later I returned to the recreation room with the pain of the cane still fresh in my mind. I waited patiently for Hicks and Fuller to return from De Montfort’s and smiled in satisfaction as I saw the pain on their faces from their ordeal. I also grinned at Hicks’s swollen nose and Fuller’s scratched and swollen cheek. Bernie was wrong. As far as I was concerned at that point in time, it was definitely worth it and, even though you could say I came off worst, I was happy with the result.

  ‘We will have no Jack Spots in this school,’ De Montfort’s voice whined.

  Jack Spot was a notorious East London gangster infamous for his brutal reign over the London underworld.

  ‘I will not tolerate violence of any description and especially the use of razors.’

  We all stood listening impassively as he ranted on about a bit of fun that had somehow got out of control. Two boys, Jack Gardner and Dave Stocker, who were good friends, had been joking about who would have the last square of Palm Toffee left in the bar they had been sharing. Gardner had said light-heartedly that they should fight for it. Stocker readily agreed as long as they fought with razors.

  Both boys had leapt to their feet and produced the little curved razors we used for sharpening pencils, which they brandished jokingly at each other. They both jumped around pretending to slash each other. By accident, both boys slashed down at the same time and Stocker’s razor cut Gardner’s hand. Gardner let out a yelp and dropped his razor. Both boys looked at the two-inch cut on Gardener’s hand that was bleeding quite profusely. Stocker held up his arm in a triumphant salute, took the last square of Palm Toffee and popped it in his mouth.

  Everybody laughed except Gardner. He picked up the razor he had dropped and slashed down hard across Stocker’s arm. Stocker jumped backwards like a scalded cat and stared at his bleeding arm. The laughing stopped as the two boys eyed each other warily and we knew that this was no longer a play fight. They circled each other like a pair of gladiators in the Coliseum, both seeking a weakness in the other’s defence. Stocker took a wild kick at Gardner’s leg and got cut on his knee when Gardner parried with a downward slash of his razor. This cut seemed to send Stocker into a wild frenzy and he ran at Gardner, slashing wildly at anywhere his razor could reach. Gardner fell over under the onslaught and rolled sideways to get away from Stocker’s flailing arm. He managed to get to his feet but not before he had sustained several superficial cuts to his arms and chest.

  Brother Arnold and Mr Lawson crashed into the midst of the fight and brought it to an abrupt end. I watched in horror as Brother Arnold systematically beat Gardner until he lay in a mangled heap at his feet. He looked down at the prostrate body and kicked him viciously in his ribs. He then went across to where Stocker was being held by Lawson and punched him hard in the face. Stocker sank to his knees and Arnold kneed him in the face.

  Brother Arnold looked far from happy at my actions – he’d obviously wanted to do a bit more damage. I turned my head away and went to sit with Bernie, who was watching Matron trying to organise a group of boys to carry Gardner and Stocker to her surgery. They all disappeared

  Now both boys were lying in a dazed and bloody state on the floor and Arnold stood over them, swaying from side to side and panting slightly from his exertions. I couldn’t stand it any longer so I went over to the door that led to the infirmary and banged on it hard until Matron appeared. I pointed to where the two boys were lying and she hurried out to attend to them. through the infirmary door and slowly the room returned to normal.

  Brother De Montfort arrived in the recreation room ten minutes later and lined us all up for his lecture.

  It must have gone on for about twenty minutes and Jack Spot was mentioned at least ten times. De Montfort kept on about how it was his job to make sure that we understood what was right and what was wrong. I couldn’t help wondering if he was going to give the same lecture to Brother Arnold. I had developed a hatred for Arnold that I knew I would carry for the rest of my life. The man was pur
e evil. I fervently believed in God and the final Day of Judgement. I knew that one day Arnold would face his final judgement and be given an express ride to Hell. My God would make sure that justice was done.

  The next morning, when I went to chapel, I prayed hard that Brother Arnold would meet with a serious accident or illness and die a painful death. I watched him come to the front of the chapel and kneel to receive Holy Communion, his ugly face pious-looking, his hands clasped together in prayer and I wanted to kick him in the head. Then I looked at Gardner and Stocker and flinched at the sight of their bruised and battered faces. They were due to see De Montfort this morning and take a visit to the small dormitory. I wondered if Arnold would stand by the door enjoying watching each boy’s misery as they were caned.

  Father Delaney leaned forward and whispered in my ear. ‘Concentrate, John, I’m returning to the altar for the Ablutions. You’ve missed two responses.’

  ‘Sorry, Father,’ I replied quietly. It took a great deal of concentration to finish the responses as my mind was still full of the horrid images of the day before. I was glad when at last I said, ‘Deo Gratias’ and the Mass ended.

  I sat quietly in the vestry staring sightlessly out of the window that looked over the small graveyard. Arnold’s beating of the two boys had left me with an unsettled mind. I needed to speak to Father Delaney and get some advice.

  I think that he had guessed I wanted to speak to him, as he returned to the vestry with two cups of tea in his hands. He handed me one and sat down in the seat next to me. His eyes scanned the graveyard as he spoke to me. ‘Well, John, what is troubling you?’

  His eyes met mine and his expression softened. ‘You can tell me anything. It will go no further than this room.’ He pointed towards the door that led into the chapel and added: ‘Or, we can go into the confessional box.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, Father,’ I said. I felt a little awkward and looked down at the floor. ‘I don’t think I want to serve Mass any more.’

  Father Delaney was surprised. ‘Why’s that, John? You must have a good reason to suddenly decide that you no longer want to serve God.’

  ‘I would never refuse to serve God, Father. You should know that.’ I must have sounded sincere as Father Delaney put his arm affectionately around my shoulder. ‘It’s just that it seems blasphemous to me to help you serve communion when I think evil of some of the people who are receiving it.’

  Father Delaney sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He shook his head slowly, trying to work out the problem. ‘Are you willing to tell me the people you’re thinking evil about?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s mainly just one person, Father. It’s Brother Arnold. I hate the man.’

  Father Delaney nodded. He didn’t seem surprised by my revelation. ‘How long have you felt like this?’

  ‘Since the first time I saw him, Father.’ I closed my eyes remembering how he had beaten a boy for fighting on my first day in the school. ‘He enjoys hurting us, Father, and I’m sure Jesus will send him straight to Hell when he dies.’

  ‘You don’t know that, John. You may be right, you may be wrong. It’s not up to you to decide.’ He took a set of rosary beads from his pocket and rolled them between his fingers. ‘Maybe Brother Arnold does not see things in the same light as you do. Maybe he thinks that the punishment he dishes out is justified and that he is helping the boys to become better people. I find it hard to believe that he enjoys hurting the boys. I think you’re misreading the situation.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘I’ve watched him punch and kick boys since the first day I arrived eighteen months ago. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done wrong; he hits with the same nastiness. I’ve watched his eyes and he definitely enjoys what he does. You must have seen it as well, Father. Haven’t you?’

  ‘No, John, I haven’t.’ Father Delaney lit a cigarette and watched the smoke drifting towards the half-open window. ‘I haven’t witnessed any of Brother Arnold’s punishment beatings but I’m certain that they can’t be as bad as you say and,’ he paused to take a puff on his cigarette, ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t take any pleasure in them.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I trusted Father Delaney more than anyone else and he was taking Brother Arnold’s side. ‘You’re just protecting him because he’s a Brother.’

  Father Delaney shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that, John. If I believed that Brother Arnold was taking delight out of hurting you boys I would personally report him to the school principals. You must believe that.’

  I did believe him. He had been a good friend to me and I trusted him implicitly. ‘Can’t you at least stop him from taking Holy Communion?’ I said. ‘He really annoys me with his saintly looks. I know in my heart he will burn in Hell.’

  Father Delaney laughed quietly. ‘Of course I can’t stop him taking the Blessed Sacrament. What would I say to him? I’m sorry, Brother, but my altar boy doesn’t think you worthy?’ He took another long puff on his cigarette. ‘I promise you that I’ll keep my eyes open and if what you say is true, I will deal with it.’

  Father Delaney patted me gently on my shoulder and stood up. ‘Don’t fill your heart with hatred. If you think Brother Arnold is doing wrong, pray for him.’

  I smiled weakly. ‘I’ll try, Father, but I don’t think I’m that forgiving.’

  Father Delaney opened his cigarette packet and dropped a cigarette clumsily on the floor. ‘I love your honesty, John. There is always something refreshing in our conversations.’ He pointed at the cigarette on the floor. ‘Dispose of that before you leave the chapel.’

  I watched him walk away, still fingering the beads on his rosary, and I could just discern the words he was muttering: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace.’ I picked up the cigarette and lit it. All I could do now was hope that Father Delaney would see Arnold committing one of his frequent acts of brutality. I suddenly remembered that he hadn’t mentioned anything about me giving up serving mass. He had skipped over it and ended up ignoring it.

  I smiled. He had no intention of letting me stop being his altar boy. I stubbed out the cigarette, put the butt in the thurible and walked quickly out of the chapel, closing the door quietly behind me before I entered the schoolyard.

  It was mid-October 1959 and the autumn evenings were bringing in a taste of winter with cold winds and colder rain. Bernie had brought back a crib board from his last home visit and we had picked up the rudimentary skills of cribbage. We spent most evenings engrossed in our game and paid scant attention to anything else. Our game was interrupted one evening by Brother Michael. He came over to the bench at which we were sitting and said, ‘We are starting ballroom dancing classes on Monday and Friday nights. Are you interested in joining?’

  Bernie looked up from our board and said, ‘Who’s taking the classes, Bro?’

  ‘A lady dance instructor from the local college. She’ll only come if we have at least twenty boys attending.’

  Bernie winked at me. ‘How many have you got so far, Bro?’

  Brother Michael looked embarrassed. ‘None yet, but once somebody volunteers I am sure I will get more.’

  Bernie nodded his head. He said loudly for the boys on the next bench to hear, ‘OK Bro, count me and John in. We could do with a bit of female teaching.’

  Brother Michael was relieved. He strode purposely away writing our names into his notepad.

  I looked at Bernie with disbelief. ‘Why the fuck did you volunteer us for that?’

  Bernie grinned cheekily. ‘We’re bound to practise dancing with girls from the college. We might be in for a bit of tush. Tell Pete Boyle and Taffy Jenkins to put their names down. It’ll be a good laugh.’

  Pete and Taffy looked at me as if I’d lost all my marbles. ‘Why the fuck would I want to prance round the classroom like a poof?’

  ‘Bernie reckons that we’re bound to dance with girls from the college. He thinks we stand a great chance of getting a bit of tush.’ I smiled. ‘Or have you two
turned queer?’

  They laughed. ‘You’d better be right,’ Taffy said. ‘If I volunteer for a load of crap, I’ll hold you responsible.’

  ‘No, we’ll all hold Bernie responsible. It’s his idea.’

  Friday evening arrived and Brother Michael led us in an orderly line across the yard and into the brightly lit classroom. He’d got the twenty boys he’d wanted. Bernie pushed his way to the front so that he would be first through the door. We followed him like lambs to the slaughter. I felt very self-conscious as I stepped through the door into the classroom. All the desks had been removed and the chairs were spaced out along the walls. In the centre of the floor stood a slim, elegant woman in her mid-thirties, who was appraising us with lovely hazel eyes. She gestured for us to sit in the chairs. Brother Michael took a seat just inside the door so that he could watch all of us from where he sat.

  ‘Good evening, boys,’ she said confidently.

  Without any prompting we said in unison, ‘Good evening, Miss.’

  She smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. ‘My name is Mrs Lloyd and I am going to be your dance instructor. I was pleased when I was approached by your headmaster to teach you boys the art of being able to dance properly. You are nearly all young men and it won’t be long until you all have girlfriends. Every girl enjoys dancing and wants a boyfriend who knows how to dance. I hope that at the end of my lessons you will all have the confidence and ability to stand up and dance at any venue, whether it’s an official ball or a local hop.’

  Pete Boyle let out a snort of laughter. ‘I can’t imagine you, Miss, at any local hop.’

  ‘Thank you, but let me assure you that I’ve been to plenty.’ She chuckled. ‘In fact I met my husband at a local hop.’ She walked over to a record player that had been placed on the front table and switched it on. She smiled at us again. ‘I’d like to start by teaching you the waltz. I’ve chosen a modern song that has recently been in the charts and which you may have all heard. It’s by Jim Reeves and it’s called “He’ll Have To Go”.’