114 The Fourth Year

My brother Mike started at Upbury. Unlike our brother Dave, who needed little guidance when he started at Upbury the year before, Mike needed a big brother to lean on.

On a bright September morning the three of us were up early enough to forget about the bus and walk to school together. All was fine when we got to Livingstone Circus and all was fine when we crossed the bottom on Napier Road. But then I heard someone shouting.

‘Hoi you… dusty light bulb!’

Across the road a speccy four eyed kid of about my age, possibly older, had just come out of the newsagents with a younger boy. As I didn’t recognise him or his uniform and I wasn’t even sure it was me he was shouting at, I ignored him.

‘Yeah you! Go and eat your reggae brek!’

I stopped to stare at him when the penny dropped. Was a skinhead haircut really so different from my usual crew cut? I didn’t have it done to make a statement, claim an identity or put myself in the firing line of a big mouth who was asking for a fat lip. Bemused, I shrugged it off and walked on.

I assured Mike we never had any bother with other kids. Twydall kids at Upbury Manor passed through Napier and Woodlands territory daily, yet we rarely encountered pupils from those schools. We were too early for them in the morning, and they were usually gone when we came home.

After school I led Mike to the bus stop down across the road from the Plaza cinema, imparting some big brotherly knowledge on the way.

‘It’s not much further to walk. Catch the bus here and it’ll spare you the scramble at the depot, and the confusion of not knowing if the bus is going in the right direction.’

Though two lads propped against an adjacent garden wall appeared to be waiting for a bus, my brother and I got in line behind the only person actually standing at the stop – an old lady. A minute or so of quietly minding our own business passed. Then my ears pricked up.

‘We know what that school’s like, don’t we? Yeah, we know what that school’s like.’

I clocked the lads leaning on the wall. Nappywashers uniform, third years, by the look of them. The bigger kid was doing all the talking, answering his own questions when his mate didn’t reply.

‘Upbury Manor, yeah, we all know what that school’s like.’

I ignored him.

‘I’m glad I don’t go to that school.’

Mike looked at me expectantly. I knew what he was thinking, but besides having no wish to get involved in an unseemly incident in front of an old lady, I had no inclination to do anything that might spark an inter school feud. But the mouthy git wouldn’t let go. He just kept chipping away, running Upbury down.

‘Yeah, everybody knows what that school’s like.’

Enough. With the honour of Upbury at stake I calmly took three steps towards him.

Bop!

A single punch between the eyebrows did the trick. The look on his face was priceless. Not another word was spoken.

Me and Mike joined the free-for-all at the bus depot for a few days, avoiding the Plaza, just in case. As for Big Mouth, I never saw him again.

Were people becoming more competitive and aggressive? I wasn’t sure, but people seemed only too ready to put others down. Perhaps I was growing up and seeing the world for what it was. Even the playground seemed a harsher, crueller place.