by Barney Broom
“Podric.”
Amy’s call meeting with no response, she banged on her brother’s bedroom door.
“Podric!”
Amy tried the handle, but was unable to open it. The door was jammed.
“God, you’re irritating. The bathroom’s flooded. Your help is needed and if you won’t open up, I’ll break that mug you always use.”
There was no response.
“And that picture of Dad’s plane in Mum’s bedroom.”
That did it.
“Touch it and I’ll kill you.”
Amy went back to the bathroom and seconds later, Podric appeared. His hair a sight, he wore a Kilkenny rugger shirt and tracksuit bottoms.
“Hand down some more towels, will you?”
Amy nodded towards the airing cupboard and Podric’s lanky form obliged.
“I wonder about Mum.”
Having mopped up the water, Podric disappeared back to his room and Amy went downstairs to resume her viewing. A few minutes later, Podric showed up in their sitting room carrying two mugs of tea. Brother and sister sat together watching the film when Amy suddenly said, “Are you going to go to this school?”
“I quit school.”
“That’s dumb, Podric. If you do that, you won’t get grades and if you don’t get grades, you won’t get into the RAF.”
“I don’t want to get into the RAF now.”
“Yes, you do.”
Amy finished her tea.
“Okay kid – you know more than I do.”
“You’ve got to go to school, Pod. You can’t let Dad down.”
Podric didn’t reply. He stared at the television.
A little while later, Barbara’s battered VW came up the drive. There was some family communication about the flooded bathroom, after which Podric headed for his bedroom.
“Don’t go hiding, Pod.”
Amy looked at her elder brother with all her nine-year-old gravitas.
“Mum and I will leave you alone, but don’t go hiding.”
“At least with her new job, they should have good plumbers.”
The rest of the day Barbara was distracted. Though not usually the worrying kind, her son’s behaviour troubled her and that night she went to bed preoccupied.
The following morning, getting ready for her own first day at work, Barbara dressed in her eccentric clothes, wearing multi–coloured leg warmers and a scarlet Mexican poncho – despite having lost her husband, she was an original character and her free spirit wasn’t going to change.
“Got everything?”
Amy stood in the kitchen and presented a painting. An interesting composition, it depicted the whirlings of a sinks’ waste disposal with the words ‘pull the plug and see the flow!’ inscribed in its spiral waters.
“Good luck Mum. Come on Podric, we’ll miss the bus!”
Watching her daughter skip out of the door, Barbara barely glimpsed her son, just catching sight of his gawky figure loping down their short driveway after his sister. Podric carried no bag and seemed totally unprepared for attending school. He really was an enigma – someone she didn’t truly know, yet loved so completely.
At the bus stop, a youth of Podric’s age stood waiting. Beside him, a stout middle-aged woman sat on a bench. A large scarlet macaw hopped around beside her. Loosely tethered by a string, it flapped its considerable wingspan and, squawking loudly, made Amy uneasy.
“Whoa Eamon, calm down.”
Spoken by the other boy, Billy Johnson also seemed nervous.
“Dad says you shouldn’t have him out like that Mrs. B; bird like that could hurt someone.”
“My Eamon wouldn’t harm a flea… would’ya, yer big softy?”
Eamon squawked some more and flapped harder. The school bus arrived.
Driver Claude Linklater released the electric doors, which opened just in time to let Eamon fly in. Chaos ensued. The bus was in pandemonium as the macaw flailed its way amongst the alarmed school children. Linklater not taking command of the situation, Podric spied a piece of old sack lying in the hedge. Grabbing it, he jumped aboard and managed to throw the rotting hessian over Eamon’s head. Another boy, Miles Willoughby, caught the string and together the two lads extricated Eamon from the vehicle. As the flapping macaw was brought out, Billy took hold of the lanyard and led Eamon back to Ivy Bickerstaff.
“I’m going to report you,” a panicky Linklater yelled from the bus at the relieved Ivy.
“That bird’s a liability!”
Giving the string to Ivy, Billy said, “You’d better take him home Mrs. Bickerstaff. You really shouldn’t have him out.”
The youthful bus passengers still excited, several of its occupants were yelling the old ‘Pieces of eight’ pirate cry. Amy confronted Mr Linklater.
“Shouldn’t we be on our way?”
“Are you one of the new kids?”
“Me and my brother.”
Claude checked the list.
“Amy Moon and Podric, is it? Podric Moon. Rum name.”
“He’s good with escaped birds.”
The three newcomers climbed aboard. Claude slung his clipboard on the dashboard and closed the electric doors.
“Daft old girl. I’m definitely gonna report her. Could have hurt someone… that bloody squawking parrot.”
“It’s not a parrot, it’s a macaw.”
Two identical twins, Maurice and Clive Jenkins, spoke in unison. Impeccably dressed, they were precise types.
“I don’t care if it’s Polly, the chirping budgerigar, she’s still goin’ to get reported.”
The coach lurched off.
“So, we have a new hero then.”
The school bully, Barney Sturridge, sat with two of his cohorts, ‘Plug’ and ‘Gnome’, several rows back from Podric. The former thug acolyte was a ringer for The Beano’s Bash Street Kids character, and Gnome’s nomenclature perfectly matched his size. But Barney was different. Big for his age, he had a presence and was smarter than his arrogant attitude suggested. Slouching in his seat, he wore earplugs and hummed sporadically.
“Quite the Birdman of Alcatraz… But this does not mean much to either the dwarfed or aurally challenged!”
Speaking loudly due to the music playing in his ears, Barney’s gaze moved from Gnome to Plug, as he twisted one of Plug’s large auditory protuberances.
“I love Dry Bone Sister – a band after me own heart. And you friend with the skin and blister. A man of birds then – shiver me timbers if he ain’t. Get that, P and G? Shiver!”
His two confederates grinned stupidly.
“God…”
Releasing Plug’s ear, Barney sat back tapping along to the track on his mobile.
“What’s yer name?”
This question directed at Podric, the new boy fiddled with his iPhone. Podric’s fingers darted across its display. He adjusted settings not applied by most users.
“I said, what’s yer name?”
“Leave him alone Barney,” Billy Johnson spoke up.
“Oh? A voice from the milk round. Getting in on the act, are you, gold top?”
Barney leaned forward aggressively, drawing back his fist.
Podric turned and pressed something on his device.
“I said—aaagh!!”
All of a sudden, the bully ripped the earphones from his head and clutched his ears in pain.
“My name is for my friends.”
Snapping off his iPhone, Podric briefly caught his sister’s eye.
Barney was still moaning in agony as the coach pulled up outside Wendbury High.
“I’m deaf. I can’t hear, I’m deaf!”
Getting off the bus with his friend Miles Willoughby, Billy Johnson turned to Podric.
“Well cool – but you’ll need to w
atch out.”
Barney clutched his head and while barging through them, blindly tripped over Amy’s bag.
“You don’t want to mess with my brother. He’ll zap you off the face of the Earth. See you, Pod.”
Giving Barney the Krimon Avenger fingers, Amy skipped off towards the junior school. Barney punched Gnome’s bag. Looking at their leader, the two associates yelled, “Shiver!”
“Don’t shout – aaagh!”
Barney kicked one and shoved the other.
Miles Willoughby tugged Podric’s sleeve.
“Make an enemy of him at your peril, Podric – he’s not one to cross.”
2
An Accident
That morning being the start of a new term, Podric Moon was welcomed into his class. Their teacher, Miss Mullins, was a fit young woman – bright, intelligent and capable. Podric found the ambience of his co-educational form very different to the public school he’d attended in Ireland. Advised of the family’s recent tragedy, Miss Mullins asked Podric to wait behind when they broke for lunch.
“I was very sorry to hear of your tragic loss, Podric.”
Standing near her desk at the front of the empty classroom, Podric didn’t reply.
“I believe you want to go into the air force – do what your dad did.”
“Yuh.”
“I don’t have to tell you what a big year this is academically. You’ll need good grades.”
Podric remained silent.
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, any work you need assistance with – you just have to ask.”
The teacher and pupil looked at each other.
“It must have been very difficult for you.”
“Miss Mullins – I don’t really want to talk about it if you don’t mind.”
Denise Mullins studied the boy. Podric’s slightly diffident manner intrigued her.
“Thanks for your consideration, though.”
They parted.
It was during the afternoon that Barney Sturridge made his retaliatory move. Although in the same year, he was in a different stream to Podric. Barney was in general and Podric, science. Neither did they attend the same practical classes. These were divided into three sections, the subject options being metalwork, woodwork or domestic science. Podric had selected metal and Barney, ostensibly, woodwork.
Late for the metalwork class, Norris Widget spied Barney and two other henchmen turning into the corridor. Diving into Mr. Micklediver’s metalwork room, ‘The Widge’, as he was known, just had time to slip by Podric whispering “Big Barn – coming now” before the bully appeared.
Micklediver, overseeing a weld on a giant dolphin Billy was making didn’t notice Barney enter.
“Alright, Mr. Mike?”
Wielding a welder’s torch, his vision focused on the job in front of him, Micklediver couldn’t react. Barney picked up a metal rod and, passing along a far bench, thwacked Podric on the leg.
“That’s for this morning, Moon – just a beginning.”
The attack was swift. Podric reeled in pain. Barney pressed his face into Podric’s.
“Reckoned you were smart, did you, Podric Moon?”
Barney pushed Podric hard.
“Bollock stupid name. Bollock stupid twat. No one, repeat no one, gets anything over Barney Sturridge. Got it?”
Barney hit Podric’s other leg with the rod, which sent Podric to the floor.
“Ha. Guess you know who runs things now, geek. So long.”
“Hey. Sturridge? What are you doing here? You’re with Mr Czvnik, aren’t you?”
Micklediver had raised his visor and shut down his welding torch.
“I am, sir – though he’s not really my type. Just having a little discussion with Moon here. Carry on class.”
With that Barney promptly tripped over some rods that had mysteriously moved across his path. A voice said, ‘Glad your hearing’s better, Sturridge,’ followed by the whole form murmuring “S–h–i–v–e–r”.
It was the end of the day. Barney wasn’t aboard the bus that night, his father having collected him from school in a large Jaguar. On the journey home, Podric didn’t let on to Amy what had happened.
“What do you reckon about school, Pod – irrecreemingly boring?”
Her brother smiled grimly at his sister’s incorrect choice of word. She was always doing that – trying to use words that were a bit beyond her nine years.
***
Life at school settled down. Podric and Amy fell into a rhythm, as did their mother.
Because the Moons’ finances were limited (Sean’s pension was just sufficient to live on but it was necessary Barbara worked at Tweeney’s, adding to it) Podric decided to take a paper round at Godiver’s local shop, making early morning deliveries. This had the double benefit of receiving praise from his mother along with the more tangible advantage of earning money for himself. It also led him to something that changed his life, though the creation of this invention began in an unfortunate way.
On the morning in question, Podric was delayed in starting his round because Mr. Godiver didn’t have his papers ready. By the time Podric had completed his deliveries he was seriously late, and in order to get home, drop off his bike and make the school bus, he began pedaling through the village at a frantic rate.
Cycling through the more affluent part of Drinkwell, Podric turned a bend, when a car travelling too fast came up behind him. Podric heard it a second before it hit him. He swerved his bike up the hedge and nearly escaped, but the car just clipped his rear wheel which caused him to lose control. Over the handlebars he went, taking a bloody tumble. The car didn’t stop.
It was Billy Johnson and his father, Arthur, who found Podric. Their milk float pulled up beside the concussed boy.
“It’s Podric!”
Billy’s concerned face swam unfocused into his new friend’s orbit.
“Pod. Pod! You okay?”
Podric grunted.
“Nasty cut he’s got on his leg – and his head… Right mess.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t move him? What do you think, Dad?”
Arthur gently felt Podric’s neck, torso and legs.
“Doesn’t feel like there’s anything broken. Better get him into a house. Do you know who lives there?”
Arthur looked at the nearby property. Its driveway led to a substantial residence. Billy shook his head.
“Who cares? He needs help.”
Podric murmured pathetically. Father and son Johnson helped him up and together carried him down the drive towards the front porch of the house. Billy pressed the bell. An intercom system emitted an electronic voice enquiring who was calling.
“It’s me mate, missus. He’s had an accident.”
Looking at the scene on the CCTV system, housekeeper Alannah Brodie took in the situation at once. An enormous Irish wolfhound began barking. Irritated at the animal getting in her way, Alannah went to the front door.
“Oh dear. What happened?”
“A car – hit and run, madam.”
“Can we bring him in and call for help?”
“Of course.”
Following the housekeeper, the milkman and his son brought Podric inside. Crossing a Victorian hall which featured double doors with stained glass panels, they walked through a futuristic high-tech kitchen and entered a small study. Laying his friend down on a chaise longue, Billy couldn’t help letting out an exclamation.
“Wow! Be alright here, Pod. Oh, er, sorry missus.”
Billy was impressed.
“Better get back to the float. Can’t leave it where it is.”
Arthur moved to leave. Alannah said, “The accident should be reported.”
“I’ll do that. Can I give the address here?”
“Of course. I’ll
give you the details.”
Alannah went into the kitchen followed by Arthur. Billy turned to Podric.
“How are you feeling, Pod?”
“Great.”
Alannah re-entered. Billy looked around at her.
“I’ve got to get to school, but I don’t think he can.”
“Not with that gash.”
The housekeeper seemed very capable. Billy noticed she was smart and spoke with an Irish lilt.
“Where does he live?”
“Briony Close.”
“The new estate?”
Billy nodded. Podric tried to raise himself.
“Hey, hey – you just lie back. I’ll get the first aid kit and ring the doctor.”
Concerned, Alannah looked at Billy.
“Your dad’s reporting the incident and I’ve given him the number here.”
The housekeeper plumped up a cushion for Podric. Billy headed for the door.
“Is it okay if I get his bike off the road?”
“Sure. Leave it by the porch. I’ll make sure the police look at it.”
“See you, Pod. I’ll come by your place later.”
Podric Moon lay back and took in his surroundings. The small library was traditional and overlooked a lawn. A stream ran along its perimeter. It was an idyllic scene. Podric became aware of something wet nuzzling him and looked round to see the giant dog trying to lick him. Nudging the animal away, the boy spied a PlayStation on a side table. Reaching across, he picked up the controls and pressed ‘Start’. Immediately a TV monitor activated, but the unit was locked and requested a passcode. Podric toyed with the handset. Alannah returned carrying a first aid kit and a drink.
“I brought you some Coke.”
Preoccupied, Podric muttered thanks.
“Like the computers, do you?”
Still fiddling with the device, Podric nodded. The housekeeper began to clean his cut. The enormous hound did its best to obstruct her.