Nick Le Mesurier

Hold on Tight and Count to Three!

(This story will be published in the forthcoming anthology, Book of Numbers, edited by Nick Le Mesurier, Geoff Mills and Roger Noble, Imprimata Press.)

Thinking back, when Willie’s father had come home that day he’d seemed strangely happy. All through tea time he kept smiling, and for once he’d helped Willie’s mother to feed him. He’d sat beside him and dipped the bread into his soft-boiled egg and held it up so that Willie could reach it by leaning forward with his mouth open. One by one he popped the dripping soldiers into Willie’s mouth, and mimicked his son’s chewing motion so that his moustache wiggled beneath his nose. Willie chuckled. His mother looked down on them, and smiled now and then; but in between she looked like she’d had a bad thought. He couldn’t know what she was thinking, but he’d known that he liked it when his father played with him, which wasn’t very often. So Willie reached out for more. His father broke off some more bread and said, ‘Here comes the puffer train, Willie! Here comes the six thirty-three!’ And he’d added a big Wooo-Wooo noise that had made Willie laugh and his mother step forward.
   ‘I don’t know which is the bigger baby,’ his mother had said as she cleared away the plates. And his father told her, ‘Don’t be daft,’ and rubbed his moustache up against Willie’s nose. Willie tapped his father’s face twice; and his father made a funny noise with his lips.
   Then his father said to his mother, ‘Do you know what I bought today? I bought a bike! What do you think about that, then?’
   Willie’s mother hadn’t replied at first, but took his father his mug of tea and put it down quickly in front of him so that some of it had slopped onto the table. Then she sat down at the table next to his father so that Willie could see each of them. ‘And where did you get the money from?’ she said. And his father said, ‘Out of my wages.’ And his mother said, ‘You said you’d hand your wages over to me,’ And his father said, ‘The bloke wanted paying there and then.’ And his mother said, ‘I don’t care. We haven’t got that kind of money.’ And his father said, ‘I do the work around here.’ And his mother said, ‘And you spend all our money, too.’ And his father said, ‘I offered him terms, but he wouldn’t have them.’ And his mother said, ‘You’ll just have to give it back, then.’ And his father banged the table with his hand and said, ‘Why should I?’ And his mother said, ‘For one thing, we can’t afford it. For two, Willie needs new clothes. For three, you promised you wouldn’t go spending our money like that any more!’ And his father said, ‘I can’t give it back.’ And his mother said, ‘Then you’ll have to make up the loss, because I can’t.’ And all the time they were arguing she had looked more and more cross and finally she’d thrown down a plate; and Willie had started to cry.
   Then his father had lifted him out of the chair and said, ‘Now look what you’ve done.’ And he whirled him round in the middle of the room so that his legs had swung away from him level with his head, and his shoe came flying off.
   Then he’d heard his mother say as she took him out of his father’s hands, ‘If he’s sick, it’ll be you who cleans him up.’ And his father laughed and snatched him back and picked up Willie’s shoe and ran out of the kitchen into the back yard where it was still sunny though the sun was low and bright in his eyes.
   There in the yard was his father’s new bicycle. It was black and had shiny handlebars and two seats, one for his father and one behind, just above the back wheel. The one at the back had sides to it and when his father put him in it, it held him snugly. 
   ‘What do you think of that Willie?’ he’d said in a whispering voice. ‘We won’t let her get the better of us will we?’ His father tickled him under the chin, then. ‘For one thing Willie, she hasn’t got the right to talk to me like that,’ he said, ‘Because I’m the man of the house. For two you can get by in your old clothes, Will, like I do. And for three, the darts can do without me for a bit. Does that sound fair? Your dad never actually promised anything, did he, Will? That’s a bonus!’ Then his father held Willie’s hands and gave him a big smile and Willie smiled back at him.
   Then his father stood beside him with his hands on the handlebars and pushed the bicycle towards the back gate, which was closed. And his father said, ‘Come on Willie boy, let’s sneak out while we can,’ and propped the gate open with a stick. As they passed through the gate his father nudged the stick with his foot so that it fell over and the gate swung shut behind them with a click. ‘Jus’ li’ tha’, he said, and jerked his head to one side and grinned; and Willie tried to do the same, which made his father laugh again. 
   On the road, Willie’s father lifted his leg over the crossbar and sat upon the saddle. Then he reached behind him and took hold of Willie’s hands and placed them on his jacket. ‘Hold on tight now, Willie Wee!’ he said, leaning forward and pushing down hard on the pedals. 
   And suddenly they were flying above the ground. Willie heard the creak, creak of his father’s feet and felt the cold wind around him. His father had stood up on the pedals, and the bicycle leaned from left to right, and soon they were going very fast, and all the people turned to look as they raced along.
   They stopped at the end of the road . His father said, ‘Shall we go on then, Willie? Are you brave enough?’ And Willie said yes and clapped his hands, and his father pulled at the edges of his eyes and said, ‘Velly good, sir, Velly good. Me velly fine rickshaw driver. Me take you sir. Velly good,’ and he turned the bicycle back down the main road. And then off they went, faster than before: past his house, past Mrs. Johnson next door, past the pillar box where his mother took him to post his father’s coupons, past Mr Evershed the butcher on the corner, past the shop where his mother bought her wool, and finally out onto the big road that led down through the town. His father waved to people passing by, and Willie waved too and the people waved back and someone shouted, ‘All right, Sam!’ and his father gave a thumbs-up and shouted, ‘All right, Bob!’
   Soon the cars and the shops and the street were behind them and everything looked much further away and much darker, and it was colder, too. The hedges became a mass of dark green shadows streaked with light; and tall green grasses tickled his legs whenever they rode close to the edge. Sometimes the cars had their lights on, and sometimes they didn’t. 
   ‘Shall we see if we can see a train?’ his father said, and without waiting for an answer pushed down hard on the pedals so that the bicycle started to lean this way and that. And his father shouted, ‘Nearly there, Willie Wee,’ and the trees by the road came rushing towards them; and the lights on the cars that were once friendly started to sting his eyes, and the cold wind gnawed and tugged at his legs. 
   Then his father put on the brakes and they turned suddenly off the road and up a little path that was crowded with bushes and came out on to a bridge and stopped. His father got off the bicycle and lifted him out of the seat.
   ‘We’ve been on a big adventure, Will?’ his father said. ‘We’ve come a long way.’ And Willie leaned against his father’s big chest and he felt the warmth of his body soothe him.
   Then suddenly his father had said, ‘Listen, Will’. Can you hear it? It’s coming. A big one. Can you hear it? It’s still far away. But it’s coming.’
   His father turned him round and lifted him up so he could stand on the bridge wall. But all he could see in the darkness were two little white lights, very far away that seemed to flicker and fade and even to disappear before appearing brighter again. 
   Then he’d heard a sound. Wooo! Wooo!  And his father said, ‘Listen, Will’! It’s coming closer!’ and he pointed towards the white lights. And suddenly Willie saw that there was a cloud above the two white lights, with many lights following. And they kept coming closer. And then he heard a scream, like the sound of the kettle as it boiled, only much, much louder and he’d felt frightened.
   But he’d had no time to turn away, because suddenly it was roaring beneath them, and it was so loud that he wanted to jump off the bridge towards his father but his father held him there. He felt the bridge shaking, and smelled the hot steam, and thought he was going to fall. And his father shouted out loud and shook him, ‘Wooo! Wooo!’ and he took his cap off and waved it in the air. And Willie wanted to shut his eyes but dared not, and he clung to his father who held him on the bridge while a great white cloud had swirled up around him and he had felt like he was being eaten alive. And there were  red sparks flying everywhere like insects and some of them settled on his skin and tried to bite him. And somewhere in the middle of it all he could hear his father calling out his name: ‘Willie Weeeee! Willie Weeeee!’
   And then with a long swishing sound the train was gone. And his father lifted him up and laughed at him madly. ‘Woo woo!’ he cried, ‘Woo Woo!” And he shook him so hard that the world seemed to tremble; and he carried him over to the other side of the bridge where he put him down and waved his hand wildly at the departing train, and he bent down and squeezed Willie tightly, laughing all the time. 
   ‘Well, my son,’ his father said, breathing heavily and shaking him once more, ‘What did you think of that, eh?’
   But Willie had taken enough. He kicked out at his father, catching him on the chin. He hated him, and wanted him to let him go. He wanted him never to pick him up again, and never to touch him and never to shake him or look at him ever again. But instead his father held him even tighter so that he couldn’t kick any more, and tried to stroke his hair and to kiss him and to calm him. But Willie wanted none of it, and he kept on trying to fight till his father pushed him down onto the cold wet ground where he lay on his front and sobbed and beat his fists on the ground. And his father had picked him up again and smacked him and told him to be quiet. And Willie'd let out a wail as loud as the train, and had kicked out again. And his father tried to wrap him up in his jacket so that he couldn’t breathe or move or scream.
   Then Willie had suddenly lost the urge to fight. He went limp and his father carried him over to the bicycle and pushed him into his seat and tied him in tightly with his belt. And he got back onto the bicycle and rode it rapidly off the bridge and down the hill and onto the road, bumping all the way. Willie sobbed because now he was afraid of his father and he knew that his mother had been right when she’d said he was mad. And his father kept repeating as he pedalled, ‘What’ll she say? What’ll she say?’ And Willie didn’t know if he was talking to him or not.
   As soon as they came to the edge of the town his father had stopped the bicycle and got off. He undid his belt and lifted Willie out of the seat and tried to hug him gently. But Willie didn’t want to be hugged and he tried to struggle again but he had no strength. His father had lifted him onto his shoulders and told him to hang on and be quiet. And Willie had tried to grip his father’s cap, but it fell off, and his father said, ‘Never mind.’
   His father had talked to him as they walked along. His voice had changed and become soft and gentle and it settled him a bit.. ‘We’re two lonesome cowboys, Will,’ he said as they walked along the road, ‘That’s what we are. Two lonesome cowboys, you and me, all out alone.’
   When they got to the end of his street his father stopped walking and pointed ahead. ‘Here we go,’ he said. And he lifted him down from his shoulders and held him up before him and looked him all over. ‘No bruises,’ he’d said.
  Then suddenly Willie’s mother was beside him and snatched him into her arms. ‘Where have you been?’ she said. ‘I was worried sick.’ She put him down on the ground and looked him all over carefully. Then she picked him up again and carried him away from his father.
   ‘I only took him for a ride!’ his father had shouted after them. ‘That’s all.’
   But his mother didn’t answer. She just held on to Willie tighter. His father shouted again, ‘Wait a minute!’ But she kept on walking.
   ‘We do have the money, you know,’ his father said, running up and  holding onto his mother’s sleeve. ‘I’ll give up the pub for a bit, if you like. And Willie’s all right for clothes for now. And the bike’ll come in handy sometimes. You can ride it, too, you know. That’s three good reasons for a start? And Willie likes it. Don’t you. Willie, eh? That’s another!’
   His mother turned away without answering and started to run. His father called, ‘Where are you going? And she shouted back, ‘To my Nan’s.’ And his father replied, ‘What about Will?’ And his mother shouted back, ‘He’s coming too.’ And his father said, ‘What about me? What about my tea?’ And his mother had said, ‘I don’t care.’
   And thereafter, whenever his father came round he would shout at his mother and she’d shout back and sometimes his Nan would join in too; and eitherhis mother or his Nan would pick him up and hang on to him the whole time his father was there.And they told Willie often that his father was a very bad man, and that he’d taken all his mother’s money and spent it in places where only bad men went. And then his father had stopped coming round and Willie had come to believe that his father must indeed have been a very wicked man because his mother had told him so and his Nan had too. And though he missed his father from time to time he found now that his mother smiled a lot more and he could sleep in her bed and that she and his Nan would call him the man of the house, which would make him feel proud. And as he grew up he gradually came to forget most things about his father: though it troubled him that he could remember every detail of that event even now after so many, many years.