The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir (11 page)

27

M
um found the kettle in the oven. No one knows how it got in there but it’s obvious to me. Something is going on. If Dad was here, we would get the metal stepladders from the scullery and go up into the attic together. I’m sure Margueretta’s right. There’s something terrible up there and that’s why Mum keeps saying she will go into the attic but never does. Something really bad is going to happen.

And another thing. I’ve been staring out of my bedroom window every single night and not once have I seen that German woman getting undressed in front of the window. Mum says you can’t believe a word that Joan says and I’m beginning to think she’s right, although I have met Old Man Dumby and he let me stroke his rabbits. But I can’t be sure if he drowned any of them. You have to speak very slowly to his face so he can lip read. Now that I know he can read my lips, I might ask him about the drownings and the bulging eyes next time I see him. Then again, I might not.

Mum has to leave the house a lot because we have black floors downstairs. That’s the thing with black floors. You can’t be around them for too long or you will go stark staring bonkers and anything could happen. If we had the money, we would cover the floors with yellow lino because yellow is my mum’s favorite color. Yellow would remind her of the sun and she would be happy every day instead of sad. Orange would also be good.

I don’t get sad because I am a happy boy. That’s why people rub my hair and smile at me, especially when we are at the launderette and I am helping Mum put the dirty clothes in the washing machine. As soon as I am bigger,
Mum says I will be going to the launderette all on my own and that will be a big help for her when it comes to the weekly wash.

Margueretta beat me again today. She waits for Mum to go out. It’s the same every day and I should know that just because we don’t have a cellar for her to lock me in, I still should not have been born and everything would be better if I was dead.

She gets me down on the floor and sits on me. I’m very small for my age and I only have myself to blame because I stopped drinking milk, except on my cornflakes, and I can’t expect to grow up big and strong if I don’t drink my milk. She sits on my stomach and digs her knees into my shoulders. Then she twists the little bit of hair that’s right above my ears until my eyes water but I never cry. And she makes a big glob of spit on her lips and slowly lets it fall into my face. I screw my mouth shut tight. I don’t want my sister’s spit in my mouth. I don’t like the way it smells. And when she lets me get back up, I run and hide. The coal bunker is the best place to hide because no one knows I am in there. But it’s very dark in the coal bunker and there are spiders and beetles and slugs in the corners. One day I am going to clean out all the dirt and insects and make the coal bunker into my secret house. And I will put my robot back together and get some new batteries.

I want to be happy tonight. I should be happy tonight but I am sad. I had to come out of the coal bunker eventually when Mum kept calling my name.

“Oh, there you are. It’s your dad! I’ve been looking for you. Your daddy!”

“Daddy?”

“Yes! For you!”

“Where is he?”

“Oh, he’s not here. He sent you something.”

“What is it?”

“A postcard. Addressed to you! From your daddy!”

“A postcard?”

It’s a postcard with a picture of Scottish Soldiers in their kilts.

POSTMARK: July 21, 1965

Dear Wee Johnny,

Trust you are looking after Mum, as you are the man of the house now. Are you doing a good job? Yes! I thought you would.

Lots of love and good luck, and I hope to see you soon. Keep your chin up.

Your loving Daddy

XXXXX

Mum says that I am the man of the house how because I am seven years old. I’m going to keep the postcard under my pillow. I’m going to keep it there until Daddy comes home. It has five kisses. Five is a lot. Five is more than four. I will give him five kisses when he comes home.

28

I
t is best to hide under the blankets when there’s a thunderstorm and press your pillow round your head as hard as you can. Thunder makes your blood pound in your ears like the ocean. The problem with thunder is you can’t see it and it makes things shake and feels like it’s right over your head and will suffocate you like a giant black cloak of seaweed. And lightning makes your bedroom light up suddenly in the dark and you might see something that should not be there. I’ve seen lots of things that shouldn’t be there.

Thunderstorms make you want to go to the toilet in the middle of the night. And it was a huge thunderstorm in the middle of the night that made me want to pee. That’s how I ended up in the toilet, pushing out the pee as fast as I could and looking at that green rubber handle and waiting for it to twitch and turn into a face dangling there. And the lightning flashed through the window and lit up the toilet and made a long shadow of something that was bigger than me, something that shouldn’t be there. And I stared at the rubber handle and the thunder cracked and made my legs wobble and I never waited to finish peeing when the lightning came again.

I just ran. I didn’t even flush the toilet. I ran back into my bed and put the blanket over my head and waited. I waited and waited under the blanket but there was no more lightning and no more thunder. Just the rain coming down against the window and the wind blowing in the tall weeds in the garden below.

And that’s when it began.

It started like a small dog whining and getting ready to howl. Then it howled long and high and cried and the howling turned into a scream. And the scream came again and again. I think it was a girl’s voice. Yes, a girl. And I knew where it was coming from. Anyone would know.

It was a girl.

Screaming in the attic.

There was just the rain and the screaming. The rain on the window and the screaming in the attic. And even though I knew I shouldn’t do it—I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled the blankets down away from my face and stared up at the ceiling, up at the attic door right above my bed.

I stared at the door and waited. Mum told me not to stare at that attic door. Sooner or later, something would happen. The screaming stopped. And right at that moment, I saw it.

The attic door jumped up.

It jumped up and came back down with a thump.

29

T
his morning, I told Mum about the screaming and the attic door and she said it was all nonsense and I am a boy with a very vivid imagination and it’s no wonder I heard things, being woken up in the middle of the night with all that thunder and lightning.

“Anyway,” Mum said, “you need a hobby. So I’ve enrolled you in the Cub Scouts.”

“What?”

“I’ve enrolled you in the Second Garden City Cub Scouts. It will be good for you. They do things like make knots and go camping.”

“I don’t want to make knots. Or go camping.”

“You don’t know until you try it. You will be an Owl.”

“An Owl?”

“Yes. They have packs. You’re in the Owl Pack. I think it was owls. Or it may be the Hawk Pack. Anyway, it’s birds of prey. They have a motto and everything.”

“You can make camp fires,” Margueretta said, jabbing me in the stomach. “And perhaps you’ll burn the tent down!”

“Well, it’s tonight. You have to be sworn in, and they said to polish your shoes and take a clean handkerchief.”

“We haven’t got any shoe polish. And I haven’t got a handkerchief!”

“We’ll have to improvise. I’ve got one of your nana’s old hankies. You can take that.”

Cub Scouts did not start well. I knew this would happen because Mum just doesn’t listen to me and when I said we did not have any shoe polish, she completely ignored me and gave me one of Nana’s old hankies. I am a disgrace to the whole history of scouting and an insult to the memory of Baden-Powell. He’s the man who invented the scouts. Things will have to improve dramatically if I ever expect to become a Leaping Wolf.

And it wasn’t just my shoes. I had to show my clean hanky to Akela, who is our leader and a symbol of wisdom and authority. He asked me if I thought it was a joke. It might well be a clean hanky but the lace around the edges and a pink
A
embroidered on the corner was a further insult to the good name of scouting. I told Akela that my nana’s name is Alice. He said this is not the Brownies.

I was therefore lucky to be sworn in with another new boy who just happens to be a spastic. I don’t know exactly what is wrong with him but his eyes dart about in different directions and he rolls his head around and his tongue hangs out. It doesn’t lash around but there are a lot of similarities to Pop. Akela is only letting the spastic into the Cub Scouts on a trial basis because a spastic can be very disruptive to knot practice and could not be trusted to make a campfire. Also, he was not able to repeat the Cub Scouts Promise due to a severe speech impediment and the problem with his tongue.

As a new member of the Owl Pack, I need to start at the bottom and learn the difference between a granny knot and a reef knot.

Right over left, left over right makes a knot both tidy and tight.

The more experienced Cubs will be doing the bowline knot because they are on
B
of the
A to Z of Knots
. I should expect to catch up somewhere around
F
.

Our Owl Pack has a leader, and we are required to hoot for him whenever he sees a need for bonding. One hoot is not enough, and we should all try to hoot in unison, which helps to build a team spirit. Obviously, the spastic is not able to hoot either on his own or in unison
because he does not understand the idea of bonding. He therefore shrieks after each hoot.

“Hoot, hoot! Hoot, hoot!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

“Hoot, hoot! Hoot, hoot!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

“We have to initiate the two new boys!” shouted our leader.

“Hoot, hoot! Hoot, hoot!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

“Who do we want to go first?”

“Spastic! Spastic! Spastic!”

“An excellent choice, Owl Pack. The spastic did not repeat the Scout’s Promise. He must therefore have what?”

“Sandwich! Sandwich! Sandwich!”

“Another excellent choice!”

Owl Pack Leader produced a sandwich from behind his back.

“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!”

At first it did not seem to be much of an initiation ceremony to have to eat a cheese and lettuce sandwich made with medium sliced white bread. But then the spastic bit into the big fat slimy slug that the Owl Pack Leader had hidden in the lettuce. I think the spastic was enjoying the attention because he never spat it out.

“Hoot, hoot! Hoot, hoot!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

“You! Poor boy with a girl’s hanky! Do you have a sister?”

“I’ve got two sisters,” I replied.

“Have you ever seen them naked?”

“Nope.”

“Useless! We will initiate you next week. Right. Owl Pack, who’s got a story for me?”

“I have, Owl Pack Leader!”

“Go on! Go on!”

“I saw my brother wanking!”

“No! About girls. Only girls! How many times do I have to tell you, moron! Naked sisters. I am not a homo! I am
not
a homo! Is that clear? No homo stories! I am
not
a homo.”

“I saw my sister in the bath, Leader!” shouted another Cub Scout.

“That’s better! Detail. Tell me detail! I
need
detail!”

“There’s a hole in our bathroom door.”

“A hole in the door! Outstanding! Why didn’t you tell me before? Now that’s a detail. A hole in the door! More! Tell me more! More! More!”

“I saw her getting undressed.”

Owl Pack Leader was rubbing the front of his shorts very quickly, up and down.

“Then she took off her knickers!”

Rub, rub, rub.

“And? More! More! Detail! Detail! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“I saw everything. She had hair down there. A black triangle of hair!”

“Pubic hair! Outstanding! More! More! Pubic hair! More! Old Henry is getting really hard now!”

“And big pink nipples! She had big pink nipples!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Rub, rub, rub.

“And then she bent right over!”

“Oh, yes!”

“And I saw her bum!”

“Oh, yes! Her bum! Her naked bum! Was it a big round bum?”

Rub, rub, rub.

“Yes. A very big, white, round bum. Completely naked. Bent over!”

“Arhhh! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Arhhh! Arhhh!”

Rub, rub, rub.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yessssssss!”

Leader was sweating, and his face was very red.

“Leader?” asked another scout.

“Yes?” Leader replied, panting.

“Can we fart into the hurricane lamp like we did last week?”

“Yes. But take your pants down and bend over so that it makes flames! I want to see blue flames coming from your naked arses!”

“What shall we do with the spastic, Owl Pack Leader?”

“That’s right. I forgot about him. Bring him to me!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

“Tie him up! Use him for knot practice! Now get going with those bowlines!”

Next week we will be doing the clove hitch. With twenty-four letters to go, the spastic is going to be tied up a lot. And our Owl Pack Leader is looking forward to
H
when we can do the hangman’s knot.

“Hoot, hoot! Hoot, hoot!”

“Aieeee! Aieeee!”

30

M
um will absolutely not tolerate me dropping out of Cub Scouts just because the spastic ate a slug sandwich and was tied up with seventeen bowlines and one granny knot. It was therefore pointless to mention the Cub Scout who told us about spying on his naked sister through a hole in the bathroom door while Owl Pack Leader rubbed his shorts until he hooted. Cub Scouts will teach me the importance of bonding and how to work with other boys in a team and if that means I have to have a new hanky then Mum will get me a new hanky. There is also a special fund for poor boys to get their green Cub Scouts pullover, a scarf, and a woggle. I will thank Mum when I am older.