He Called Me Son (The Blountmere Street Series Book 1) (12 page)

‘Paula,’ I mouthed, already running from the recreation room.

‘I thought you were never going to see me,’ she said, when I got outside and she guided me away from the window and towards a doorway, where Mrs Dibble and a man were huddled.

‘What’re you doing here?
 
We’re not allowed visitors.
 
Is everything’s all right?
  
There’s nothing wrong with … ?’

‘Everything’s fine.
 
Paula and her mum wanted to make sure you were all right,’ the man explained as we squeezed bedside them.
 
‘They told your mother they’d come if they could.’

I stared at the ground willing myself not to cry.

‘By the way, my name’s Bill Masters, a friend of the Dibbles.
 
I’ve got some transport and when Paula said she wanted to see you, I offered to bring them down.’
 
The man extended his hand.
 
‘How d’you do?
 
I’ve heard a lot about you.
 
All good, of course.’

‘My word, Tony, you’ve grown.’
 
Mrs Dibble was wearing a pale blue coat I hadn’t seen her in before.
 
It made her look a lot younger, and her face was reddish.
 
Suddenly she embraced me and I raised my arms a little, then dropped them to my side, uncertain what to do.

‘Who would have thought we would all be meeting together in a beautiful country place like this?’
 
Mrs Dibble smiled.

I knew she was trying to be cheerful, while all the time she was taking in my frayed jersey and trousers that sagged below my knees.

‘Paula’s been on about you ever since you went, so we thought we’d bring you a few bits and pieces.’

‘We’ll have to hatch a way for Tony to smuggle them in,’ The man stopped Mrs Dibble from unloading everything there and then.

‘Are you likely to be missed?’ he asked.
 
Funny I hadn’t heard Paula mention him before.

‘I reckon they won’t notice I’ve gone for a while.
 
We’ve got to make a model and I was just starting mine.’

‘It sounds a very nice place letting you do interesting things like that.’
 
I knew Mrs Dibble was trying to be encouraging, but I didn’t answer her.

‘What if Mrs Dibble and I go for a walk while you two have a chat?
 
It’s a little cramped here.
 
We’ll be back in ten minutes.
 
Come on Lil.’
 
Bill Masters said.

‘As long as they’re not found.’
 
Mrs Dibble looked concerned.

‘They’ll be all right.
 
We’ve got to make sure we’re not seen either, so we’d better creep back the way we came.’

‘Honestly, Bill, this cloak and dagger stuff’s not for me,’ Mrs Dibble complained, but the man, his arm around her shoulders, was already leading her away.
 
I wondered what Old Dibble would have said to that.

It was draughty and I kept looking towards the door, in case someone came through it and caught us.

‘What’s it like here?’
 
Paula asked.

‘It’s all right.’
 
Now that someone I really wanted to see was here, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
 
Perhaps matron was right.
 
We were better off without visitors.

‘Have you made many friends?’

‘Not many.’
 

A bird settled on the gravel and began rummaging through it.
 

‘There’s this boy called Joe.
 
He’s in my room.
 
We get on all right.’

‘Your mum sends her love and says to tell you she really misses you.
 
She’s getting a lot better.
 
It can’t be long before she’s home, then you’ll be able to come back.’

I stared at Paula, trying to work out whether she was telling the truth or only saying what she thought I wanted to hear.
 

‘Your Mum’s heard from Angela.
 
She’s settled down where she is, and she says she’s made a lot of friends.’

‘Good.’

It hadn’t been like this between Paula and me when we read comics on Saturday afternoons.
 
Then we hadn’t had to struggle to find things to say to each other.

‘We’ve brought you a letter from your Mum, and Fred and Lori have written to you from New Zealand.
 
Even Miss Selska’s sent you something about how to look after your health.
 
We’ve brought them with us to give to you.’
 
Paula tried to penetrate the wall between us that seemed to be six feet wide.
 

‘You’re not missing anything in Blountmere Street.
 
It’s just the same.
 
Nobody’s been able to go over the bombsite because it’s been too cold and wet.
 
The only news is that Kenny Bryant and Marjorie Hicks got married last week.
 
She looked lovely in this brocade dress with those pointy sleeves brides’ dresses have, and she had ever such a long veil.
 
The bridesmaids were in red, which is very unusual, don’t you think?’

Another bird joined the one already on the gravel, and began to peck amongst the stones, making soft scrabbling noises.

‘I would have written, but we didn’t know where you were until we got your letter,’ Paula explained.

‘They don’t let us have letters, anyway.
 
They say it will unsettle us.’

‘Do you have lessons here?’

‘We all go to school in the village.’

‘Is it better than Blountmere Street School?’

‘Nope.’
 
I looked down at my feet.

‘Did you sit the Eleven Plus exam?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did you do?’

‘All right.’

Paula hesitated.
 
I knew she was trying to think of something more to ask, while I couldn’t bring to mind anything I wanted to say.
 

‘With all this ground, I bet you play lots of outside games.’
 
She pressed on.

‘Not in winter.’

‘I suppose not, but there must be some good things about being here.’
 

‘There’s nothing good about being here.’
 
Even though I was talking to Paula Dibble from Blountmere Street which was something I would have given anything for, I wanted to run away.
 

I picked up a stone from the path and began gouging the brickwork with it.

Mrs Dibble and the man came into view.
 
They were laughing.
 
Even from a distance, I could see Mrs Dibble’s face was still flushed and she looked a lot different from the woman who scurried along Blountmere Street as if she was responsible for looking after the whole earth.

‘Bill’s a friend of Mum’s from before she was married.
 
He’s really nice,’ Paula said, and I watched with panic as they came closer.
 

Without meaning to, I clutched hold of her.
 
‘Take me home with you.
 
I hate it here.
 
It’s horrible.
 
Your mum could have me.
 
It wouldn’t be for long.’
 
I shook Paula’s arm.

‘I don’t think we’d be allowed to.’

‘What aren’t you allowed to do?’
 
Mrs Dibble asked in a fluttery voice, as she and the man drew nearer.

‘Tony wants to come back home with us.’

Mrs Dibble shot the man an “I knew this would happen” look before replying.
 
‘I’m sorry, Tony, but it wouldn’t be allowed.
 
Anyway, you won’t be here much longer.
 
Your mother’s well on the road to recovery.
 
She’ll be sending for you soon.
 
Make the most of it, eh?
 
After all, it does seem a very nice place.’

I turned away, my shoulders slumping forward, my head low on my chest.

‘Now, come on, cheer up!’
 
Mrs Dibble urged.
 
‘Let’s see how much of this stuff you can take in with you.’

‘I won’t be able to take any of it.’
 
I swiveled back to face her.
 
‘If they found out, I’d be in for it.’

The man took the bag from Mrs Dibble.
 
He began sorting through its contents.

‘Take the letters.
 
Have you got a drawer of your own that’s private?’

‘I’ve got a drawer, but it isn’t private.’

‘Well, put them under your mattress, and here are some sweets.
 
Stick them in your pocket.’

‘They’re Old Boy Barker’s special mix,’ Paula added.

I allowed Mrs Dibble to tuck the bag into my pocket.
 

‘We’ll give your Mum your love, and tell her you’re being well looked after.
 
Have you any messages for anyone?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then, we’d better go before you’re missed.’
 

After allowing Mrs Dibble to kiss me on the cheek, but without saying goodbye or looking at them, I walked to the door.
 
My footsteps dragged with the weight of my abandonment.

‘Wait!
 
Wait!’ Paula began running after me. ‘It’ll be all right.
 
Honestly.
 
I’m sorry you can’t come back with us.
 
I wish you could, but your mum will come and get you.
 
It won’t be long.
 
If she had to, your mother would fight to have you with her, I know she would.
 
She might be quiet, but she’s strong inside.
 
You’ve got to believe that, Tony.’

‘Yeah, I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like here, and I miss everybody at home, especially Ang.
 
It’s funny really, ‘cos I always thought I’d like the country.
 
We’re not far from the sea either, but it doesn’t feel right.’
 
My top lip quivered.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you.
 
I only wanted to see you and let you know we’re thinking of you.’

‘I’m glad you came.
 
I’m sorry I got the pip.
 
I wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.
 
Thanks for bringing all that stuff.’

‘I’m sorry you can’t take much of it.
 
We’ll give it to you when you get home.
 
It’ll be like Christmas.’
 
She paused.
 
‘I’ve got to go.’
 
Then, as if on an impulse, she said, ‘Why don’t we make a promise to think of each other every afternoon at four?
 
That way you can stay in touch with Blountmere Street.
 
Perhaps it won’t be so hard to be here for a little longer then.
 
We’ll have to concentrate hard so that what we’re thinking reaches each other.
 
And no-one will know, only you and me.’
 
She kissed me on the cheek.
 
‘I love you, Tony,’ she said.
 
This time I didn’t squirm.

Chapter Eleven

As soon as the Dibbles had gone, I dashed back up to my room. I hoped for a glimpse of them leaving the orphanage, but they had been swallowed into the bare landscape.
 
I took the letters from my inside pocket: one from Mum, another from Miss Selska and a third from Fred and Lori.
 
I tore the top from the last envelope, and snatched at several sheets of thin paper like posh lav paper.
 
They were covered with Fred’s precise writing and paragraphs in Lori’s scribble.
 
I scrutinised the pages as if I could magic Fred and Lori right there into my room.
 
Although they didn’t exactly say so, I could tell they weren’t happy.
 
They didn’t belong thousands of miles away.
 
Their home was in Blountmere Street with me and Angela and Mum.

‘What’re you doing?’ Joe barged into the room, as he always did, swinging round the door.
 
With one leap he landed in the middle of his bed.
 
‘You know we’re not s’pposed to be here at this time on a Saturday afternoon.
 
What happened?
 
One minute you were at the table, the next you’d scarpered.
 
I told everyone you’d gone to the lav.’

‘The people who live downstairs to us in Blountmere Street turned up.
 
We had to hide because matron wouldn’t let them in, the old bag.
 
They brought me some letters and stuff, so I came up here to read them.’

‘You’re lucky.’

‘I s’ppose.’

‘We’d better get downstairs quick, before they notice we’ve gone, or we’ll miss our crumpets tomorrow.
 
Sunday night and crumpets is the best night of the week.
 
Saturday afternoons aren’t bad either.’

As far as I was concerned, nothing about this place was good.

‘What did your mates say about your old lady?’
 
Joe asked.

‘They said Doll’s getting better.
 
She’ll be sending for me soon.’

‘There you are then; I reckon you’ve got nothing to moan about.’

‘I’ll hide these letters under here.’ I began lifting the corner of my mattress.

‘Three’s a lot to have under there.
 
Why don’t you put one under my mattress.
 
That way it’ll be safer,’ Joe suggested.
 
It was typical of Joe to think of something like that.

‘Good idea,’ I handed Joe Miss Selska’s letter.
 
I didn’t want to sleep that far away from the other two.
 

‘The Dibbles brought me some sweets – Old Boy Barker’s special mix.
 
I’ll hide them in my socks then we can have them tonight.
 
It’ll be easier with only a couple of us.’
 
I looked across at the two empty beds that, until a few of days ago, had been occupied by Mickey and Tom.
 
The beds looked as if they were wearing uniforms of grey blankets hemmed with red stitching.
 
‘We’re sure to get another couple in here soon, so we’d better eat them quick.
 
You’ll love ‘em’
 
For the first time that afternoon I smiled - properly, not that silly raising of my lips I’d done for the Dibbles.

The next afternoon at four o’clock, the time Paula and I had arranged to send mind messages to each other, I screwed up my face in concentration to receive her message.
 
Now it had actually come to it, I found it impossible to chase away all the thoughts that dodged and darted around my head like naughty puppies.
 
No sooner did I catch one, than another and another took its place.

‘You in pain or something?’
 
Joe asked, looking at me funny.

‘I need some peace and quiet, that’s all.’

‘Please yourself.’

Paula made swapping our thoughts sound easy, like receiving letters in your head.
 
I was sure she was sending hers right now.
 
If Paula said she would, she would.
 
I gritted my teeth and grunted, but nothing came.
 
Joe gave me another of his funny looks.

It had been a crackpot idea, but if I couldn’t catch hold of Paula’s thoughts, I might as well let my own wander where they would.
 
Paula might be better at picking them up.
 

I closed my eyes and pictured the model I had been working on, or at least Joe had been working on for me, when Paula had come yesterday.
 
It had been judged by the local vicar as the best in the Sunday School.
 

Inwardly I cringed as I recalled over-hearing the vicar telling one of the women from the village that they usually chose an orphan to win, because they felt sorry for ‘the poor souls’.
 
It was like being on the
Poor List
again.
 
Forgetting Paula might be picking up what was in my head, the shame I’d felt blazed into anger.
 
They were nothing but a bunch of do-gooders.
 
I loathed their smug faces.
 
When I got home, I’d show them, and all the others like them.
 

‘I’ve just heard they’re sending another four kids to that there halfway home Micky and Tom got sent to.’
 
Joe loved tittle-tattle, good or bad, and I wondered if it was because his ears came to a point at the top that he got to hear so much.
 
He kept scraping at his potato.
 
Spud bashing was our special duty every morning before school.
 
If we didn’t fill the cauldron, we had to clean the lavs.

‘Alfie Barchard says it’s ‘cos they’re getting ready to go on this adventure to another country.’

‘Why would they want Mickey and Tom and the others to have an adventure?
 
They hate us having adventures.
 
Anyway, why do they have to have them in some other country?
  
Can’t they have them here?
 
It’s crackers.’

‘Alfie Barchard says it’s hot where they have their adventures.’
 
Joe threw a spud into the cauldron.
 
Water splashed the bench and trickled on to the floor.
 
‘I wouldn’t mind an adventure in a hot place mesself, except I’d frizzle up with these.’ He pointed to the freckles covering his arms that made them look a completely different colour to mine.
 
‘That’s the trouble having ginger hair.
 
I wouldn’t mind if my old man or woman had it.
 
I’m the only one in the whole blinkin’ family who’s a carrot top.
 
I reckon I must have been the milkman’s.’

‘Did he have ginger hair?’

‘I don’t know, do I?
 
It was a joke.
 
Where’ve you been all your life!’

‘Learning how to punch people like you.’
 
I grabbed hold of Joe’s jersey and hauled him towards me.

‘Let go, for pity’s sake, I was only joking.’

‘Yeah, well.
 
Let it be a warning to you, or anyone who takes the mickey out of me.’
 
I let go of his jersey.

That night I had another of the nightmares I had been having of late.
 
A cannibal was chasing me across a desert.
 
The heat pressed down on me like a rock.
 
It caused my head to bang inside and my lungs to long for a cool English day.
 
The soles of my feet were criss-crossed with bloody tramlines.
 
My feet sank into the sand, making them difficult to lift.
 

As the chase went on, a paralysis began creeping into my legs.
 
I struggled to keep going, pushing one foot in front of the other as the savage with a spear hared after me.
 
Numbness was taking hold of me as my attacker drew nearer.

The heat didn’t seem to affect him at all.
  
Gradually my whole body lost feeling, and I fell onto the sand.
 

With a whoop of victory, the cannibal dragged me towards a fire with a cauldron, hanging over it like the one we used for the spuds.
 
I could feel the heat like blisters on my skin, and hear fire roaring in my ears.
  
My lungs wouldn’t blow up and I was having difficulty breathing.
 
Sweat trickled into my eyes and down my face until I could taste its saltiness.
 
Effortlessly, as if I was made of cotton wool, the cannibal lifted me up and into the cauldron, where Mickey’s and Tom’s faces leered up at me.
 
I fought to suck in the next breath.
 
Then, while I was being lowered into the pot, my lungs filled with air as if a pair of bellows had been pushed into them.

‘It’s all right, Tone.
 
It’s all right.
 
You were having one of those nightmares again,’ Joe was sitting on the edge of my bed holding my shoulders while I sucked in air, trying to breathe properly.

‘It was horrible, horrible.
 
He was cooking Mickey and Tom.
 
I was next.’

‘What’s going on in here?’
 
Matron opened the door and waved torchlight around the room.

‘He’s had a nightmare, Miss.
 
He’ll be all right in a minute.
 
He needs a drink of water, and it’d help if we could have the light on for a bit.’

‘You most certainly can’t have either.’
 
Matron’s whispering was louder than if she spoke normally.
 
‘The rules are no lights after half past eight.
 
He’s not a baby.
 
He doesn’t need a drink at night.
 
We can’t make exceptions for him.
 
Before we know it, everyone will be pretending to have nightmares, then where will we be!’
 
She closed the door with a click.
 
We heard her footsteps disappearing along the landing.

‘He was going to eat me, Joe.’
 
My voice still trembled.

‘Who was?’

‘A cannibal.
 
He was going to put me in the spud pot.’

‘You gave me a turn screaming like that.’

‘Promise you won’t tell anyone.’

‘What’ d’you take me for?
 
Mates don’t grass on each other.’
 
By now, Joe was sitting cross-legged at the foot of my bed.

‘I wish I could have the light on.
 
I don’t want to go back to sleep in case he gets me this time.’

‘I won’t let him.
 
I’ll cover myself up with a blanket and sleep at the end of your bed.
 
At home I was used to kipping in half inch of space.’
 
He pulled back the blanket and crawled under it.
 
Knowing he was there at the foot of my bed made me feel safe and eventually I fell back to sleep.

When I awoke, Joe was hunched like a hibernating animal at the bottom of my bed.
 
I wiggled my feet and gradually the hillock flattened and Joe’s face emerged.
 
‘Best night’s kip I’ve had for a blinking century,’ he grinned.
 

A white skin of frost covering the countryside was beginning to melt as we walked to school.
 

‘You don’t think horrible things really do happen when they send them to have these adventures, like being eaten by cannibals, do you?’
 

‘Course they don’t.
 
Cannibals come from Africa, and Africa’s too far to send them to have adventures.
 
Stop worrying.’
 
Against the frost-blue sky, Joe’s hair was an orange crown around his head.
 
‘Come here and I’ll show you something.’

‘What is it?’

‘A bird’s nest.
 
I found it yesterday.
 
There’s no eggs in it, so it might be old, or a bird might be going to lay some soon.
 
I’m going to try and get a book on birds, then perhaps I can find out what sort of nest it is.’
 
Joe stooped to pick a snowdrop from a clump emerging from behind a tree trunk.
 
‘I never saw a flower growing ‘til I came here.
 
I saw them in shops, but not actually coming up out the ground.
 
And the only birds I ever saw were sparrows and pigeons.
 
It’s real lovely in the country.’