by Paul Kelly
Finnecan looked at the boy over the top of his glasses and sneered.
“Well, I think it’s a stupid name Not even a name, I would say I don’t like it.”
He shuffled in his high stool and folded his arms. “Here I am, commissioned to teach you people intelligence and sobriety and I have to talk to some of you all day ... some of you .... No, most of you who cannot even use their own names. I might as well talk to a crowd of idiots. They would respond more to reason, I would think.”
He left his stool and started to pace the floor, striking his left palm with his cane in his right. Suddenly, he swung round and the frightened Ackie became terrified and looked away.
“Look at me, boy when I’m talking to you.”
Ackie obeyed for an instant before he closed his eyes.
“I’m saying you are an idiot, boy ...What are you?”
Ackie felt hurt. He did not want to answer, but he knew the consequences if he didn’t.
“WHAT ARE YOU?” The Master shouted and Ackie muttered something under his breath, hoping that no-one would hear, but already there were sounds of titters going around the class. Finnecan cupped his ear in his hand.
“Can’t hear you, boy LOUDER ... please ... if you don’t mind ...”
Ackie repeated the requested title again.
“L.O.U.D.E.R ... do I have to spell it, you idiot? We all want to know what you are called.”
Ackie spoke out clearly, but with detachment,
“I am an idiot,” he said and the class fell about laughing.
“No, Munroe ...You have forgotten something surely. Again please?”
“I am an idiot, Sir ...”
Finnecan smiled and told Ackie to sit down, but as he did, his lips began to tremble.
“You, Munroe are idiot number one, but there are other idiots in the class. Now let’s see ...”
He tightened his lips and stroked his mouth with his fingers as he looked about him. Lord of all he surveyed he liked to think. Willie knew it was only a matter of time before the teacher would come to him and he waited for that verbal assault that was sure to come.
“Blair,”
Willie glanced at the ceiling as he stood up.
“Sir,”
Finnecan smirked but he loved the title.
“You know what I am going to say, Blair, don’t you?”
Willie was becoming very irritated by this time and he wanted to lash out in protest about this stupid man but how could he?”
“I think so Sir,” he answered.
“Good ... I thought you would. You are idiot number two, are you not?”
Willie realised the folly of the game and just wanted to get it over.
“Yes Sir. I am idiot number two ...” he said and added under his breath, “If you say so ...”
“Excellent ...Now we are beginning to reason clearly. There is hope yet. Yes indeed, there is a glimmer of hope.”
Willie could contain himself no longer. He took a deep breath in and then out again slowly before he spoke.
“Sir,”
The silence of the room was disturbed by the persistence of his manner and Finnecan could not believe his ears that a voice should speak without being asked. He looked hard at Willie, sniffed and looked again.
“Did you want to say something, idiot two?” he asked.
Willie held his head high and he hoped he would keep a firm voice for what he had to say.
“Sir ... You will say and do whatever you want, whatever I or anyone else here thinks, so don’t you think that we are at a disadvantage in this situation?”
Finnecan looked stunned and his eyes popped out of his head as his mouth fell open. It remained that way for a few moments before he was able to speak.
“Impertinence ...Impertinence I say. Come out here idiot two. We have some explanations in order, haven’t we?”
He did not wait for Willie to leave his desk as he flew into the aisle and grabbed Willie’s sleeve, dragging him to the front of the class and whisking his cane through the air as he went. Willie stood in front of the class and stared at the Master. He had burnt his boats and there was no turning back now, as his voice sounded more assured.
“If you hit me with that cane Mr. Finnecan. I will hit you back, Sir and I’ll leave a greater mark on you than you left on me the last time you used that cane.”
The class sat silently wondering what was going to happen next and Wattie beat his feet against the ground. They expected Willie to be beaten with the cane and humiliated in front of the whole class, at the whim of this man whom they all hated and by his own admission, hated boys. Finnecan was speechless and his face grew pale. Willie Blair was a big boy and he knew that no matter what he did to him, he would retaliate. He could see it in the boy’s eyes, as he assessed the situation philosophically and with a tiny modicum of cowardliness, before he smiled weakly, putting his cane on his desk and lifting himself up onto his stool of authority.
“Go to your desk,” he said and coughed lightly to clear his throat, “but report to me in the staff room after school.”
Willie returned slowly to his place, resolved that he would have to carry through his intentions, if need be. It was too late to turn back now. Charlie may well be proud of him, but he knew there was serious trouble ahead. The teacher was always right.
Meanwhile, Finnecan tried to keep face and carry on as though nothing untoward had happened, but there was a strained atmosphere in the classroom for the rest of that day.
“Watts,” Finnecan called out, as strongly as his voice would allow, but his demand was weak; his voice tremulous. Wattie stood up, afraid that by this time, he may well be idiot six, seven or even eight, but he didn’t care, as long as Finnecan didn’t beat him or tell his Mammy of his new title.
“Yes Sir” he called out and he could hear a voice in the background, under a desk lid, whispering, “Three bags full Sir.”
“Watts You will be idiot number three. Do you understand?”
Wattie sighed with relief, if somewhat ashamed and his face went red.
“Yes Sir Idiot number three Sir. That’s me alright Sir,” he called out sharply and tried to smile as the same whispering voice taunted in the background and the desk lid shook. “Kiss my arse Sir,” whispered the mysterious voice, but Wattie heard nothing as he strained to see if Willie was watching him. Wish ah could be like Willie Blair ... he thought.
***
The classes were finished and Willie duly reported to the staff room and stood outside the door. There were voices from within as he stood there waiting human, gabbling voices, talking over one another and with a stifled laugh here and there. They did not sound like the teachers he knew, when suddenly, from out of the blue, Finnecan appeared at his elbow.
“Ah! Blair ... isn’t it,” he said, very matter-of-fact and as if everything in the world was set to rights. “Follow me, Boy.”
Finnecan produced a key from his waistcoat pocket and Willie followed him along the corridor to the gymnasium. He unlocked the door and they went in where Finnecan stood with his back to it, facing Willie. He then locked the door again with his hand behind his back without taking his eyes from Willie, staring at the boy with blazing eyes. Eyes like a snake that held its victim in its stare until some decision could be reached. Eyes that shone out wildly like glass beacons in the large room, despite the poor lighting, as the light was restricted due to the fanlight windows in the roof being covered with tarpaulins for roof repairs
“Blair ... you disappointed me today. I thought you had more intelligence than to threaten a teacher. You do surprise me and you know of course, what I can do to you for that. Don’t you?”
Willie was afraid and yet he experienced a calmness he had never known before. He thought of Charlie’s face the night he had fou
nd the marks on his backside after the whipping and he didn’t intend to go through that again..
“I’m sorry if I seemed disrespectful, Sir but as a Christian, I am taught that all human beings are due respect. You have shown very little to me or to any of the other boys in the class and I am also taught that respect generates respect.” Willie could not believe the situation into which he had got himself into as he spoke nor where his words came from, but he had to go on. “If you hit me again, I will hit you back and I mean that, Sir. I am not going to take any more beatings like that last one and I don’t care what happens to me after that. I’m big for my age, so why don’t you fight me, man to man here in the gym, where no-one can see us and we’ll see who comes off best?”
Finnecan felt the strength go from the arm that held the cane. His mouth was dry and he was unable to answer as he looked at the ring where Willie had invited him to fight and settle their differences but he declined the offer and besides, he was smaller than Willie. Instead, he opened the gymnasium door and held the key in his hand, twisting it around his forefinger in the air.
“Go home Blair,” he said and moved aside, almost with respect as he waited for Willie to leave, but Willie hesitated.
“I have some P.T. things I have to take home to be washed Sir. I would like to collect them from the gym now, if that’s alright?”
Finnecan lowered his head and bowed as he left the gymnasium, closing the door quietly behind him. Willie looked about him and shuddered as he went towards the vaulting horse. He leaned against it and his memories of his friend Craigie came rushing back to him as he touched the leather where he had cried so bitterly over his friend’s death ... If only ...If only he thought. If only he could have spoken to Craigie’s step-father properly.
“Splendid ...Splendid, Squire.... Well done.”
A voice came from the other end of the gym and startled him as a thick curtain moved by the side of the wall. He peered into the dimly lit room where he could see Trottie standing there as large as life, smiling broadly in her usual manner. He was surprised to see her or anyone for that matter, as he had presumed the gymnasium was closed before he came in with Finnecan The teacher had opened the door with his key but then of course, Trottie was the gym mistress. She would indeed have had a key and could come and go at any time, as she pleased. Could she have heard everything? She must have done he thought as she came towards him, clapping her hands as she walked.
“Wonderful performance, Willie,” she cried and pressed him hard against her ample bosom. “Wonderful,” she repeated enthusiastically and Willie could feel his nose being crushed somewhere in the dear lady’s cleavage. “Willie Blair You should be an oratorian after that little speech. I wanted to shout Hoorah!”, but then I would have let you know I was in here and I didn’t want to do that. Not with old Finny an’ you in conflict No, I wanted to see what was going to happen. You made your point clear and went right to the heart of the matter. You’re a boy who knows what he’s after and goes for it. You’ll go far young man but for the moment, will you join me in a cream bun.”
Trottie was not one to concern herself about diets, or waistlines, or any such nonsense like that. She loved a cream bun on an occasions and she and Willie munched happily together.
He was beginning to understand the real mettle of which Miss Honora Golding-Potts was made and she of the stuff that produced the Blair clan. He liked her. He liked her a lot. Yes, she was absolutely lovely was this Trottie lady ... absolutely and beautifully lovely all sixteen stone of her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Miss Carson called Wattie from the morning assembly and beckoned him to follow her.
He walked behind her most dutifully with his trousers beating mercilessly against his red knees as he went.
“Wish ah had long breeks” he muttered to himself.
They passed along the school corridors and eventually arrived at her office when she produced a key from the top pocket of her blouse and proceeded to open the door as she spoke.
“There is something in here an object, I wish you to remove,” she said as she screwed up her face and her eye twitched. Wattie looked at her innocently and quite subconsciously his own eye began to twitch with hers. She glared at him.
“Is there something wrong with your eye, boy?” she enquired and twitched again twice.
“N. N. No, Miss,” he stuttered and she stared at him for another moment before she pointed to a corner of the room where a blanket was spread loosely on the floor. Something stirred under it and Wattie stood back in alarm.
“There,” she said. “There ... over there ... remove it. It got in here somehow but it must be removed at once.”
Wattie frowned for a moment in confusion and then his eyes lit up with delight.
“A wee dug, Miss,” he called out, “It’s a wee dug,” and Miss Carson scanned the heavens, beseeching patience from some source or other before she corrected her pupil.
“A little DOG ...James Surely?”
But Wattie was nearly fourteen and wouldn’t be easily fooled. He smiled and a look of pure condescension spread across his face.
“Looks awfy like a wee dug tae me, Miss,” he confirmed and carried the animal away happily in his arms.
“Amo Amas, Amat...Amamus ... Amatis,. Amant ...”
Wattie could hear the girls of class ‘1b’ rhyming off their Latin in their usual dulcet tones as he left the building with his treasured charge in his arms. He was told to remove the wee dug but no-one told him where to take it so he headed home to his Mammy. Rita was standing at her street doorway, talking to a neighbour, with her stout arms crossed firmly over her ample bosom as he approached.
“Look Mammy! A wee dug,” he screamed, interrupting his mother’s conversation which by the earnest look on her face was something of great importance.
“I can see that,” she said, needing no interpretation of her son’s vocabulary, “but what’s it doin’ here?”
“I’m gonna keep it Mammy. That’s what I’m gonna do,” he squealed as Rita uncrossed her arms and her mouth fell open as she cocked her head to one side.
“A wee bitch is it James?” she enquired, screwing up her eyes and looking at the belly of the animal in her son’s arms. “Well, we’re no’ keepin’ nae wee bitch in this hoose, so you can think again an’ take it back where you got it from. Nothin’ but a wee flea-bag, is that thing, I’d say.”
Rita closed her eyes in disdain and Wattie looked down in disappointment as she stormed into the house, still making her comments of the fate that would befall them if they kept the animal. “She’ll have wee yins every time a wee dug looks at her, that’s what. She’ll have to go James. She’ll just have to go.” she muttered, but with firm resolution in her voice, but Wattie ignored her protests as he went into the kitchen and poured some milk into a saucer.
“Naw “, Rita Watts screamed “Naw naw No’ ma best china, James. You’re goin’ mad, laddie. Get oot o’ here. OOT, ah say. Look! Oh! God she’s pissin’ everywhere. Get her oot,” she hollered and Wattie stroked the wee bitch as she dripped her way out to the backyard in his arms.
“I’ll make a wee kennel for you ... that’s what I’ll do,” he said as Rita slammed the back door on him and drew the bolt.
“I think it’s time I put that yin in long breeks,” she said and snorted, “That might help. Cos he’s goin’ to that bloody university if it kills me.”
***
Willie sat silently in the classroom knowing that the atmosphere was strained. There was a more than usual hush about the place and every time he looked up Finnecan was staring at him. The tension was overpowering.
At length, the bell rang. Desks were opened and hurriedly shut again with a bang as pupils scampered everywhere to leave the classroom. Willie was last to leave apart from the Master and as he stood up with his satchel on his shou
lder, he glanced under his eye at his enemy, but Finnecan stared back without blinking an eye. Willie left the room and closed the door quietly behind him but he could see Finnecan through the glass partitioning as he walked along the corridor. The Master’s eye never left him until he was out of sight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Willie lit the fire for Mrs. Harris and she sat happily, crooning contentedly to her tabby cat, Tabatha. She was known to take in any stray cat in the district, much to the annoyance of many of her neighbours and Nathan sat quietly by her side, watching Willie as he worked.
“How old are you now, Willie, “ she asked, still stroking the moggie with her scrawny hands.
“Nearly fifteen, Mrs. Harris
The old lady smiled and looked at her grandson.
“This young man has been doing my fires for a very long time now, Nathan. What is it Willie? It must be nearly five years, yes? You’re growing fast, Willie Blair. You were only a wee mite when you first started the fires do you remember those days?”
Willie blushed and flexed his muscles for Nathan’s benefit and the latter began to speak.
“Nanna, I shall have to write to Mamma ... I think Daddy would like to buy a house here in Scotland don’t you?” Nathan spoke as he watched the muscular fire-lighter at work. “Do you know anything about the price of property here in Glasgow, Willie?” he asked and Willie shook his head slowly.
“We have a Council house, Nathan and you don’t buy Council houses. You have to pay a rent every month I think. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Harris?”
Mrs. Harris nodded for she too was a Council tenant, even if her famous son who lived in London with his wife and family, was a doctor and now Rachael and Nathan were mixing with the working class
At that moment Rachael came into the room and Willie blushed. She smiled at him but his hands were dirty and he didn’t speak. Rachael had just had her sixteenth birthday and was becoming more beautiful every day. He thought of what Charlie had said about her and he blushed again as a feeling of unusual excitement charged through his body. He studied her hair with its long, black plait draped down her neck as she stood with her back to him. He wanted to touch it, but he knew he dare not and besides, Nathan was watching him. It was almost as if he was daring Willie to stroke his sister’s hair daring him to realise his desire, but Willie carried on cleaning the grate before he took the spent ashes away in a bucket to the midden in the back yard.