Private - Keep Out!

by Gwen Grant

  ‘Do you want a ride on my new bike?’ Teeny says to him and she’s smiling and batting her eyelashes about a hundred times a second and I can see our Joe go a bit white because I know he can’t ride a bike. But all the other kids in the street were wanting a ride on Teeny’s bike and she says, ‘Nobody can have a ride except Joe Hall,’ and our Joe looked as if he’d like to fall down a hole in the ground.

  Anyway, our Joe stands there and says, ‘I don’t want a ride on your old bike,’ and then one of his mates starts shouting that he can’t ride a bike so I said, ‘He can then. He can ride a bike. I seen him ride backwards once and I seen him ride on only one wheel,’ and then his mates started laughing and saying, ‘He’s got to have a little lass to stick up for him,’ and our Joe rattled me and then he grabbed Teeny’s bike and jumped on it and I didn’t breathe until I made him fall off.

  I had to make him fall off because I knew he’d fall off anyway with him not being able to ride one so I ran right in front of him and he falls off and lays in the road shouting, ‘Now see what you’ve done! Made me fall off,’ and I can see he’s right glad, but so’s the others won’t see I start crying and then our Mam comes rushing out and picks us both up and makes us go in the house. So now me and our Joe are wondering how he can get to learn to ride a bike before he has to go out again.

  ‘Ask our Pete,’ I says to him and he tells me to shut up and what do I know about anything so I say, ‘Oh, very nice, after falling down for you and scraping all my leg,’ and he says, ‘Never asked you to, did I?’ But he grins at me, so that’s all right.

  Anyway, our Pete comes home for his dinner and our Joe says to him that he can’t ride a bike and all the kids will laugh at him and our Pete says, ‘Leave it to me,’ and that we had to stay in this afternoon. So we did and when our Pete came home on the tractor, there was this old bike on the back of it and he brought it straight down the passage and into the kitchen. It was a great big bike and our Joe could hardly get on it. ‘Here, what’re you doing?’ our Mam says when she comes into the kitchen and finds our Pete wheeling our Joe round and round. So, we had to tell our Mam and she says, ‘Well, we’d better clear the kitchen then so he’s got a bit more space,’ and our Joe fell off the bike again in surprise because he expected our Mam to go up in the air because she’d just washed and scrubbed the kitchen floor.

  Anyway, we moved all the furniture and our Joe started riding round and round the kitchen with our Pete holding on to him and then he did a bit on his own and after hours and hours, he was riding round and round on his own. Then he thumps our Pete on the back and says, ‘Thanks, Pete,’ and our Pete thumps him on the back and says, ‘It’s all right, kid,’ and I’m sitting there thinking, if they hit each other that hard when they like each other, how hard do they hit when they don’t like each other?

  ‘What about me?’ I said and our Pete looks at me as if I’ve just crawled out from under a stone and says, ‘You?’ and I says, ‘Yes. I can’t ride a bike either,’ and he moans and groans and then he says, ‘Our Joe can teach you now,’ and our Joe looks at me and then at the bike and I hold my leg and start going, ‘Oooooh! Ooooh! That hurts, that does,’ and he says, ‘Oh, blooming heck! All right then. Come on.’ And so I get on the bike and he rides me round the kitchen.

  Then, just when I’m sat up in the air feeling good, I find I’m looking at our Joe and I say to him, ‘How can I be looking at you when you should be behind me, holding the bike?’ and he says ‘You’re on your own now, look. You can ride.’ And I fell off.

  And I landed flat on our Joe and he’s lying there on the floor saying, ‘What did you do that for?’ and I say to him, ‘Because you let go. You’re not supposed to let go,’ and he says, ‘’Course I’m supposed to let go, you big dope,’ and I say to him, ‘But you didn’t tell me you were going to let go,’ and in the end, he says, ‘Well, that’s all the lesson you’re getting, because I’m going out now to practise,’ and he went.

  Our Mam came into the kitchen and she said, ‘Do you want to help me get it straight again?’ and I say, ‘No. I want to go with our Joe,’ and she says, ‘Well, you can’t. You’ve got to help me straighten up this kitchen,’ and I say to her, ‘Why do you always ask me if I want to do something and then when I say “No,” tell me I’ve got to do it?’ and she says, ‘Because you always give the wrong answer, that’s why.’ So what do you make of that?

  Our Joe got to keep the bike. Our Pete bought it for him. It only cost him three shillings because the farmer said it was no good but after our Pete had fixed the brakes, it was O.K.

  He said to our Joe, ‘I’ve fixed the brakes, so you’ll be all right now,’ and our Joe goes into the street and we’re all standing at the front door watching him. He comes belting down the street doing about a hundred miles an hour and then he puts the brakes on and he flys right over the handlebars and ends up in a big heap on the road – again.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ shouts our Mam. ‘Are you all right, Joe?’ and our Pete stands there laughing his head off. ‘I see the brakes are working O.K. Joe,’ he says and he goes off back in the house and he’s still laughing half an hour later when our Joe is being bandaged up because he’s in a right state.

  ‘Oh, very funny,’ our Joe shouts at last and then our Pete says, ‘Never mind, kid. At least you can ride a bike now and nobody else saw you come off it but us.’

  I asked our Pete if he could get me a bike but our Mam came in and she put her hand to her head and said to our Pete, ‘Don’t you dare bring her a bike home. It makes me feel poorly to even think of her on a bike,’ and our Pete says, ‘I wasn’t going to,’ which I think is very unfair because now I’ve had to arrange with our Joe to pay a penny a ride so I’m going to be paying for rides all the time from now on. I shall have a bike when I grow up and I shall ride it everywhere.

  The worst thing of all is that our Joe can get away from me so easy now because he gets on his bike and he’s gone in a flash. He used to try and get rid of me by running before, but I can run nearly as fast as him so that didn’t work. Well, I shall just have to learn to run faster. Boys have all the fun.

  Because I’d covered up for our Joe when he fell off Teeny Wallop’s bike, he says to me, ‘Do you want to come with me to see our Tone box the Killer Kid?’ I nearly fainted with shock and I said, ‘Oh yes, please,’ before he could change his mind and he said, ‘You’ll sit there and be quiet, won’t you?’ and I said, ‘Yes,’ and he said, ‘Because I’m telling you, one word and you’re out on your ear,’ and I said, ‘I shan’t hardly breathe,’ so in the end he says, ‘Come on then, and don’t tell our Mam.’

  As if I would! I know what our Mam would say. She’d go ‘Oh! Oh! It’s wicked it is, boxing. Wicked.’ But then our Mam thinks it’s wicked if two butterflies bump into each other, and she’s saying things like, ‘Oh, those poor butterflies,’ and as for ladybirds, well! We have to look at every piece of washing when we fetch it in in the summer in case there are any ladybirds on it and when our Mam finds one she holds it out and tells it to fly home because its poor little house is on fire and its poor little kids have all gone. I says to her, ‘You must be giving that ladybird a heart attack, Mam,’ and she says, ‘I’m not. That’s just to make it fly home.’ I says to her, ‘Not much point in it going home if its kids have all gone and its poor little house is all on fire,’ and our Mam looks at me and I think, aren’t Mams queer, and wonder if everybody has the same trouble with their Mam as we do with ours.

  So, our Joe took me up to see our Tone boxing this other lad. They were in this square and it was called a ring and it wasn’t a ring at all. I said to our Joe, ‘That’s not a ring, that’s a square,’ and he said, ‘Are you going to be quiet or shall I send you home?’ and I said, ‘Oh, all right, I’ll be quiet.’

  This other lad in the ring (square) with our Tone looks ever so fierce and he’s got something wrong with his mouth. I says to our Joe, ‘Is that the Killer Kid?’ and our Joe says, ‘Yes, now shut up,’ and I say, �
�What’s wrong with his mouth?’ because it was all bulging out and our Joe says, ‘There nothing wrong with his mouth. It’s your mouth that’s the trouble.’ I says to our Joe, ‘My mouth doesn’t stick out like that,’ and he says, ‘Neither does his, stupid. He’s wearing a gum shield.’ ‘What’s that for?’ I say, and our Joe says it’s to stop all their teeth getting bashed out. I think boxing can’t be very good after all. I says to our Joe, ‘Has our Tone got one of them, then?’ and our Joe says, ‘Yes, and one more word out of you and out you go.’ So I just hope our Tone has got one because what our Mam would say if he came home without any teeth, I just don’t know.

  Then this lad and our Tone walk into the middle of the square ring and touch each other’s gloves and then walk back to their corners (and that proves it’s not a ring because rings don’t have corners) and then this man rings this bell and our Tone and this lad rush out of their corners and start thumping each other.

  ‘They’re hitting each other very hard,’ I says to our Joe and he says, ‘That’s what they’re supposed to do,’ and I says, ‘But that lad’s hitting our Tone more than our Tone’s hitting him,’ and our Joe shakes his head and says, ‘He is, isn’t he?’ and I says to him, ‘Well, you can sit here if you like but I’m going to help our Tone.’

  I ran down to the ring and I tripped that lad up when he came near me and then I shouted to our Tone, ‘Hit him now, Tone! Now he’s on the floor. Go on, hit him!’ And our Tone says, ‘You little devil! Gerrof home!’ and he starts shouting our Joe, ‘Joe! Joe! Come and get this kid before I murder her,’ and I think, don’t bother to say thank you.

  So our Joe drags me home and hits me all the way there. So I kick him and hit him back because I’m not going to be like our Tone and let anybody hit me more than I hit them.

  Our Joe tells me not to say anything to our Mam but when we get in he’s still so mad that he’s stamping round the kitchen snarling at me all the time until our Mam says, ‘What on earth?’ and then our Joe tells her everything. She says to me, ‘You keep away from there. Little girls aren’t supposed to go in there,’ and she tells our Joe he’s never to take me in that place again.

  Then our stupid Tone comes in and I says to him, ‘Why didn’t you hit that lad when he was on the floor?’ and he starts shouting and yelling at me as well and saying, ‘That were only the Killer Kid you tripped up, I suppose you know, I’ll never be able to show my face in there again. For two pins I’d take you upstairs and drop you out of the bedroom window!’ So our Mam says to him, ‘She were only trying to help,’ and I says, ‘I was. Now I wish I’d tripped you up instead,’ and our Tone says, ‘Oh, well, all right, but don’t do it again, that’s all.’ I say to him, ‘What’s a cauliflower ear?’ and he sighs and says, ‘Roll on the day she leaves home,’ and I think, oh yes, very nice.

  Anyway, our Tone had beat the Killer Kid so he’s feeling very pleased with himself. He starts dancing around telling us he’s shadow boxing. ‘What’s shadow boxing?’ I say to him and he says, ‘It’s boxing somebody who isn’t there,’ and I look at him and he looks at me and I say, ‘If he isn’t there, how can you see when he’s going to hit you?’ and our Tone stops dead and starts going, ‘Oh! Oh! You’re so stupid, you are,’ and I say to him, ‘It’s not me what’s stupid. I don’t hit people who aren’t there. Not till I can see them anyway,’ and our Mam says, ‘That’ll do.’

  Our Tone turns round and looks at our Mam, sat in her chair, and he says to her, ‘Don’t move, Mam.’ So our Mam trys to get out of the chair because I can see she’s thinking, what’s he going to do? But she’s too late and our Tone lifts the chair and our Mam right up to the ceiling and our Mam’s shouting blue murder.

  Our Dad comes rushing down the stairs and the stair door flies open and hits our Tone and there’s this chair, with our Mam in it, wobbling about up on the ceiling.

  ‘Put me down,’ she’s shouting. Our Tone stands there and turns round to our Dad and says, ‘That hurt my back, that door. You should be more careful.’ Our Dad looks round the kitchen and then he looks up at the chair and says, ‘What are you doing with your mother?’ and our Tone says, ‘Nobody can take a joke in this house,’ and he brings the chair down and our Mam jumps out of it and starts running him round the room and in the end our Tone has to run into the yard, because our Mam is really mad.

  ‘Just you wait till I get my hands on you,’ she’s shouting and our Tone’s laughing that much, he can hardly run, so our Mam catches him and when she trys to clout him, our Tone holds her hands and she’s dancing about and getting madder and madder. Anyway, in the end, he lets her go and he runs like mad and our Mam comes back into the kitchen and says, ‘To think you can’t even sit down in peace any more,’ and I have to make her a cup of tea to get over the shock. ‘Put plenty of sugar in,’ she says, so I do and then get told off because I used too much.

  Granny Bates and Old Flo and Mrs Elston come round to find out what all the shouting’s about and our Mam tells them and Old Flo says ‘It’s a blessing he never did that to me,’ and tells our Mam it’s a good job she’s only a young woman. ‘Young!’ our Mam says. ‘I stand need to be young! They’ve aged me twenty years, this bunch has just lately,’ and Granny Bates and Old Flo and Mrs Elston all nod their heads and look at me (who hasn’t done a thing) and say, ‘Yes, we know what you mean.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Granny Bates says, ‘they’ll all leave home one day,’ and our Mam says, ‘Oh well, they’re not all that bad, you know,’ and I think I’m glad our Mam’s our Mam and not Granny Bates because Granny Bates would probably pack our bags for us and show us where the front door was as soon as we left school. ‘Cheerio!’ she’d say and you’d say, ‘See you soon,’ and she’d say, ‘Not if I see you first,’ because she’s always saying, ‘Birds have always got to leave the nest.’

  I saw a picture once of a bird kicking one of its own little birds out of its nest. It was a good job the little bird learnt how to fly on the way down because the nest was a long way up.

  I think, at least our Mam’ll give us a parachute when she kicks us out.

  12

  ‘What does our Pete want to marry Miss Brown for anyway?’

  It was funny Granny Bates saying that we’d all be leaving home one day, because I ran away last night with a handkerchief tied on the end of a stick like Dick Whittington. But our Dad found me and brought me back.

  It’s Miss Brown, you see. The dancing teacher. Our Pete’s been courting her, and me and Miss Brown don’t like each other and our Pete told our Mam that he and Miss Brown were going to get engaged.

  Our Mam said, ‘But you’re too young to get engaged,’ and our Pete says, ‘I shall be eighteen next month and I want to get engaged to Ruby before I go to do my National Service.’

  So I’m sat there thinking about our Pete marrying Miss Brown and I say to him, ‘Couldn’t you have picked somebody better than her.’ I thought he was going to explode he went that red. Our Mam said, ‘You watch your tongue, young lady, and don’t be so rude.’ So I went out, because I don’t mind our Pete at all but I don’t like Miss Brown one little bit.

  Last time I was at dancing class, Miss Brown said to me, ‘You’re very self-willed for your age,’ and I said to her, ‘What does that mean?’ and she said, ‘Spoilt.’ I looked at her and said, ‘I’m not spoilt,’ because Gloria Hottentot is spoilt, and if I’m like her I might as well throw myself in the canal because she is just plain horrible.

  Miss Brown says, ‘Well, all I can say is that you’ve got a lot to say for yourself. Personally, I think you ought to be checked more often,’ and all this just because I wouldn’t balance a glass of water on my head and go through a hoop at the same time.

  I said to her, ‘I’m not a performing seal, you know,’ and she said, ‘How dare you, you horrible little girl? If I can do it, so can you. It’s for the concert and if you want to be in it, you have to learn how to do acrobatics and this is what everyone else will be doing.’

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p; I said, ‘I can’t see the point in balancing a glass of water on my head and going through a hoop,’ and she said, ‘I think you’d better stop coming to my classes.’ I said, ‘All right,’ and packed up my things ready to go home.

  Miss Brown pretended to ignore me but I could see she kept looking at me when she thought I wasn’t looking at her and she said in a loud voice, ‘Now, class. I know there are some people who can’t do a perfectly simple exercise but I’m sure the rest of you intelligent girls will be able to do it without any trouble at all,’ and she put this glass of water on her forehead and started going slowly down to the floor, backwards. Then she whipped this rotten old hoop over her head and started sliding through it somehow and although I know I shouldn’t have done it, I couldn’t help myself, and I stamped on the floor and the glass of water fell off Miss Brown’s forehead and she was going, ‘Urgle-gurgle! Ugh! Ugh! Wait till I get hold of you!’ She got all tangled up in her hoop she was in such a hurry to get her hands on me. I didn’t wait to see what would happen when she did get herself sorted out. I ran home.

  When I got in, though, I had to tell our Mam everything that had happened and she said, ‘You’re a shame and disgrace,’ and she was just going on to, ‘You’ll have to see your father,’ when there was this loud banging on our front door and when our Mam went it was Miss Brown on the doorstep and all her hair was dripping water and she looked mad enough to split me straight in two.

  ‘I’ve come to see about your daughter,’ she went, without hardly opening her mouth either and our Mam said, ‘Come in, Ruby. I’ve heard all about it and you can take it from me that that young madam will be sorry she’s played you up tonight. She’s going to see her father when he comes in,’ and our Mam turns round and stares at me as hard as she can.

  She says, ‘Say you’re sorry to Miss Brown,’ and I daren’t say I won’t so I don’t say anything and I can feel our Mam getting madder and madder and she says again, ‘Say you’re sorry to Miss Brown,’ and I shake my head and our Mam slaps me very hard and tells me I’m to go to bed.