Please Don't Make Me Go

by Fenton, John

  I looked up at the stadium clock and saw that Bernie had been gone nearly ten minutes. The woman who had given Jean only five minutes was engrossed in deep conversation with Brother Ambrose. She nodded her head and then tittered behind her hand. Brother Ambrose didn’t know it but he was doing us all a big favour. The time moved on another seven minutes before Jean appeared at the bottom of the stairs and began her ascent. She sat down and smiled at Barbara. I looked anxiously for Bernie and was relieved when he came jogging up the stand with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

  The tannoy system crackled into life and the stern voice announced the start of the 14–16 races. Tom Banks and Brother Ambrose stood up and directed us all towards the changing rooms. I was gutted. I looked at Barbara and she mouthed the word ‘later’ to me. I felt better and smiled. I nodded my head and jogged down the stand in the direction of the changing areas.

  Bernie seemed to be in a state of euphoria. He kept smiling inanely at me and chuckling to himself. I was longing to ask him how he had got on but it was impossible to do so with Brother Michael standing so close. Tom Banks was circulating amongst us and giving us all a large tablespoonful of glucose. We had been told by Brother Francis that glucose would give us extra energy and it would be our secret weapon to make us fitter than the rest of the competitors. Personally I would have preferred something to eat.

  A young master from another school called out for the 100-yard runners. Peter Tingle looked nervous but pushed his way towards the entrance to the running track. He was a tall boy with an unruly mop of black hair and protruding ears. He had recently gone in front of the school governors and was due out on licence in a few days’ time. Tom Banks and Brother Ambrose left the changing room and went into the stadium to get a good view of the proceedings. They were both standing at the trackside as the 100 yard runners dashed past them.

  Brother Ambrose returned to where we were waiting for news of the race. He shook his head and said, ‘He came second. The lad from Redhill won it.’ There was a loud cheer from the Redhill boys and mumblings of discontent from the rest of us.

  David Tate fared no better in the 220 yard race. Redhill won the race and Cobham came second. David Tate came in fifth and returned to the dressing room with a dejected look on his face.

  Tom Banks told him that he’d lost because he had been too slow out of his starting blocks. He told Bernie: ‘Learn from Tate’s mistake. When the gun goes off, I want to see you come flying off the blocks.’

  Bernie nodded.

  The Redhill boys were shouting and cheering and boasting about their team’s ability. One of the Guildford runners took out his dick and pissed in the big sports bag that contained Redhill’s towels and washing kit. Everybody in the changing room, apart from the Redhill squad, burst into laughter and only the quick intervention of a group of masters stopped a mass brawl breaking out. The offending boy was given a swift clip around his ear by one of his minders and led away. He left the changing room to the sound of loud cheering.

  I was still laughing about the bag incident when Tom Banks returned to the dressing room and gave us the thumbs up sign. Bernie had won his race. The whole of our team jumped up and down and shouted abuse at the Redhill team. We really enjoyed taking the piss out of them and Brother Ambrose had to shout loudly to restore some form of order. It was decided that the teams had to be separated as the rivalry and hostility could easily overflow and turn into outright violence. We were taken out of the changing room and relocated in separate areas in the centre plot of the stadium.

  The area we were in gave us a good view of the running track and the main stand. It was easy to pick out the remainder of our school party. We had brought along twenty boys from the school to give us vocal support. They spotted us in the centre and were all on their feet, shouting out words of encouragement. We waved back at them with equal enthusiasm and cheered extra loudly when Andrew Devine lined up for the start of the 880-yard race.

  The sound of the gun reverberated around the stadium and the runners sprinted off the line. I watched Devine as he jostled for a good position on the inside of the track when they came off the stagger. After the first lap he was in fourth place. They went past the main stand in a long strung-out line and a thunderous cheer went up from their supporters. The boy who was in second place pulled off the track clutching his side and it was obvious that he had a stitch. The rest of the runners went past him without a glance. Pain was etched on their faces and all of them were willing themselves onwards.

  Devine was gaining on the two runners in front of him and as they came off the back straight he was level with them. The three of them came down the final 100-yard straight together with only half a yard between them. When they ran over the finishing line and broke the tape, we saw that Devine had won the race. We were all standing and cheering a Vincent’s winner. Tom Banks applauded by clapping his hands together over his head. Brother Ambrose was smiling and nodding his head approvingly. Andrew Devine was lying face downwards on the grass by the side of the track trying to get his breath back.

  Tom Banks walked Liam Donovan and me over to the starting line for the mile race. He said, ‘Remember not to go off too fast. Run exactly how we practised back at school. Keep a steady pace and you’ll win through in the end.’ He patted us both on the back. ‘Make sure you’re not bullied into a bad position on the track. And good luck!’

  We lined up on the starting line with fourteen other boys and waited for the starter. He lifted the gun and fired. We were off. Six of the boys went off at a suicidal pace and I am sure that any one of them could have won the 100yard race. I was in last place directly behind Donovan. By the time we had finished the first lap there were only thirteen of us left in the race. Three of the early sprinters were lying on the grass in the centre of the track gasping for breath.

  The second lap I always found was the hardest for me. I enjoyed running the mile race but for some reason I hated the second lap. The second time around the 440 yard track always seemed to me an endurance test and a battle for survival. I started counting the strides I was taking – 1, 2, 3, 4… 82, 83 …. The lap seemed endless and the numbers became larger. I had just reached 630 when a boy tripped over some way in front of me and I had to veer to avoid treading on him. We were running down the home straight for the second time and Donovan and I were still bringing up the rear.

  We ran past Tom Banks who was standing by the side of the track and he smiled at us. ‘Well done, lads,’ he said. ‘Keep it up.’

  I had my second wind by the time we started running down the back straight of the third lap and I began to enjoy the race. The pace of the leaders was visibly dropping and Donovan and I were starting to catch up and overtake several of the other runners. By the time we had completed the third lap we were leading the race and a considerable gap had appeared between us and the rest of the field. We had not altered our pace since the race had begun.

  It was now a private race between me and Donovan. I had never been further back than a stride’s length behind him and as we approached the final 100 yards I pulled out and overtook him with very little effort. The move took him completely by surprise and by the time he started to respond I was 10 yards in front of him. I sprinted towards the tape and let out a scream of exaltation as my midriff pulled the tape and snapped it.

  Donovan ran up behind me and slapped me on the shoulder. He said, ‘That was a fucking great race. We killed the fucking lot of them.’ I put my arm around his shoulder and squeezed him tightly, our grudge against each other after the fight over Cuddy momentarily forgotten. I didn’t have time to say anything because Tom Banks and the entire team came bounding up to us shouting their congratulations. The Vincent’s team had won the 14–16 cup and I knew that we would get our photograph on the recreation room wall. For some reason, that was really important to me.

  ‘You’ve got your wish,’ Bernie whispered. ‘You’re on the wall.’

  We returned to our seats in the stand like conquerin
g heroes. Our supporters were standing on their seats shouting out in unison, ‘Vincent’s are champions. Vincent’s are champions.’ Tom Banks signalled for them to be quiet and the chanting stopped. I looked in dismay at the empty seats behind us. Barbara, Jean and the rest of the girls had disappeared and my eyes frantically searched around for a glimpse of them.

  Bernie pointed to a group of girls who were being ushered onto the grass in the centre of the track. He said, ‘I think that’s them.’

  He was right, it was them and I could see Barbara waving up at me. I jumped on my seat and waved back.

  Bernie and I cheered enthusiastically when Barbara and Jean ran their respective races. They tried hard but neither of them finished in the first three. Barbara came fifth in the 440-yard race and Jean came last in the 880-yard. They returned to the stand to Bernie’s and my rapturous applause. They laughed loudly when Bernie managed to get all of our boys chanting their names.

  Barbara touched me lightly on my shoulder and said, ‘Shall we try to sneak away?’

  My voice deserted me again so I just grinned and nodded my head.

  She whispered: ‘Meet me at the back door of my coach.’ She stood up and signalled to her chaperone, who was once again chatting to Brother Ambrose. The woman nodded her head at Barbara and immediately returned to her conversation. Barbara smiled at me and hurried down the steps and out of my sight.

  I stood up and squeezed my way along the row until I was standing next to Brother Ambrose. ‘Is it OK if I go to the toilet, Bro? I think I’ve got a bit of an upset stomach.’

  Brother Ambrose nodded. ‘You may have strained yourself when you sprinted for the line. Try the toilet. It might work, but if it doesn’t do a few gentle sit-ups to see if you’ve hurt your stomach.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Bro. Thank you.’

  I hurried out of the stadium and into the parking area. I ran amongst the coaches until I suddenly came upon Barbara standing behind one, smoking a cigarette. She smiled and offered me the cigarette. I took it from her and our fingers touched.

  Before I could make up my mind she stopped kissing my mouth and started sucking on my neck. I tentatively moved my hand so it was resting on her breast and she took my hand and pushed it up under her blouse. By now I was so hard it was bursting out of my trousers and I reached my other hand down to lift up her skirt.

  ‘Have a quick puff and put it out,’ she said quietly. ‘We haven’t got much time.’ I took one long hard pull on the cigarette and dropped it onto the floor. Barbara took my hand and pulled me gently towards her. I bent my head and very gently kissed her on the mouth. It was the first time I had ever kissed a girl and when her tongue probed an entry into my mouth I wasn’t quite sure what I should do.

  Suddenly we heard the sound of running footsteps. Bernie appeared at the back of the coach. ‘They’re all coming back,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got time to do anything. They’re right behind me.’

  Barbara looked sadly into my eyes and suddenly kissed me passionately on my mouth. Her mouth opened wide and her tongue darted in and out of my mouth. Her breath was coming in short laboured gasps and she pressed her pelvis hard against me. Bernie yanked me away and pulled me around the side of the coach and out of sight.

  ‘Where is your coach?’ I heard Brother Michael ask.

  There was a muffled reply and then the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘We were looking for you, Barbara. Where the hell have you been?’

  Bernie half dragged me back to our coach and only stopped when we were standing by the front steps. He grinned at me. ‘That was fucking close. I really thought they’d caught you.’

  ‘I was just about to get a bit of tush, Bernie. Barbara has to be the sexiest and most beautiful girl in the world and I didn’t even get to touch her tush.’

  Other boys and girls were coming back to the coaches and there was lots of shouting from the staff as they tried to keep the different factions apart. A Redhill boy and a cute little girl of about thirteen started kissing by the back door of our coach. He had his hand underneath her skirt and was definitely playing with her tush. A female minder screamed out an order and dashed past us. The young girl paid no attention and had to be dragged away from the boy, who still had his hand down her knickers. Bernie was cheering wildly at the boy’s antics and the female teacher took a swipe at him as she dragged the girl past us and back to her own coach.

  ‘Let’s go and see if it’s safe to say goodbye to the girls,’ Bernie suggested.

  We hurried to the back of our coach and ran quickly across to the back of the girls’ one. Bernie took a sneaky look along the side of the coach and when he saw it was all clear, signalled for me to follow. We crept along the side of the coach until we were under Jean and Barbara’s window. He tapped gently and both girls looked out.

  ‘Let John stand on your shoulders so he can kiss Barbara goodbye,’ said Jean.

  Bernie nodded and I climbed up and balanced precariously on his shoulders. Barbara smiled impishly, pulled her blouse open and pushed her chest against the open ventilation window so that one of her breasts was directly in reach of my mouth. I kissed it like a ravenous baby would suck on its mother’s tit. I didn’t have time to do anything else as Bernie insisted that I return the compliment and let him climb on my shoulders so that he could get at Jean’s breasts.

  We both managed to do it twice before one of the grey-clad women spotted what was going on and slammed the window shut. We ran back to our coach and watched sadly as the girls’ coach pulled out of the parking area.

  Tom Banks walked down the aisle of the coach checking numbers. Satisfied that everyone was present, he nodded his head at the driver and our coach engine revved into life. The Home Office Championship was now officially over and we were on our way back to Vincent’s. I leant my head against the window and closed my eyes. I could clearly see in my mind Barbara’s smiling face and feel the magic of her breast in my hand. I knew that these images would reappear in my mind every night when I climbed into bed and that I would curse my ill fortune at not getting to touch the magical kingdom called tush. I fell into a beautiful sleep where everything happened and all hidden places were revealed. I opened my eyes again just as the coach pulled through the gates at Vincent’s.

  Barbara was my very first sexual encounter and from that point onwards when I masturbated I often fantasised about having sex with her. Bernie and I would speak about the girls, yet we both knew that we would never see them again. Because Bernie had a girlfriend at home he offered to try and fix me up with his twin sister.

  ‘She’s definitely not a virgin, John,’ he said. ‘I know for a fact she’s had sex with quite a few boys. I reckon you’d have a good chance of getting in there.’

  So I fantasised about her as well and would sometimes tease Bernie that the stains on my sheet were from the night I had just spent stuck up his sister.

  Chapter 16

  In August 1959 it had been nearly eight months since I had seen my mother and family. I had lost five days of my summer holiday but I was looking forward to the nine days I was going to spend with them. Mum had written to me every week and somehow managed to send me a five shilling postal order with every letter. I was thrilled to receive the money but couldn’t help worrying that she had beggared herself to get it. I spent very little of it and had over eight pounds in my school account to bring home with me. The money felt good in my pocket as I walked towards my house.

  I was excited as I rang the front door bell and heard rushing footsteps. The door was flung open and I was enveloped in my mother’s arms. She squeezed me so hard that if I had been younger the breath would have left my body.

  ‘He’s home. He’s home,’ she was shrieking for everyone to hear. I hugged her back and lifted her off her feet and swung her round like a spinning top. She squealed with laughter and disengaged herself from my grip, then stepped backwards, her eyes appraising me from head to toe. Happiness shone out of her eyes and I couldn’t help hugging her again.
I was suddenly surrounded by two of my sisters and my grandmother. They were all laughing and my grandmother was trying to reach me to give me a welcoming kiss. I kissed her and let them all lead me into Gran’s living room.

  ‘Why are your trousers so short?’ asked Jennifer, my youngest sister.

  Everyone looked at my trousers and I was embarrassed. I hadn’t had any new clothes for over a year and in that time I had sprouted another three inches and filled out considerably. When I put my clothes on to come home I had struggled with the buttons on my shirt and my trousers definitely looked as though they’d had a row with my shoes as they were at least an inch above my ankles. I kept my jacket undone as I had lost a button trying to do it up and the bottoms of the sleeves were well above my wrists. Bernie had lent me a pair of his shoes as I couldn’t squeeze my feet into my own.

  Mum saw that I was embarrassed. ‘He hasn’t been home for ages and in that time he has grown into a young man.’ She pushed me into a chair and perched on my knee, hiding my appearance from the rest of the family. ‘As soon as he’s had something to eat I’m taking him out to get him some new clothes that fit him.’

  ‘I’ve got some money, Mum. I saved a lot of the money you sent me.’

  She smiled and kissed me on my forehead. ‘That money was sent for you to use,’ she said very quietly. ‘To help you have a better time. You can spend it when you go out over the next week or so. I saved up all the keep money your sisters have given me since they started work. There’s more than enough to buy you something to wear.’

  The door to Gran’s room suddenly opened and my father stood framed in the doorway.

  ‘I’m trying to get some sleep and all I can hear is screaming and laughter coming from in here,’ he said angrily. He was halfway into the room before he saw me with my mother on my knee. ‘What the hell is he doing home?’ he snarled.

  I eased her off my knee and stood up, making sure that I was positioned between them. ‘I’m home for nine days on holiday. I won’t come near your fucking stupid television or you. I’ll stay out of your way. You make sure you stay out of mine.’ I put my arm around Mum’s shoulder. ‘And, if I were you, I’d keep my hands to myself while I’m at home.’