I notice the normally composed Miss Davieslooks somewhat flustered. This has me confused. She takes some time before shesays anything, and I sense she is struggling to formulate the words.
“Thomas, this is a little bit sensitive.”OK where is this going? “Is everything OK with you?” This has completely thrownme off guard. What could she possibly know about my personal life and how I amfeeling? I start to panic and hope she doesn’t know about my situation at home,then I reason with myself, but how could she?
I use a predictable default response, “Yes,I’m fine”, hoping that it’s case closed and I can disappear out the door. Nosuch luck; a somewhat flustered Miss Davies now looks downright downtrodden,and the colour has risen in her cheeks.
She carries on, “It’s just that a few ofus have noticed that you’re not quite yourself. I have to ask, is everything OKat home?”
Oh, now we get to the crux of it. And howdo you know what it’s like for me at home Miss Davies? Do you have any idea?And am I likely to tell you? Not a chance. I shudder involuntarily at thethought of father finding out about this chat if I were to give her any kind ofan insight. To face his wrath is a fate worse than death so I go with, “Yes,everything’s fine, can I go now?” Please let me go, this is excruciating.
She persists, “Well I have noticed changesin your behaviour and your grades are starting to slip. We can leave it at thatfor now but if things don’t change, I’ll have no other option than to speak toyour parents.”
What does she mean by she has noticedchanges in my behaviour? I don’t dwell on it. With a green card to go, I’m outof there quick as a flash. There are only a few days to go before the end of term,so I’m not overly concerned about her speaking to my parents either so off Igo.
I think no more ofthe matter and put it to the back of my mind. However, later in the day fatheris shouting on me to “Come here now, Thomas.” I feel the all too familiar hairson the back of my neck start to prickle and stand on end; my system already ina high state of alert with both pulse and heartbeat quickened. I reason withmyself – calm down, you’ve done nothing wrong, there’s no need to panic.
Juliet is in the room with me and, asalways, she has comforting words of reassurance; “Don’t worry, Thomas, it’ll benothing, he’s probably just wanting help with a job or something.” Herbeautiful big doe eyes staring up at me do offer some solace.
“You’re probably right, I’ll go and seewhat he wants.”
“Come on, lazy arse, get here now, son!” Ipick up the pace and stand to attention in the front room, assuming mysubmissive position of eyes downcast to the floor. “Well, what have you got tosay for yourself?” I’m confused! What is he talking about? To the best of myknowledge, I’ve not made any mistakes with my chores around the croft, and hecan’t possibly know about my chat today with Miss Davies, so I’m baffled butextremely anxious none the less.
“Sorry father, I’m not sure I know whatyou are talking about.”
“Father, father?! Youknow full well you should address me as Sir.”
“Sorry … Sir.”
“Let’s get that lazy bitch in here asshe’s part of this. Mary, Mary… move it! Get in here NOW!!”
I don’t know where mother was in the croftas I couldn’t hear her but in no time at all she’s flanked by my side. I swearshe’s never far away, ready for her summons at the drop of a hat – she knowsbetter than to keep him waiting. “Right Mary, you take it from here, tell thatgood-for-nothing son of ours what he’s in trouble for this time. I swear hegets it from you. There’s not so as much as two brain cells in that thick skullof his to rub together to figure out why he’s stood before me right now.” Thereis a momentary pause whilst mother gathers herself. She is clearly not used totaking the lead and he can’t stand it. “Well spit it out, woman, we’ve not gotall day.” The tension in the room is palpable. When he says the words ‘spit itout’ some spit actually projects from his mouth and lands on the top of mynose. I feel my stomach heave at the thought of his spittle on my body, but Iknow better than to even shift in my position, so I stand strong and steadfast.
Eventually mother responds and in a smalltimid voice we hear the words “there was a note.” I can’t see his face as I’mstill staring at the floor, but I sense that he is less than satisfied with herinput.
“Fuck sake, Mary, you can’t even do thesimplest of things! ‘There was a note’,” he mimics in her quiet voice. “No moreof it,” he bellows, “it takes a man to get things done around here. Well son,here’s what went down. You did a shite job when you hung your coat and bag upbecause a wee note fell out of your bag and drifted its merry way to the floor.This pathetic excuse for a woman here went to pick it up and no doubt would’vedestroyed it had I not been watching. You see, I am never far away. I’ve goteyes on the pair of you and don’t forget it! So, Thomas, let’s start again,what have you got to say for yourself?”
A note, a note?! Whatnote? I am completely baffled! Has someone at school put a note in my bag?!This is not good. I don’t have a clue what he’s talking
