21

The sight of Clarence on the wall soon cured Joseph of his tiredness, replacing it with a sense of dread, which kickstarted his flagging limbs.

Wherever he looked, he sensed trouble – danger, even, in its many guises.

There was Mr Gryce (and Clarence, of course) threatening to test both his manners and his reading, and there was Bert and Jimmy, with whom further clashes seemed inevitable.

Even the prospect of time with Miss Doherty made his heart pump and his stomach churn. Not out of fear; she was a rare gentle soul in this place, though she held the key to relative peace in the classroom. Yet one misguided question or an attempt at getting him reading and the touchpaper would be lit. Of all the dangers that lined his path, though, she was the one he was happiest to run into first.

‘Good morning, Joseph,’ she said softly, face hopeful rather than confident.

He grunted something in turn, not wanting to encourage a conversation.

‘I’m very pleased you’re here bright and early,’ she continued, but again Joseph decided not to answer. From what the clock told him, he was actually bang on time, and as for bright? Well, the bags under his eyes told him she was wrong on both scores.

‘I thought we could start our day with some mathematics,’ she said. There was a look on her face, a kind of pleading, like she was trying to gauge if mathematics would rouse his aggression the same way that reading had. He saw her shoulders drop in relief when all he offered was a noncommittal shrug, before sinking heavily into his chair.

It didn’t take the rest of the class long to file in – there weren’t many of them, after all. Syd appeared first (having finally left Joseph’s side for a few minutes), with short keen strides that saw her scamper to a seat as close to the teacher’s as possible, followed by a gaggle of the younger kids, and then, of course, Bert and Jimmy.

It may have been the time he’d been spending at the zoo, but the second he saw them, Joseph couldn’t help but see them in animal form, as the predators they were. There was a slyness to their movements, and a pack mentality that made Joseph think instantly of the wolves, though these two were marginally better fed, and undoubtedly more dangerous.

‘ ’Ey up!’ boomed Bert in a mock-northern accent that sounded nothing like Joseph’s. ‘The rag-and-bone lad is back, I see.’ Of course Jimmy found this hilarious, unlike Joseph, who stared into the distance, aware of the sudden tension in his jaw.

‘Don’t be like that,’ sneered Jimmy. ‘Can’t you see this is hard enough for him as it is? I mean his family must really hate him to send him away to play with all the bombs.’

Their laughter was covered by the scraping of Joseph’s chair as he flew to his feet – not to mention the gasps of the other children and Miss Doherty’s frantic footsteps as she forced herself between the boys.

‘Now that is ENOUGH!’ she yelled, eyes flitting between the warring parties. ‘Bert, Jimmy, take yourselves to the far table. Joseph, you stay where you are.’

No one moved.

‘Now. Unless you want me to call for Mr Gryce.’

Unsurprisingly, this saw all three of them do as they were told, albeit reluctantly, Bert kicking sneakily at Joseph’s chair leg as he passed.

‘Now, children,’ Miss Doherty went on, ‘on your desks you will find your maths textbooks. I expect twenty minutes of silent work as you pick up from where you left off last time.’ She turned to Joseph, without moving any closer. ‘Joseph, I have left a short test for you so I can assess what you already know. Please don’t feel intimidated if there are sums there that are beyond you. Just, you know, do your best and let me know when you have finished.’ And she scurried off behind her desk, fearful of being caught in a similar crossfire to last time.

Minutes later she noticed Joseph’s hand in the air – an improvement on him turning over desks.

‘Yes, Joseph?’ she asked.

‘Finished, Miss,’ he said, sheepishly.

‘Really?’

He saw her forehead wrinkle in surprise and heard Bert laugh sarcastically. But he pushed his anger down after being told to bring his work up to her desk.

‘Let me see now,’ Miss Doherty said, her pencil tracing his answers, eyebrows raising higher and higher as she scribbled tick after tick after tick. ‘Too easy for you, these, clearly!’ she said, and Joseph sensed excitement in her, not that he understood why. Sums like this were easy.

‘Try this page,’ she said, handing him a different book which housed a lot more numbers than the first. He did as he was told without fuss, or enthusiasm, but still found himself in front of her again ten minutes later, looking at the same long line of ticks and an even bigger grin on his teacher’s face.

‘Joseph!’ she beamed. ‘Where did you learn to do this?’

He shrugged, not out of churlishness, but out of honesty. He didn’t know. He’d always found sums as easy as he found reading hard. ‘They’re just puzzles, aren’t they,’ he said, quietly enough so only Miss Doherty could hear.

‘Well that’s true,’ she replied, much louder, ‘but some are also puzzles that I’d not expect you to be able to solve for another two years. So I’m surprised. Delighted, obviously.’ She paused, her eyes not leaving his. ‘In fact, would you excuse me, just for a minute or two.’ And after picking up his books, she bustled from the room, leaving Bert and Jimmy with the opportunity they’d been looking for.

‘Oy, Einstein,’ leered Bert. ‘Where’ve you got the answers hidden, then? Cos you definitely didn’t work ’em out yourself.’

Joseph didn’t look away, though nor did he focus on Jimmy’s face. His blood, still simmering from the earlier barbs, caught fire, the heat in his chest spreading quickly.

‘Can’t see old Gryce believing you, either. Wasn’t just your arse he marked first time round. Was your card, too. He’ll work out you’re a cheat – even if Miss can’t.’

Joseph was over the desk before he knew it. He’d heard enough, his fist full of Bert’s jumper, pulling the boy towards him.

‘Say that again. I dare you.’

The only thing was, Bert did dare. This was the sort of confrontation he loved, though opportunities these days were precious few. War robbed people of different things, and ironically, given the battles raging across Europe, it had cost Bert the fights that had fed his ego so satisfactorily since he’d started school.

‘What’s your problem, Palmer? Truth hurt? You’re a cheat.’

Joseph gripped harder. ‘You don’t know anything ’bout me.’

‘That right? See, I reckon I know plenty. Doesn’t take much to work out that you don’t belong here. And that no one wants you here, neither.’

Joseph didn’t think he needed help. He was rarely in fights when he didn’t come out on top one way or another, but on this occasion, he was beaten to the punch.

Not by Bert. Or Jimmy either. But by Syd, pushing Bert so hard that she almost sent him and Joseph crashing over the desk to the floor.

‘That’s rubbish. There’s plenty of people want Joseph around, so don’t you dare speak for me, Bert Conaghan.’

Bert looked at her, incredulous. ‘This has got nothing to do with you. I mean, who are you, his sweetheart, or something? Get lost.’

This of course merely spurred Syd on.

‘Make me,’ she replied. But Bert didn’t have to, as Jimmy stepped in instead.

Syd may have been able to beat them with her intellect, but physically it was a mismatch, and Jimmy made her back-pedal by lifting her by the arms and sitting her on a desk.

All eyes were back on Bert and Joseph now, and Miss Doherty was still nowhere to be seen.

‘Come on then, Palmer,’ Bert spat, fist cocked.

Joseph knew what the boy was doing. He was goading him because he didn’t want to throw the first punch. That way, he could say he was only acting in self-defence. But what Bert didn’t know, was that at that moment, Joseph didn’t care about blame, or punishment, or even another short dance with Clarence. All he wanted to do was inflict the anger he was feeling on the runt in front of him.

So he did exactly that: a single straight jab that parked Bert on his backside, demolishing a chair on the way down.

That was the point when pandemonium should’ve kicked in. Joseph expected it.

There was a groan from Bert as he looked around him, disorientated, looking at the floor in confusion. His hands wrestled with the ground, trying to build a base from which to spring, and Joseph felt the storm coming, and braced himself, only for it to be blown off course at the last second by the return of Miss Doherty.

Her eyes widened.

‘Oh dear,’ she gasped. ‘Oh dear, what has happened here?’

Everyone in the room knew that this wasn’t really a question she needed to ask.

Joseph waited for Bert to do his worst. He’d not stand down or unclench his fists, not even if Clarence wanted to kiss his palms. Bert had got what was coming to him and he’d have done it yesterday if he’d had the chance.

Syd, though, was as clever as Joseph was defiant, positioning herself between the teacher and Bert.

‘Clumsiness!’ she declared. ‘That’s what happened, Miss. That and showing off. Bert was trying to balance on the chair.’

Miss Doherty blinked several times, as if this answer was having trouble reaching her brain. It wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting, nor did it feel particularly plausible to Joseph.

‘Bert? Is that true?’

Bert returned his gaze to Joseph, mouth twitching somewhere between a grimace and what might have been a smirk. He’d wipe it off with pleasure, the second Bert piped up with the truth.

But it seemed the truth had been blown off course as well.

‘Chair wasn’t strong enough, Miss,’ Bert said simply.

‘I can see that,’ the teacher replied, though she was clearly still bemused. ‘Well, put everything back and stop being so silly.’

‘Yes, Miss,’ said Bert, climbing to his feet but with steely eyes still on Joseph.

Joseph watched him go. He was shocked. Bert had had everything he needed to see Joseph packed off to the head’s office.

But he’d chosen not to use it. He’d chosen to play along with the lie, and Joseph knew that could only mean bad news. Because whatever Bert was plotting, it had to be worse than Clarence. And that, no matter how brave or pig-headed Joseph could be, was not something he wanted to be on the end of.