The Wrong Boy

by Willy Russell

  And it was all right then because he was Mr Wilson again. He smiled at me. And said, ‘That’s it; that’s a good lad.’

  So I just sat there, hoping everything was going to be all right. Hoping I wouldn’t become unbalanced again. The organ music was playing quietly in the background and I tried to concentrate on that.

  But things kept happening! Because in front of me, I saw my Aunty Paula putting her arm around my Mam, comforting her, as if she was my Mam’s friend. And I knew she was no friend of my Mam’s! Just like she’d never been a friend of my Gran’s! That must have been what got me riled up. I couldn’t help it; it just came out of my mouth without me meaning it to.

  ‘You flogged it!’ I suddenly heard myself saying, ‘You and my Bastard Uncle, you flogged my Gran’s house!’

  They were staring at me, further down the pew, some of the Positive Pensioners turned and were staring at me. Mr Wilson was smiling and nodding at them all while out of the side of his mouth he was telling me, ‘Come on now, Raymond, you’re not back on the ward now! This is a church. You can’t just blurt things out the way you do back on the ward.’

  I told him I was sorry.

  But then I saw my Mam was still turned around and looking at me.

  And my Appalling Aunty Paula was telling her, ‘Come on, Shelagh, take no notice. You’ve got enough to put up with today, haven’t you, love. Now take no notice and you let Ted deal with it; he knows what he’s doing.’

  Then she put her arm around my Mam as though she meant to comfort her. And I was trying to be quiet. I was trying to just sit there and be good but it just came out: ‘They did, Mam!’ I said. ‘They dumped her in Stalybridge and then sold my Gran’s house before she’d even died.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Mr Wilson said, hissing at me and glaring. ‘Come on, just calm down, Raymond!’

  And then he grabbed a hymn book and said, ‘Look, look here … now this is the hymn we’ll be singing in a few minutes. Look! You just look at this, come on!’

  But I was looking at my Mam instead. She was crying. And I knew that I must have upset her. I knew then that I should have taken my medication; because I was upsetting my Mam. And I knew it must be because she could see the paranoia coming back.

  So I said, ‘I’m sorry, Mam. I didn’t mean it, Mam, I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean it.’

  But my Mam wasn’t even looking at me by then. And she wouldn’t be comforted because when my Aunty Paula tried, my Mam shrugged her arm away and my Aunty Paula looked all surprised and offended.

  I just stared at the hymn book. And then the organ music started to swell and I got to my feet along with everybody else. I wished I hadn’t been so stupid though, washing my tablets away. I could see my Aunty Paula stood in front of me, with my cretinous cousins; all of them sobbing now that the coffin was coming in, hanky-dabbing and crying and pretending that they cared when none of them had ever done nowt for my Gran. I could feel myself hating them! Hating all of them.

  But I knew I mustn’t say anything because it was just all the paranoia coming back. I should have taken it, my medication. Only it was too late now. So I tried. I tried really hard to just concentrate and stop the feelings, and make my mind go somewhere in the far-off distance. I looked up at the big stained-glass window and tried to just concentrate on the picture.

  Only that was when I started seeing things!

  At first it looked just like an ordinary stained-glass picture, with the sun shining on it from the outside sending down shards of light and making the dust in the air of the church become all sparkly. And in the picture itself, it was where Jesus of Nazareth was still a young teenager and he’d gone missing and his mam and his dad had been out of their minds with worry about their Jesus and where he’d got to. But now they’d found him again and he’d just been in the temple all along. And you could see they were dead happy and relieved, Mary and Joseph the Carpenter, because they’d found their son and he was safe and everything was all right.

  So I just kept staring at that glass picture and trying to forget about everything else as my Uncle thieving Jason and the other pall-bearers walked past me, down the aisle with the coffin. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to see my Uncle Bastard Jason. And I didn’t want to see the coffin either, because it wasn’t biodegradable cardboard like my Gran had wanted so that she could soon be mingling with the worms.

  I just kept my eyes fixed on the coloured glass picture, of Jesus with his mam and dad.

  And that’s when it happened!

  Because the faces in the picture suddenly stopped belonging to Jesus and Mary and Joseph the Carpenter; it was Norman’s face looking down at me now, from the head of the Carpenter. And the Virgin’s face had become Twinky’s; Twinky’s face with the lovely big smile he sometimes smiled for me. And the face of the teenage Jesus was the face of the Nice Boy, looking back at me; the face of the nice boy that I used to be.

  It frightened me, frightened me at first, seeing those three faces. But it was lovely as well, in a way, seeing them up there in the glass, all back together again, the Failsworth Three.

  I knew it must be all the chemicals in my brain starting to go ballistic because they weren’t getting the medication they needed. I blinked, I blinked really hard as everybody started singing the hymn and Mr Wilson was singing it dead loud at the side of me. But they were still up there, still staring back down at me, the faces of the Failsworth Three. So I just closed my eyes then. And kept them shut dead tight until the hymn had finished. And when I opened them, I didn’t look up at the stained-glass window again. I looked at the vicar instead, listening to him as he said he hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing my Gran personally, but nevertheless had spent the past few days building up a picture of her, a very vivid picture made up of the memories and recollections of those who knew and loved her; and especially, he said, those gallant nurses in Stalybridge who’d devoted so much time and care into making my Gran’s last months on earth such a rich and joyous time.

  ‘And listening to … the recollections of those nurses,’ the vicar said, ‘hearing their … stories … and … their … impressions … I feel … that … through … their combined … memories … I was afforded a privileged glimpse of the … real … Vera Bradwell.’

  He smiled then, the vicar.

  ‘Or, as she was more … affectionately known … amongst her dear friends in Stalybridge … Vera … Madeira.’

  He chuckled! And then I heard Wilson chuckling beside me. I wanted my tablets! I wanted to be far off in the distance!

  ‘In remembering Vera Bradwell today,’ he said, ‘let us try … and keep … that image, that wonderful image in mind, of that … happy-go-lucky … lady, Vera … Madeira.’

  I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t bear it! He was a Lert! The vicar was a Lert! I started chanting in my head so I wouldn’t hear it no more, chanting chanting, chanting in my head, talking and talking and talking to myself saying nothing, saying something saying anything, talking, keeping it out, keeping it out, keeping it out. I was stupid, I was stupid, I was, not taking my pills not taking them, washing them down the plughole, shouldn’t have done it should have taken it, my medication medikayshun medication. I tried to concentrate, concentrate, keep my mind, keep it still keep it calm, keep it still. Then I saw it, the coffin, the coffin, the coffin in the chancel. It was all right, it was all right. Staring at it, staring at it; calmed me down, calmed me, knowing, my Gran, my dead Gran, my Gran was gone, she wasn’t here, it was all right, all right; because she wasn’t here to hear it, it didn’t matter what they said; didn’t matter, not now, not any longer, it didn’t matter.

  It was all right. It was just a drone now, the vicar’s voice. Just a drone, somewhere far off. And I was all right, just staring, my eyes fixed on the coffin; the lerting drone of the vicar just something in the background.

  I stared at the shiny coffin, and the shards of light spilling down from the stained-glass window and into the chancel, making stripes of sunlight across t
he coffin lid. It was all right. It was all ri—

  And that’s when I saw it!

  On top of the coffin. Just in front of the flowers. Just sitting there on top of the coffin. A packet.

  A packet of Garibaldi biscuits!

  I felt my heart leaping up with delight.

  But then I remembered, I hadn’t taken my tablets. So the Garibaldi biscuits, they probably weren’t even there and I was just seeing things again. I knew then it must be the chemicals kicking off in my brain. Because people didn’t do that, people put flowers on top of coffins, not packets of Garibaldi biscuits. I could see them though. All the way through the funeral service, I could see them sitting there on top of the coffin. And even when the coffin was being carried out, when they were carrying it past me, I could see the packet perched there on top of the coffin lid.

  Then when we went out and everybody started mingling around the grave and it was sitting there, the coffin, waiting to be put into the ground, I could still see the packet of biscuits. And even though I knew it was probably just the imbalance of the chemicals in my brain, I stepped forward to have a closer look. But as I did, he grabbed my arm, Wilson. And he said, ‘You just stay here, Raymond. Just stay here alongside me and you’ll be all right.’

  It was like he was my bleeding jailer! And the only reason I did stay there was because I knew I couldn’t trust myself, not while I was seeing things. And I didn’t want to start blurting things out again and risk upsetting my Mam. She was upset enough already, I could see that. She was stood on the other side of the grave, but stood right back like she couldn’t bear to look at it. She was just stood there, all on her own and staring, just staring. I saw my Uncle and my Aunty trying to get my Mam to come and stand by them. But my Mam shook her head and wouldn’t even look at them; and you could tell that my Mam just wanted to be on her own. I thought she mustn’t want anyone near her, anyone at all. It was like she was all locked up inside herself, with nothing but her sadness. I could barely look at my Mam, for all the sadness that was upon her. And that’s why I looked away; looked beyond her, far off towards the wall, at the back of the church.

  And that was when I saw them!

  It was like I was seeing them in a dream, the way they moved, slowly like they were gliding across the grass, moving in and out through the tombstones, like they were floating just above the earth, these two figures who looked exactly like Twinky and Norman.

  I snapped my eyes shut! Screwed them up as tight as I could, to make it go away, the awful painful picture of my two best friends gliding towards me as if they were really there. I missed them. I missed them so much, my friends. But when I was on the medication, when everything stayed in the far-off distance, it was all right, I didn’t think about them very much and when I did it was as if Twinky and Norman and Sunny Pines were all just a far-off memory.

  But now, now that the medication had worn off, now that I was hallucinating and seeing pictures of them in my mind, it just made me want to cry, for the loss of the friends whom I had loved.

  And that’s why I was stood there at the side of my Gran’s grave with my eyes screwed up tightly shut and bits of tears leaking out from the corners of them. And when I opened my eyes again, it was only because of him, Wilson, because I suddenly heard him as he said, ‘What the … What the hell’s …’

  When I looked, he was quickly moving forward towards the coffin that was sat there at the other side of the grave. And I watched him as he bent down and snatched up the packet of biscuits off the top of the coffin!

  I just stared at him as he strode across to the bin by the corner of the church, the packet of biscuits in his hand.

  They were real!

  They weren’t just in my mind, the Garibaldis, they were real. He was pulling open the litter-bin lid and flinging the offending biscuits inside. And across from me I could hear my Aunty Paula saying wasn’t it disgusting and how could anybody do something like that, leaving a packet of biscuits on top of a deceased person’s final resting place.

  But I wasn’t listening to my appalled and appalling Aunty.

  Because the biscuits were real! And if the Garibaldis were real—

  I looked up again! And they were there! It really was them, it really, really was Twinky and Norman.

  And if I had any remaining doubts, they were completely swept away when I heard her again, my Appalling Aunty, saying, ‘What are they doing here?’

  And then my Aunty was nudging my Uncle Jason and pointing at Twinky and Norman as the pair of them approached the grave, both of them sombre and sad, Norman’s face all streaked with tears and both looking like they were going to start crying again as they came and stood by me and Norman put his big bear arms around me as he hugged me, his voice all choked up as he said, ‘Fuckin’ hell, Fly, I always thought we’d see her again.’

  Then Twinky took hold of my hand and squeezed it dead tight as he said, ‘Are you all right, Fly? You going to be all right?’

  And I was crying as I nodded, crying as this big big smile swelled up from inside of me and broke out all across my face as I told Twinky, ‘A1 at Lloyd’s, Twinky, A1 at Lloyd’s.’

  Then Twinky, Norman and me, we all just hugged hold of each other and then stood there, clinging together as we turned to face my Gran’s coffin, the Failsworth Three of us standing there silently staring at it, paying some sort of respect. Until through his tears, his voice cracked and breaking, Norman said, ‘Fuckin’ hell, where’s Gran’s biscuits gone?’

  And that’s when Wilson arrived back at the grave and said to Norman and Twinky, ‘Was that you? Did you put those biscuits there?’

  Norman nodded. And Wilson looked disgusted. ‘I suppose it’s a joke, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Is that what it is, your idea of a joke?’

  Norman frowned. ‘No!’ he said. ‘It’s not a joke! They were Garibaldis. We wanted her to have some biscuits when she got to the other side.’

  ‘Her favourite biscuits,’ Twinky said.

  Wilson stared at them. And that’s when he piped up, my Uncle Jason, calling across from the other side of the grave and saying, ‘Come on! Let’s be havin’ y’. Come on, sling your bloody hooks. It’s a private funeral, this is.’

  That’s when I felt it all start bubbling up inside of me, bubbling bubbling.

  Twinky and Norman looked at each other like they didn’t know what to do.

  Then my Aunty Paula joined in and said, ‘Go on! You’ve no business here, go on, the pair of y’.’

  Norman looked all upset. ‘We got the coach,’ he said, ‘we got the coach from London.’

  ‘Yes, well, you can just go back there, can’t y’?’ my Uncle Jason said.

  Then Wilson joined in and he said, ‘Now come on, you can see that this is a very upsetting time for the family as it is.’

  I could feel it, the bubbling bubbling; it was like all this bubbling happiness at my friends being there, but all of it mixed up with this fizzy bubbling sort of hysteria inside of me as well. But it didn’t matter! Everything was going to be all right now, everything was going to be happy and lovely because my friends had come back for me, my friends were with me again!

  Norman shrugged and said to Wilson, ‘We only came to say tarar. We just wanted to say tarar to Gran.’

  ‘Gran!’ my outraged Aunty Paula almost screamed. ‘Gran! Who gave you the right to call her Gran? You didn’t even know her! Now go on! On your way.’

  That’s when I shouted, shouted out and told my Aunty Pigging Paula, ‘They’re not! They’re not going anywhere! Thief, thief house-robber, felon cheat cow!’

  And holding onto both of my friends, I said to them, ‘Don’t move, move don’t don’t don’t. Take no notice, you don’t don’t don’t have to go nowhere … don’t don’t don’t.’

  My Uncle Jason was shouting at me then, yelling and pointing and blaming my Mam, saying I never should have been allowed to come to the funeral when anybody could see what a spastic-brained bastard I was.

  I
ignored him, hugging and holding onto my friends and telling them, ‘It’s all right, it’s OK, take no … don’t worry, it’s only him, the thief robber felon; take no notice.’

  But that was when I saw that Wilson was really frowning at me. And then he stepped forward, saying, ‘Now come on, Raymond, these boys are causing a great deal of upset.’

  ‘They’re not going!’ I said, holding on tightly to Twinky and Norman and pulling them closer to me. ‘They’re not going anywhere! They’re my friends and they’ve come back!’

  I stood defiantly glaring at him then, seeing all the Lertiness oozing out of him now, the peeved, pissed-off look in his eye and the thin set line of his lips as he glared back at me. And then the shrug as he changed tack, looked up and called across to my Mam, saying, ‘Shelagh, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Raymond back to the hospital.’

  I saw my Mam, her bowed head slowly rising like she was slowly coming out of some kind of trance. And when she looked at me, it was like she was a bit puzzled, as if she was seeing me for the first time.

  ‘He’s spoiling it, Shelagh!’ my Aunty Paula suddenly declared. ‘Spoiling it for everybody.’

  ‘I think it’s just proved too much for him,’ Wilson said. ‘Better for everybody if we get him safely back.’ He reached out, grabbing me by the arm and trying to pull me away from my friends as he said, ‘Come on! Come on, Raymond, let’s get you back to the ward.’

  That’s when I heard it, my Mam’s voice, firm and clear as she said, ‘No! No no no!’

  And then she was stood there beside me, pulling Wilson’s arm away and telling him, ‘Leave him alone, just leave our Raymond alone.’

  Wilson gawped at her. ‘Shelagh, now look,’ he said, ‘take my advice and let me deal with this.’

  But my Mam was shaking her head. And I could see it now, all the fire and the steeliness in her eyes, the stubborn steeliness that I used to see in the eyes of my Gran. And for a second, it was almost like my Mam had suddenly turned into my Gran! Everybody was looking at her.