Chapter Six

Craig came to school on the following Monday and Willie was delighted to see him. He looked carefully at his friend’s face but there was no sign at all of any bruising and certainly no black eye. He called to Willie as he walked across the playground and they went together to a side area, by the old boiler room, to talk. The walls were always warm there in the winter and Willie could see that Craigie was upset about something and was sure he would want to talk about it.

“What is it Craigie? What’s wrong? I know there’s something and you can tell me, if you like.”

His friend could not speak for some time, but Willie knew by his eyes and by the way in which he stuttered, that something was worrying him. The stutter was different for each mood somehow and Craigie stuttered regularly, but not like he was doing that morning. He was a serious minded, reserved little boy and not given to much conversation, but he never gave the impression that he was particularly unhappy.

“I don’t know how to tell you, Willie,” he stammered out in his usual fashion. His speech was slow and deliberate, even if it came in spasms and when he was excited about anything, which wasn’t very often, he would have to draw his breath and wait for a few seconds, before he could continue.

“Take your time, Craigie. Take your time. It’s a good ten minutes before the bell,” Willie tried to console, but he became really worried when his friend struggled laboriously to breathe and then he began to cry. The tears ran slowly down from his eyes and rested on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Willie gave him his hankie.

“It’s my step-father,” he said and dabbed his mouth with Willie’s handkerchief.

“Was that the man I saw when I came to your house last week?”

Craigie opened his mouth wide and closed his eyes tightly as if to suck in all the air he could find.

“Yes But I didn’t want to see you until my face got better.”

“What happened? Can you tell me?”

The little boy swallowed hard and looked about him with fear in his eyes.

“He ...He hit me, Willie.”

“What? Why did he do that?”

Craigie started to cry again and with much more emotion than before.

“Craigie,” Willie demanded a second time, “Why did he hit you?”

The boy hesitated and dried his eyes as he appeared to be more in control of the situation.

“It doesn’t matter, Willie. It was my fault anyway. I should always do as I’m told. Mammy always told me that I should always do as I’m told . . .”

“Don’t be stupid, Craigie . I know you should do what you’re told but there are times when you just can’t do that.”

Craigie stared at Willie and the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“Willie, I’m frightened.” he said softly and Willie knew he would have to use a different approach if he was to help his friend. He understood Craigie’s natural temperament and he always avoided shouting at him, or losing his temper, but he looked hard into the little boy’s face and took a deep breath.

“Tell me, Craigie Tell me what’s happened. I want to know.” he demanded and he hated himself for being so hard. Craig Daniells shivered and his lips began to quiver.

“He hits me because because I won’t touch him, that’s why?” he said and his nostrils widened with fear. “That’s just why,” he said again and started to cry.

Willie stared at his friend in horror as he continued to sob pitifully. He put his hand on Craigie’s shoulder and asked defiantly,

“Do you mean He wants you to play with him?”

Craigie screwed up his eyes and was convulsed in fear. The boys looked at each other; one with fear in his eyes and the other with pity and understanding.

“He says if I don’t let him play with me he’ll tell my Mammy that I’m wicked. Willie, my Mammy is in hospital you know that, don’t you? She is very, very ill and if she knew what I was doing she’d . . . well she’d die Willie. I know she would. Oh! Willie, please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

Willie Blair suddenly felt very mature in his way of thinking.

“We’ll think of something, Craigie. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

***

Wattie arrived on the scene as the two friends were having their discussion and he stared at Craigie.

“What are you blubberin’ for then?” he bellowed, critical of Craigie when he saw him crying and with his red, tear-stained face. Craigie ran off.

“Your mouth’s bigger than your bloody airse, Wattie and that’s big enough. What did you want to say that for?” screamed Willie as he watched Craigie run to the other end of the playground. Wattie stood back in amazement and felt his rear, before returning again to Willie.

“What have I done?” he asked, wide eyed and with his mouth hanging open.

“Never mind . . . Just leave it Wattie.”

“But, Willie I . . .”

“LEAVE IT WATTIE.”

Wattie tried to change the subject, having suddenly felt some guilt for something that he did not understand, but he would never contradict Willie and he shut up. He knew something must be seriously wrong when Willie appeared so annoyed and he waited for a few moments before he spoke again.

“My Mammy’s coming up to the school to see Mr. Havers sometime this week about me goin’ to University when I leave here, Willie. Did you know that? Did you know that I was going into the University?”

Willie did not hear what Wattie had said. His eyes and thoughts were elsewhere, but Wattie started again.

“My Mammy wants me to get to the University and she says it’s what my Daddy would have wanted for me too. What do you think, Willie?”

Willie blinked and stared at the potential under graduate.

“Wattie ...”

Wattie grinned happily with reassurance.

“Yes Willie?

“Get your heed out of your airse and go wipe your bloody nose, will you.”