‘Good, I was thinking that I should try welding it again and this time put a hinge on one end of the piping, so you can just swing the bar across. That will make it easier to put in place if he’s chasing you.’
Gibbs smiled at his friend. ‘You nearly burnt down your dad’s bleeding workshop the last time we tried to weld something.’
Jaime laughed. ‘Yes, we won’t be doing that again. ‘I couldn’t take a beating like you just did. My old man’s a tough bloke, but he isn’t a bastard like yours.’
Gibbs shrugged and looked down at his fishing rod. ‘I probably deserved it. That’s what happens when you get caught pulling a Peeping Tom stunt, although she was worth it, don’t you think?’
They both laughed. After a few minutes’ silence, Jaime asked. ‘Don’t you sometimes wish your father was dead?’
‘Sometimes I do. He can be a real arse but he is still my dad after all, and if I were alone I would either be shipped off to an old relative I don’t know or put into foster care. But, the alcohol will eventually do him in soon so it won’t be my choice.’
‘I would have run away by now, that’s for sure.’
Gibbs nodded. 'Wouldn't it be great to get a job on one of those fishing trawlers we saw on TV?’
‘It sure would. Imagine spending a long season going out to sea and then coming back and getting paid tons of cash.’
‘I saw that one of the skippers on the show took his fifteen-year-old son out with them to earn holiday pay. He got paid five hundred pounds.’
‘Bloody hell, we could easily get a job on one of them,' Jaime said. 'Loads of cash, and with that a lot of girlfriends.’
They both laughed.
Jaime leant across to his backpack and reached for his grandfather’s pocket knife. Gibbs knew what that meant and ripped the bandage off his right hand.
‘One day, we will run away and work on a fishing trawler. It's a blood oath, so you have to swear on it,’ Jaime said, holding the bleeding palm of his right hand out to Gibbs.
Gibbs winced as the blade slipped through the flesh of his palm, then he waited until a little blood seeped out. He shook his friend’s hand. ‘I swear.’
Chapter 3
A few weeks later, Gibbs in the wooden school desk he’d occupied for his maths lessons during the school term. Jaime sat across from him, staring vacantly up at the teacher, his head resting on his hand and his jaw clenching as he chewed on an old piece of gum. Gibbs etched the name of his favourite band onto the desktop with a geometry compass and looked beyond Jaime’s desk at the new girl, Kelly, who had just joined their school. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was swept behind her ears, her blue eyes transfixed as she stared at the teacher in front of her.
Gibbs ripped a sheet of paper out of the back of his workbook and scribbled a note to her, asking whether she wanted to meet up with them after school. He carefully folded it and threw it on the floor next to Jaime’s desk. A carefully disguised cough got his friend’s attention, after which he picked up the note and read it. A smile spread across Jaime’s face, and he leant forward to throw the sheet of paper onto Kelly’s desk, just as Miss Ford, their teacher, turned around.
'Jaime Byrne, what are you doing? Bring that note up to me at once,' she snapped at him.
He slowly got up and glanced at Gibbs, who simply shrugged as the summoned pupil walked past. Miss Ford read the note and then looked up at Gibbs, who had slumped down in his seat.
‘Okay, Jaime, please sit down again,’ the teacher instructed. ‘Mr Gibbs, come here.’
Murmurs broke out amongst the rest of the class as Gibbs got up and walked to the front of the room. ‘Yes, Miss Ford.’
‘Once again, you’ve been caught distracting your classmates, but worse than that, you have involved Jaime in doing your dirty work for you,’ the teacher spoke firmly. ‘Please leave the class and sit on the bench outside the door until the period ends. You know where it is.’
She stood pointing to the door.
The clinical smell of floor polish filled his nostrils as he walked out into the corridor and sat on the tattered wooden bench outside the classroom. He looked at his watch. He had to avoid being seen for ten minutes.
‘Mr Gibbs,’ a voice said. Gibbs’s heart sank as he recognised the high-pitched tone.
‘Give me a bloody break,’ he said under his breath.
The principal, who was nicknamed the Vulture, walked towards Gibbs. He’d earned the name, not only because of his sharp-faced appearance and hunched-over posture but also because of his habit of trawling the corridors for mischievous pupils. He stopped at the wooden classroom door, giving Gibbs a long stare before opening it.
‘Miss Ford, may I have a word outside, please?’ Gibbs heard him say, his words followed by a flood of whistles and whoops from his classmates.
The principal and the teacher walked away down the corridor. Gibbs couldn’t hear a lot of the conversation, but he sighed and leant forward when he heard the words, ‘that boy, Gibbs.’
‘Follow me please, Mister Gibbs,’ the principal said a few minutes later.
Gibbs sighed again and grudgingly followed the thin, balding man. They walked through the redbrick hallways and marble staircases of the old Victorian building for a few minutes, before getting to the door that had the name, Mr A Mitchell, stencilled on it.
The troubled teenager stood in front of Mr Mitchell’s desk and watched him page through Gibbs’s sizable school file. The principal then reached for the telephone and dialled.
‘Hello, Mr Gibbs. This is Principal Mitchell here.’
Cold fear flooded through Gibbs, and he subconsciously rubbed the two scars on his lip.
'Yes, I’m afraid that Kyle is in trouble again,’ Mitchell said.
Gibbs suddenly felt like he was melting and looked across at the closed windows, hoping for a cool breeze to cool him down.
‘It's the third time this month that he has been caught distracting his classmates,’ the balding man continued. ‘I’m afraid the school policy states that he has to be suspended for a week.’
Principal Mitchell’s eyes widened as he struggled to get another word in. Gibbs imagined the language coming from his father’s mouth.
‘Mr Gibbs, if I may interrupt you at this point,’ the man said. ‘There is nothing more I can do here. You knew the rules when we agreed to take Kyle in. Can you please come and collect him?’
More silence as the principal listened to Gibbs's father.
‘Yes, Mr Gibbs, as soon as you can. You can collect him from my office.’
Gibbs’s hands felt clammy, and his mouth was bone dry. He suddenly needed to empty his bladder.
‘Kyle, are you okay, lad?’ Mr Mitchell asked.
‘Yes, sir,’ he said in a whispered tone.
Mr Mitchell left him waiting on a couch just outside his office. Gibbs looked around the tidy side-room which smelled of stale perfume and cigarette smoke.
‘Fuck this,’ he said aloud and walked around the secretary’s desk which was in the centre of the room. He looked out through the dirty windowpane, then slipped the brass clasps at the bottom of the sash window frame and, with some effort, lifted the creaky old window panel upwards. He climbed through the narrow opening and crawled out onto the foot-wide ledge that overlooked the school’s main concrete courtyard.
He managed to get past three office windows without anyone seeing him, and then pulled himself onto the slippery slate roof. Carefully, he made his way over to the other side of the building, then stopped at a drainpipe which he knew was positioned above his classroom window below.
The escaping teenager lay down on the roof, with his torso hanging over the edge, and shook the drainpipe with all his might. It moved a little bit. He decided, it would have to do, and he slipped his legs off the roof and slid over the edge.
Hanging onto the pipe, he made sure that he had a good grip before he started to ease himself down the building, and pretty quickly he passed the third-floor classro
om, which was empty. Then the second-floor classroom came into view, which was full of junior students, all sitting at benches doing science experiments. He whistled softly and beckoned a gobsmacked junior to stand next to the window and to tell him when the teacher was not looking. The bemused junior smiled meekly at the insane senior who was scaling the school wall like a gecko. A few seconds later he waved to Gibbs, who then managed to cover the last few metres down to his classroom.
He peered in and could see the bored figure of his friend Jaime slumped over the desk, with his back to the window. Gibbs whistled softly to get his attention. Jaime turned around with a distinctly blank, uninterested look. Then his eyes lit up, and he snorted with laughter at crazy friend’s head which appeared suspended on the side of the window frame like some magic trick at the town fair.
Miss Ford barked a command at Jaime, and he apologised for laughing out loud, looking back down at his books. Kelly looked across at Jaime, only to see Gibbs smiling at her from outside the window. She flushed bright pink and looked back down at her work before her curiosity was piqued and she looked up again. Gibbs stuck his tongue out at her, then smiled and indicated to her to call him. No sooner had she blushed again than his impish face disappeared from view.
Gibbs landed deftly in a soft flower bed, looking around, he made sure no teachers were out walking, then ran across an exposed area of freshly mowed lawn. Adrenalin-fuelled his legs as he headed towards the main school path as fast as he could. He was about to cut off and run down to an inconspicuous side gate when he noticed a figure heading up the path towards him. All plans were abandoned as he dived into some thick bushes and shrubs.
He stared through the bushes at the person. ’Oh crap!’ he said.
Cameron Gibbs hobbled up the pathway with his head down, eyes forward scanning the ground, his jaw clenched tight. A picture of concentrated anger. He pushed hard as he strode using his prosthetic leg, then rolled forward onto his good leg, causing a slight grimace to his tightly closed lips.
Gibbs watched his dad as he walked past and felt a pang of sorrow for the once tall and proud oil-rig worker.
• • •
Gibbs was sipping on an icy Irn Bru soda in a greasy fish and chip shop that all the school kids frequented, called Uncle Dave’s Chippy. He looked out of the dirty window to see the diminutive form of Jaime proudly escorting the beautiful Kelly as they approached from the direction of the school. He saw the signs of trouble as four schoolboys, who were standing outside the renowned fish and chip shop, took an interest in his friends as they crossed the road. They started whistling and shouting obscene names at the approaching couple.
‘Grow up, you bloody idiots. Can't you see there is a lady present?’ Jaime shouted as they walked past.
More wolf whistles and catcalls came from the boys, and Gibbs could see Jaime flash red with anger. He and Kelly came into the café and slipped into the red booth opposite him. ‘Any more of that and I will bloody swing for one of them,’ Jaime said.
‘Oh, just ignore them,’ Kelly said. ‘So, Gibbs. I can see that you didn't fall and break your bloody neck then.’
He laughed. ‘Nah, it was easy.’
‘If the teachers discover how you got out, you’ll be in even more trouble,’ Jaime said.
‘I've been suspended for a week, and they called my dad in. I can assure you I’m not worried about the bloody teachers,’ Gibbs said.
‘What will your father do?’ Kelly asked.
Gibbs looked across at Jaime, and there was silence. They both knew what was coming.
‘I feel like fries with cheese and gravy,’ Jaime said. ‘How about you two?’
‘Only if you are buying,’ Gibbs said.
Jaime slipped out of the plastic booth and walked around the corner to the wooden counter. The four boys who’d been watching from outside seized their opportunity. They encircled him and started teasing him again, one of them shoving him up against the mirrored wall of the shop.
‘Hey! Cut that out!’ the Indian shop manager shouted. ‘Take it outside if you are going to behave like that.’
With more pushing and shoving, the team of teenagers managed to herd Jaime out the door.
Gibbs continued to chat to the lovely Kelly and was convinced that she was falling for his charms when he suddenly got a cold feeling in his stomach. And he knew that trouble had just arrived.
‘Would you excuse us, Kelly?’ Gibbs said. ’Whatever happens, don’t intervene. Meet us at the end of the harbour wall in an hour.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Just taking care of some idiotic boys’ business. We'll see you later.’
Kelly stared up at him in confusion as he walked away and left the shop.
Out front in the parking lot, the tallest of the four boys knocked the box of fries out of Jaime’s hands.
‘Hey, arsehole. You better pay for that,’ Jaime shouted.
‘Run along to mummy, you little squirt,’ the taller boy said.
Jaime launched himself at his tormentor with a feral ferocity that surprised the big bully, who failed to see the flying fist before it hit him square on the nose. Blood spurted out, and he dropped to his knees, holding his damaged face.
‘Get the little runt!’ he screamed.
The other three boys grabbed the kicking and twisting Jaime and tried to fight him to the ground.
Gibbs, who was taller than any of them, calmly walked up to the kid who was bleeding and pushed him back down to the ground. ‘Stay down, William, or I’ll rip you apart.’
He looked around and saw that Jaime had the arm of one of the boy’s arms in his teeth and was gnawing on the flesh like a hungry jackal. His attacker groaned and tried to prise his mouth away.
The two bystanders were shouting encouragement to their friend and didn’t see Gibbs make a running charge. He tackled both of them to the ground and sorted them out with a few well-placed punches.
William tried in vain to drag Gibbs off the two other boys but was shrugged off as Gibbs rose to his feet to face him. The shorter teenager gulped and looked down at the blood covering the front of Gibbs’s white school shirt.
Gibbs took a step forward, taking slow deep breaths. He felt the raging hatred for the bullies.
‘Which one of you bastards wants to lay another finger on my friend?’ Gibbs asked.
William lifted both his hands up. ‘Sorry, Gibbs.’
‘Don’t apologise to me, you idiot,’ Gibbs said, pointing down to Jaime, who had his opponent in a headlock.
They all slowly stepped apart. ‘Sorry, Jaime,’ William said.
‘Fuck you. Don’t ever try that again or you'll be in the hospital, eating yoghurt through a straw.’
The boys turned and slunk away. Gibbs grabbed his friend by the jacket, just in case, he was tempted to run after them. The two of them laughed nervously about the fight, slapping each other on the backs. Kelly made an appearance. ‘The shop owner has called the cops, so I suggest you two head off,’ she said.
‘Thanks for the heads-up,’ Gibbs said. ‘Will we see you later?’
‘Maybe,’ she said as she turned and walked away.
Jaime called after her. ‘If you can score some smokes that would be great too.’
Gibbs slapped him on the chest.
‘Ooh…Does someone have a soft spot for Kelly, or should that be a hard spot?’ Jaime laughed.
‘Shut up, you idiot, or I’ll beat you up myself,’ Gibbs said with a grin on his face as he watched Kelly walk away.
Chapter 4
Gibbs opened his eyes to a red diffused haze before him. He blinked a few times, scrunching his eyes up to try and focus. He was lying face down on the carpet, in his own blood. He pushed himself up onto his knees, and a sharp pain shot through his ribs and chest. Pain raged through him as he took a deep breath, but no ribs had been broken this time. Swelling around his right eye blocked his vision a bit.
The image of him drinking and smoking at the end of
the harbour wall with Jaime and Kelly flooded back to him, then the onslaught when he got home.
Cameron Gibbs lay passed out on the couch, snoring loudly, his thick arms and legs hanging off the side and resting on the floor. Gibbs felt a red mist rising within him at the beating he’d received. Standing slowly, all sympathy and love for the inebriated figure left his body. In the corner of the lounge, stood a black golf bag that was leaning up against a chair. Gibbs tiptoed across to it and reached for one of the clubs, and he felt the cold shaft in his grip. A dark thrill set in. Could he do it? Could he end it, once and for all? Two or three sharp blows to the would finish off all the beatings.
His phone started vibrating in his pocket and snapped him back to reality. Dropping the club back into the bag, he stood over it for a while, transfixed on the maker’s name at the bottom of the three-iron.
What did your old man say? — the text from Jaime read.
He turned, calmly walked to his bedroom and locked himself inside.
Packing a few of his things into a daypack, he replied to Jaime’s text with the simple message—Operation Aberdeen
Jaime replied instantly—Are you serious? Are we going to do this now?
Gibbs replied—I have to.
Chapter 5
Gibbs opened his bedroom door and listened for the sound of movement from the lounge area. He tiptoed down the passage. A scuffling noise ahead of him made him stop. He held his breath. Nothing. He continued to the end of the passage and looked around the corner to see his father lying on the floor in a pool of vomit.
The young man walked quietly up to the sideboard, and he carefully took the office keys out of an old ceramic bowl. Opening his father’s faded leather wallet which was on the table, he removed the last twenty-pound note from it.
He crept down the wooden stairs to the bar and meekly nodded to the cleaning crew who were tidying up from the night before, and who was surprised to see him up and about. Unlocking the office door, he went straight over to the green-coloured safe in the corner. The key turned easily, and he heaved open the heavy metal door.
Gibbs- the Early Years Page 2
