by Paul Kelly
“That will teach you, Blair. I don’t want any forgetting in future not in my class anyway. Do you hear me boy?” He said and his breath came in short bursts.
Willie nodded and tried not to raise his face.
“Go back to your class now and wait for me there.”
As Willie left the Headmistress’s room he could see her bunion-distorted shoes peeping out at him from under her desk. He wanted to smile, but the pain was intense as he rubbed his rear with both hands and limped slowly back to ‘1d’.
Chapter Seventeen
Willie groaned as he tried to make himself comfortable in bed that evening. He was alone and he could afford that consolation, but his buttocks were raw red and sore and his pride more so as he considered the day’s fray with old Finnecan, the wanker ...Strange though it seemed to him, he actually felt a sorrow and a pity for the Teacher. He was a weird old spud he concluded and so bitter about life. He surely couldn’t be very happy. He wasn’t married ... No wonder! who would put up with that bloody nonsense. Wonder how he gets his kicks? Wonder what turns him on? Can’t imagine him smiling he’d break his jaw if he did ... Can’t imagine him enjoying anything ... Poor old Sod. What a life!
At that moment, Charlie threw himself across the bed and Willie winced.
“Ooooh”
Charlie looked at his brother in surprise.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked but Willie pretended to be asleep until Charlie tickled him.
“Ouch! Don’t do that.”
Charlie paused as Willie rolled over onto his stomach, groaning as he moved. He pulled the sheets back and Willie tried to move again, but it was too late, as Charlie could see the tell-tale marks on Willie’s behind.
“What the hell’s happened here, laddie ... You’re arse is raw red.” Willie could not think of an answer immediately as Charlie continued. “You’ve been got at ... haven’t you? It’s the school, isn’t it? It’s that Finnecan bastard. I know it is.” Charlie had his own knowledge of the thin little sadist from his own school days, but where it was one thing to take a beating yourself, it was quite another to see your brother in the state in which he found him.. “I’m coming up to that bloody school in the morning, I am before I go to work. I’m coming up there and I’ll sort that little bugger out, once and for all.”
“Don’t, Charlie ... Please don’t. I can take care of myself and besides it was my fault.”
“Bollocks! No human being should have to put up wi’ ... wi’ that,” Charlie screamed as he studied Willie’s bruises more carefully. “I’ll get some cream to put on it, Willie. That should help,” he said as he threw back the bedclothes and rushed out of the room to return with the jar of Fuller’s Earth, from the bathroom; the remedy for most of the cuts and rashes in the Blair household. “Lie still and it won’t hurt. Oh Christ, my hands are cold. Wait a minute while I rub them a bit.”
Willie winced as Charlie applied the cooling cream, even if he knew that his brother was trying to be as careful and as caring as a student nurse and he continued to moan softly as the ointment was rubbed in gently.
“What a state to be in, eh Charlie?” Willie laughed through his tears. Never had ma bum rubbed before. We should do this more often sweetheart ...”
Charlie giggled softly. He was tempted to smack his brother affectionately, but he refrained as they both settled down for the night, but not before Charlie had the last word.
“I’ll get that wee bastard. You see if I don’t.”
***
After much persuasion by Willie, Charlie reluctantly agreed not to come to St. Bonaventure’s the following morning, but Mr. Finnecan was on the war path again when the boys arrived and as usual for the duration he was scheduled as a teacher there, however, every cloud has a silver lining and there came a day of respite and reward for the patient pupils of St. Bon’s. A new gym mistress arrived from London; a large lady ... a very large lady indeed, but her presence was to change the entire atmosphere of the Secondary school, from the moment she set her large, firm foot in the place.
Miss Honora Golding-Potts called herself simply ‘Potts’ as she abhorred the hyphenated name. It was her mother who saddled her with the handle and she hated it, however, for the school authorities, she had to use it in its fullest glory, but she needn’t have worried greatly at St. Bon’s for she trotted everywhere she went, despite her size and the students lovingly nick-named her ‘Trottie”
Trottie had more than ample proportions although she was no older than twenty-six or seven. She was large from top to bottom, from side to side and roundabout, despite the fact that she was as nimble as a fairy when she danced, with a light foot that would have made Isodora Duncan raise a jealous eyebrow. She took the girls for hockey on Tuesdays and Fridays and the boys for gymnasium and sports on Thursday. She loved football and adored rugby, where she was known to get into many a scrum on the muddy fields and never made a whisper of a complaint about the knocks and bruises she took regularly from the team. She never walked .She trotted everywhere and addressed the boys only as ‘gentlemen’ or ‘squire’ and the girls were known as her ‘ladies ‘ ... Trottie smiled her way through life at all times and her round pink, shiny face was enshrined with a halo of peace and contentment, above her two chins. She always had a nice smell about her not so much the aroma of perfume as the pong of soap and good nature. Nothing interfered with Trottie’s equilibrium. She praised achievement and sympathized with failure and she would have been a first rate candidate for canonisation if the Pope had ever been a student at St. Bon’s. The gym was transformed, with music playing during gymnastic activities. Waltzes were accorded for the slower movements, such as the lazy arm swings and Marches and livelier tunes for the faster knee and ankle twists the more energetic activities. Trottie, full-weighted though she was, enjoyed a waltz ... She would glide around the well polished floor of the gymnasium like a well trained ballet dancer and with the same light-footed expertise of a nymph in adoration her ankles were amazingly slim and her movements, graceful .and she would wave her arms in the air as she went, humming softly to the accompanying music and with her eyes closed in blissful serenity. Trottie was in an ecstasy in that gymnasium. A dancing queen and her pupils were her admiring courtiers. She dressed in a dark red gym slip that hugged her curvaceous figure and the boys marvelled how she got the knickers to match the colour of her waist band. She insisted in wearing sandshoes in varying colours of pink or plimsolls, if need be, and her stockings were always black. Her sandshoes matched the chiffon scarf with which she always tied back her flowing blonde hair and she was a character soon to be loved by all at St. Bonaventure’s Secondary School.
“High knee rising begin. One, two, three and again ...one, two, three ...”
The commands came in breathless grunts from the lady in charge and the boys went frantic to keep up with her movements. “One, two, three UP... Right up boys ...and repeat ... one, two, three DOWN.” Trottie called out in her lovely English accent and she smiled through it all. She was thrilled when the boys began to sing to the music; something that had never been heard before at St. Bon’s. She had never known such culture and she loved the Scottish accent. The boys were in fine voice and ‘Colonel Bogey’ resounded mightily around the spacious gym as Miss Carson passed and her eye twitched, thinking what wonderful, full voices she was hearing, but old Finnecan advised against the tradesmen joining in the chorus as they passed in the street outside. He rushed out waving his arms in the air to stop them singing the ‘Tarara’ song, but the intelligent young choristers took up where the tradesmen had left off.
“Tarara tarara ..Aint it a pity ... she’s only one titty ...to feed the baby on.”Tarara tarara ...
Miss Carson’s eye twitched again and her nostrils looked larger than ever, but she had a pleasant smile on her face, as Trottie kept dancing and smiling smiling and dancing until the perspiration flowed fr
eely but she still smiled. She would speak in winded spurts, but she still smiled. Exhaustion was a word unknown to her as her thighs shook and her belly heaved and the floor was well-pummeled with the vigorous stamping of a pink sandshoe but still the lady smiled.
“When will it ever stop?” wheezed Wattie as he wiped the end of his nose, happily. Their alacrity was her reward as she would clap her podgy hands together and call out ‘Gentlemen, please’ like the last call of a pub, but the boys were thrilled to have the gorgeous, gregarious Trottie as their instructress.
Chapter Eighteen
The Blair family were gathered together in the living room waiting the Sunday lunch, which Mary prepared with great attention to detail. Her roast potatoes were just that right shade of brown and exactly the correct texture and the greens were to be crisp but not too well boiled. Even Mary’s gravy was a masterpiece of perfection. Meggie was studying some French, in the hopes of an early promotion at the Insurance Office and Aggie was sewing as she meditated on the life hereafter and of her intended courtship with the Son of God, whilst Sadie had just finished an article in the Red Letter about the sports life of Errol Flynn and was flaked out on the settee with her dreams. Mary had been to Mass with her friend Tom Carey and he had given her the joint that she then had in the oven for the family dinner. Willie was doing his homework, reluctantly, as always .and the handsome, winsome Charlie was out somewhere with his arms around Rachael.
“Oh! Mammy Stop him. He’s at it again,” shouted Meggie as she gathered her papers to leave the room. “That’s a sin to do that. That is,” she commented as she scurried through the door and Mary tasted her gravy on a large wooden spoon before she stuck it into a jar in the sink where it settled with a dull clonking sound.
“Why don’t you control yourself, Willie Blair,” she shouted without looking at her younger son and knowing only too well his customary habits as he got up to leave the room, thumping his way into the lavatory.
“Bless me Father as I have sinned,” he shouted at the top of his voice, “I farted twice into the chair ...”
Willie was a regular offender of this sin, and caused havoc in the family with his earthy habits but Aggie continued to sew in silence. Her heart was in some quiet cloister, somewhere away from the world of roast beef and potatoes in rich, thick mouth watering gravy and the emission of anal wind. Every stitch she sewed was a prayer of devotion to her Lover. Her stitches were her rosary and Sadie edged nearer to where she sat so calmly and tranquil with her needle in her hand.
“Do ye think I should wear ma red gloves wi’ ma black coat this evenin’,” she whispered and Aggie’s Lover stood graciously aside for a moment as she answered.
“Aye Sadie ... I’m sure that would look very nice,” she said without noticing her sister preening her image in the mirror above the fireplace.
“I wonder what Errol Flynn’s doin’ now?” she murmured softly as she piled her hair on top of her head and held it there whilst she puckered her lips. “Thanks Aggie I will wear them then,” she said and opened her mouth to examine her molars.
Chapter Nineteen
Miss Carson called the assembly and all the pupils gathered in the Main Hall. The chatter was deafening and the curiosity was intense, for Miss Carson never took the assembly herself unless something important had to be said.
“Silence,” she called out and her eye twitched twice.
The room was stilled and a deathly hush filled the air as she put her hand to her mouth and coughed.
“I’m sorry to have to announce that Mrs.Daniells, Craig’s mother died this morning in hospital. Will you all please remember to pray for the repose of her soul and of course to remember Craig in your prayers as well ...” She folded the little notelet she had in her hand when she had read the obituary and her eye twitched again as she removed her spectacles and produced her scented handkerchief from the pocket of her thick, tweed skirt.
***
Willie was more saddened by the news he had just heard, than any of the others as he knew of the circumstances surrounding his friend’s life at home.
“I wish he would go to a priest and talk to him,” he murmured as Wattie came across the room to meet him.
“Shame, isn’t it, Willie,” he said and wiped his nose, “I wouldn’t want to have my Mammy dyin’ like that.” He sniffed as Willie looked around the playground for his friend, Craig and was surprised to find him sitting on a wall at the far end of the ground, near the toilets, by the fir trees.
“Why don’t ye go home, Craigie? You shouldn’t be here at a time like this,” he said and he would have said much more if he hadn’t felt that it wasn’t the right time to do so. Craigie smiled sadly and rubbed his forefinger under his right eye.
“Home ... home“...he asked, “Where is that now Willie?” and Willie was aware of his inadequacy to console his friend as he would have wanted to do.
“You can come home wi’ me Home tae ma hoose,” he decided instantly, “My Mammy will see you are alright.” He looked about him as he spoke and a wind was beginning to gather as he stared at the children filing into their classrooms. He shuddered. “Come on ...Let’s go now. Bugger the lessons,” he said but Craigie did not move. The little boy looked slowly towards the ground, trying hard not to cry and Willie put his arm around his shoulder.
“Let it oot Craigie. Let it aw oot,” he murmured but his friend continued to look blank His eyes staring without seeing.
“All my worries are over now, Willie. I don’t care what happens.”
“But what are you going to do about your? ...” Craigie cut him short.
“I don’t have any more worries or fears now, Willie. I was only worried that my Mammy would find out what I was doin’ and I know that would have made her awfy unhappy. I think she only married my step-faither so that I could have a decent home. What a laugh, eh? Willie. What a bloody laugh.”
Craigie’s stutter was particularly bad as he spoke, but Willie was patient. He was always able to help him through that difficulty and he often understood what his friend was saying, even before he had finished his sentence. There was always this special something between them, although neither boy could describe what that something was. They only knew it was there and each was glad of it in his own way.
“Please come home wi’ me, Craigie. My Mammy would like that, I’m sure and we can sort everything out from there.”
“No thanks, Willie. I’m fine now. I saw my Mammy suffering a lot. She had cancer, you know, but she won’t suffer any more now, will she ... and I don’t care what happens to me. My step-faither can do what he likes to me. I don’t care any more ... I don’t care for ANYTHING any more ...”
Willie was amazed at the attitude of his friend and even more amazed to hear that his stutter had subsided.
“Don’t say that Craigie. I CARE and I don’t want you to go through any more of that bloody nonsense with that old sod. You shouldn’t have to put up wi’ that. Nobody should. Your body is your own, Craigie. Don’t let him muck about any more. Tell him to fuck off ...”
Willie put his hand to his mouth when he said that. It was a language that he had never used, but his feelings for his friend’s happiness was strong and it had the desired effect as Craigie followed him home meekly, without saying another word.
As they left the playground together they bumped into Trottie. She looked sympathetically at the two companions before she turned to speak to Craig Daniells. She didn’t smile, as she always did, but put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked intently into his eyes.
“See you gentlemen later,” she said and walked away slowly. This was one occasion when Trottie didn’t trot
***
Mary Blair was upset as she hugged Craig and made him sit down in the best living room chair whilst she went into the kitchen to prepare something for him and Willie to eat. She said nothing that
they had returned from school so early in the day and Craigie was glad. He knew that she was being kind but the kindness hurt.
“Can Craigie go into my bed and lie down for a wee while, Mammy. I think he must be tired.”
Mary nodded as she stood with the food in her hands.
“He can eat when he’s had a wee rest then,” she said and Craig Daniells fell across the bed that Willie shared with his brother and within minutes, he was fast asleep. Willie sat quietly with his mother, neither knowing what to say, but a little arm crept around her waist and as she looked down she could see a tear in his eye.
“I don’t want you to die, Mammy I don’t want you to die,” he pleaded. Mary smiled tenderly and hugged her son closer to her as she whispered into his ear.
“I won’t if you promise no tae fart any more into the chairs,” she said softly and they hugged each other tightly ...as Craigie slept on.
***
Rita Watts wanted to know the ‘ins an’ outs of the death of Craigie’s mother when she heard the news.
“That wee angel,” she said, forgetting that he was effeminate only a short time before, “God knows what will happen to him now. It’s a good thing his Mammy married again, that’s what I say. That wee boy will have a father at least, to look after him, thank God. If she hadn’t got married when she did, God knows what would have happened to that wee angel now,” she went on as only Rita Watts could. “I always thank God for my wee bairns, ‘though I’ve only got my Jamsie wi’ me now since Alec his brother got married and moved tae Arbroath, you know and Mr. Watts passed away, God rest his soul. Ma bairns are a blessin’ tae me and Mr. Watts would say the same Oh! God, he would turn in his grave if he was here now.” She stopped for a few moments to reflect on what she had said and poked her finger under her turban to scratch her head as Willie wondered about her contradictions, but you never argued with Rita Watts ... “Well, ye know what I mean. don’t ye now,” she said and hurried into her house to look after her remaining bairn, who was soon to go to University ... “Please God, “ she would say, but whether it pleased God or not Wattie was going.