‘Mr Melrose! Would you please do me the honour of looking in the right-hand pocket of your jacket?’
Everybody stopped talking. Melrose looked at Manningham. We all looked at Melrose. No, it was impossible. The eight of Diamonds couldn’t be in his pocket, we all saw Boocock put it in the middle of the pack. Oh no, Manningham was making a right fool of himself.
‘Mr Melrose, would you please place your hand in the right pocket of your jacket and tell me what you find there?’
It was dead quiet. I looked around. Everybody was staring at Melrose. How could it be in his pocket? There was no way . . .
‘I hope you’re not wasting my time, lad.’
He was. He must be. There was no way . . . Melrose felt in his pocket and the vein under his eye started to throb again and he looked at Manningham. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and, yes, he was holding a playing card. Melrose looked at it, then showed it to us. The eight of Diamonds. It was magic.
For a second you could have heard a pin drop, then everybody started cheering and Melrose was slapping Manningham on the back.
And there it was again, that smile . . .
‘Well, I still can’t find you, love.’
I was looking at Manningham in the photo, wishing he was still in our class. I missed him.
‘Look at this teacher, he looks like he’s fast asleep.’
I didn’t have to look. I knew who that was. History teacher. Jackie Parry. He wouldn’t have even been in the photo if it hadn’t been for Peter Manningham . . .
We were all watching him, trying not to laugh. His head kept dropping forward on to his chest, then he’d suddenly sit up straight and look at us like he didn’t know where he was for a minute, then start falling asleep again. Once Jackie Parry was asleep we could do what we liked, till then we had to make out we were reading whatever he’d told us to.
‘Time for my medicine, boys. You know it tends to make me a bit sleepy, so while I close my eyes for a few minutes I’d like you to read the chapter on Martin Luther and the Reformation. Page seventy-one. Answer as many of the set questions as you can, boys.’
I used to think it really was medicine he had to take. I used to feel sorry for him, I hate taking medicine.
It’s always the same when we have him in the afternoon, specially on a Friday when it’s the first lesson after our dinner-break. When we have history on a Tuesday morning we really have to work, he never falls asleep then.
His head started dropping again and some spit was dribbling down his chin. Norbert couldn’t help laughing and Boocock thumped him on the back of his neck and showed him his fist. I’m glad I don’t sit in front of Boocock.
It was Norbert who’d told me what it was Jackie Parry was really drinking.
‘Y’what?’
‘It’s whisky, like what my dad drinks.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s like beer, only stronger. He’s an alkie is Jackie Parry.’
I hadn’t known what he was talking about.
‘What’s an alkie?’
‘Someone who likes drinkin’. My dad’s an alkie.’
He’d said it like it was something good. Norbert had told me all about his dad, how he hits him when he’s been drinking. I hadn’t known that’s what they were called. Alkies.
‘My mum says it’s like they’re poorly, that alkies can’t help it, they have to drink.’
‘They don’t have to hit you. Jackie Parry doesn’t hit anybody.’
Norbert had looked at me.
‘No, he just falls asleep. There’s different sorts of alkies . . .’
Jackie Parry was snoring now. Boocock went up to him and waved his hand in front of his face . . . then he tapped him on the shoulder . . . then he gave him a little push . . . he was fast asleep. Great, we could do what we liked.
‘Hey, Ma-Ma-Manningham, d-do another of your tr-tr-tricks.’
Manningham smiled.
‘Not tricks, Mr Hopwood, it’s magic.’
We all started chanting.
‘Manningham! Manningham! Manningham!’
We chanted quietly. Not ’cos we were worried about Parry waking up – we weren’t bothered about that, but we didn’t want to get him into trouble. It’d turned out that the headmaster knew Jackie Parry was an alkie and that Parry could lose his job ’cos of it. Me and Norbert had overheard the head talking to Melrose in the corridor outside the cloakroom one night after school. I’d had to go back for my windcheater. I’d got all the way home when I realised I’d left it on my peg. Norbert had come with me ’cos he’d had nothing better to do.
‘He’s an excellent teacher, I agree. First rate. But let’s face it, Jack Parry’s got a drink problem, he’s an alcoholic.’
We heard Melrose telling the headmaster that it had only got worse since his wife had died.
‘And he’s fine in the mornings, Headmaster. Perhaps we could re-schedule his lessons.’
‘I can’t organise the school timetable around Jack Parry’s drink problem, Brian. If he doesn’t do something about it, he’s going to have to go!’
Norbert and me had to stop ourselves from laughing, we didn’t know Melrose’s name was Brian.
‘Manningham! Manningham! Manningham!’
I sat at the kitchen table looking at his smiling face in the school photo, thinking about that afternoon when he’d saved Jackie Parry from getting the sack.
‘Manningham! Manningham! Manningham!’
Manningham stood up, went to the front of the classroom and held his hands out. We all went quiet. Without saying a word he took a piece of string from his pocket and held it up to show us.
‘A simple piece of string, gentlemen.’
He tied a knot in it and wrapped it round the back of his hands like he was going to do Cat’s Cradle. That’s what Boocock thought he was going to do.
‘Cat’s Cradle? Oh, brilliant trick, this, I don’t think!’
Manningham took no notice. He wound the string round again so it was double.
‘And now, gentlemen, I would like a volunteer.’
We all shouted at once.
‘Me! Me! Me!’
‘Mr Lightowler – would you please step forward?’
Norbert went up to the front with a big grin on his face. Manningham was holding the string with both hands.
‘Mr Lightowler, would you take those scissors on Mr Parry’s table and cut the string in two between my hands.’
‘S’all right. I’ll use my penknife.’
He’s a fool, Norbert, we’re not supposed to bring knives to school. He cut the string and Manningham told him to sit down again.
‘So you see, gentlemen, I am now holding separate pieces of string.’
He held them up in his left hand and the loose ends dangled down.
‘I am now going to tie these lengths of string together using only – my teeth!’
His teeth! How could he tie two pieces of string together with his teeth? It was impossible!
Using both hands he put the ends of the string in his mouth. We all sat watching. After about a minute he slowly started pulling one end of the string back out of his mouth. He kept pulling and when he’d pulled it right out, there it was – the string all in one piece, like when he’d started. It was magic, just like the eight of Diamonds.
Nobody could believe what he’d just done for a minute. Then we all clapped and shouted and those that could, whistled.
I think it was Holdsworth who must’ve seen him first ’cos he sits right by the door. All I know is I was still clapping and cheering when I heard someone shout, ‘Ogden!’ It went dead quiet. Nobody knew where to look. All you could hear was Jackie Parry snoring . . .
‘And as you see, gentlemen, Mr Parry is now hypnotised!’
We all sat there gawping. Manningham was still at the front of the classroom, and he was pointing towards Jackie Parry. Melrose had come in as well now and was standing next to the headmaster. I could see Mrs Garside out in
the corridor behind them.
‘I will now bring Mr Parry out of his deep sleep. He will not remember anything.’
He went over to Jackie Parry’s chair and started to wake him up gently.
‘Three, two, one. Wake up, Mr Parry. Three – two – one! Wake up, Mr Parry!’
Jackie Parry opened his eyes and he looked like he didn’t know where he was for a minute. We all just sat there. Manningham turned round to the headmaster.
‘I shouldn’t say this, Mr Ogden, magicians aren’t supposed to give away their secrets, but just in case you’re worried, I didn’t really hypnotise Mr Parry. It’s a trick. Isn’t it, Mr Parry?’
And he smiled . . .
‘Fancy falling asleep like that on a school photograph. You wouldn’t credit it, would you?’
‘It’s Mr Parry, Mum. History teacher. He was ill. He’s left now.’
I don’t think he got the sack. He went off one Friday dinner time a few weeks ago and never came back. Melrose told us he’d decided to give up teaching. Bit like Manningham, he went home after the school photo and we never saw him again.
‘Ah, I’ve found you, love, there you are! Oh, you do look handsome. Very smart. We’ll have to get this framed.’
I looked all right, nothing special. Me and Keith had these stupid grins on our faces.
‘Mum – that’s Peter Manningham, there.’
I pointed him out.
‘What a grand-looking lad.’
I could feel a tear running down my cheek. I couldn’t help it. I missed him. My mum put her arm round me.
‘I miss him, Mum. Why did he have to die?’
She squeezed me tight.
‘I know, love, it’s horrible. He had a hole in the heart, love. He was born with it. There’s nothing anybody could have done. It could have happened at any time.’
‘It’s not like Mr Bastow or Mr Shackleton, Mum, they were old. Peter was only young, he was only a year older than me.’
She gave me another squeeze.
‘I know, love . . .’
I didn’t say it but I thought it. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it be Boocock or Barraclough? Why couldn’t they have had a bloomin’ hole in the heart?
‘He could do magic, Mum. Real magic.’
She smiled and gave me her hanky.
‘I’ll get your tea ready.’
I blew my nose and looked at the photo again. Poor Jackie Parry . . . Stupid Gower doing a V-sign, I bet he’ll get the cane for that . . . Why was Illingworth wearing his school cap? Nobody else was wearing a cap . . . I looked at me and Keith again . . . That’s when I saw it. His last bit of magic. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I unrolled the photo and looked back at Peter. There he was at the beginning of the row, smiling. I looked at the end of the row – and there he was again, kneeling with the second years. Smiling. Grinning. He was on the photo twice! He must have run round the back.
‘Mum! Do you want to see some real magic?’
I wish I could be like Peter Manningham.
About the Author
George Layton has combined his acting career with a successful writing career. He has played leading parts in the West End, on Broadway and in Australia. He played Fagin in Cameron Mackintosh’s production of Oliver! directed by Sam Mendes at the London Palladium, and Amos Hart (Mr Cellophane) in Chicago at the Adelphi Theatre.
He has been seen in many television shows, including Doctor in the House (many of which he wrote), It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, Minder, EastEnders, Casualty and many more.
He was in the 2012 series of Celebrity Masterchef, managing to survive the first round, but was later dispatched to the shouts of ‘I wuz robbed’!
He created and wrote two award-winning series for television: Don’t Wait Up (six series) starring Nigel Havers and Tony Britton, and Executive Stress (three series) starring Penelope Keith.
George’s voice will be familiar to many children from the numerous animated cartoon series he has narrated for television (Pigeon Street, Joshua Jones, Dig and Dug, Josie Smith) and the many audio books he has read (Peter Pan, Just So Stories, The Wind in the Willows), together with numerous voice-overs for television commercials ranging from seductive exhortations to buy a Renault and reassuring advice on the benefits of Ribena to that cult hero of the Tetley Teafolk, Sydney.
In July 2000 he received an Honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Bradford in recognition of his work as an actor and writer.
www.georgelayton.com
The Fib
The Swap, The Trick
and Other Stories
Praise for
The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories
‘I would not have thought that George Layton could have equalled The Fib, but The Swap is every bit as good, if not better . . . The emotions that these stories arouse are so universal, so timeless, that any child will identify with them’
Ann Darnton, School Librarian
‘The stories are excellent . . . Layton performs the neat trick of writing from his own experience in a way that speaks directly to the children of today’
Gerald Haigh, TES
‘Angst, cringing embarrassment and, above all, humour ensure that this still has children in stiches today’
TES
‘Funny and moving . . . a rare gift’
Guardian
‘The Swap is funny, ironic, sad and nostalgic; but better than those things, it has the smell of truth’
Bradford Telegraph and Argus
‘A funny and perceptive collection of stories, some of which deal with strong issues like bullying’
Manchester Evening News
The stories in The Fib first published in two volumes as The Balaclava Story and
Other Stories (1975) and The Fib and Other Stories (1978) by the Longman Group.
This edition is published by arrangement with Addison Wesley Longman Limited.
The Fib first published as one volume 1997 by Macmillan Children’s Books
The Swap first published 1997 by Macmillan Children’s Books
‘The Promise’ in The Trick first published in War 2004 by Macmillan Children’s Books
The Trick first published 2006 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This edition published 2015 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2015 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-1043-7
Copyright © George Layton 1975, 1978, 1997, 2004, 2006, 2015
Cover photograph by Mark Pennington
The right of George Layton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The Acknowledgements on here constitute an extension of this copyright page.
Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third party websites referred to in or on this book.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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on, The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories
The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories Page 33