Tommy Butler had wrapped up the hatbox in a big black plastic bag and he held the present as if his life depended on it. He’d had no intention of trawling the streets with a big sissy hatbox or a woman’s shopping bag. No, he had come prepared with a bin bag and now, glowering at the other passengers on the 11 bus, he dared them to guess what he was carrying. He could imagine what the neighbourhood lads would say if they knew. He’d b.. . .. . . burst anyone who laid one f. . .. . . finger on him or his grandmother’s hat on his way home!
They had the TV on and his mam was cooking chicken curry when he let himself in quietly and sneaked upstairs to his bedroom. The smell of onions, garlic and spices was wafting through the house. Tommy was starving.
First things first: where could he hide the present without squashing it and without his mam or Ray finding it? The bottom of the wardrobe was the only safe place as his mam often hoovered under the bed or dusted the top of the wardrobe. He turfed out all his football boots and his sports bag and flung them under his bed temporarily so he could place the plastic bag with the box carefully in his wardrobe. He put a football jersey and a pair of shorts on top to disguise it. A mixture of relief and pride punched him in the gut as he sat on the bed.
The hat had cost him every last cent of his pocket money and the remainder of his confirmation money but he didn’t begrudge it for a minute. He would forgo chocolate, the cinema and games rentals for the next few weeks in return for purchasing such a gift. Even with all the money he had spent, he guessed that the shop lady had undercharged him for the beautiful hat she had produced. Ellie Matthews, the hatmaker, had a kind face and a good heart and he knew she was being sincere when she wished his grandmother all the best on her hundredth birthday.