Forty-nine
Day 20
St Nicholas College
4.30 p.m. Friday, 13th November 1965
It was 4.30 and the boy had been standing outside the sixth form common room since 3.45. He wanted to be ‘in trouble’ so stood there even though Abbott said he didn’t have to. The story of Darnley punching him in the stomach had spread like wildfire but he didn’t want to talk about it.
Students frequently walked by, occasionally one would pretend to punch him in the stomach then pull his punch at the last moment and the boy would buckle; this generally brought laughter from all who saw it. The boy, after the third time, became confident that no one would actually punch him and stopped buckling in anticipation. The laughter failed to come as different boys tried to scare him in that way.
Darnley was in detention. His parents would be called that evening, so the gossip went. For a while the boy was the centre of attention.
‘Darnley is going to be expelled.’
‘Did you dob on him?’
‘No.’
‘Platmore saw Darnley punch him.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘But you fainted.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say to Darnley?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You must have said something.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Amnesia.’
‘It can happen if you get punched.’
‘Harper’s got amnesia.’
‘Darnley said he didn’t punch you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Did he?’
‘Platmore saw Darnley punch Harper.’
‘Platmore dobbed on Darnley.’
‘Platmore’s a sixth former, it isn’t dobbing when you tell on someone like Darnley.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Harper should be allowed to fight his own battles.’
The second formers turned their eyes to Harper.
‘Darnley shouldn’t have punched Harper. Harper’s a weed, and Darnley shouldn’t have punched him. That’s why it’s not dobbing when you tell a teacher.’
The second formers’ attention shifted from the boy as they chased and punched each other in the stomach. He watched them disappear down the corridor.
After a while the boy saw movement at the other end of the corridor and turned quickly towards it. Carmody was standing there looking at him. The boy felt a stirring in his stomach. Did he love Carmody? Carmody looked back like ice. No, he didn’t love Carmody, he was just terrified of displeasing him. He looked down and waited. Shoes passed him. There was silence in the corridor, more shoes passed. The boy imagined the wearers watching their shoes flick out in front of them as they walked with their heads down, but then there were other boys who wouldn’t be looking at their shoes, the boys Captain Edmund couldn’t touch. He screwed his face up, he wanted to be one of those boys, boys who didn’t fear everything. He would give the bullet to Carmody and then he would be better dead. He thought about the speeding car; or on the farm he could use a rifle. But he would have to wait until the holidays.
‘Do you still have it?’ Carmody asked.
The boy looked up, puzzled, and nodded. ‘Yes’.
Carmody thawed a little. ‘Do you have it with you?’
The boy shook his head. He had it but he’d buried it again. The boy felt a tremor around his neck.
‘Can you bring it to me?’ Carmody asked.
The boy nodded.
‘You didn’t give it to the policeman?’ Carmody asked.
‘No,’ the boy said frowning.
‘Where is it?’
‘Near the hockey field steps,’ he told his shoes.
‘When the bell for dinner goes, wait for everyone to go, then you run down there, and come straight here after dinner.’ The boy nodded. ‘Who supervises your prep class?’
‘Lower,’ the boy said. Fifth form boys supervised Second Form prep classes.
‘You’ll bring it to me?’ Carmody confirmed.
The boy looked up, surprised, and nodded vaguely. ‘Yes.’
‘Did you speak to a policeman, a detective?’ Carmody asked.
The boy shook his head.
Carmody smiled. ‘I believe in you, Harper. Don’t disappoint me.’ The boy shook his head. ‘You get that for me and you’ll never have to hang your head again. I promise you that.’
The boy felt the heat of tears as they ran from his eyes. Carmody reached across and ruffled his hair firmly so the boy’s bobbing head scattered tears to each side. The boy smiled to himself and breathed fully. The shaking of his head stopped. He heard Carmody walking away. He looked up to see if anyone saw but no one did.
The bell for dinner sounded, the boy watched the sixth formers leave and pull the common room door closed behind them. A few, in curiosity, looked in the boy’s direction. The boy wasn’t sure if he was grimacing or grinning in response.
‘What are you still doing here?’ a fifth former asked as a group of fifth formers passed him. The boy shrugged. ‘Idiot. Get going. Run.’ The boy took off and laughter echoed in the corridor. He knew if he was quick enough he could get to the end of the building before they entered the quadrangle and there he’d be able to hide in the bushes until it was clear to run down beside the administration building and onto the hockey oval.
The bushes, a hedge of tea trees, pushed at him as if saying, ‘You should be lining up for dinner.’ Some scratched at his arms, but soon they stopped pushing and scratching and concealed him, protected him in their world of sharp smells and tiny leaves on long, scratching fingers. Voices passed him, then all was silent. He crept forwards, the bushes whispered around his ears. He watched the last line of boys enter the dining room. He ran from the bush to the oval and dropped down by the steps. Some day boys stood near the front gate. He quickly pushed his fingers into the dirt – it was wet this time – and wiggled his fingertips, searching. Then he felt it, still sharp, still snagging. He pushed and closed his hand around it. He didn’t need to look, he knew what he had. He thrust it into his pocket and ran to the dining hall, slapping the sand and dirt from his hands.
‘Where have you been, Harper?’ the sixth former demanded.
‘I was at your common room and had to go to the toilet,’ he replied.
The sixth former looked back, angry. ‘You should be on dinner duty, not going to the toilet. Lock is standing in line for you,’ the sixth former said.
The boy ran to the line. Lock, another second former, was towards the front.
‘What are you doing?’ a fifth former asked.
‘Swapping with Lock.’
Lock punched someone behind him and ran laughing from the line. The boy grabbed two plates and beat Lock back to the table.
‘Go, Harper,’ someone called from his table. The boy ducked and weaved to the line, he’d made up three places. He dodged fake punches and faked punches back, he was told off for mucking around. He was the fastest boy, he thought he might be the fastest boy ever seen, he made up two more places. He was being cheered at his table. He smiled as he ducked in and out, he’d made up two more places. The supervising sixth former sent him to the back of the line, to the cheering and jostling from the rest of the boys. It was a distinction, being sent to the back of the line for being too fast. He was smiling and pushing back. A fifth former from his table came and took him back to the front of the line, then another fifth former did the same to his second former, until a teacher stood up and supervised the line.
‘Slow down,’ he snapped at Harper. The boy was pushed backwards and forwards and a couple of boys ruffled his hair. He couldn’t remember being so happy.
At the table while they ate their dinner, the sixth former asked why Darnley had hit him.
‘I don’t remember him hitting me,’ the boy said. The boys stopped eating and turned to him.
‘You didn’t see him hit you?’
‘No.’
‘But he knocked you out,’ a fourth former said.
The boy shook his head. ‘I don’t remember him hitting me.’
‘But you had to go sick bay.’
‘Did Four Stars take your clothes off for you?’
The boy replied sharply, ‘No way.’ Everybody laughed, the boy smiled.
‘Platmore said he saw Darnley hit you,’ the sixth former said. There was silence.
‘Yes,’ the boy answered.
‘Was Platmore in the corridor before you fainted?’
‘No,’ the boy said.
The boys turned their attention to the sixth former.
‘Did you tell any teachers you don’t remember Darnley hitting you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who?’
‘Mr Abbott.’
The sixth former talked quietly to the fifth former, who left the table. The third formers, the boy’s enemies, had said nothing to him the whole meal. Lock pretended to punch him in the stomach, the boy turned and did the same thing to Lock and the sixth former told him off, giving him another week’s table duty. This was greeted with a cheer. They had been the first table with all their meals.
After dinner the boy ran to the sixth form common room, one hand in his pocket holding the bullet. A few boys attempted to chase him but he outran them. He pushed his back to the wall, in his spot, panting. He watched boys file through, a few faked a punch to his stomach to which he made exaggerated ducking moves which were greeted with pushing and laughing. Binder came through with his gang.
‘Show me how Darnley hit you,’ Binder ordered.
‘No.’
‘You know what you’ll get if you don’t?’
‘I can’t, I don’t remember, I’d fainted.’
‘You fainted, you little girl,’ Binder said and turned looking for applause from his mates. He didn’t see the first four punches that landed on the back of his head. When he pushed back from the boy, the boy ran at him, kicking and flailing his arms. Binder staggered among his mates who were also ducking. Binder was sitting on the floor with his arms up protecting his face when the boy was plucked from him. His arms and legs still struck out while Double Daws held him three feet from the ground. Yelling and laughter filled the corridor. A group of second formers were cheering and running at the other third formers as if to bash them too. Binder scrambled backwards and was pulled to his feet. A few sixth formers shouted commands. Double Daws threw the boy to the floor where the second formers picked him up and crowded around him, jeering at the third formers.
Carmody arrived. The second formers ran, the boy was dropped on his backside, but quickly scrambled to his feet. The third formers also tried to run but a sixth former caught Binder by the collar. His legs flew out in front of him, he dropped to the floor, jumped up and was pushed against the wall by Double Daws’ massive hand pushing on his chest. Binder had a lump on the back of his head and reddening on his forehead and cheek. The boy ran at him again swinging his arms. Binder cringed and tried to slide away from the pressure Double Daws had on his chest.
Another sixth former caught the boy mid-flight around the waist and threw him against the opposite wall where he held him. The sixth formers were laughing, some folding double in merriment. The sixth former who held the boy nearly lost grip of him due to his laughter. Double Daws said ‘boo’ to Binder in a massive voice and Binder ducked. The boy saw this, he saw Binder as he had never seen him before. Binder, the threat and fear of all second formers, squirmed like a pinned insect, tears squirted from his eyes, reddening patches on his face. The boy realised he had done that, he looked at his fists, bunched like steel, he felt his arms as branches that could swing any weight. He pushed against the arm and elbow that pinned him to the wall, it pushed harder and the elbow dug deeper. He tried to look past the head of the boy who held him. When he saw Binder staring at him, the boy’s arms and legs began flailing again. A noise was coming from his mouth, he didn’t know what it was saying or even if it was saying words, he just felt the noise strain and tear at his throat. Another boy grabbed him and between the two of them they pushed and carried him to the other end of the corridor. He saw them release Binder and threw all his strength and strained every sinew in his throat to grab at him again. Binder was helped from the corridor by a swinging leg and laughter from the sixth formers. When Binder disappeared the boy collapsed to the floor. The sixth formers who had held him dropped back exclaiming at the boy’s ferocity as they laughed to each other. Eventually the boy looked up; smiling faces looked down on him.