Not Thomas

by Sara Gethin

  ‘Well, well,’ a kind voice says. ‘You were very comfy there.’

  I’m trying to open my eyes. It’s very hard to open them. They are stuck shut. I’m still moving up and up but I don’t think I’m on a biscuit. I don’t think I’m going into Mrs Pugh Year Two’s mouth.

  Someone is holding me. ‘Dat?’ I say. I am trying hard to open my eyes. I want to see Dat. I haven’t seen him for a long long time. He used to hold me like this sometimes. He used to carry me to bed when I was very very sleepy.

  ‘You’ve caused a bit of a fuss,’ the voice says. I am making my eyes open because I want to see Dat. But it’s not him carrying me. It’s someone else with a kind face. It’s the lamb man. ‘Over here,’ he says. ‘He’s fine.’

  I can hear someone running. ‘Oh thank goodness,’ a voice says. It’s Miss’s voice. She’s grabbing hold of me. She’s taking me from the lamb man. She’s squeezing me very tight.

  ‘Fast asleep.’ The lamb man is smiling. ‘In the hay.’

  ‘Like little Lord Jesus,’ I say. My voice is very quiet. ‘Away in a manger.’

  The lamb man is laughing and laughing. I’m laughing now too but Miss is crying. ‘Oh thank goodness.’ She’s saying it over and over and she’s squeezing and squeezing me.

  The lamb man is running off. ‘I’d better tell the others,’ he says. ‘So they can stop searching the lake.’

  * * *

  We are nearly back at school and we’ve all been good. We have nearly all been good. Miss is bringing a plastic tub round. It’s a tub with lots of sweets in. The sweets are tiny bars of chocolate. Miss is showing me the tub because it’s my turn to choose a chocolate.

  ‘Mammy likes these.’ I’m taking a chocolate. ‘She has big bars of these. She keeps them on top of the cupboard in the kitchen.’

  ‘Well, enjoy it, Tomos,’ Miss says.

  ‘I’m not going to eat it. I’m keeping it for Mammy. It’s her favourite.’

  ‘Oh.’ Miss is smiling. ‘That’s kind of you.’ She’s showing the tub to Kaylee. I’m putting the chocolate safe. I’m putting it in the pocket in my coat.

  The bus is stopping at school. There are lots of people standing at the gate. Mrs Pugh Year Two is talking to them now. ‘I’m terribly sorry we’re so late,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two is saying. ‘I’m afraid there was a…an unavoidable delay.’ The bus driver is shaking his head. He’s looking cross.

  All the children are getting off the bus. I’ve stopped crying. But I don’t want to walk past Mrs Pugh Year Two. She might shout at me again. Her breath is very stinky when she shouts. Her teeth are very pointy. And I don’t want to start crying again.

  Miss is putting her hand on my shoulder. ‘Okay now, Tomos?’ I’m nodding. ‘Zip up your coat.’ I’m zipping up my coat. ‘Wear it home,’ Miss says, ‘because it’s started raining. But don’t let your mum see it. Give it to Kaylee’s mum when you get to your gate.’ She’s smiling at me but her eyes are sad. ‘Ask her to look after it for you ’til tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. Goodbye, Miss.’ My voice is still a bit jumpy.

  ‘Goodbye, Tomos.’ Her voice is still a bit jumpy too. And her eyes are red. Mrs Pugh Year Two is looking another way. I’m getting off the bus fast. Kaylee and her mammy are waiting for me. I’m showing them my postcard of the goat.

  ‘That’s nice,’ Kaylee’s mammy says. ‘Put it away now, though, so it don’t get wet.’ I’m putting it in the pocket in my coat with the chocolate I’m saving for Mammy. ‘And put your hood up.’ I’m putting my hood up. We’re walking home. We’re walking home fast because of the rain and my legs are very tired. I’m yawning. I’m yawning lots and lots and my yawns are all bumpy and jumpy.

  We are nearly at the corner of our road.

  ‘Oi!’ It’s a lady. She’s shouting at us from across the road. There are a lot of other ladies with her. And lots of children. ‘That’s my Joey’s coat.’ She’s crossing the road and she’s marching over to us. All the other ladies are crossing the road too. All the children are crossing with them. There’s a long line of them. ‘You’ve nicked my Joey’s coat.’ The lady’s saying it to me. She’s a very big lady. She’s looking down at me. ‘It’s got that hole there.’ She’s poking my shoulder. She’s doing it hard. ‘That’s where I burnt it with my fag.’

  The ladies are all round me in a circle. It’s hard to breathe because of the flowery smell. And the cigarette smell. The ladies are all looking at me. The children are too. They’re looking at my coat. And they’re looking at the burnt bit. They’re all nodding. ‘Yeah,’ they’re saying. ‘That’s Joey’s coat.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says a boy. He is quite small. ‘That’s my coat.’

  The big lady is grabbing the coat Miss gave me from the lost property box. She’s pulling the zip down. ‘Give it back.’

  ‘Miss gave it to me.’ I’m trying to make my words loud. But they have come out tiny.

  Kaylee’s mammy is pushing into the circle. Kaylee is holding her hand. Kaylee’s mammy is putting her arm round me. She’s pushing herself in front of the lady. ‘Leave him alone. It’s his coat.’

  ‘It’s not,’ I say. But my words are too small. It’s raining very hard now. The lady has grabbed me again. She’s pulled the zip right down. She’s pulling the coat off one of my arms. She’s pulling it off the other one now.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Kaylee’s mammy is saying again. ‘I’ll report you to the Head.’ Kaylee is crying. She’s holding onto her mammy’s leg. Her hood has come down. Her hair is very wet.

  Joey’s mammy has got the coat off me. The rain is going on my jumper. ‘Report me,’ she says. ‘And I’ll say your kid stole my son’s coat.’ She’s pointing to me.

  ‘That’s not her kid,’ one of the ladies says. ‘That’s Rhiannon Morris’s boy. You know, that slag that lives round the corner. The one that’s going with Nick Brickland.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Joey’s mammy says. ‘That loser Brick. That drug dealing piece of sh…’ She’s poking my shoulder again. ‘He’s a good enough match for your mother. She’s always been trouble. And now you’re stealing coats. Like mother, like son.’ She’s walking back across the road. She’s taking the coat with her. All the other ladies are marching after her. The children are marching with them. They’re splashing through the puddles.

  ‘It was in the lost property box.’ I am trying to say it loud. I want the lady to hear me. The rain is making my hair very wet. The water is running down my nose. ‘I didn’t steal it.’ I’m trying my best to say it loud but the rain is very splashy. Kaylee’s mammy is lifting the side of her coat. She’s putting it over my head. She’s holding my hand. She’s pulling me along. We are rushing home. We’re rushing as fast as we can.

  I’m looking over my shoulder. I’m looking at the ladies. They are a long way away now. I’m remembering Mrs Pugh Year Two. I’m remembering her shouting at me outside the barn. I’m remembering her shouting at Miss. I’m remembering Miss shouting back. I’m remembering Miss crying. And me crying too. I’m crying again now.

  ‘I didn’t steal it!’ I’m shouting. My words sound funny. They’re all jumpy. I’m shouting and shouting. ‘I didn’t steal it. I didn’t steal it. I didn’t steal it!’

  They can’t hear me shouting. They’ve gone round the corner. I’m putting my hand in my pocket. My pocket in my trousers. My fifty pence is in there. And then I remember my goat postcard. The one the lady in the shop gave me. And the tiny chocolate bar. The one I’m saving for Mammy. They are in my other pocket. The pocket in my coat. In Joey’s coat. In the coat Miss gave me.

  In the coat the lady has taken.

  * * *

  We are writing letters to the zoo. We must call it The Petting Farm. I like writing letters.

  I’m writing quite a long letter. I’m copying some of the words Miss has put on the board. I’m saying Dear Mr Petting Farm, How are you? I am well. Thank you for letting us feed your goats. Your lamb man is very nice. Love from Tomos xxx P.S. I like your hay.
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  I am writing another letter. My other letter says Dear Mr Bus Driver, How are you? I am well. Sorry I made you late for the big children. Love from Tomos xxx P.S. I hope the big children did not mind.

  Miss is helping me with my spelling. I am standing by her desk. ‘I like your P.S.s.’ Miss is looking at me. She’s pushing her brown hair behind her ear.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘A P.S. is an important thing that you forgot to put after Dear and before Love from. Nanno told me.’

  ‘Well done for remembering,’ Miss says. ‘Perhaps you should write a letter to Mrs Pugh too.’

  My hand is very tired. I have been writing letters for a long time. I say, ‘Can I draw a picture for her instead?’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Miss says and she gives me a big bit of paper.

  * * *

  It’s playtime. Mrs Pugh Year Two is on guard. She’s standing by the wall. She’s seeing no one is spitting or climbing over the fence or poking each other in the eye.

  I am holding my picture. It’s a picture of yellow flowers. I have rubbed out the barn and all the hay. And the lambs like Miss said. I am going to stand close to Mrs Pugh Year Two.

  She’s seen me. ‘Where’s your coat, Tomos Morris?’

  ‘Do you mean the one from the lost property box?’ I am trying not to look at her. She’s a bit scary when I look at her. ‘The lady took that coat. It was Joey’s.’

  ‘I mean your own coat,’ she says.

  I’m thinking. ‘It’s in Nanno and Dat’s house. In the cupboard under the stairs.’

  ‘Well, it’s no good there,’ she says. ‘Remember it tomorrow.’

  I am remembering it now. It’s green with yellow bits and it’s snuggly. I’m trying to remember to remember it tomorrow as well.

  I’m still standing close to Mrs Pugh Year Two. She’s looking at me again. ‘What do you want?’ I am holding out my picture. ‘Is that for me?’ She’s taken my picture. She’s looking at it. I’m hoping she can’t see the lambs. And the barn and the hay I’ve rubbed out. She says, ‘Is this to say sorry?’ I am nodding. I’m looking at my shoes. ‘Well, thank you, I suppose.’ She’s making sniffy noises. ‘But NEVER try to spoil my school trip again.’

  ‘I didn’t try to spoil it,’ I say.

  ‘Yes you did. And even though you were asleep in the hay, Tomos Morris, you were not like our Lord Jesus. You were not like our Lord Jesus at all.’ She’s waving her finger at me. ‘He would never have run off and got lost.’

  I am thinking about a story Dat read to me. From his book of Bible stories. I’m remembering a story about when Jesus was a big boy. He went to a church and his mammy and daddy couldn’t find him. ‘What about when Jesus—’

  ‘Don’t try to be clever with me,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. Her face is very cross now. Her cheeks are very red. She’s waving her finger next to my face. She’s poking it at my nose. ‘Don’t try and drag Him into this. Our Lord would never have ruined my trip.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I’m looking at my shoes again. ‘It was just an accident.’

  ‘Just an accident?’ she says. ‘Just an accident to run off and fall asleep in a barn? Just an accident to make the bus late back and cause all the parents to worry that we’d crashed into a ditch and were lying maimed and bleeding in the middle of nowhere? JUST AN ACCIDENT?’

  ‘Yes. I was tired.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me. You did your best to spoil it.’

  ‘I’m not telling a lie.’ I’m trying not to shout it but my words are getting loud. ‘Nanno always says not to tell lies and I’m not telling a lie.’

  ‘YES, YOU ARE.’

  ‘NO, I’M NOT.’

  Mrs Pugh Year Two’s face is very red. ‘DON’T YOU SHOUT AT ME.’ She is putting out her hand. She’s grabbing my jumper.

  Eddie is running up to us. His face is red too. ‘Miss! Miss! Malky Morgan is eating worms in the vegetable patch.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. ‘Not again.’ She’s letting go of my jumper. She’s pointing her finger at me. ‘Stay right where you are.’ She is walking away like a soldier. Like a busy round soldier. She’s walking all the way to the Look What We’re Growing corner. She’s going to find Malky. I am standing by the wall. I’m staying right where I am. And I’m looking through Wes’s class window.

  Wes is inside. He’s writing. He’s writing very slowly. I’m knocking the window. He’s looking up and he’s waving to me. I am waving back. He’s sticking out his tongue and he’s making a funny face. I am making a funny face. Wes is waving to me again. He’s waving with his fingers. He’s dancing and waving with his fingers. I’m dancing and waving with my fingers too.

  Some children have come to see me dancing. Wes is moving his bottom now. I’m moving my bottom too. I’m moving it like Wes. I’m moving it in and out and in and out. I’m dancing with my bottom and waving with my fingers. I am waving my long finger on one hand. And I’m waving my long finger on my other hand. I am waving them up to the sky like Wes. I’m laughing and dancing and moving my bottom in and out and in and out and waving with my fingers.

  Lots of children are watching me now. Some of them are laughing. Some of them are clapping.

  ‘Tomos Morris,’ Mrs Pugh Year Two says. ‘Stop that at once!’ She is with Malky Morgan. He has a dirty mouth. I’ve stopped dancing. ‘How dare you behave like that on the playground. Your shouting was bad enough. Go with Malky to Mr Griffiths’ office,’ she says. ‘And make sure you tell him why I sent you, you horrible child.’

  * * *

  We are in Sir’s room. Malky and me.

  ‘Now, boys,’ Sir says, ‘why are you here?’

  ‘Mrs Pugh sent me,’ Malky says.

  ‘Right, Malky. Been eating worms again I see.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear. What will we do with you, Malky?’

  Malky’s looking down at the floor. ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  Sir is shaking his head. ‘Neither do I.’ He’s holding his chin. ‘Neither do I.’

  Sir’s looking at me now. ‘And what about you?’ He has big glasses and big eyes and no hair. ‘Did Mrs Pugh send you too?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ I say.

  ‘What have you done, Tomos?’

  I am thinking.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I think it was the hay,’ I say.

  ‘The hay?’

  ‘The hay I rubbed out. On the picture I drew for her. And the barn and the lambs.’

  Sir is looking at me with his big eyes. He’s knocking his pen on the table. He’s looking and looking at me. ‘Oh, the barn and the lambs! You mean the trip to the petting farm.’ He’s shaking his head. ‘No, Tomos, we talked about that the other day. Mrs Pugh has said that’s all forgotten now. It must be something else.’

  I am thinking. ‘It could be my coat.’

  ‘What about your coat?’

  ‘It’s under the stairs in Nanno and Dat’s house. And I had another one, but the lady took it.’

  ‘The lady took it?’ Sir says.

  ‘Yes, Joey’s mammy took it off me when I was walking home from school.’

  ‘Did she now?’ Sir is writing something down. ‘That family…’ He’s shaking his head. ‘I’ll have a word with Joey’s mum about that and I’ll make sure you get your coat back.’

  ‘It wasn’t my coat. It was Joey’s. Miss found it in the lost property box.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sir says. He’s crossing something out. ‘Well, if it’s not about your coat, why do you think Mrs Pugh sent you here?’

  I am thinking.

  Malky says, ‘It’s what he was doing on the playground.’

  ‘What were you doing, Tomos?’ Sir says.

  ‘I don’t know, Sir.’

  ‘You must have been doing something Mrs Pugh didn’t like. She wouldn’t have sent you here otherwise.’

  I am thinking. ‘It might be the shouting.’

  ‘Right,’ Sir says. ‘What were you shouting?’

>   ‘That I don’t tell lies.’ I am remembering something else. ‘Or it might be the dancing.’

  Malky is nodding. ‘It was the dancing.’

  ‘What dancing?’ Sir says.

  ‘With my fingers,’ I say. ‘And my bottom.’

  ‘Really?’ Sir’s eyebrows have gone up very high on his forehead.

  ‘I can show you,’ I say. ‘If you want me to.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Sir says. I am showing him. ‘Yes.’ Sir is nodding his head. ‘I think you might be right, Tomos.’ He’s nodding and nodding. ‘I think it might have been the dancing.’

  * * *

  I am up in my bed. I’m waiting for Mammy to come home. I’m waiting and waiting. I’m waiting for her to put my ladder back. So I can go to the toilet. And I’m thinking about a letter I would write to Nanno. A letter I would write if I had some paper. And a pencil. I’m saying Dear Nanno, How are you? I am well. I have been litter picking all week. I have been doing it instead of having playtime. I have been doing it because Sir told me to. Because Mrs Pugh Year Two didn’t like my dancing. I have been doing it with Malky but we are not allowed to go near the vegetable patch because Malky eats worms. I like litter picking. I get to use the pinchy thing. Wes wants to litter pick too because he wants to use the pinchy thing. He took it off me on the first day and he tried to pinch some girls with it. And Miss caught him and gave him a row and now he’s not allowed to take my pinchy thing. And he’s not allowed to come near me when I am litter picking. And he’s not allowed to talk to me. It’s very nice litter picking. I think you would like it too. Do you have to do litter picking in Heaven? Love, Tomos xxx P.S. I wish I had one of your lovely dinners. They are yum yum yummy. Mammy doesn’t make dinners like your dinners. Sometimes she makes chips and sometimes she makes fish fingers with them and sometimes she makes beans but most of the time I have blue packets of crisps for dinner and I don’t like the blue packets very much.