No Friend of Mine (7 page)

“I’ll bring your book – the King Arthur.”

“And I’ll bring a torch.”

“We could be ghosts in the dark!”

“Yes. Splendid.”

It was Wednesday before they met up again. On Monday Lennie had a rehearsal after school and on Tuesday he went to the cottage but Ralph wasn’t there. It was cold. The wind cut through his clothes, even through the coat that Mum had insisted he wear. The fire wouldn’t light and the autumn leaves had turned to mush. By half past four it was pitch dark. He went home.

But on Wednesday Ralph was waiting for him. He had brought his torch. They took turns to hide in the woods, playing Dicky-shine-a-light and ghosts. Then they started the fire with paper Ralph had brought, and lit a cigarette from it. The December dusk closed in on them as they sat puffing and talking. The fire devoured the paper, and went out, leaving a pile of blackened fragments.

“It’s too damp for fires now,” said Lennie.

When the flames were leaping it had felt cosy, safe from the crowding trees, but now the cold crept back.

Lennie jumped up and flapped his arms.

“There’s a fair going up in the Canal Field,” he said. “We seen them putting up the rides and that. Friday it starts.”

“Are you going?”

“I might. If I can get round Mum or Phyl to give me some money. Will you go?”

“I’d like to. I’d have to try and sneak out.”

“Wouldn’t they let you go?”

“I doubt whether my father would think it was suitable.”

“Oh. See you tomorrow, anyway?”

“Yes. Oh! I nearly forgot.” Ralph felt in his coat pocket and handed Lennie something soft and pliable.

“What is it? Shine the torch.”

Lennie found he was holding a pair of leather gloves.

“They’re for your mother. You said her gloves were in holes.”

“But where did you get these?”

“My mother. She’s got plenty of gloves. Those are old ones.”

“They don’t look old.” Lennie put one on. The inside was lined with silky fur. “I can’t give her these.”

“Why not?” Ralph’s voice, in the darkness, was disappointed. “Won’t she like them?”

“Yes, but – well, they’re so – I mean, she usually has knitted ones, like. She makes them, or Aunty Elsie does. And – well, they’re your mother’s.”

“She said you could have them. You might as well. Say you bought them – a Christmas present.”

“She’d know I couldn’t buy anything like this.”

“They’re just old gloves,” said Ralph crossly. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am,” said Lennie, contrite. “Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow, then? Same place, same time?”

“Yes,” said Lennie, wishing they could meet somewhere warmer, indoors.

Well, Friday was the first day of the fair. That would be warmer, more cheerful. Perhaps Ralph would come. And as he thought that, Lennie realized that he wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Everyone – all the boys from school – would be there.

Lennie didn’t give the gloves to Mum. He felt sure, somehow, that she wouldn’t want them. All day on Thursday he carried them around in his pockets until Dad said, “What’s that you’ve got, Lennie, a couple of ferrets?” and then he hid them behind the settee with his treasures.

On Friday night he went to the fair.

Mum gave him some money. “There’s sixpence each, and a penny between you for sweets.”

“Do I
have
to take Doreen?”

“Do you want to go or not?”

Lennie resolved to think of Doreen as six and a half extra pennies in his pocket.

Doreen came downstairs wearing new socks, bright white.

“What are you wearing those for?” Mum demanded.

The socks had been a present from Aunty Elsie for Doreen’s birthday; they were so wondrously white and new that until now Mum had permitted Doreen to wear them only when they went to Elsie’s for tea.

Doreen stuck out her lower lip.

“You’re not wearing those at the fair,” Mum insisted. “Go and get your fawn ones.”

“Don’t
like
them!” Doreen’s chin trembled.

“You won’t like those if they get covered in mud. Get your old ones. Now!”

Doreen flounced across the room and stomped upstairs.

“That one should be on the stage,” said Mum. “Now, look after her, won’t you, Lennie? And keep your coats on – it’s bitter out. Look, put this scarf round—”

“No!” protested Lennie, twisting away.

“Oh, between the two of you – now here’s Phyl wanting her tea.”

Phyl came in pink from the cold. She was warming her hands at the fire when Doreen reappeared, in fawn socks, and began explaining her troubles.

Phyl comforted her. “They won’t show in the dark.”

She gave Lennie and Doreen another sixpence each. Lennie glowed. They could go on several rides now – the dodgems, the ghost train –
and
have sweets. They might even be able to afford the big wheel if Doreen didn’t want to go on too many of the baby roundabouts…

Outside, it was dark. Frost sparkled on the pavement. Doreen skipped and twirled, practising her fairy dance. Lennie saw some older children coming. “Leave off,” he hissed.

He held on to her hand as they entered the fair. He didn’t want to, but he knew he’d get hell from Mum if he lost her, and Doreen was such a little devil for getting her own way.

People pressed around them, dark, anonymous in their winter coats. Red and gold bulbs flicked on and off around the booths, jangling music came from the roundabouts; screams, laughter, music called them this way and that.

“I want to go on the bus one,” Doreen said, pulling Lennie’s hand. “Lennie, I want—”

“In a minute.”

What Lennie wanted first was to wander around, looking and listening, feeling the atmosphere. He didn’t want to be rushed onto Doreen’s choice of roundabout. He wanted to take it slowly, plan what to spend his shilling on.

There were booths with rifles and targets; a clairvoyant; a Ferris wheel turning slowly against the night sky; a stall where you threw hoops and could win teddy bears, purses, key rings.

“Lennie, do this one. Lennie, I want a teddy. Lennie…”

So insistent was Doreen’s that at first Lennie didn’t hear the other voice behind him. “Lennie! Lennie!”

Then he turned round and saw Ralph.

Ralph said, “I managed to give everyone the slip. Have to be back for dinner, though.”

Dinner. Lennie could smell hot pies, and his tea had worn off already. But the pies were expensive; they didn’t come into his financial planning.

He said, apologetically, “I had to bring Doreen.”

“That’s all right. Hello, Doreen.”

Doreen sparkled. She was not used to being acknowledged by Lennie’s friends.

Ralph turned to Lennie. “Guess what I’ve got?”

“What?”

Ralph put his hand in his pocket and pulled out coins. Not sixpences. Big, heavy coins. Four half-crowns.

Lennie stared. “That’s ten shillings! Ten shillings for the fair? But you said your father wouldn’t let you go?”

Ralph looked away.

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s mine. Pocket money, saved up.” He gave two half-crowns to Lennie. “Two each.”

“Pocket money?” said Lennie.

He wasn’t sure he believed Ralph. But who cared? With five shillings each they could go on everything. They could have their fortune told and go on the ghost train and buy candyfloss for Doreen. Phyl’s hard-earned sixpences seemed irrelevant now.

As they made their way to the dodgems, Lennie felt a twinge of regret for the loss of the need to consider and choose, but it soon passed, and they climbed into the cars, Ralph in one, Lennie and Doreen in another. The power came on, the contacts sparked on the roof and Lennie felt his car jerk and move. Doreen squealed as they were rammed from behind and Lennie spun the steering wheel to weave a way between the other cars and crash sideways into Ralph.

Ralph was struggling. He obviously hadn’t had much practice – probably none, knowing old Wilding. Lennie felt superior as he boxed him in and rammed him repeatedly from side, front and rear.

They stayed in the cars for another go, although Doreen was talking hopefully about roundabouts. This time Ralph steered better, and they got out into the mainstream and were separated. Lennie felt a sudden violent bump from behind, turned, and saw Bert and Alan leering at him. They rammed him again.

“I don’t
like
it, Lennie,” said Doreen.

She cringed as another violent collision sent them into the car in front.

When the cars stopped, Lennie got Doreen out quickly and looked round for Ralph. “Can we go on the roundabout now – the bus one?” Doreen asked. She took Lennie’s hand and clung tightly. He could feel her fear.

“All right.”

Ralph joined them as they moved towards the roundabout. Lennie saw with relief that Bert and Alan were still on the dodgems. But they were watching him; they had recognized Ralph.

Lennie put Doreen on the ride and went with Ralph to a nearby booth and threw plastic hoops for prizes. Ralph won a ring with a green stone in it. When Doreen came off the roundabout he gave it to her. Doreen was enthralled. She wore it on her thumb all evening, turning it often to admire the way it caught the light.

Ralph and Lennie bought hot pies. Doreen was in an agony of indecision over whether to have a pie or candyfloss.

“Have both,” Ralph suggested.

Doreen did, and felt sick.

They saw Phyl and her fiancé, Jim; and Mary and some friends from work, all screaming on the big dipper. Everyone from school was there; everyone saw Lennie with Ralph, going on ride after ride, eating pies, playing the rifle range and the hoop-la.

And then Ralph asked someone the time, and exclaimed, “I’ll have to go. Lennie, come to my house tomorrow afternoon. It’s too cold in the woods.”

“Your parents—” Lennie began.

“They’re going out. If you’re worried about Mrs Martin, just come to the back garden gate. I’ll look out for you. Agreed?”

“All right.”

“Good. About two? See you!”

Ralph ran off through the crowd, leaving Lennie still with change from his five shillings and Doreen saying, “I might feel not so sick if I had some sweets. Lennie, Mum said we could have sweets…”

They went home, sucking sherbet through liquorice straws.

Mum was ironing when they got in, and Dad was in his chair by the fire, reading a newspaper.

“I’ve got a ring! Look!” said Doreen. And before Lennie could stop her she had told them about Ralph having ten shillings to spend and giving five to Lennie.

“Ten shillings!” exclaimed Dad, frowning. And Mum said, “They must have money to burn, those people. You didn’t need the money I gave you, then?”

She was hurt, as Lennie had known she would be. When she had gone upstairs to put a hot-water bottle in Doreen’s bed, he turned on Doreen and said, “You’re so
stupid
.”

Doreen didn’t understand. Her eyes filled with tears, and Lennie felt mean.

Later, when Doreen had gone to bed, Lennie counted up the coins he had left. He found his mother folding clothes in her bedroom. She looked unhappy. He put the money on the dressing table.

“What’s that?”

“Change. Two and eight.”

“That’s yours. Keep it.”

“I’m giving it to you.”

She hesitated, then swept the coins into her hand.

He turned to go.

“Lennie!”

He looked back.

“Come in and shut the door. Now Doreen’s out of the way, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Lennie felt a flutter of guilt. What had he done?

She opened the drawer and took out a pair of gloves – the gloves he had hidden under the settee.

“I was cleaning the front room,” she said.

Lennie’s dismay was mingled with a release of tension. It had been preying on his mind – what he should do with the gloves.

“They were a secret – ” he began, stammering. “Christmas—”

“Where did you get them?”

“Ralph—”

“Ralph gave them to you?” Her face cleared, and he realized that she had been afraid he had stolen them. He flushed with indignation.

“What did you think?” he demanded.

“I didn’t know what to think.” She rounded on him again. “So what have you been saying to Ralph? Do those people think we can’t afford gloves? You know I’m knitting some – nearly finished. What have you said?”

“Nothing. I – I don’t know. I might have – Ralph says he asked his mother; she said you could have them. I think Ralph meant to help…”

Mum’s face softened. “I’m sure he did. But they’re much too good, Lennie. Look at them.”

She drew one on, and held out her hand, wistfully. The glove was black, made of fine soft leather, with decorative tucks along the back and fingers and a tiny button loop at the wrist.

“It suits you,” said Lennie.

“They look so new,” she said. “Not stretched or wrinkled. Did Mrs Wilding really say Ralph could give them to you?”

She looked at him searchingly, and Lennie felt himself blushing. He thought of the ten shillings Ralph had brought to the fair, and remembered him taking cigarettes from the hall table and saying, “Finders keepers.”

I don’t trust Ralph, he thought. He didn’t like to admit it, but it was true.

“You must take them back,” said Mum.

Lennie exclaimed, “I can’t! And if she
did
say—”

“Even if she did. You must tell them we can’t accept them. They’re too good. It’s not right.”

Lennie stared miserably at a crack in the lino.

“We’ve got our pride, you know,” Mum said, gently. “And besides, we’re not that poor. Dad’s back at work now, and the strike’s over at Lang’s; Mary says they’re going back Monday.”

Lennie saw a chance to change the subject.

“Did they win?”

“Of course not. They’ve compromised. Not such a big cut, and a review promised in the spring. Dad says that’s the best they could expect.”

“Oh.”

“When are you seeing Ralph?” Mum asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Take them back tomorrow, then?”

He shuffled his feet. “All right.”

“Promise?”

Lennie looked up. He said angrily, “I promise! I’m not a liar. Only – Ralph will feel—”