Читать книгу Reluctant Hero - John Hickman - Страница 9

Bill spotted Alf rolling a smoke outside the school toilets. Engrossed with chatting up a girl, he never noticed when Bill stepped quietly around the back. As he stood silent in the shadows, Bill plotted his attack. Strong toilet smells and coping with his sweaty fear began to turn his stomach.

Not a good time to retch.

His wait seemed eternal. He clutched his bat until his grip was so firm he had trouble loosening it. Finally the girl became bored, wandered off and left Alf alone with his smoke. The coast was clear. Bill knew he would never have a better moment to seize his opportunity but fear of failure almost consumed him. If Alf sensed a problem or pre-empted Bill’s attack, he knew he would lose. The bigger boy would disarm Bill and thrash him severely.

Bill took one last deep breath. No turning back now! He stepped out of cover with his raised bat and lashed out at the big boy’s knee.

Alf saw the bat coming but distracted with his smoke, too late. Whack! The bat connected. Alf let out a shriek and went down like a sack of spuds. That’s easy, thought Bill. He’s down! Now to keep him down.

‘You little fucker!’ cried Alf.

Bill didn’t hesitate. His dad’s words rang in his ears. ‘You end it, Son. And fast.’

He knew to win he had to finish it. He brought his bat down so hard on Alf’s foot he thought he heard it crush his toes. Alf groaned and stayed down with a whimper. Bill hit him again hard across the fleshy part of his back. He heard—a dull splat, like a slab of raw meat dropped onto the counter at the butcher’s shop. He realised he dare not get too carried away. If he hit Alf on the head he might kill him and although he wanted to, he was afraid of the consequences.

Down came Bill’s bat, again and again. Woofs and sighs as he pummelled into Alf. Every sinew in Bill’s body was pumping. Every now and again, a wet clap followed by a groan.

‘Try and get up,’ roared Bill. ‘Come on, fight like a fuckin’ man!’ But Alf couldn’t. He started to sob. His eyes went bloodshot.

‘Please, Bill. Stop! You’re hurting me.’

‘At least yer called me Bill. I’m not sweet little Willy Honeykins any more, am I? You big useless fucker!’

Alf inclined his head. His mouth gaped open in astonishment at the punishment he’d received.

Bill paused, rotated on the spot. His eyes wild. ‘Your reputation’s bad, Alf. If yer don’t want to defend yourself like a man, here’s one more. Arsehole!’

This time Bill swung his bat higher and harder. Thump! The big one! He hit Alf across his right hand. Alf screamed with pain.

Bill smelled victory and it was sweet. He promised more and worse to come with his clenched fist. ‘If yer ever come near me again, I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill yer, Alf. Yer hear that?’

There was a long dazed silence. Bill felt a muffled nothingness, as though he had watched this scene played out from inside a glass bubble. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

Alf knew he was in trouble. The second day would be worse and nothing could stop bruises from showing the third day. Alf sucked in his breath. He looked pitiful. ‘I’m sorry about your bat, Bill. I’ll never bloody do that again’

‘Do yer promise?’

‘I promise!’

Bill felt sudden remorse but tried not to show it. Alf’s tear stained face and lank brown hair no longer made him look threatening. Bill straightened up and as he did Alf flinched and cowered back.

Bill placed his bat back under his arm. ‘You and I are through, Alf. Unless you or your bully mates want to make it otherwise.’

Bill didn’t walk away; he swaggered, pugnacious and arrogant with victory.

Next day Alf was in awful shape. He felt so crushed and disjointed, he wondered what joints might be broken. He had more discolouration than if he’d been wrapped in cases of fruit fallen off a lorry. His knee cap swelled-up and swirling purple galaxies of blue-black bruises spread across his entire back, which he kept hidden. His damaged hand was twice its normal size and throbbed like hell. As he limped about his breathing was ragged; word was he passed blood in his urine for days.

When he was asked what had happened to him, Alf evoked the Notting Hill code of silence. No one suspected Bill. Everyone thought Alf’s comeuppance was from bigger boys he’d upset. After much shaking of heads the matter quickly became old news.

From then on Bill changed. He became more confident and strutted around like a cock in a henhouse but always with his comforter, the bat. When Alf’s crew were nearby he turned and faced them. Bat high in the air ready to strike without taking his eyes off theirs. But as predicted, Alf and his mates gave Bill a wide berth and left him alone.

‘For Christ’s sake leave him be,’ Alf told his cronies. ‘If yer don’t, he’ll come up behind yer with that bloody bat in his hand.’

‘He’s not that big. We could always take his bat from him, again,’ suggested Stan.

‘Fuck no! Without his bat he might use something worse,’ said Jack. ‘Like a claw hammer.’

‘Just leave him alone,’ groaned Alf.

The tables had turned and Bill savoured his hold over them. Their talk near Bill was conducted in knowing nods and shrugs and whenever they could they avoided him.

Bill became cocky and baited them.

‘Come on then you arseholes. Let’s see how tough you are now. Weekend warriors are yer? I dare yer. Try to take me bat and I’ll fuckin’ kill yer with it!’

‘Fuck-off, Billy boy,’ Stan said nervously, ‘we’ve got no fight with you.’

Bill continued to provoke them. ‘Love me or hate me, yer bastards. But yer can’t ignore me! If yer do, I’ll have yer.’

And Bill, without any provocation, would wade into them with his bat, scattering them and causing those big bully-boys to back-off and run away.

Like kicked mongrel dogs they looked for easier prey to intimidate. They never messed with Bill again.

Lily was supportive. ‘Whoever Alf’s God is in his mercy, He might forgive him for your missing teeth,’ she sniffed. ‘But I never will.’

‘Thing is, Dad, when the worst of the damage was being done to him, it didn’t sound that bad.’

‘I told you, Son. Sometimes it’s more blessed to give than receive,’ smirked Fred.