Agnes Owens by Agnes Owens Read Free Book Online Page B

shoutin’ oot o’ the class at playtime?’
    â€˜Aye.’
    â€˜It wisny as if I wis spyin’ on ye, but it began tae dawn on me that efter ye came whoopin’ an’ shoutin’ the same as everybody else, ye disappeared intae thin air. One day I wanted tae ask ye for the len’ o’ yer sandshoes for drill but I couldny find ye anywhere.’
    Tolworth looked at the glass of whisky in his hand sadly. I could sense there was a big confession coming.
    â€˜I widny tell anyone else but you,’ he hesitated, then continued. ‘As you know I’ve always been very allergic to pain, on account of gettin’ battered from ma auld man when he was drunk. Ma bones were always that sore that I couldny stand any shovin’ or punchin’, and nobody wid play wi’ me anyway. So I used to run straight oot and wait inside the toilet till the bell rang.’
    I looked at him with genuine compassion. Imagine standing for fifteen good playtime minutes in the toilet, waiting for the bell to ring to get back to the torture. I put my hand on his shoulder as a measure of my sympathy. ‘Ye’ve had a terrible life,’ I said when he ordered another two glasses. He began to unburden himself even further.
    â€˜Do you know, many’s a time I was standing at the school gate at seven in the morning.’
    I was aghast. ‘I always thought ye were brainy but I didny think ye were that keen on school.’
    â€˜It wisny that,’ he said with such an air of tragedy that I was dreading what he was going to say. ‘You see, ma auld mansometimes sat up a’ night drinkin’. He hudny a clue whit the time was. He would stagger through to ma room to get me up for school and if I didny get up he would pull the blankets aff and pour cauld water over me. It wis better to wait at the gates, even in the winter, than argue wi’ him.’
    I felt a lump in my throat. Tolworth blew his nose on a spotless white handkerchief, saying in a matter-of-fact way, ‘Oh well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.’
    At this point I ordered two whiskies, being the decent thing to do in the circumstances. After that everything became fuzzy. Whatever we discussed or how I got home I don’t know, but the next apparent event was my mother shaking me hard and bawling in my ear, ‘There’s a fella wantin’ tae speak tae ye.’
    I sat up, surprised to see I was in bed. I tried to pull myself together.
    â€˜Whit’s the time. Is it Sunday?’
    â€˜It’s half-past four, and it’s still Saturday.’
    Thankfully I lay back. The evening was still ahead of me untouched.
    â€˜D’ye hear whit I’m sayin’? There’s a fella wantin’ tae speak tae ye. Strikes me as bein’ one o’ these queers.’
    My mother had queers on the brain due to a recent television play. Even I was under suspicion.
    I said, ‘Tell him tae beat it.’
    â€˜Tell him yersel. He’s waitin’ in the living room.’
    In a stinking mood I stumbled out of bed. It was Tolworth awaiting. There wasn’t much resemblance to the neatly dressed fellow I had first met. There were more creases in his suit than a concertina. His shirt hung outside his trousers and there was no sign of a tie. He clutched me by the vest and said in a sickening whine, ‘You’ll have to help me. There’s a mob after me. I don’t know what to do.’
    My mother viewed the scene with arms folded and nodding her head as if her worst expectations had been confirmed. ‘Who’s this then?’ she challenged.
    I explained that he was Tolworth McGee alias Toly. Surprise and recognition softened her. She asked, ‘How’re ye keepin’ and how’s yer mither an’ faither?’
    In between the snivelling Toly replied, ‘Fine,’ then returned to the snivelling. My mother became bored with the lack of information and said,