‘Oh, I’m sorry but it’s the traffic,’ exclaimed his father. ‘Do you know, there was a traffic jam on the dual-carriageway today?’
‘Well, could you leave any earlier?’ asked Barry.
‘We could, but then if we have a clear run, we’d be here before you’re out of bed!’
‘We’ll try and do better tomorrow.’
His dad didn’t threaten Barry with stopping the lifts and forcing him back on the buses because he liked to be seen to be helping him - although he wasn’t going out of his way much. He saw it as a bargaining counter to be used in the future as he knew well that people were much more likely to do things for you if they were returning a favour.
At school, Barry found an odd assortment of people whom he could have at occasional chat with, but he was regarded as an ‘outsider’ on the whole. He was not someone who had been through the lower classes with the pupils He was a year older and the accident also made people wary of him. He spoke mostly with the bikers and smokers, in fact, he had started to go into the toilets in the sixth form centre to have a crafty fag when the head of the sixth form, Mr Dolen, walked in. Everyone dived for cover and locked the toilet doors but Barry was not quite quick enough.
‘All right - everyone, wait outside for me,’ ordered Mr Dolen, smelling the tobacco smoke immediately. Barry was caught, cigarette in hand, standing in a doorway.
‘What are you doing, Barry,’ he said as he snatched the cigarette from Barry’s grasp and threw it into a toilet. ‘You know you’re not allowed to smoke in school. Think of the damage to property and the danger you could cause to others if the building caught fire!’
The other boys filed out of the toilets to wait outside. Mr Dolen took their names and told them to report to him after school but he did, however, feel sorry for Barry, especially as he was still in special charge of him during his final year.
‘Now then, Barry, I’ll let you off this time, but you must never do this again, okay?
‘Yes, Sir,’ said Barry, obediently.
‘Okay then,’ said Mr Dolen, and he walked off.
That was the last time Barry ever smoked in school. He always made sure that he went outside or smoked on the journey to or from school. He still had smoking problems, though. Once, when getting on a bus outside school to go home, he was halfway through a cigarette when the bus driver, who also took the money for the fares, looked at Barry and said:
‘Schoolboys shouldn’t smoke - you’ll have to pay the full fare if you don’t put that out.’ Barry was amazed.
‘I’m eighteen years old and I was going to pay the full fare, anyway.’ He slammed the money down on the driver’s money tray.
‘Put the cigarette out,’ instructed the driver.
He was obviously not going to budge so Barry, not wishing to wait another twenty minutes or halt an hour, got off the bus, threw the cigarette away, got on again, paid and went upstairs to light another cigarette. As he smoked it, he was wondering what power the driver had to give such an order!
This and other factors, gave Barry the motivation to become mobile again - to get a car. He first had to get a licence and was not over-optimistic about this. He filled in the application forms, sent them off and waited about a month before a letter from the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority arrived. Success - he had got the provisional licence to drive for a year and was delighted, even though it said he was only licensed to drive a motor car and a motor tricycle. He was never going to drive those deadly motorbikes or even mopeds again and other vehicles - including both road rollers and invalid carriages - were out of the question.
‘Look mum,’ said Barry, excitedly. ‘I can learn to drive! I’ve got a provisional licence!’
‘Oh that’s good, Barry,’ said his mother. ‘You will have to go a bit slower when you learn to drive and not like you used to!’
‘Yes, mum - okay. I suppose I’d better look for a car, I can’t fit inside yours because of my long legs and I don’t think Ivan will let me drive his.’
‘No, he’s very possessive of his car so you’d better start looking around.’
Barry was over the moon and he couldn’t help but tell everyone he met about his good fortune - as he saw it. It was just as well that there was a neighbour, David, living a few doors down the road from his house who, having studied to become a motor mechanic before he changed his mind to follow another career, now repaired cars in his spare time.
In a conversation one day, Barry was expressing his need to find an old banger with David and he told him of a friend who wanted to sell an old MK 2 Anglia. The original 997cc engine had been replaced by David with a 1500cc engine. The price was £120 and Barry was ecstatic. He told David that he really wanted to see it so David gave him the chap’s phone number and advised him to get in touch as soon as possible.
Barry went home and rang the seller of the car. Yes, it was still for sale so Barry took his address and said he’d go around the next day.
‘Say, Ivan, will you give me a lift tomorrow? I want to buy a car!’
‘Do what? Put you on the road again? Oh, okay, we’ll have a look,’ said Ivan half mocking and half interested in seeing the car.
The next day dawned and Barry was eagerly waiting all day to see the car and when Ivan got home in the afternoon, the lads went to see it. It was quite clean and rust-free and the owner started it up for Barry.
‘Sounds all right, doesn’t it Ivan?’ said Barry enthusiastically.
‘Yes, yes - can we go for a drive in it?’ Ivan asked.
‘Yes, I’ll take you around the block,’ he said. It all went smoothly and Barry was soon parting with his £120. A car - mobile once more!
Ivan got a lift from a friend to go and pick up the car the next day and he felt the power of the engine. Barry was waiting at his house when he heard Ivan approaching. The noise that the engine made was unusual, to say the least. He heard Ivan change gear almost every two seconds and when he drew up, Barry challenged him.
‘Changing gear a bit fast, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, well the seller explained a few more things,’ said Ivan.
‘The gearbox is still the same - meant for the much slower 997cc engine and a lighter car. The big engine therefore makes it go like a rocket and if you had the correct gearbox to match the engine, this car would easily do a hundred miles per hour.
‘Maybe I should talk to David,’ said Barry.
‘Pass your test first,’ said Ivan. ‘Oh, and the clutch is very sharp - it’ll take a while before you get used to it!’
Barry wasn’t listening. He took the keys, sat in the car and started the engine and as he prodded the accelerator, he felt the engine roar menacingly. He had to pass his test - and quickly.
A useful thing was that there were several coppers living in the area and some gave driving lessons - two hours at a time - for the same price as you would normally pay for one hour with a driving school. These men had been trained to drive police cars so were experts. Barry found an agreeable policeman and started his lessons the next week. Things were going very well,
Christmas came and went and life carried on, schoolwork carried on, driving lessons carried on and then, lo and behold, Barry’s driving test came up.
He was feeling a little more nervous than he should for he had passed his bike test and was competent on the road. It was just that the car was so difficult to drive - he had to remember to concentrate hard to get it right. Anyway, the test started and everything went well.
During the test, the examiner calmly said, ‘Turn left at the next junction.’ No problem, thought Barry. There were no cars coming from his right side so, rather than stopping and playing about with the car’s difficult clutch and accelerator, he went straight across the junction.
‘You’ve just gone over a double solid white line. Why
didn’t you stop?’
‘Oh, err... well, there were no cars coming,’ spluttered Barry. That’s it, he thought. Unless I drive perfectly from now on, I’ve failed.
At the end of the test, he was asked the usual questions and, of course, he was questioned about when he should stop at a junction. He answered each question correctly and sat, forlornly, awaiting the words - ‘You’ve failed’.
‘I am pleased to say you’ve passed,’ said the examiner.
Feeling gob smacked, Barry took the paper that was handed to him. The examiner got out of the car and John, his instructor, told him to move over to the passenger seat as he was going to drive back.
‘Well, did you pass?’ asked John.
‘Yes - somehow I did,’ said Barry.
‘Somehow?’
‘Well, yes. You see I went over a double solid white line without stopping - and he still passed me!’ Barry wondered whether he should be telling this to the law.
‘Oh, don’t worry, stranger things than that have happened.’ John was wrestling with the car but managed to get it back to Barry’s house in one piece. ‘Well, have fun - and don’t go too fast in that nippy little car,’ said John as he left.
Barry felt good and decided to go and have a drink of coffee before driving to school. Once again he was free - no more buses or lifts from his father!
Barry’s father was pleased with his son’s achievement only one and a half years after almost dying and so he offered to hold a party for him at his home, deep in the countryside. Barry was delighted and set about inviting all of his friends to the ‘do’.
The evening arrived and Phil was driving a company Land Rover and so could take eight people with him. Barry was driving down, of course, and took a couple of people in his car. The trouble was, Barry couldn’t get a girlfriend in his disabled state and his mates didn’t have many girls between them. There was just Phil with Samantha, Ben with Beverley and Ivan’s girlfriend, Heather. ‘The other lads didn’t care too much - they were there for the drink!
They arrived at the house at 7.45 pm. and all got out of the cars; piled into the house; started the music; opened some cans and went over to the food.
Barry was trying to keep his mates in order when his eyes fell upon Shu, a Chinese girl who was staying at his father’s house. She had come across to England to study art and learn English and went to a college just near where his father and Shirley worked, so she travelled to and from college with them. They had heard about her because his uncle, Charles, had a relation through one of his previous wives who had married a Chinese man and Shu was his sister. She was twenty-four years old but she was so small and pretty that Barry thought that she was younger than him.
Barry kept looking at her and when slow music was played, he asked her to dance. She accepted and, even though she was fifteen inches smaller than him, he was overjoyed. Throughout the evening they danced, and made small talk - very small because she couldn’t speak much English.
At the end of the evening, Barry tried his luck and kissed her but he didn’t know that this Chinese just didn’t act that way - not on the first date anyway. Barry didn’t worry too much and asked to see her again and she agreed so Barry felt as high as a kite all the way home.
Chapter Eight
Exam time was approaching and Barry was still writing with his left hand so it was slow and untidy. He was warned that this might fail him at both A levels so Mr Dolen kindly offered to write to the Examination Board with an explanation in the hope that they would not mark him down for bad writing. At least it gave Barry some hope that he might walk away with a pass, so he decided to get down to some serious study - but here, Barry had problems.
Whereas his brother, Anthony, could revise for his O levels with stereo headphones on and music blaring through them, Barry had to have complete silence for the slightest sound put him off. He never used to be like this so it was due to the accident, which had reduced his power of concentration enormously and now that the right-hand side of his brain was governing him, he seemed to take a long time to understand things. He often wondered why he had to read a page twice before he understood it, and this could have been the reason.
The exams were only three weeks away.
‘Mum, how on earth can I study with my two brothers making all this noise? I’ve got important exams soon.’
‘Yes, yes, I know dear. I’ll try and make them quieter.’ And she did try, but Barry didn’t even like to hear them walking around the house.
‘Oh, it’s no good - I think I’ll ask if I can stay with Nan and Granddad. It’ll be much quieter there.’
Of course, his grandparents were delighted to have him to stay. They lived in a pleasant detached, five-bedroomed house and Barry could study in perfect quiet for as long as he wanted. The only problem was that Barry’s stamina had decreased, making him tire more quickly and he still had his bad memory but studying there was the best thing he could do in the circumstances.
Because Barry was studying hard, the two weeks shot by and he found himself sitting down for the first part of the economics exam. Oh, well, he told himself - got to do my best - and he tried, but after he had finished each paper, he looked down at the mess and winced. He was so slow that he didn’t have any time to read the paper over again to check it before the teacher told everyone to stop. But at least he had finished, now. Of course, several students were going to continue their studies at University, but Barry just wanted to be out of school - for ever - as soon as possible.
Most people had some difficulty finding work, but Barry was offered a job with his uncle - Charles. The position was at the lowest level but, thought Barry, everyone’s got to start somewhere. The company was a graphics agency, making up brochures, advertisements, poster and all things graphic. Barry had to learn the trade - from the bottom - so his tasks were to help where he was needed and always be ready to go on messenger duties.
Now, Barry had always had a slightly artistic temperament and, after the accident, he became more creative and enjoyed working with art. He even had a design of his own accepted for use, in his early days, so he quite enjoyed it. What he didn’t enjoy was the pay. His salary was very low but at least he got car expenses in addition. He, certainly, was not going to retire early! Little did Barry know - or even suspect - that Charles was mainly employing him because Charles knew that he could persuade him to work for low wages as he had the ‘family relationship’ connection. And, little did he know that Charles would use anyone to get more for himself.
As he continued working, the telephonist, Sandra, became a little hostile towards him. Sniping and digs were common and when Barry complained to Charles, he was just pushed away and told not to take any notice. Sandra did her job and Charles did not want to go through the trouble of finding another employee by upsetting Sandra. But that was during the day. Shu had moved to another relative’s house, not too far away from where Barry worked. She also saw him at the office because she earned a few pennies cleaning it up after work each day.
Barry enjoyed her company. He was appreciating her beauty more and more each time they met, even if she was short and could not understand everything he said. In fact, she would often laugh and agree with Barry when she did not understand, but Barry wasn’t to know. With his speech impediment; the occasional stutter; the way he would speak slowly about simple things and how he would forget his sentence when he was halfway through, the fact that Shu didn’t mind made her the ideal partner. To understand, she needed people to speak slowly and keep the topic simple, so she wasn’t worried at all.
Barry would see her several times each weekend and take her to the pub where he met his friends. They all had jobs now. Ben was a council worker, Mark worked in a post office as a counter clerk and Clive was in the music business. Mark kept them all laughing as he made unsavoury remarks about Ben’s job so, just as in school, Ben was
still the butt of Mark’s humour, although it was never nasty. But then, Ben’s job had better prospects and pay than Mark’s, so he was not unduly bothered. In fact, Mark didn’t like his job at all. He had been advised by his parents that this was a good start and so he had agreed to give it a try, but he longed for a job working with engines - just like his brother.
And so it happened - Mark made an announcement in the pub one evening.
‘Oh yeah, and I thought I’d tell yer. I gotta new job.’
‘What?’ asked Barry. You never said you were looking for new work! I told you that with your talent you could work for a commercial artist!’
‘Nah, nah, not that - I’m a mechanic now!’
‘A mechanic? Where do you work - Ford? Lotus?’ said Ben.
‘Well ... err, not quite. It’s at the three-wheeler repair plant.’ A hushed silence fell over the table.
‘Yeah - I’m a Mek-an-ik now,’ said Mark, glowing with pride. He didn’t seem to give two hoots about where he was for he was just overjoyed that he was now working with engines.
Barry was pleased that Mark had found work that he could be happy with. He was just a bit sad that Mark hadn’t taken him up on an offer he had once made. He had told one of the graphic artists that his company used that he might find use for Mark’s talents and he was willing to see Mark if Barry could arrange it. Barry tried telling Mark, but he just wasn’t interested and this upset Barry but, in the end, he knew that he had to leave Mark to lead his own life.
It was one evening in May and the crowd was again at The Kings Head pub. Mark only liked going to that pub because of the nice barmaid who worked there and whom he fancied. He had never had a girlfriend - probably due to his shyness with the opposite sex but he was certainly trying to overcome this now. He was the one to buy the drinks always from her and she was not backing off at all.
‘I don’t half fancy that Jackie,’ said Mark, as he came back from the bar.
Would You Believe Him? Page 9