• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 598 0

he never would. And rugby, which he had so looked forward to playing, was a violent nightmare; a game in which even one’s friends would think nothing of tripping one up and kicking one in the ribs. There was none of that at Steiner’s, where aggressive ball games were not encouraged. By the time he reached the Steiner’s gate he was exhausted. Running all the way from Watson’s had given him a stitch, and the nagging pain from Jock’s kick was still present. He had hurt his wrist, too, in his fall, perhaps from clutching the ball as he went down. That was a sharp pain, that seemed to come and go, but which made him catch his breath and wince each time it made itself felt.

He slipped through the gate and walked slowly to the shed at the edge of the garden. He did not bother about being seen now; there was no secret any more – or no secret worth keeping. Entering the shed, he kicked over the bucket under which his clothes were stuffed. There were his familiar dungarees and his checked shirt. But there were no shoes, of course, as he had left those in the changing room at Watson’s. Those were gone forever, then, as was his new plum-coloured blazer and his tie. Those at least he had no use for; it was different with his shoes – the loss of these would have to be explained to his mother.

The rugby kit abandoned on the floor of the shed, Bertie made his way to his classroom. The door was closed, but through the glass panel he could make out the figures of his classmates, all seated in a circle. He took a deep breath and entered the room.

Miss Harmony looked up as Bertie came in. She smiled, and indicated to the empty place which awaited him.

“You’re a little late today, Bertie,” she said. “But no matter. Going Back

145

We’re doing some drawing and I know you’re good at that!”

Bertie sat down and sank his head in his hands. He was aware of the interest of his fellow pupils – of Tofu’s stare, of Olive’s more discreet, and concerned, glance. They would have noticed his rugby boots, he thought, or heard them at least, as the studs had made a loud clicking noise on the floor. They would also be laughing at his dungarees, of course, once they had finished laughing at his boots.

After a few minutes, he became aware of Miss Harmony crouching beside his table. She had bent down and was whispering in his ear: “We were very worried, Bertie. That funny note you sent me – that was very odd, you know.”

Bertie looked up at her. She was smiling, and had placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispered.

“I won’t show it to anybody. I’m on your side, you know.”

Bertie stared fixedly at the table surface. He had not expected this. He had thought there would be recriminations and a summons to the office. He had not expected sympathy.

“You see,” went on Miss Harmony, quietly so that even the neighbouring tables could not hear, “this school is based on love and respect. We love one another and look after one another. So we all love you, Bertie, because you are one of us. And if there is anything wrong, then you can tell us about it, and we will try to help – because we love you.”

“My mother . . .” Bertie began. But he did not know what to say, and so he stopped. And as he stopped, he felt the pressure of Miss Harmony’s hand tighten upon his shoulder.

“I know,” she said. “Sometimes mothers make it difficult for their boys. They don’t mean to, you know. The trick is not to let it worry you.”

“She makes me wear dungarees,” said Bertie. “And I feel so silly.”

Miss Harmony nodded. “Would you like me to talk to her about that?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Bertie. “But she won’t listen.”

“Well, I can try,” said Miss Harmony. “There’s no harm in trying.” She paused, and looked down at Bertie’s boots. “We 146 Going Back

have some spare shoes in a cupboard downstairs,” she said.

“Should we go and have a look for a pair that fits you?”

They left the classroom together and went downstairs, Bertie hobbling now from the pain in his chafed ankles. “Poor Bertie,”

said Miss Harmony. “Here – take my arm. Lean on me.”

There was a pair