Tom All Alone 16 (ii)

At school every morning now, the first thing they did was their News Book. They all had to write down something about what they did at home after school the day before, or what they had done over the weekend. Tom wrote things like he watched Batman, or played with his soldiers or cars, or played a game with his cat Bobby. They also had to draw a simple picture underneath using the coloured pencils from the big box on the table. If they went to the park, Tom would draw a strip of blue sky at the top and green grass at the bottom and a big yellow sun and some flowers, and some birds flying like 'V's in the sky, and a big round mum and a small round Tom - both with smiley faces and matchstick arms and legs.

That day, Tom wrote

last night a man threw a stone through our window and nearly hit my dad.

He then drew dad with an unhappy face standing by a window with cracks all over it. He drew a big round stone on the floor next to dad. The stone was as big as dad's head.

After he'd handed it in, Miss Newman came over to him.

"Did this really happen, Tom?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes, miss."

"Are you sure it happened? You're not telling stories again?"

Tom's bottom lip quivered. He couldn't look at her.

"No, miss."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright. Did it upset you?"

"A bit, miss. It made a loud noise."

She rubbed his shoulder gently.

"Alright," she said.

Then she went back to her desk.

Tom thought she didn't believe him. Sometimes, if he hadn't done much to write in his News Book, he would make things up. One day he'd said he'd gone to the park after school with Barry, and they'd played on the swings. Miss Newman had come and spoken to him then, too.

"Barry said in his news that he had his little sister's birthday party after school. I've asked him and he said he didn't go to the park. Did you make this up?"

Tom felt the fear drop into his stomach like a stone.

"Y-Yes, miss."

"Look at me."

He did, shyly. She looked annoyed.

"Why did you do that?"

"I-I don't k-know, miss."

"Did you go to the park?"

"Yes, miss. I went with my mum."

"So why did you say you played with Barry?"

The tears sprouted then.

"I d-don't know, m-miss."

She took a tissue from her cardigan pocket.

"Come on... dry your eyes."

He wiped his face.

"Now, what do you say?"

"I-I'm s-sorry, miss."

"That's right. So you should be. You mustn't tell lies. You could get other people into trouble."

"No, miss."

She took out her red pen and put a big cross through the page.

"Now, I want you to write it again on a new page. And this time tell the truth."

"Y-Yes, miss."

As she went back to her desk, Tom saw that the others on the table were staring at him. He looked away from them across the room and saw Barry looking at him in a funny way, then turn away again.

Tom turned back to his News Book and started to write again.

At four o'clock, Miss Newman came up with him to the gate and spoke to mum quietly. On the way home, mum stopped and crouched down, putting her hands on his shoulders. Her face filled his eyes.

"Why did you tell lies at school?"

The tears came again.

"I don't know. I didn't mean it."

"But you did it," she snapped. "What have I told you about telling lies?"

"It's n-naughty," he sobbed.

"So, why did you tell lies, then?"

His face was streaming now.

"D-Don't tell dad."

"Why shouldn't I tell dad?"

"Please."

She stayed crouching in front of him, looking at him for a few moments. Then she took out her handkerchief and wiped his face.

"Promise me you won't do it again."

"I promise."

"And what do you say to me?"

"S-Sorry, mum."

"You'll go to bed early tonight. No Crossroads."

 

That day, Miss Newman also came up to the gate with him to speak to mum. On the way home, mum looked down at him.

"Why did you say our window got broken?"

"Because it did. I was telling the truth, mum."

"But you didn't have to say that. We don't want everyone knowing our troubles, do we."

"I'm s-sorry."

That night, when she put him to bed, it all seemed forgotten about. She didn't mention it any more. She just gave him a kiss and told him to go to sleep.

But he lay there thinking it all through again. It was wrong to tell lies like he'd done before. But now he'd been told off for telling the truth.

What was he supposed to do?

Why was it all so confusing?

It's like he'd been told always to be honest and not take anything that didn't belong to him. So if he found something in the street - like someone's lost money or something - he should give it to mum so that she could find out who it belonged to.

"That's the right thing to do with things that aren't ours," she'd told him.

And then one day, he and Matthew and Salvatori were out in the street playing when Tom saw a ten-shilling note in the gutter. He stamped on it and picked it up.

"Wow!" Salvatori said, snatching it out of Tom's hand. "Ten shillings!"

The three of them stood there looking at it - fascinated by it. The brown lettering and numbers. The Queen's head. The funny picture on the back of a woman sitting on a wheel. None of them had ever held so much money before.

"But it doesn't belong to us," said Tom.

"Finders-keepers!" said Salvatori. "We found it, so it's ours now."

Just as he said it, a man from up the road - he was the older brother of one of the bigger kids at school - crossed over towards them. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Tom saw that he had a tattoo on his right arm. It was a red heart shape with a black dagger through it. He had a cigarette between his lips, which he kept there, narrowing his eyes against the smoke. Salvatori quickly slipped the note into Tom's shorts pocket.

"Have you lot found a ten bob note anywhere?" the man said.

They looked up at him. He was very tall. Even Salvatori looked nervous.

"No," said Salvatori. "We was just playing, that's all."

The man looked at him. There was something about the look that scared Tom.

"If you find one, it belongs to me. Alright?"

Salvatori nodded.

"Do you understand?"

They all nodded.

The man turned and walked away a few paces. Tom kept looking at him. Then he ran and caught up with him.

"Mister."

The man stopped and turned to him again. Tom pulled the note from his pocket and held it out.

"I found it. Here it is."

The man looked at Tom in that funny way again, taking the note and stuffing it in his trousers' pocket. Then he took the cigarette from his mouth and threw it into the gutter.

"Good boy," he said, still looking at Tom. He was smiling a bit now, though. He patted Tom on the shoulder. Then he turned and went off back up the road.

Salvatori and Matthew came up. Salvatori grabbed Tom's arm angrily.

"Why did you give it to him, you thicko?"

Tom tried to wriggle free, but Salvatori held firm.

"He said he lost it."

"He was lying. He saw you pick it up."

Salvatori let go of Tom's arm and punched it hard.

"That hurt," Tom winced. "Don't do that."

"Why not? You stupid thicko. That was our money."

So once again he was being told off for doing the right thing and telling the truth.

Salvatori spat on the pavement. Matthew did the same. Then they turned away from him and went off, leaving him there, rubbing his arm.

(continued)