by AD Hartley
Not sure about what he had heard, he made the mistake of asking ‘What?’ and realised that Vicky was about to repeat the entire narrative from the top, so he quickly added, ‘What was that last bit about Herbert crying at your house?’
‘I know, right?’ she said again, with a look of glee at being asked to repeat the gossip. ‘It’s so weird. Someone said they had seen him crying at the park and when he got to my house my brother asked him about it and they got into an argument.’
‘You mentioned “The Other Guy”.’
‘Ooh, yeah, right. Apparently, according to my Brother who went and talked to Herbert later, the lad he had an argument with at the park isn’t really who he thinks he is. According to Herbert that lad’s father isn’t really his father!’ Vicky said.
‘But I’m the guy who Herbert had an argument with at the park.’ Carlo said, confused.
‘No, it must be someone else. This boy was called Leodoni.’
‘I’m called Leodoni.’ Carlo said.
Vicky looked uncertain, she wasn’t used to her gossip being the source of new gossip, especially when there was the risk that she might become a character in it.
‘I know, but there must be other Leodoni’s.’ she suggested, weakly.
‘Yes, my Mam and my Dad.’ Carlo said, angrily standing up and walking out of the café.
‘He said what?’ shouted Ben, ‘I’ll kill him!’
‘Why would Herbert say that?’ Abi asked, more thoughtfully.
Carlo shook his head. He hadn’t returned to the factory that afternoon, his mind too confused to think about work, but neither did he want to go home as he knew his father was likely to be in his room with the diary and until he knew what was going on he didn’t like the idea of telling his father what Herbert had said. What he wanted to do was speak to Randy, but it seemed he had not turned up to work either.
Carlo had eventually wandered to Abi and Ben’s house and told them everything, at which point Norton and Newton had been summoned for a full crisis meeting in Ben’s bedroom, where Ben was making threats to Herbert’s wellbeing egged on by Norton, whilst Newton and Abi took a more sober approach.
‘I’m sure he was just upset and making stupid comments in the heat of the moment.’ Newton observed.
‘Lying, you mean?’ Ben snarled.
‘Oh sit down.’ Abi said. ‘Your caged Lion routine doesn’t impress us.’
Ben stopped pacing the room and slumped on to the bed next to Norton.
‘Speak to your Dad.’ Norton suggested.
‘Yeah, right. “Hi Dad, someone said you’re not my real father. What’s up with that?” I don’t think so.’ Carlo replied. He sighed, looking worried. ‘I wish Uncle Randy was around. He’d know what Herbert was talking about.’
‘I think at this point the only answer is to speak to Herbert to find out if he made up the statement, and if he didn’t, where he heard it from so we know who started the rumour.’ said Newton.
‘Yeah, let’s go see Herbert.’ Ben said, thumping his right hand into his left palm.
Newton sighed. ‘We don’t want to confront him.’ he said, ‘Merely talk to him.’
Carlo nodded. ‘I don’t think I have any other choice.’
‘You could ignore it?’ Abi suggested, but it was clear that Herbert’s accusation had already wound Carlo up too tightly and he would have trouble letting it go now.
‘No, I need to know what he’s on about.’
‘OK, are we going now?’ Norton asked, jumping up.
‘Yes. No… I mean, I’m going now. By myself.’
‘What? Why?’ Ben asked surprised. ‘You need back-up.’
‘Look, from what Vik told me he’s already pretty angry. But I need him to explain what he said. If I turn up with you lot he’s going to be really defensive and won’t tell me anything.’ Carlo said.
‘OK, just me.’ Ben suggested.
‘No. He’s scared of you already. He won’t say anything.’ Carlo said with a sigh. ‘I need to do this one alone.’
‘But what if he hits you?’ Norton asked, a look of horror appearing on his face.
‘Then he hits me. I’m not scared. I need to know.’
Newton and Norton looked at Carlo with wonder, whereas Ben looked frustrated and Abi just scared.
‘I think you’re right.’ she said, remembering her attempt to help Herbert the night before. ‘If we’re there, you won’t get anywhere. You need to talk to him alone.’
Ben looked pained. ‘I don’t like this. I always back you up. We all back each other.’
Carlo shrugged. ‘Not this time, mate. Not this time.’
As Carlo left Abi and Ben’s house, with Ben still objecting, he had briefly thought about going home first to see if Randy was there, but he had called a number of times already that evening without an answer so he knew it was probably a waste of time. Wherever Randy was, he couldn’t wait for him now. He needed answers.
As he rode his bike towards Herbert’s house, he tried to think of a rational reason for his remark. The others were probably right and Herbert was just embarrassed about being found crying and was trying to deflect the attention, but then why choose Carlo? None of Herbert’s other friend knew or would care about him. It didn’t really make sense to Carlo. “His father is not his real father?” It was such a stupid thing to say.
Carlo became angrier as he pedalled and by the time he reached the Fitzherbert house he was ready to start shouting, but his anger disappeared as Herbert’s Mum answered the door and Carlo was faced with usual teenage awkwardness when having to talk to a parent.
‘Oh, hi Mrs Fitzherbert. Is Herbert home?’
‘Hi. I’m ever so sorry, I’m not sure I remember which one you are.’
‘Carlo, Mrs Fitzherbert. Carlo Leodoni.’
‘Oh, yes. Mr Leodoni’s youngest. I was so sorry to hear about your Dad. He was a lovely man.’
‘You knew my Dad?’ Carlo asked in surprise.
‘Yes, of course. We often bumped into him on an evening out with your lovely Mum and Randolph, of course.’ Mrs Fitzherbert said. ‘Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?’ She ushered Carlo into the hallway.
‘No, thank you.’ he said, politely, feeling he was being undermined by Herbert’s Mum being nice to him. He tried to regain the momentum. ‘Is Herbert here?’
‘Yes, he’s up in his room. To tell you the truth I didn’t realise you two knew each other. It’s nice to know he has some young friends still. He hangs around that factory most of the time now and all his other friends have gone off to college. Why don’t you go on up and say hi to him? He could do with some cheering up. He’s been in a terrible mood all day. You go on up and I’ll rustle up some sandwiches for you both.’ she finished, bustling off to the kitchen before Carlo could decline the offer.
Sighing, he trudged slowly upstairs, not actually sure which room he was looking for, but in the three bedroomed house it soon became obvious when Carlo saw that one of the doors had a large poster of a shiny sports car stuck to it and a sign underneath that simply read “No Entry. By Order of Bert”.
It had never occurred to Carlo that Herbert went by the name Bert. It seemed far too good-humoured for him. From inside he could hear loud music that sounded less than good humoured. It sounded angry; the music a Herbert would play rather than a Bert.
Carlo knocked timidly on the door feeling uneasy now he was there. Hearing no response he briefly wondered if he should take the opportunity to leave while he could, but that would still leave him none the wiser and Mrs Fitzherbert was bound to mention his visit. Composing himself he took a breath and knocked harder.
‘Go away!’ Herbert shouted over the music.
Carlo wondered what to do next. He was about to say, “It’s me” but realised Herbert would be unlikely to guess who “me” was. He ruled out just walking in; he would be unhappy if someone just walked into his bedroom, especially someone he didn’t like.
He decided to try knockin
g again.
‘I said go away, Mum! I told you I don’t want any dinner!’ Herbert bellowed from behind the door, this time wrenching it open. ‘What do you wa…’ he started, pausing in surprise when he found Carlo stood there rather than his mother.
‘Hi.’ Carlo said, rather inadequately.
Herbert looked too confused to say anything. ‘How… what..?’ he stammered as his emotions ran through surprise, anger and then anxiety as his Mother shouted up the stairs.
‘Do you two want lemonade with your sandwiches?’
Herbert glanced down the stairs to make sure she wasn’t coming and then whispered ‘Get in here!’ to Carlo, opening the door for him. ‘What are you doing here?’ Herbert asked, turning the music down enough for them to talk, but keeping it loud enough so his Mother couldn’t hear from outside.
‘We need to talk.’ Carlo said, trying to find a space to stand that wasn’t covered with old clothes or car magazines.
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you!’ Herbert said, sitting on his bed and picking up the magazine he was reading.
‘Well I’ve got something to say to you.’
‘If you’re here to apologise, forget it. I don’t want to hear it.’
This took Carlo by surprise and he momentarily forgot his own question. ‘Apologise for what?’
‘For getting me the sack.’
‘What? How is that my fault?’ Carlo asked in disbelief.
‘God, you just don’t get it do you? You’re not even supposed to be there anymore.’
‘Not supposed to be where?’ Carlo asked, confused.
‘My Uncle got me the job at Hill’s. He’ll be furious!’ Herbert ranted on, ignoring Carlo. ‘He’ll never let me work for him now I’ve been sacked!’
‘Look, you getting the sack is nothing to do with me and anyway that’s not why I’m here.’
‘Why are you here? Come to gloat?’
There was no way of Carlo going on without letting Herbert know that his friend, Vik’s brother, had failed miserably keeping what had happened the previous night to himself. Carlo took a deep breath and dived straight in. ‘I spoke to Vicky Dearlove earlier.’ he said.
Herbert raised his eyebrows. ‘So? Why you telling me?’
‘She said you were at her house last night after the party and you said some things…’
‘I’m going to kill him!’ Herbert jumped up, making Carlo take a step backwards. ‘What did she say? Does everyone know I was…’ Herbert stopped, unwilling to tell Carlo he had been crying again.
No.’ Carlo protested, ‘No, she just said that you mentioned something about me… about my father. I just wanted to know what you said.’
Herbert smiled and sat back down. ‘Oh, that. Finally know the truth do you?’
‘What truth? What are you talking about?’
‘Well, I’ve known for ages. I’m surprised it’s taken this long for you to find out. Apparently it isn’t even that much of a secret.’
‘What?’ shouted Carlo, annoyed that Herbert was seemingly enjoying winding him up.
‘That ice cream factory doesn’t belong to you.’ Herbert said, ‘Your Dad isn’t even your Dad!’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Carlo shouted stepping towards him. ‘That’s a lie!’
‘Think what you want.’ Herbert replied with an arrogant shrug. ‘But I know the truth.’
Carlo felt so angry that this boy was making up stories about his family that his insides burnt as he restrained himself from screaming at Herbert.
‘You’re just making this up to get back at me.’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Am I? Well, my uncle told me and he was around at the time. Most people knew before you were even born. Seems you are the last to know.’
‘Your Uncle told you? Who’s your Uncle? What did he tell you?’
Herbert smiled entirely without humour and turned away from Carlo as if what he was saying was of little consequence. ‘He told me, little boy, that you’re not even a Leodoni.’ he said, turning his head to give Carlo a slight wink.
Carlo couldn’t contain himself any longer. He jumped forward, grabbed Herbert’s shoulder pulling him around and threw all his weight behind his right fist, slamming it into the side of the older boy’s temple. The rather unsophisticated punch may have lacked a boxer’s finesse, but it carried enough power, coupled with a large amount of shock, to knock Herbert onto his bed where Carlo fell on top of him with the momentum of the punch. Using his full body weight to good advantage Carlo rained poorly executed punches down upon Herbert, causing little damage as they mostly struck his arms, but the ferocity of the attack kept Herbert from retaliating as Carlo shouted ‘Who told you? Who told you?’ through tears of rage and confusion.
‘My Uncle.’ Herbert shouted back, trying to protect his face. ‘My Uncle Randolph!’
The Secrets of Ice Cream Failure
Carlo stopped mid-punch. ‘Your Uncle Randolph?’
Unfortunately the pause gave Herbert time to regain the upper hand and he shoved Carlo from on top of him sending the smaller boy into the air to land with a thud amongst the debris on Herbert’s floor.
Carlo hardly noticed his change of location, still confused. ‘Your Uncle Randolph? You mean Uncle Randy? Randolph Fox?’
‘Yes!’ Herbert shouted. ‘My Uncle Randolph. Formerly married to my father’s sister. My Aunt Gladys!’
This was a shock, there was no doubt. Carlo couldn’t even get his brain to concentrate on the main point of the conversation regarding his father, so surprised was he to hear he had been living with a member of Herbert’s family for nearly three years. ‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t anyone say anything? Why didn’t Uncle Randy tell me.’
‘He’s not your Uncle!’ Herbert shouted, doing a fair, if unplanned, impression of Norton.
‘And he told you that my Dad…’
‘Isn’t. Your. Dad!’ Herbert finished. He felt abused and ill-used and had been attacked in his own bedroom. His anger, already clear to see, had started to boil over. Herbert absently wiped is nose as he advanced on the still stricken Carlo and looked down upon his hand to see blood from his face. Carlo could see the blood covering Herbert’s top lip, streaming from his nose and realised he was now in danger. His own anger had diminished with the revelation about Uncle Randy and there was no way he could possibly defend himself.
‘I’m going to kick your head in!’ Herbert said in such a matter of fact manner, it was possibly the most frightening thing Carlo had ever heard.
Wasting no more time, Carlo sprang for the door with Herbert right behind him. He leapt for the stairs clearing a plate of sandwiches outside the door which had been left there by Mrs Fitzherbert. Herbert was not so lucky; his first step outside his room skidded on the plate of well-buttered ham sandwiches and sent him flying into the opposite wall as Carlo took the stairs three at a time, jumping the last four to land in the hallway. He looked up to see Herbert untangling himself from the floor with a look of pure hate on his bloodied face and saw Mrs Fitzherbert bustle into the hall.
‘What is all this noise? Are you both alright?’ she asked, staring at Carlo and then noting her son struggling to right himself. ‘My Heavens! Bert! What happened?’ she shouted, running up the stairs.
Carlo took the opportunity to open the door and sprint up the path, collecting his bike from the front garden on his way and departing as quickly as he could.
After riding for ten minutes Carlo calmed down and walked for a while, wheeling his bike along next to him. He was confused, still a little scared and not at all sure what to do.
It was possible that Herbert was lying, but something told him that everything he had been told was true. But if Uncle Randy was related to Herbert’s family, why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned it?
But as Carlo continued along, not really noticing where he was walking, he began to recognise that, as surprising as the news was, Randolph Fox marrying Gladys Fitzherbert was not the detai
l that was making him anxious. The revelation that Randy had been the one to tell Herbert that Carlo’s father was not his real father was something Carlo couldn’t get his head around. He could probably have coped if it had been proven that Herbert had made up the story or even if it had come from someone else. But Herbert can’t possibly have been so stupid to think that he could use Randy as a cover for his lies. After all, Carlo lived with him; Herbert must know they would talk about this. Therefore, unless Herbert was even more of a fool than Carlo already thought, there was only one conclusion. Randy really had said it.
Carlo pulled out his rarely used mobile phone and cycled through the contacts until he found his home number, but swore a few seconds later when he discovered that Randy was still not at there. He had to find him; Carlo must know what was going on, but where on earth was he? Through most of Carlo’s life Uncle Randy had been a fairly solid presence and was to be found in only one of three places; home, the factory or his van. Carlo hopped back on his bike and headed for the factory.
Ten minutes later Carlo skidded to a halt outside Leodoni’s. As expected the gates were closed and there was no sign of life within. Carlo pulled out his keys and juggled them until he found the correct one for the gates and hurried through, locking it again behind him. He ran to the main entrance and propped his bike up against the wall then once again hurried to find the right key. Eventually he managed to open the small hatch in the large factory doors and stepped through, immediately scanning the factory, but where he had been hoping to see Randy’s office light on, he was dismayed to find the factory in darkness.
‘Uncle Randy?’ he called into the dark to no reply. Carlo jogged off to the left, down the ramp over to the line of vans parked neatly at the side of the factory. The numbered vans were all present and although his father’s van had been renumbered No.13 sometime earlier, his own No.1 having been retired after his death, so there were still only twelve vans. Carlo popped his head inside No.2, not really expecting to find Randy in there.