The Second Year September 1967

After being on the run for years Richard Kimble finally caught up with the one armed man and proved his innocence in The Fugitive. In some ways I was sorry. I’d miss seeing him get away by the skin of his teeth every week. Even when he escaped by swimming a river, he’d still pop up with the same jacket and briefcase in the next episode.

“Another town another place, same old jacket, same old case. Some things never change for a fugitive.”

I missed the beginning of the new term. Why, I can’t remember, but the consequence of being a day or two late smacked me in the eye when I entered Miss Lake’s 2A1 classroom. While Burty and the rest sat paired up behind their desks, I stood at the front of the class, having handed Miss Lake my dinner money and a note from my mam.

‘Right Gerard, let’s find you somewhere to sit,’ said a cheery Miss Lake, rising from her chair.

My heart sank when she led me to a vacant desk beside the only person in class sitting alone.

‘There, you can sit next to Helen.’

‘Oh God, no. This isn’t fair. I should be sitting with Burty, not some new girl that nobody else wants to sit next to. I’d rather sit on my own.’

How I regretted missing the first day back. A sideways glance at the new girl only made things worse.

‘Look at the face on her, miserable cow. Of all the rotten luck.’

(This was my first impression of Helen Gales. New to the school and alone in a class full of kids she didn’t know, she now had me plonked beside her. Since I was hardly a little ray of sunshine myself, no wonder she looked morose.)

I was amazed to see the change in some kids over the holidays. Some were noticeably taller, others noticeably broader. Some just looked different, though I struggled to see why. Other things hadn’t changed at all...

‘Pack it in! Shut your cakehole! Get off, you toe rag! Clear off before I smash your face in! Don’t be a pillock all your life! I’ll pan your head in. Get knotted! Do you want a chinese burn? No, do you want filling in? Get lost you berk. Who are you calling a berk, mush?’

No, not people falling out with each other, just the language of the playground as old friends got reacquainted and carried on where they left off. We knew much stronger words, of course, but they weren’t for general playground use.

Some of the new first years looked tiny compared to us. If they were nervous, I knew how they felt. Their worries were mine a year before, but we were the big kids in the lower school playground now and life was sweeter. There were lots of things to look forward to, not least going home ten minutes earlier, at the new time of ten to four. I liked Miss Lake too, even if she had plonked me next to Helen Gales. After a year with Mister Potts, King Herod would have been an improvement. But every silver lining has a cloud; Mister Potts would still be taking us for Maths and Geography.

Laughter from Stanley Slaughter meant business as usual. Fresh from a school trip to somewhere in Europe, he told a tale that had my eyes popping. An unnamed girl, low on holiday funds, had come to the boys’ room with a proposition or, as Stan put it ‘put a tanner each in the kitty and I’ll show you my tits.’

‘And?’

‘Well we did… and she did!’

More laughter from Stan and laughter from me, though mine was tinged with envy. I’d never been on one of those trips and never wanted to either, until then. How I wished I’d been on that one.

Stanley Slaughter, joker in the pack, couldn’t go anywhere without laughing at something or someone. Loud and proud, Stan was his usual boisterous self on the bus home from school. Occupying a space on one of the three-seaters at the rear, he was in good form and as always, attracting attention. Facing him was Diane Wright, an Upbury senior. Though I didn’t know her that well, I knew her well enough to say hello and so I should, as she lived next door to me on Crundale Road. Hard as she tried to mind her own business, Diane couldn’t avoid looking through her thick chunky glasses at the buck toothed loudmouth sitting opposite her.

‘What are you staring at, Windows?

I shouldn’t have burst out laughing, I know I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. Sorry, Diane.