And for a moment everything seemed to hang in the balance, like when a bus hangs off the edge of a cliff and everything depends on whether the passengers rush to the front or the back. It would only have taken one boy to say something like, cool, or, nice one, Smithy, and everything would have been different. There might even have been some quiet veneration, before everyone put on their trunks and got into the pool. Word would have spread around the school, and he would no longer have been vulnerable to being tripped in the corridors. People would have talked to him on the bus, or between lessons. But instead, someone pushed the balance the other way. Robin was in the vanguard. He shouted something, pointing at the pubic hairs and turning to the other boys for support. They all joined in, and the shouting continued for the rest of the day, and for some days after that. Weeks.
Bush was the word that got shouted. Bush, and its many variations, with everyone trying to think of a new version: bush, bushy, bushwhacker, bushmonkey, bushman, bushy bushman, busharama, bushface, bushmuppet, bushalicious, bushbum, bushbunny, busher, bushayre, busherara, busheba, lord bush, president bush, sir bushwhacker of bushingdon, bushmonster, bushbilly, bushwilly, bushknocker, bushiel-san, bushelman, bushalackalonglong, bushy-bushy-bush-bush.
It wasnt even as if his pubic hair was unusually verdant.
Someone told the girls, and so then all the girls knew that he was the first boy in the class to get pubic hair. One of them came up at lunch-time and asked him if it was true. She looked like she was on the verge of being impressed, but her friends were laughing so he said it wasnt. He said he vigorously disputed it. Robin and another boy heard this, and pulled his trousers down in order to publicly verify the facts. There was a certain amount of vicarious laughter from just about everyone in the vicinity.
He stayed home from school for a few days after that. Mostly he lay in bed, looking up vagina and vulva in the dictionary.
He understood, already, that in a few years time these same boys would get, or claim to be getting, sex, and that he would be mocked and called a virgin. Virginal. Someone would realise that virginal sounded like vaginal, and he would be called a vagina; a vagina-head. He could visualise it precisely. There was no logic to it. It was vindictive. There was no way he could win. There wasnt really any hope of winning. It made him feel vexated.
But he also understood that one day he would leave. Eventually, he would leave. And when he was gone they would still be here. He would move to a big city, and go to university, and be friends with people who didnt feel the need to mock and belittle him, people who were interested in reading and art and philosophy and those varieties of things. And Robin and everyone else would all still be here, with their limited vocabularies, working in the chicken-processing factories and vegetable packing-houses, looking for someone else to victimise.
Victorious would be a word he could use then. Vindicated.
Keeping Watch Over The Sheep
Alford
They told him he wasnt allowed on the school premises. They didnt even use the word allowed to start off with, they just said they thought it would be better if he didnt come in. Better for everyone concerned is what they said. Only that didnt even feel like an everyone which included him. He wasnt really bothered what they thought, he said, he just wanted to come in and see his daughter. Thats when they actually stepped in his way and said he literally wasnt allowed on the premises.
For Christs sake, this was the school nativity.
When would he get another chance to come and see his little girl in her first ever school nativity? Never is when. But the man just stood there all immovable and what have you, his arms folded to show just how totally immovable he was. Said his name was Carson. Mr Carson. Wasnt even the headteacher or anything, but the other teachers were obviously all women so he must have been sent out to deal with the situation.
Thats what he was now. A situation.
He said to Mr Carson, he said, look, its only the school hall were talking about here. He was only going to stand at the back. He wouldnt try and talk to her. Rachel wouldnt even have to know he was there, he could hide behind another parent, he could slip out before the end. There didnt need to be a problem here, he said. Mr Carson just stood there and said it was out of his hands.
Yeah Ill take it out of your hands you four-eyed fucking twat.
He didnt say that. He knew better than saying something like that, these days. He wasnt there to make trouble. He was just there to see a nativity play. The shepherds were mightily afraid. The wise men followed yonder bright star in the east. All that. There werent no room at the inn. He held up his hands in surrender. A conciliatory gesture. Hed been learning about those, at the sessions. He even attempted a smile. He told Mr Carson, he said, okay, he was leaving now, he was sorry to have caused any disturbance, he hoped the performance went well and could someone perhaps tell Rachel that her father had said hello? Mr Carson did this disappointed shrug and said for him to take care. Not saying whether he would or he wouldnt pass on the hello to Rachel, take note. There were other parents hanging back behind him, waiting to get in the school, not wanting to get involved. But standing just about close enough to hear what was going on, and then none of them meeting his eye when he turned and walked away. Like they didnt know him or they didnt know what was going on.
They knew though. They all did, round here. Some of them had even known certain things before he had, when it would have been useful for him to have been told. They all like to hear stuff but theyre none of them that keen on passing it on.
He got to the corner before he looked back. The other parents were all safely inside, and Mr Carson was closing the door. Bolting it, probably. Even saying something about how they couldnt be too careful. He walked off. Calmly. He followed the line of hedging around the edge of the school playing field, where the road dipped down a bit and you could see out past the edge of the village. Someone was out ploughing, which seemed early but what did he know. The seagulls were following behind the plough. He got to the sign that said School Property: No Dog Walking, and climbed over the double-gate there. That was harder than it used to be. Used to come over this way when he was a kid and they were looking for somewhere to play football. Or, later, for somewhere to drink. He even came over here with her once or twice, before hed got a car.
They knew though. They all did, round here. Some of them had even known certain things before he had, when it would have been useful for him to have been told. They all like to hear stuff but theyre none of them that keen on passing it on.
He got to the corner before he looked back. The other parents were all safely inside, and Mr Carson was closing the door. Bolting it, probably. Even saying something about how they couldnt be too careful. He walked off. Calmly. He followed the line of hedging around the edge of the school playing field, where the road dipped down a bit and you could see out past the edge of the village. Someone was out ploughing, which seemed early but what did he know. The seagulls were following behind the plough. He got to the sign that said School Property: No Dog Walking, and climbed over the double-gate there. That was harder than it used to be. Used to come over this way when he was a kid and they were looking for somewhere to play football. Or, later, for somewhere to drink. He even came over here with her once or twice, before hed got a car.
He didnt really even have a plan, now.
He wasnt here to make trouble.
He could just stand outside the hall and listen. Rachel had such a good voice hed probably be able to hear her over all the others. She got that from her mother, the voice. Among other things. He walked across the playing field towards the hall. Walking calmly and casually, not running or ducking down or any of that. He wasnt going to attract attention to himself. The curtains were closed, so no one could even see him. He listened right up to the glass. They were singing a song about the angels, and then when it went quiet he heard a little girl saying Joseph Joseph you must find somewhere for us to stay the baby is coming soon. That didnt sound like Rachel. Probably an older girl would be playing the part of Mary. Maybe Rachel would do it another year, when she was older. There would be other years, after all. There wouldnt always be this situation. But this was her first nativity. He couldnt miss the first one.
He didnt even know what part she was playing. He didnt know anything about it at all. Hed only found out it was on when hed heard some women talking about it in the post office.
He didnt know if Rachels mother would be in there. Shed have a prime seat at the front, if she was. Guaranteed. He hadnt seen her going in the whole time hed been waiting up the road from the main entrance. But shed got pretty good at sneaking around in the last few months. Since the injunction. So she could have easily found another way to get in. And she wouldnt be hiding behind another parent, or tucked away at the back of the hall. Shed be right in Rachels line of sight, right where she could see her. And little Rachel would be delighted to see her, her little face would be all lighting up right now probably, in the middle of this song about the happy sheep coming down from the hills to find the baby Jesus lying in a manger, and that was fine, that was good, he was happy to think of her little face all lighting up the way it does. He just wanted to be there to see it sometimes, was all. He wanted to be the one who her little face would be lighting up about, sometimes, was all.
He saw Mr Carson coming across the field towards him, looking all purposeful and what have you. There were some others with him. He turned back towards the hall, sliding his face along the window to try and find a gap in the curtains, listening out for the sound of that one little voice hed come to hear.
He didnt even know how it had all started going wrong. With Rachels mother. He couldnt really blame her, not like most of the others who went to the sessions had someone to blame. It wasnt her fault. But it wasnt really his fault either, and something like that didnt just come up out of nowhere. Maybe it was both of their faults in a way. Maybe there were some things he probably shouldnt have said, or done. Or broken. Breaking things had never helped. But just sometimes it was hard to know what else to do. When she said those things. When she purposefully misunderstood what he was trying to say.