‘He lets them get on wi’ things, and if they happen to get theirselves killed, well, that’s it. He looks at them, and if they’ve been good, he takes them to a better place.’
‘Was my mam good?’
‘Aye. Very good.’
‘Has she gone to a better place?’
‘Oh aye. Happen.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Up there. In heaven.’
Henry looked up at the scudding clouds. Sometimes the sky was blue and you could see that it was empty. He found it difficult to believe that his mother could be up there.
He felt a spot of rain.
‘Is rain t’ people up there crying?’ he said.
‘I don’t reckon so,’ said Ezra. ‘They’re happy up there.’
‘Doesn’t she miss us?’
‘Oh aye. She misses us. But she hopes she’ll see us one day. That’s why it’s so important for thee to be good.’
Ezra was quite proud of that, and also a little ashamed.
‘Tha’s a lucky lad to be wi’ Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate,’ said Ezra. ‘I doubt this war’ll go on while next Christmas or more. Owt can happen to me, tha knows. Look at it this road. Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate, they’re thy parents now.’
‘I don’t reckon there is a God,’ said Henry. ‘If there was, he wouldn’t have killed me mam.’
Henry exchanged a big mother and a small father for a small mother and a big father, and life went on. At first, the nights were the worst times. His bed, which had been a womb, had become a prison. Perhaps, when your mother had died, you could no longer go back to wombs.
One day, not long after it had happened, he saw Simon and Patrick Eckington waiting for him, on his road home from school, and his blood ran cold.
Patrick Eckington’s freckled face was blazing. He thrust a brown paper parcel into Henry’s hands.
‘Peace offering,’ he mumbled.
Henry took it as if he had been handed a bomb. He opened it cautiously. It was a book about birds and animals. On the fly-leaf, there was written, ‘To Henry, from his friends Simon and Patrick.’
‘Thanks,’ said Henry.
‘Are we friends again, then?’ said Simon.
‘Happen,’ said Henry.
One day, Henry and Simon climbed Mickleborough. On the way up, they saw a peregrine falcon. At the top they knighted each other. First Henry knighted Sir Simon Eckington of that Ilk (they knew now it wasn’t Ilkley). Then Sir Simon knighted Lord Pratt of Mitherdale (Thurmarsh was forgotten) and explained that he had never wanted to be beastly to his chum, but had been forced to, owing to the threats of his elder brother, Sir Freckle de Fish-face, who had regarded Lord Pratt of Mitherdale as a filthy swot, and a silly twerp to boot. Sir Simon apologised. Lord Pratt accepted. They became friends again, a little awkwardly at first perhaps, never quite the same again perhaps, but friends.
Miss Candy gave Henry special attention without the other children realising it. Even Jane Lugg and Pam Yardley declared an unspoken, uneasy truce. Lorna Arrow made passes at him. (Can it be that our podgy hero is going to turn out to be attractive to women? Women are strange in these matters. We have seen on what dross the lovely Turnbull sisters threw themselves away.) Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate no longer felt that they had to hold back to avoid stealing a mother’s love. Not that they spoilt him. Food wasn’t too short up here. You had your own pig, and you used every bit bar t’ squeak. But thrift was still the order of the day. Auntie Kate put a bottle of borax by the wash-basin to add to the water in order to use less soap (even if at the cost of using more borax, a perfectionist might complain). She washed plum and prune stones, cracked them and retrieved the kernels. She made buttons out of small circles of calico. She encouraged still greater effort in the saving of scrap metal and waste paper. (Luckily she never knew that Jackie kept all her love letters
and
bound them with elastic bands.) Nevertheless, they treated Henry now as if he was the son they had never had. Love and
‘Was my mam good?’
‘Aye. Very good.’
‘Has she gone to a better place?’
‘Oh aye. Happen.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Up there. In heaven.’
Henry looked up at the scudding clouds. Sometimes the sky was blue and you could see that it was empty. He found it difficult to believe that his mother could be up there.
He felt a spot of rain.
‘Is rain t’ people up there crying?’ he said.
‘I don’t reckon so,’ said Ezra. ‘They’re happy up there.’
‘Doesn’t she miss us?’
‘Oh aye. She misses us. But she hopes she’ll see us one day. That’s why it’s so important for thee to be good.’
Ezra was quite proud of that, and also a little ashamed.
‘Tha’s a lucky lad to be wi’ Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate,’ said Ezra. ‘I doubt this war’ll go on while next Christmas or more. Owt can happen to me, tha knows. Look at it this road. Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate, they’re thy parents now.’
‘I don’t reckon there is a God,’ said Henry. ‘If there was, he wouldn’t have killed me mam.’
Henry exchanged a big mother and a small father for a small mother and a big father, and life went on. At first, the nights were the worst times. His bed, which had been a womb, had become a prison. Perhaps, when your mother had died, you could no longer go back to wombs.
One day, not long after it had happened, he saw Simon and Patrick Eckington waiting for him, on his road home from school, and his blood ran cold.
Patrick Eckington’s freckled face was blazing. He thrust a brown paper parcel into Henry’s hands.
‘Peace offering,’ he mumbled.
Henry took it as if he had been handed a bomb. He opened it cautiously. It was a book about birds and animals. On the fly-leaf, there was written, ‘To Henry, from his friends Simon and Patrick.’
‘Thanks,’ said Henry.
‘Are we friends again, then?’ said Simon.
‘Happen,’ said Henry.
One day, Henry and Simon climbed Mickleborough. On the way up, they saw a peregrine falcon. At the top they knighted each other. First Henry knighted Sir Simon Eckington of that Ilk (they knew now it wasn’t Ilkley). Then Sir Simon knighted Lord Pratt of Mitherdale (Thurmarsh was forgotten) and explained that he had never wanted to be beastly to his chum, but had been forced to, owing to the threats of his elder brother, Sir Freckle de Fish-face, who had regarded Lord Pratt of Mitherdale as a filthy swot, and a silly twerp to boot. Sir Simon apologised. Lord Pratt accepted. They became friends again, a little awkwardly at first perhaps, never quite the same again perhaps, but friends.
Miss Candy gave Henry special attention without the other children realising it. Even Jane Lugg and Pam Yardley declared an unspoken, uneasy truce. Lorna Arrow made passes at him. (Can it be that our podgy hero is going to turn out to be attractive to women? Women are strange in these matters. We have seen on what dross the lovely Turnbull sisters threw themselves away.) Uncle Frank and Auntie Kate no longer felt that they had to hold back to avoid stealing a mother’s love. Not that they spoilt him. Food wasn’t too short up here. You had your own pig, and you used every bit bar t’ squeak. But thrift was still the order of the day. Auntie Kate put a bottle of borax by the wash-basin to add to the water in order to use less soap (even if at the cost of using more borax, a perfectionist might complain). She washed plum and prune stones, cracked them and retrieved the kernels. She made buttons out of small circles of calico. She encouraged still greater effort in the saving of scrap metal and waste paper. (Luckily she never knew that Jackie kept all her love letters
and
bound them with elastic bands.) Nevertheless, they treated Henry now as if he was the son they had never had. Love and
Similar Books
