by Sara Gethin
Saint is getting something out of his pocket. It’s the little bag with a bit of white stuff in it. He’s throwing it at Mammy. ‘Enjoy,’ he says. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from. At a price.’
Mammy’s taking the bag and she’s getting up. She’s going to the door.
Saint’s shouting after her. ‘I’ve just been telling Brick – loads in Scotland. Could make you both a tidy bit. You could do with it, looking at the state of this place.’
Mammy’s turning round. She’s holding up her finger and she’s showing it to Saint. She says, ‘You’re full of sh—’ She’s banged the door. I can hear her going upstairs.
Saint is shouting after her. ‘That’s it, be a right cow now you’ve had what you want.’ He’s looking at me again. ‘Stick to the Coke that comes in bottles, bach,’ he says. ‘Then you won’t turn out like your mother.’
* * *
Brick and Saint are watching telly. They are watching men fighting. They’re shouting a lot and standing up and waving their arms. They’re saying lots of rude words. Mammy’s sitting on the settee. She’s nearly asleep. I am behind the chair and I’m playing with my truck.
Saint is putting his head round the chair. He’s saying something to me. I’m looking up. ‘I said, why are you behind the chair?’ I’m lifting my shoulders. ‘Come out,’ he says. ‘Come and have a drop more of this.’ He’s showing me the bottle of cola and he’s smiling at me. I think he’s friendly after all.
I’m coming out from behind the chair. I’m coming out with my truck.
He’s tipping some cola into a mug and he’s giving it to me. ‘Nice truck. Did Siôn Corn bring you that?’ I am nodding. I’m drinking all the cola. ‘When’re you going back to school?’
‘On Tuesday,’ I say. ‘The lady next door told me.’ I’m putting down the mug and I’m playing with my truck again. I’m pushing it on the floor. ‘When’s Tuesday?’
Saint’s looking at me and my truck. ‘Why’s he playing with it like that?’ He’s saying it to Brick.
‘Like what?’ Brick says. He’s opening another tin.
Saint is still looking at me. ‘Like that. With it in the box.’
I have stopped pushing my truck now. I’m lifting it up for Saint to see. ‘I can’t get it out. I need something from Dat’s tool box to take these out.’ I’m showing Saint the back of the box. I’m pointing to the two plastic bits. They are black and they have silver circles in them. The silver circles have criss-crosses in the middle.
‘A Phillips screwdriver,’ Saint says.
‘Yes!’ I say. ‘Like Dat’s got in his shed.’ I’m tapping Mammy’s knee. I am tapping it a bit. ‘Mammy, can we borrow Dat’s screwdriver? I like playing with my truck in the box but it would be better out of the box and I could make the wheels go round on the floor and I could tip the tippy bit all the way up and I could make the things fall out. Can we borrow his screwdriver? Can we? Can we?’
‘Shush,’ Mammy says.
‘Duw, Brick man, can’t you help the kid get it out of the box?’ Saint says. Brick is looking at my truck. Saint’s getting up. He says, ‘Need a dump.’
‘Bog’s top of the stairs,’ Brick says.
Saint is going out to the hall. Brick’s holding out his hand and he’s taking my truck. He’s looking at the back of the box.
‘Don’ need a screwdriver,’ he says.
He’s taking his car keys out of his pocket. He’s pushing one key into a silver bit. He’s pushing and pushing and turning and turning. The key is slipping. It’s making holes in the box. I don’t want holes in the box.
‘Thank you, Brick. I don’t mind playing with it in the box.’ I’m trying to take the box away from him. I’m trying but he is holding on to it. He’s holding on tight.
‘Blurry thing,’ he says. He’s made a lot of holes in the box.
Mammy has woken up a bit more. ‘Give it yerr.’ She’s taking the box off Brick and she’s pulling at it. She’s ripping its sides and she’s ripping its back.
‘It’s okay, Mammy,’ I say. ‘I like it in the box.’
I am trying to take it off her. But she keeps moving it away from me. The box is messy now. Bits of it are all over the settee. And all over the carpet. But the truck still won’t come out.
‘Please,’ I say. ‘I like it in the box.’
Mammy’s pulling at the plastic bits. She’s pulling at the bits keeping the truck in. She’s pulling and pulling.
‘Please,’ I say.
She’s getting something out of her boot. Something silver and shiny. She’s pushing a button on it. It’s opening up quick quick. It’s a little knife. She’s putting her knife under the plastic bits. And she’s trying to cut them.
‘Please, Mammy.’ I’m holding the box. I’m trying to pull it away from her. She’s cutting and cutting and I’m pulling and pulling. The knife is slipping on the plastic.
‘Ow!’ I say. I’m moving my hand fast and I’m putting my finger in my mouth. There’s a funny taste. I think it’s blood.
‘Wha’?’ Mammy says. I’m showing her my finger. She’s looking at the cut. ‘Tha’s nothin’,’ she says. She’s closing the knife. She’s putting it back in her boot. Back in the little pocket on the side of it. And she’s throwing my truck. She’s throwing it over my head to Brick. He’s pulling at the plastic bits now. He’s pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling. The plastic bits won’t come off.
I’m looking at my finger and the little cut. A bit of blood is coming out of it. I’m looking at my truck again. ‘It’s okay,’ I say. I am starting to feel very sleepy. ‘I like it in the box. Please, Brick, please can I have it back?’
He hasn’t heard me. He’s not giving it back. He’s pulling at the truck now. He’s trying to pull it out of the box. He’s pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling.
‘Please,’ I say. ‘Please, Brick.’
I want to grab my truck. I want to run upstairs with it. I want to hide it in my bedroom. I want to hide it from Mammy and Brick.
But I’m not grabbing it. I’m not running away. I’m not hiding it. I am sitting on the floor. And I am putting my hands over my eyes.
There’s a cracky sound. I forgot to hide my ears.
‘’bout time,’ Brick says. ‘There you go.’
Something has knocked my knee. I am opening my fingers. I’m peeping through them at the floor. I can see my truck. It’s on its side. It’s not in the box anymore. I am putting my hand out. I’m picking up my truck. I can see the box. It’s all ripped. The words SUPER and TRUCK are in little bits. All over the carpet. I can see two black wheels with two shiny middles. They are still stuck to a bit of the box.
I’m grabbing my truck. The other wheels are falling off it. I’m grabbing them. I’m grabbing them off the floor. I’m grabbing the bit of box too. The bit of box with the two wheels stuck to it. I’m running out of the front room. I’m running up the stairs. And my cheeks are all wet.
Saint is coming out of the bathroom. ‘What’s wrong, bach?’
I am trying to say, ‘My truck is broken.’ I’m trying. But the words are stuck. They are stuck tight like the wheels. I’m running into my bedroom and I’m closing the door.
‘Tuesday’s the day after tomorrow.’ Saint is saying it through the door. ‘That’s when school starts again.’
I am standing in my bedroom. I’m holding my truck and I’m listening. Saint isn’t talking now. I can only hear his breaths through the door. I am listening and listening.
‘Okay?’ He’s saying it quietly. He’s saying it on the other side of the door. ‘Day after tomorrow. Two more sleeps.’
‘Okay.’ My okay is all wobbly. ‘Thank you, Saint.’
‘Croeso, bach,’ he says. His voice is very quiet through the door. ‘You’re welcome.’
Back to School
I am waiting for Kaylee and her mammy. I’m watching for them through the window. It’s hard to watch for them because of the rain. But it’s not very
dark outside now. I can see the lady across the road moving her white curtains. I’m waving to her but she’s not waving back.
I’ve parked my truck under the pile of clothes. I’ve put my coin in the tipper bit with the bit of box and the wheels. I’ve put Nanno’s letter in it too. If I had Cwtchy he could sit in the tipper bit. He could sit on top of my coin and my letter and the wheels. He would be a bit squashed but he wouldn’t mind. He could look after my truck and my coin and my letter. He would keep them safe when I’m in school.
A big pink umbrella has stopped by our gate and I can see Kaylee’s mammy’s face under it and I am running out of the front door and I’m closing it behind me and I’m running down the path. It’s nice to see Kaylee and her mammy again.
‘Is it Tuesday today?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Kaylee says. She’s smiling at me. She’s got a small umbrella. It’s pink like her mammy’s.
Kaylee’s mammy isn’t smiling. She’s looking and looking at me. ‘Have you got a coat?’ she says.
I’m thinking. ‘Yes, but I haven’t got it here. It’s at Nanno and Dat’s house.’
‘Well, come under my umbrella then,’ she says, ‘or you’ll get soaked.’
I’m walking under Kaylee’s mammy’s umbrella. My jumper is only getting a little bit wet.
‘Have you had some breakfast?’ she says. I’m shaking my head. She’s putting her hand in her pocket. ‘Here.’ She’s giving me a little bag. There are three sweets in it. They are toffees. I like toffees. Nanno likes toffees too.
‘Can I have one?’ Kaylee says.
‘No,’ her mammy says. ‘You had a big breakfast this morning.’
I’m chewing one of the toffees. It’s yummy and sweet. My tummy is making lots of rumbly noises.
‘I like your Christmas tree,’ I say.
‘We’ve got to take it down,’ Kaylee says, ‘in a couple of days.’
I’m sad about that. I like looking at it from my window and I like the twinkly lights. ‘Were there presents under it? I couldn’t see from my window.’
‘Yes,’ Kaylee says. ‘This umbrella and a scooter and—’
‘We’ve got some chocolate for you, Tomos,’ her mammy says.
‘Have we?’ Kaylee says. She’s walking backwards in front of us. She’s making her new umbrella spin round and round. All the rain is flying off it.
‘I’ll bring it at home time,’ Kaylee’s mammy says.
‘Thank you. I like chocolate.’
We’ve got to school. Kaylee’s mammy’s giving her a kiss.
‘Thank you for letting me walk under your umbrella,’ I say. ‘I’m only a little bit wet.’
Kaylee’s mammy is rubbing her hand on my arm. ‘See you both later,’ she says. ‘And I’ll have that chocolate for you, Tomos.’ She’s waving.
And Kaylee and me are running to our classroom and we’re running and running because we’re going to see Miss.
* * *
It’s morning playtime. It has stopped raining. Miss says we can go outside but we must not step in the puddles. And we must all put on our coats.
‘Tomos, wait a minute.’ Miss is standing by the door to our classroom. ‘Before you go out to play, could you help me with something?’
She’s getting a plastic box out of her bag. She’s putting it on her desk. ‘My husband made some sandwiches for me today, and I can’t eat them all.’
The other children have gone now. She’s opening the box. There’s an eggy smell. There are a lot of sandwiches in the box and a yogurt and a chocolate biscuit. My tummy is making a rumbly noise.
‘Do you like egg sandwiches?’
I am nodding. I like egg sandwiches a lot. Nanno used to make them for tea on Sundays with crisps and cold rice pudding for afters.
‘Do you think you can help me eat them?’ I am nodding again. Miss is giving me the plastic box. ‘You can eat everything if you want,’ she says. ‘It’s a long time ’til dinner. You’ll be hungry again by then.’ She’s pulling out one of the big cushions. ‘You can eat them there.’
We are not allowed to eat in class. Sir told us in a long assembly. Eating in class makes crumbs. Rats like crumbs. We don’t want rats eating our crumbs in our classrooms. ‘What about the rats?’
‘Don’t worry.’ Miss is smiling. ‘I’ll clear up afterwards.’
I’m sitting down on the cushion and I’m eating the sandwiches. I’m eating them all and I’m eating them fast. I’m opening the chocolate biscuit and I’m putting it near my mouth. I am looking at the plastic box. It’s nearly empty. I’m putting the biscuit back in the box. ‘Miss,’ I say. ‘What are you having for dinner?’
Miss is looking up. She’s tapping her pen on her chin. ‘Did you say something, Tomos?’
‘I’ve eaten all the sandwiches. Shall I save the biscuit for you?’
Miss is smiling. ‘It’s okay, Tomos. I’ll get some dinner from the canteen. But thank you for asking. You go ahead and eat everything.’
‘Thank you, Miss.’ I am picking up the biscuit again and I’m taking a big bite. I’m opening the yogurt. Miss’s husband has put a little spoon in the box. I’m eating the yogurt with the little spoon. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘This yogurt is rice pudding.’
Miss has stopped marking our work. She’s looking up. ‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Oh yes. I love rice pudding. I like it cold like this best of all.’
Seren is coming into class. She’s looking at me. She’s seeing me on the cushion and she’s seeing me eating the rice pudding. ‘Eddie has fallen in a puddle, Mrs Davies.’ She’s talking to Miss but her eyes are looking at me. ‘His trousers are all wet.’
Miss is looking up. She’s pushing her brown hair behind her ear. ‘Poor Eddie. Go and tell the teacher on playground duty, Seren.’
‘It’s Mrs Pugh.’ Seren is still looking at me eating the rice pudding.
‘Oh.’ Miss is standing up. ‘You’d better send Eddie in to me then. I’ll find him some dry clothes.’ Seren is running off and Miss is looking at me now. ‘Wait here until I come back, Tomos. I’ll just be a minute.’
‘Okay,’ I say. I have nearly finished the rice pudding. I’m getting all the bits from the sides of the pot. Eddie is coming into class. He has big wet splodges on his trousers.
Miss has come back. ‘I found these in lost property.’ She’s holding up some trousers. ‘Try them on, Eddie.’ Eddie’s taking off his wet trousers. ‘And I wondered if these might fit you, Tomos.’ Miss is holding up some black trousers. They’re like the ones I’m wearing. ‘Your trousers are a bit wet too, after the rain this morning.’
I am feeling my trousers. ‘I think they’re dry now.’
‘Well, try these on anyway.’
I’m taking off my trousers. Eddie’s putting on his dry trousers and I am putting on mine. My new trousers feel snuggly.
‘And I found this in lost property too.’ Miss is holding a blue coat. She’s showing it to me.
‘It’s not my coat,’ I say. ‘I didn’t lose my coat at school. My coat’s at Nanno and Dat’s.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You can borrow it. It’ll keep you warm at playtimes.’ She’s helping me to put my arms into it. It’s snuggly like the trousers. ‘Right,’ Miss says. ‘You can both go out to play. There’s five minutes left before the bell goes.’
I’m giving Miss the plastic box back. ‘I think I made some crumbs for the rats.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I’ll take care of them.’
I am wondering about Miss taking care of the rats. I am wondering if Sir knows Miss takes care of them. Sir doesn’t want rats in his school. He told us in a long assembly.
Miss is smiling at us. ‘Go on, or the bell will ring soon.’
Eddie and I are going outside. It’s still not raining.
‘Wotcha,’ a big voice shouts. It’s Wes’s voice. He has shouted it in my ear. He has run up behind me. He’s holding my shoulders. ‘Where you been?’ he says.
�
��Helping Miss.’
He’s making little splashes in the puddles with his shoe. ‘For Christmas I got ten Xbox games. And a tablet and an iPhone with a contract. And loads of other stuff. What did you get?’
I’m not putting my shoes in the puddle. Miss said we must keep our shoes dry. ‘A Super Truck.’
‘Why’s it called that?’
‘Because it’s a super truck.’
‘How big is it?’
I am thinking. I’m making a shape with my hands.
‘That’s small,’ he says.
‘It’s not small.’ I’m looking round for something that is as big as my truck. ‘It’s that big.’ I’m pointing to the rubbish bin.
‘That’s massive,’ Wes says.
I am wondering if my truck is as big as the rubbish bin. ‘I think it’s a bit smaller than that,’ I say.
The bell is ringing. Everyone is running up to Mrs Pugh Year Two. She’s standing at the top of the playground.
‘Bring it tomorrow,’ Wes says. ‘So I can see.’
We are running to Mrs Pugh Year Two. I am not running in the puddles. Wes is making big splashes. ‘I don’t think we’re allowed,’ I say. ‘Sir says toys are only for Toy Day.’
‘I want to see it,’ Wes says. ‘Bring it.’ He’s holding my shoulders again. His fingers are catching my hair.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I will then.’
We’ve got to the top of the playground now. Wes is letting go of my shoulders. We’re standing with our classes.
‘I’ll bring my Super Truck tomorrow.’ I’m shouting it a bit. I am shouting it over to Wes. ‘I’ll bring it in so you can see it.’
Seren is telling me to be quiet. She’s holding her finger in front of her mouth.
‘Okay, thicko.’ Wes is shouting it. ‘It’s a deal.’
‘Okay, Wes,’ I say. I’m being quieter now. Everyone else is being quiet too. ‘It’s a deal.’
* * *
I am waiting for Kaylee and her mammy. I’ve been waiting a long time. It’s raining again today like it was yesterday. I’m waiting for the pink umbrellas to stop by the gate and I’m waiting and waiting. I’m holding my truck with one hand and I’m waving with the other hand. I’m waving to the lady across the road because she’s moving her white curtains. And I’m showing her my truck. But she’s not waving back. And I am waiting and waiting and my truck is getting very heavy.