Satan's Little Helpers

By John Kelly

While watching the demolition of his old school Placidus College, Simon Hickey looks back on ten turbulent, life defining years, when the first crop of Australia's baby boomers were awakening to their sexuality. Seduced by the power of the pulpit, and the Aquinine Brothers, Simon's attention is directed toward a religious vocation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Kelly
• Release date: Jul 22, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452301600

John Kelly

John Kelly, who holds a graduate degree in European history, is the author and coauthor of ten books on science, medicine, and human behavior, including Three on the Edge, which Publishers Weekly called the work of "an expert storyteller." He lives in New York City.

Book preview

ACKOWLEDGEMENTS

My thanks to Diana Schaffer, Kathleen Kelly, and Suzann Knott, who took on the task of editing, and for being as frank and forthright as they were. To Rita, Nancy and Frank, for giving me a crash-course in Italian. To my wife Joanne, who endured long, lonely hours watching television while I laboured on the computer, my special thanks.

‘ the truth shall set you free.’ (John 8, v31)

‘And what is truth?’ Pilate asked. (John 19, v38)

SATAN’S LITTLE HELPERS

1. The Aquinine Legacy

I remembered my brother Mark telling me the school’s days were numbered, but I let it slip my mind. I had even forgotten the local paper reporting some months earlier that it was about to become a luxurious residential estate, to be crammed with fine homes only the rich could afford. Not so surprising. It was sold for a bundle of money, after being paid for by the sweat of thousands of parents who sacrificed a better life to give their children the opportunity of receiving what was perceived as a good Catholic education. But now, as I drove closer, it was actually happening.

It was a mild morning in September and I was on my way to an appointment. The sun was shining brightly in the east; the pale, grey moon setting in the west; the car was running smoothly, I was happily humming to the music on the cd player and it was one of those days when it felt good to be alive. As my car rounded the bend, trapped in a single line of traffic that snaked its way toward the city, something caught my eye. I stopped humming as I sensed a disturbance. As the traffic allowed me to inch closer, my eyes widened, my jaw dropped, and the adrenalins began to flow freely. My mental reaction was, 'Jesus, can it be true?’ As I came yet closer, a voice from within me asked, ‘Is this a vision…am I dreaming?’ It was the dust that caused my uncertainty. It covered almost half the property, and sat suspended about ten metres above the ground, spreading its wings as if about to take flight. However, there was no wind, so it sat there, hovering above.

Below the eerie mist, I beheld my old school, Placidus College, run by the Order of the Aquinine Brothers, founded by one Father Henri Aquinaux, a somewhat eccentric 19th Century French Aristocrat turned priest. He had an enthusiasm for Roman History, so the story went, and he encouraged his charges, at the time of their profession, to adopt a religious name consistent with his obsession. He showed the way by choosing for himself the name Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, who he wrote, ‘ruled the Empire with integrity, morality and wisdom.’ My old school however, was now the subject of a different kind of wisdom. It was being bulldozed and demolished with all the integrity and morality the wreckers could muster. I was listening to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture, and the cannons were heralding the battle at Borodino, as the wreckers let loose with the great metal ball. As it thundered into its rendered brick target, the cannons fired yet again, and instinctively, I exclaimed, ‘yes’, delighted to see the wrecking ball crash its way through another external wall.

As I continued staring, my mind in a confused state of awe and delight, I failed to notice the amber light appear at the pedestrian crossing six or seven cars ahead of me. Suddenly my attention was drawn to the car in front of me braking. ‘Jesus I’m going to hit him’. I slammed on the brakes, and stopped millimetres from its rear. The driver behind managed to respond in kind. I listened to the dreadful sound of brakes screeching behind me, but mercifully there was no sound of metal to metal. Time to exit. I could not let the moment pass that quickly. I made a left turn, hearing the protests manifested in the bleating of car horns, and one very audible, You fucking idiot, coming from the driver of a blue holden utility. I ignored him, made a three point turn and waited patiently for the traffic to pass. I decided my appointment could wait. The company’s fortunes could wait. I longed to see more. From the intersection I could make out the mangled wreckage, the broken concrete, the twisted steel reinforcing mesh, and the bricks piled up in pyramids. My first thoughts were of the proceeds of the sale, which one could only surmise, would now be used to house these retired old men, these imitation Caesars, who taught me all those years ago.

Did I say taught? I am generous. For years, each time I drove past, I continued to feel the stress and sense of incrimination that long ago had become synonymous with this place; the desperation felt when you expected something bad to happen. It was a feeling of guilt. Someone had seen me, and was about to stop and interrogate me for something, only I didn’t have a clue what it was. It’s not that I was stupid. A bit simple maybe, but not stupid. One does not teach oneself to play the piano if one is stupid. However, being raised Catholic, seduced by the power of the pulpit, the Aquinine Brothers, and an ever-present fear that Satan would grab me by the balls and burn me alive, obviously did nothing for my confidence.

However, every cloud has a silver lining, as my mother used to say, and on this particular day the clouds were about to deliver. This day those negative memories gave way to sheer elation. There it was. Or more correctly, there it was not. All twisted and mangled in a cloud of dust that looked more like a bombsite than a school, it was in a state of partial demolition. ‘Oh joy oh rapture.’ A feeling of utter delight shot through me. ‘What a joy to behold. What poetic justice!’

The line of traffic ended and I made quickly for the side street. Parking adjacent to the school, I slipped Tchaikovsky’s Cappricio Italien into the CD player, and sat and watched those huge machines rip the place apart. It was better than sex. Well, almost. I stayed there for over an hour, watching classroom after classroom being reduced to rubble. The memories of my time spent sitting in those rooms, listening to men in black cassocks fill my head with their peculiar, and narrow-minded attitude to life came flooding back.

As I sat, watched and silently cheered the school’s demise, I recalled its only redeeming feature, the one positive reflection I could muster. It had been the common link that brought the three of us together. The three of us, all born within four hours of each other under the same roof, in the same hospital. Megan, Michelle and I. My name is Simon Hickey and, but for this school, the three of us might never have met. Suffice to say that although the place did have this redemptive side, my joy at watching its demise was absolute. Megan probably would not have agreed. She would have seen it differently; with more compassion and with the sentimentality only a woman can muster. Not for me however. Seeing it erased from the landscape was for me, ecstasy, and for the time I spent sitting and watching, no redemptive quality was going to interfere with my joy.

2. Men in Black Cassocks

Do I sound too harsh? Perhaps you think I am overstating my feelings. Perhaps you recall your own experiences at school and wonder if my negative recollections are exaggerated. It is possible that my view is distorted. However, first impressions are generally lasting impressions, especially when experienced at a very young age. I still see that frightening image today. That figure, in a black cassock, with a black cord around his waist knotted on the side leaving two ends that extended all the way down to his enormous black shoes. His big arms folded, partially concealing a crucifix hanging from his neck, he stared down on me, his eyes drooping, hair protruding from his nose and ears, and his smile exposing his yellow tobacco stained teeth.

Each day as I walked up the front driveway of the school, there he waited. I wanted to go left, toward my classroom only I could not, because this great hulk was blocking my way, and forcing me to walk straight ahead to the big house, up a few stairs, and into the chapel.

He was known by a variety of names, Decius, Quintillus, Tiberius, Titus, but he did not speak, he just pointed. Only when you played dumb, pretending not to understand the very clear direction being given, did he deign to speak.

Over to the chapel lad, and pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament lad, a short ejaculation before you go any further. Jesus Mary Joseph, I place my trust in thee.

Yes Brother.

So I did his bidding, and visited the chapel. I splashed my forehead with holy water, genuflected, dropped to my knees in pretence of devout homage, ejaculated my most earnest prayer, ‘Please God don’t let them hit me today’, waited a moment, then rose up to make a quick exit. Once released from duty, I was free to go to my classroom and try to be normal. The man in black would remain where he stood, on guard, waiting by the roadway for the next errant student, as if appointed by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus himself, to see that each and every boy who walked into that school would first pay homage to Caesar’s God in the big house. Caesar’s enforcer never liked me. Actually, he did not even know me, he just controlled me.

3. Elaine

I should have displayed more grit. I should have asserted myself as an equal member of the human race with certain rights. I should have demanded more respect, shown a greater degree of independence and self-assurance and told him ‘ No Brother, I do not wish to ejaculate before the Blessed Sacrament today. I did that yesterday and the day before. I’m sick of it. Nothing ever happens when I ejaculate before the Blessed Sacrament. It’s like talking to a brick wall. The Blessed Sacrament never replies. When I ask that I not be given the strap today the Blessed Sacrament never listens’…but I didn’t.

Looking back, I suppose one could say it all started that day in 1957. I was on my way home from school. I was in year seven, and it had been a bad day. Not in all of my twelve years could I remember carrying such a burden of mis-happenings home with me as I did that day. As I sat in the back seat of the bus, I noticed several times the girls from Villadon Girl’s Anglican School giving me strange looks. They seemed disturbed by something about me, about my face it seemed. Why were they looking at me? They could not have known the nature of the torment I had suffered, although I felt it would not be too long before someone would blurt it out and the very thought of it made me shudder. What would they think once they all knew? Would this be the last time I would be able to face them? I liked being on the same bus as the girl’s from Villadon. As a twelve-year-old, there was something about being near girls that I liked. They made me feel warm all over. We shared the bus every day. They even departed from the same stop each morning. They walked off to the left to their school, and I walked off to the right. I did not know any of them well, although occasionally they did speak to me. I liked the one they called Elaine. She was older than me by four years, the same age as my brother Damien, and I often saw the two of them talking together at the bus stop in the morning. On this day, Elaine boarded the bus one stop further down the road. She smiled at me as she walked to her seat. Then her face registered a look of dismay at my state of appearance. Instead of sitting in her usual seat with her friends, she walked toward me.

What on earth happened to you today? she asked as she sat beside me and then added, Have you been in a fight?

I was desperate to tell the woes of the day to someone, and Elaine seemed genuinely concerned.

I’ve had a bad day, I said.

Well, she said sympathetically, You had better tell me all about it then.

This morning, I was late for school, I began, "Mass had gone late, so breakfast, cleaning my teeth and checking my school bag all made me even later. I thought there was still time before catching the 8.30 bus, so I took a few moments to listen to the radio. They played a few of my favourite hits and I didn’t notice the time.

Then what happened? she asked.

Then, in the middle of a song, I continued, my mother called out, telling me to get a move on, that I would be late for school. I raced up to the back gate, down the narrow lane behind the house, and out into the street, but it was too late. The bus had left. The next bus was the 8.45 which got to school ten minutes late. I was not even at school and already I was thinking of excuses. Brother Tiberius would want to know why I was late, but what could I do? For the next fifteen minutes, I stood by myself at the bus stop waiting, watching the cars and trucks coming up the hill.

That’s all right, don’t worry about it, she said as I started to blubber. She rested her hand on my shoulder. What happened next?

I thought about what I would say to Brother Tiberius, I told her. Tiberius was always suspicious and besides he could easily ask anyone of my three brothers if I was telling the truth. Finally the bus came up the hill and stopped for me. I was on the bus heading for school when suddenly I realised my cut lunch was still at home. Sandwiches with apricot jam, vegemite and cheese and something else. It was still sitting on the breakfast table waiting for me to pick it up. I had no money to buy anything, and I would have to ask one my brothers for some of theirs.

Oh you poor thing, Elaine said as she patted me on the back.

*

There is something very lonely about walking into a schoolyard when nobody is around. It’s the silence and the ever present realisation that up to four hundred sets of eyes are watching, as you make your way across the deserted quadrangle to your classroom where your school mates are already seated and have commenced the first lesson. It is a lot for a twelve-year-old to handle. I bypassed the chapel. Man in black was no longer on duty. I opened the door and the whole class turned around to see who it was,…although they already knew because they saw me walking across the quadrangle, I said to Elaine.

I walked up to the front of the class and told Tiberius I was late coming home from mass because the priest asked me to clean the sacristy. It was a lie, but at least my own brothers knew I had been to mass and would agree with that part of the story. They left for school about the time I arrived home from mass. I thought if Tiberius knew I was at mass he would not ask for more detail, that just telling him would be good enough. It worked. I said smugly.

That was cheeky, Elaine remonstrated. Then what happened? she asked brushing some dirt off my shoulder.

Tiberius nodded, and I walked to my desk and sat down relieved, but also a little tired from all the energy I spent sorting the whole thing out. Elaine laughed when I told her that, and I felt very warm and comfortable sitting with her.

All through the first three periods of school, I wondered whether my brothers would give me anything to eat at lunchtime, and that made me feel hungry. Elaine laughed again, and patted my leg. She had deep brown eyes, and dark hair under her school hat, and lovely white teeth. When she smiled or laughed, I felt my heart go faster, and I wanted to touch her leg too.

At morning recess, I told her, I looked for Mark, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. He usually played football in the schoolyard with his friends. Morning recess was very short, only fifteen minutes, and I needed to go to the toilet, which took longer than expected because of the queue.

Why was there a queue? she asked.

There aren’t enough toilets. I said. There are only nine places to pee and sixty boys all wanting their turn.

Elaine burst out laughing so much that others further up the bus turned around. She quickly controlled herself. I began laughing too, and continued with a new confidence.

Brother Trajan was always close by, to see that nobody pushed in, or that there was no one misbehaving while the boys were pointing their little willie at the porcelain. Another hilarious squeal from Elaine.

I spent too long looking for Mark and I was still waiting in the queue when the bell sounded. I had to line up in my grade, and march back into the classroom. It was then that I saw Mark playing the drums. Mark always played the drums. I should have gone to see him earlier but it was too late now; I was in formation, marching off to the classroom and couldn’t talk to him. And I missed going to the toilet.

As I sat in the back of the bus telling Elaine my story, I thought about the whole rotten day. The bus driver kept looking at us through the rear vision mirror. I began to check my clothes. The pee stain on my pants was dry and even so, it really wasn’t that bad. Besides, Elaine could not see it. I had pulled my jumper down as far as I could and covered the effected area. Maybe it was the bloodstain on the collar of my shirt that caught the driver’s eye or maybe he was wondering why I did not have my cap on. He was used to seeing me with my cap. It was part of the official school uniform. A boy without his school cap was out of uniform.

So you never made it to the toilet then? Elaine asked.

No. First period after morning recess, the class said the first three decades of the rosary. I told her. I could not ask to go to the toilet when we were saying the rosary. Tiberius would not allow it. He said that any one who asked to go to the toilet when class was about to say the rosary, didn’t wanted to say it, so he never gave permission. Besides, we had just come back from morning recess.

What did you do then? she asked.

All through the rosary I was thinking about going to the toilet. I pictured myself standing at the urinal letting it all pour out. The first mystery, the second, the third… Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee… The very thought of standing at the urinal would bring on a rush of pee that I struggled to hold back. Thee, rhymes with pee. It did not matter what I said or thought. Everything rhymed with pee. She, he, mystery, and me, all rhymed with pee.

Elaine tried hard to contain her laughter and touched my leg again running her hand up and down.

You’d better keep your voice down. They might throw us off if they think we are too noisy, she warned.

I looked out of the classroom window, I continued. A boy from grade five was walking across the quadrangle toward the toilet. There, in the middle of the quadrangle the boy vomits up all over. It was a rich pinkie milky vomit.

God how gross! she said.

The boy must have drunk a strawberry malted milk during recess and now he is vomiting everywhere, I went on. Of course, everyone looked out the window and made disgusting sounds, and I forgot about wanting to go to the toilet for a while. Ten minutes later we finished saying the rosary and I asked to go to the toilet. I explained to Tiberius that I couldn’t go at recess for the queue. He nodded and I raced off and finally I could stand there in front of the urinal and let it all pour out. The boy who vomited in the quadrangle was still vomiting in the cubicle and making dreadful sounds. My pee took a long time. There’d been a lot building up inside of me and it was coming out at full pressure.

Elaine laughed loudly again, looking lovelier by the minute.

Vomit boy starts to groan. I continued. I finish my pee, take a quick look at vomit boy and begin to feel sick. I head back toward the classroom and see Chris Dyer and Barry Kase walking toward me. They tell me I’m to help them fill the wheelbarrow with sand and shovel it on top of the mess that vomit boy left. Disgusting!

Just then one of the girls at the front of the bus came toward us.

Is everything all right Elaine? she asked.

Yes it’s okay. She answered still laughing. This is Damien Hickey’s younger brother Simon. He’s had a bad day. I’ll stay with him.

Are you friends with Damien? I asked Elaine.

Yes she said, We are good friends.

Why don’t you come to our house then? I asked.

Damien hasn’t asked me, she answered. What happened then?

We find the wheelbarrow and the sand near the sports shed, I told her, where all the footballs and cricket bats and balls are stored. It is not a nice thing to have to do, but all three of us, cover over the three different spots where vomit boy stopped on his way to the toilet, and all three of us begin to feel sick too, but somehow we make it back to the classroom.

What then? Elaine asked.

At 12 noon the bell sounds for the Angelus. We stop everything to pray. Three lots of three bells, then nine long bells. We stop whatever we are doing and stand at our desks. Tiberius begins…. ‘the angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.’ Everybody replies…. ‘and she conceived of the Holy Ghost. Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee.’ Because the Angelus is boring, I try to count the number of Hail Mary’s I say everyday. Fifty-three for the Rosary, one at Morning Prayer, another three for the angelus. That is fifty-seven Hail Mary’s at school and another fifty at home each night when the family says the rosary again. One hundred and seven Hail Mary’s everyday. Also eleven Our Father’s, eleven Glory Be’s, and lots of other prayers besides. Finally, the bell sounds for lunch.

I can’t believe you Catholics do all that everyday, she said. What a waste of time. Maybe that’s why Damien doesn’t ask me home to your house. He probably thinks your mother will ask me to join in saying the rosary. Anyway, so then what happened?

As we leave the classroom, I told her, there is either a mad rush for the tuckshop or a stroll to the quadrangle. I open my schoolbag to get out my lunch and suddenly remember that it is still sitting on the kitchen table at home. I go outside and see all the boys who line up at the tuckshop to buy their lunch. They have money and they can have a pie with sauce, a cream bun and a bottle of orange drink. A lunch bought at the tuckshop always looks so much better than a sandwich in a brown paper bag. I have to find Mark, Paul, or Damien and ask if they can give me some of their lunch. Brother Quintillus blows his whistle and warns those in the queue waiting to buy their lunch to stop pushing and shoving. All the classes are now out in the quadrangle, and there are boys pushing and shoving everywhere. I see Mark and run towards him. Mark says I can’t have any of his lunch because he has already eaten half at morning recess, and if he gave what was left to me, then he would not have any for himself. Mark says to find Damien and ask him.

So, did you find Damien?

Yes. I saw Damien walking out of his classroom toward the tuckshop. I catch up with him and ask if I can have some of his lunch. Damien gives me one sandwich. It is all he has left because he ate half of his at morning recess too. Damien says that I now owe him a shilling. He then goes off and joins the queue at the tuckshop. He has a Saturday morning paper round and is paid five shillings.

Yes I know. I’m sure he was only joking about the shilling.

Chris Dyer and Barry Kase are sitting together in the quadrangle and I join them to eat my one sandwich. All the boys in the quadrangle keep well away from where the mounds of sand are, because they know that underneath the sand are the remains of vomit boy’s malted milk.

Keep going, she said. This is all very interesting.

Then Brother Quintillus blows his whistle, I continued, which means that those who are finished their lunch can leave the quadrangle. There is suddenly a mad stampede as everyone runs toward the sports store to get the footballs. Almost everyone plays football. We play kick to kick, although a few boys prefer not to, and after lunch, they just walk around the playground together, sit, or play handball. Mark says they are all poofters. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t think it’s a very nice thing to say about someone.

It certainly isn’t, Elaine said with a disapproving frown.

I like to play football though, so I know that I am not a poofter. Each class is supposed to keep to their own area when playing football, so that the bigger boys do not hurt the smaller ones. Sean O’Rielly is in my class but he is very tall for his age. He is thirteen, and he already has to shave. Sean is supposed to play with the boys in the next grade but he doesn’t always do that because he reckons he can’t get a kick. He is lying. Quintillus says he could easily get a kick even if he was playing two grades up, even three. When Quintillus goes into the Brother’s house to have his lunch, Sean O’Rielly comes over and plays football with our group.

The bus stopped and Elaine’s friend waved to her as she got out.

See you tomorrow Elaine called out to her friend. Then what happened? she asked.

The football is kicked very high and three boys jump up to mark it. I get close in, hoping that they drop it and I can catch it off their hands, and that’s exactly what happens except that Sean O’Rielly then comes and takes it straight out of my hands and runs off and kicks it. I become very angry with Sean and walk up to him telling him that it was not his ball, that he pinched it, and then I punch him in the stomach. He punches me back hard against my arm, and then he stands there with his fists at the ready.

Oh no! Don’t tell me you started fighting? Elaine asked.

To everyone standing around, the sight of the two of us standing there, fists up, is better than playing football and they all crowd around, shouting at both of us to let each other have it. It is not fair. Sean is taller than me by at least half, and heavier. He punches me hard in the eye, and the nose, and my nose begins to bleed. The crowd groans and one boy calls out ‘Simple Simon’. Other boys call out to me to get a punch in first, but I can’t, my arms are too short.

Didn’t anyone try to stop it?

One of Damien’s friends stops it. Mick Harvey, who is four years older, comes over and tells everyone the fight is over.

Yes I know Mick too. She responded.

He tells Sean that he should pick on someone his own size, and takes me off to the drinking taps to clean my face. There is blood on my face, and on my shirt. I look a mess. When we are well away from all the other boys, I begin to cry.

he bus pulled over and two old ladies climbed on board. They came down toward the back where we were sitting, but after taking a quick look at me they decided to move up a seat closer to the front. Elaine told me she wanted to tell one of the other girls further up the bus not to wait for her. I got tired of people looking at me and decided to finish my homework. I pulled out my geometry book and studied the questions. I hated geometry so I put the book back into my bag, and pulled out my geography book. The hard cover was damp. My cap had been lying on the top. Then Elaine came back and sat beside me again.

Tell me what happened after Mick Harvey stopped the fight. she said.

While Mick was helping me to clean myself up, Brother Decius walked past the drinking taps and saw the two of us together. He comes over, takes a closer look at me, and asks Mick what happened. Mick explains to Decius that there was a fight and that he broke it up. Decius wants to know everything that happened and so I have to tell him about Sean O’Rielly. I didn’t want to tell him but Decius stares straight at me, and there is no point in trying to lie. Then Mick Harvey tells Decius that he saw it happen and it was Sean O’Rielly’s fault. Mick is not afraid of Sean O’Rielly, and he doesn’t want anyone thinking that I was a snitch. Decius walks off, and Mick tells me not to worry about Sean O’Rielly because he and Damien will scare him off.

Did Brother Decius do anything after that?

Yes. The bell sounds and the lunch break is over. All the boys assemble in the schoolyard. As I come away from the drinking taps Mark walks past with his drum and sticks. Mark looks at me and asks what happened. I tell him about the fight with Sean O’Rielly. Mark asks if I want Damien and him to fix Sean O’Rielly. I just shrug my shoulders. When all the boys are assembled, Decius calls everyone to attention and orders Sean O’Rielly and me to stand out the front. When both of us are standing in front of the whole school, some of the boys laugh at me because I look all ruffled with my hair all over the place, and my shirt hanging out and there is blood on my collar. Decius gets angry and calls for silence. Then he instructs us that fighting in the schoolyard is forbidden, and that he is going to make an example of Simon and Sean. We are told to hold out our hand, and each of us receives the strap twice. Decius tells the assembly that in addition, we both have to remain back after class for one hour. He then warns that anyone found fighting in the schoolyard, or anywhere else, will be treated the same way. He then calls everyone to attention again, and soon we are all back in our classrooms. All except vomit boy who has been allowed to go home.

Is that all that happened? Elaine asked.

No. The afternoon classes are slow and boring. My hand is still stinging and made worse knowing that I will have to stay back for one hour afterward. When the bell goes at 3.45 in the afternoon, the boys in my class begin to pack up their books. Brother Titus who has our class for the last period says the final prayer and gives permission for everyone to leave except the two boys who have to stay behind. Some of the boys snigger and laugh and Titus sends them off. As all the boys from the other classes begin to leave, there is a lot of noise, shouting, and laughing but after a while everything goes silent, and Sean O’Rielly and I are the only two left. Titus tells us to do some study and leaves the room saying he will be back soon. I look over to where Sean is sitting on the other side of the room, and ask him what he is going to do. He says that he might as well do his homework. It’s a good idea and I do the same thing. The hour seems to pass quite quickly, and Titus comes back into the classroom and tells us we can go home now, and let this be a lesson to us. I have finished all my homework except for geometry and geography. I hate geometry but I am pleased because when I get home I will be able to kick the football in the street.

Did the two of you make up and shake hands?

No. I pack my bag and walk out of the room and put on my school cap and go to the toilet. I am standing at the urinal as Sean walks in. He stands at the urinal alongside me and just as I begin to pee, he leans across and pushes me off balance. I have to take one hand away from my Willy to regain my balance and then O’Rielly leans across shoving me off balance again. I have to use both hands to stop myself from falling back. As I do so, I wet my pants with my pee. The pee goes all over the front of my pants and I can feel it running down my left leg. I yell out at O’Rielly who just laughs and then he pulls my cap off my head, and throws it into the urinal where it gets all wet. O’Rielly then zips up his own pants and walks out of the toilet laughing.

Oh God, your pants are not still wet are they? she asked as she stroked my hair."

No I’m dry now, I told her, hoping she would not stop fingering my hair.

The bus was now nearly empty. Elaine was the only girl from Villadon remaining and she normally got off, one stop after mine.

This is your stop, she said. "Tell Damien that if he makes you pay him a shilling for lunch I will never