Fathers Page 8
“That doesn’t sound like Miss McFierce Farley; I mean I can’t imagine her saying that,” protested John.
“I hope you’re not calling me a liar John ‘cause that would really upset me and I don’t like to be upset. Look, I tell you what you could do John if you don’t believe me; you could go ask Miss McFierce yourself, she’s in the staffroom at the moment. Go on, go ask her. She may not be too happy with being disturbed right now and being second guessed by you, but you could always try.” He poked him in the chest. “Whatta ya say John, are you brave enough to ask her?”
He stammered, “Um... I, I, don’t think I will ask her about it... I ‘spose it would be alright, I mean you’re only collecting firewood aren’t you? I mean what’s the harm in that?”
“Exactly John, there is no harm. No harm whatsoever.”
Tu grabbed the basket from John and walked off towards the wood pile with Farley and the twins following close behind. The twins started to snigger as they walked away until Farley clipped them both around their ears.
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The students filed back in the classroom after the interval; disorderly this time chattering and chirping like sparrows fighting over a crust of bread. They noisily scraped their chairs and desks across the floor as they sat down, continuing with the talk and banter. Miss McFierce entered the room from her staffroom and as she walked past John’s desk she asked “John it’s cold in here. Why have you not stoked the fire?”
John looked across to Farley who just stared straight ahead. He glanced at Tu who scratched his head and picked his nose then examined what he had on the end of his finger. The twins were chatting amongst themselves not paying any attention.
“John what are you waiting for? Get up and put some more wood on the fire now before we all freeze to death!” She yelled as she tapped the ruler against her leg.
John got up and approached the hearth as Miss McFierce went to the front of the class and yelled: “ALRIGHT QUIETEN DOWN NOW! YOU SOUND LIKE A PACK OF CHIMPANZEES.” And then, “Farley what are you grinning about, wipe that smile off your face quick smart!”
“Yes Miss, sorry Miss.”
“Right, I want you to get your books out on social stud...John what are you doing? Is there a problem John? Put some wood on the fire. Now!”
John stood on the hearth and stared at the wood basket. It was covered in a green canvas bag which had been tucked underneath. This was something new, he hadn’t seen this before and he didn’t like it. No, he didn’t like it at all! The basket seemed to be almost moving, sort of quivering, like it was a living thing. And what was that? Was that squeaks he could hear? Oh my God, he knew all along that Fat Frog Farley and his gang were up to something when they offered to do his job. And now he was going to pay for it. Pay for it big time. He looked up and stared at Miss McFierce, his eyes pleading with her don’t make me do this.
She screamed at him, “GET OUTSIDE JOHN!” And then, at what was a normal volume for her she added, “You’ve obviously lost your mind or something and I can’t wait for you to come back to the real world. I’m sure a licking from the strap will bring you back to your senses... Tu get up there and put some wood on the fire quick smart or we’ll all come down with pneumonia!”
Relieved John ran from the room slamming the door behind him. The strap had to be better than what was to happen now. Tu sprang from his desk and walked briskly to the hearth.
“Now that’s more like it, finally someone with a bit of go in them.” She continued. “Now if you will all turn to page sixty seven and...”
Tu approached the wood basket, whipped the canvas cover off and tipped the basket over in one quick movement. Rats, a hundred or more fell out into the classroom and they ran and scuttled and skidded across the floor in their confusion. There were all sizes. A couple as big as kittens. Some black, some brown, some grey and they squeaked and shrieked and ran up legs and under skirts and into trousers and over arms and onto backs and heads of the pupils. And they ran and scuttled and skidded over desks and chairs and along the sills of the blackboard and windows and around the door frames. One scrabbled up the legs of Miss McFierce and she screamed as she tried to fight it off with her ruler. She was screaming and slashing wildly, hitting her back with the stick as it ran up her body and into her hair. She dropped the ruler and frantically grabbed at the rat as it got tangled in her hair. She pulled it out throwing it across the room as her bun came apart, her hair falling down over her eyes. Another rat ran up her legs, this time staying between her clothes and skin as it made its way past her privates and up towards her breasts. She was ripping at her clothes trying to rid herself of the rodent, the buttons popping on her cardigan, her dress tearing. The rat bit her breast, drawing blood, she howled in pain and stumbled back towards a desk, tripping and tumbling over it backwards and hitting the floor hard. Head and neck landing first with a crack and then she lay still, the rat scuttling out through the tear in her dress. The girls were on their desks, some screaming hysterically, some hugging themselves, some crying, some silent with their eyes closed; shaking uncontrollably. Some of the boys were doing the same, some were chasing them with brooms and chairs and any makeshift weapons they could find. A couple of slingshots came out and there were stones ricocheting off walls and floors and furniture. Jack had his slingshot going, firing wildly, missing and hitting everything but the rats, until finally; Yes! He hit one! And blood spurted from the wound in its hindquarters. But still it managed to move, dragging its back legs until Wiremu smashed its head in with a chair, its small brain squirting up the wall. The Cutters stood in the corner, together, laughing and pointing at the chaos they had created, amazed at the scene. Revelling in the destruction and terror they’d created. Tu calmly fended off the odd rat that approached them with a broom as they drank in the sights and sounds. The plan, of course, was the brainchild of Farley, the rats provided by Tu. He had planned it a while ago and it was just a matter of waiting for Tu to collect enough rats from his infested home before it could be executed. That was easy enough as Tu trapped them and then kept them in a cage and fed them, just enough mind you, to keep them alive, until he had all that he wanted, any longer and they’d start breeding with each other. Then Tu with the help of the twins had filled a couple of wooden boxes with the rodents and brought them to school hiding them by the woodpile until interval. It had gone better than any of them had imagined and it had certainly put that dragon McFierce in her place. The best thing about it was no one could actually blame them for it. Deny, deny, deny, and hopefully that snivelling, goody two shoes, Johnny boy would get the blame. In saying that, there was no point in pulling a stunt like this unless you could brag about it and they probably would own up to it, once the heat died down of course. Yes, it had gone very well. Very well indeed, thought Farley.
Mrs Webby came out of her classroom and across the corridor to the senior’s class when she heard the commotion. She saw John sitting on the floor, outside the door, his head in his hands blubbing.
“John are you okay, what is happening in there?”She asked apprehensively, confusion showing on her face, as she reached for the door handle.
He looked up and said, “Rats.”
“Rats? What do you mean rats?” And immediately took her hand away from the door.
“Don’t open that they’ll get out!” He cried.
“Well I can’t stand out here and do nothing while there’s something terrible going on in there now can I?” Before she had to make a decision the door flew open and children and rats came barrelling through it; the children screaming, some with rats on their backs or in their hair. They pushed past Mrs Webby and ran outside. “Oh my God!” She gasped as she took in the chaotic scene before her. There were children and rats running everywhere. There were overturned desks and chairs and chalk was spread everywhere and crushed into the floor. There were books and papers strewn about and paint and ink up the walls and o
n the floor. There was blood on some kids, some had thrown up and some had crapped or pissed themselves. Some were standing on the desks, some on the shelves and two were on the cold pot belly fire holding onto the flue. One was somehow standing on the blackboard ledge, arms spread-eagled across the board to maintain their balance. Some of the boys were firing their slingshots at the rats, some were bashing them with chairs and brooms and Miss McFierce’s ruler. Some kids were crying, some screaming, some shouting and some laughing. Miss McFierce had collapsed and looked to be lying in an awkward, unnatural position on the floor as kids and rats ran or jumped over her. A couple of rats scuttled over Mrs Webby’s feet and away, more children ran past her, screaming. John stayed sitting on the floor, blubbing; his head in his hands. She drew a deep breath and in a commanding voice that she didn’t know she had, shouted at full volume: “EVERYBODY OUT NOW!”
And everybody stopped and turned and looked at this meek and mild woman who usually spoke in such a quiet voice and they were stunned and shocked and they came to their senses and headed straight towards her and the open doorway quickly and orderly. The rats scattered before them. More ran out the door and some tried to hide in dark corners and behind things. “I’ll take that thank you!” And Mrs Webby seized the broom off Wiremu as he passed by her and when everybody had left the classroom she entered it and walked to the far corner of the room and methodically began to search and clear the area of the rats. She did it with as much noise as possible, banging and crashing things, yelling, moving objects that the rats may be hiding behind, using the broom as a weapon, and to direct and push the rats out the door. Checking every nook and cranny until they were all gone and then she went into the corridor and checked that area too and then, and only then, did she re enter the classroom and approach Miss McFierce still on the floor. She didn’t want to move her in case she would do more damage to her already twisted body, so she kneeled beside her and checked for a pulse in her neck. She found none and hoped and prayed that: ‘She was dead..?’
And she looked around guiltily ashamed of her thoughts, hoping no one was watching and had guessed what she was thinking. ‘Dead? No of course not, I’m a Christian woman and I shouldn’t think such a thing. Alive! I hope and pray she is alive!’ She ran outside and called Jack and Wiremu to her “Get Doctor Williams, tell him it’s an emergency and he’s to come quickly. Tell him it’s Miss McFierce; that she’s badly injured!”
And the two boys ran as fast as they could and fetched the doctor.
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The school had to be closed for the next two months while the Education Board went through the arduous task of recruiting another teacher for Putumu Primary.
Doctor Williams had pronounced Miss McFierce ‘dead at the scene.’ Although she had sustained serious injuries to her back and neck her death was due to a heart attack the autopsy said. She was in poor health and it was suggested that she may not have lived much longer anyway. She wasn’t missed nor mourned by many and the few that did turn up to her funeral did so out of courtesy only. The locals suspected who had caused this but an inquiry into the matter came up with no proof that the ‘Cutters’ were behind this act. So after an initial hue and cry the matter was dropped and all looked forward to the prospect of gaining a new, more popular teacher. When Miss Collins, the new teacher, finally did arrive she was credited with increasing the attendance rate of the pupils and creating a more community involved school. Numerous villagers offered her board, some even at no cost. Some would say all of this was due to her talents as a teacher and her kind disposition. Other more cynical people may say it was because she was in her early twenties, had long blonde hair, an hourglass figure, and a face like Lana Turner’s.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SPRING 1944
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n a warm Saturday afternoon Jack Delaney, Wiremu Kotare and Rex Roberts (Junior) strolled down the main street of Putumu. Each had an ‘All Day Sucker’ in his hand that they had bought from Mrs Rasch, and they chatted and licked their lolly as they walked along, enjoying the spring sun. The drooping clusters of yellow flowers attracted hordes of Tui to the kowhai trees that lined the main street, and fantails danced in front of them as the boys disturbed the insects from the grass verge. The village was unusually quiet for a Saturday. It was normally a day when the community came to together to meet, to set up markets, to shop and then perhaps enjoy a drink at the hotel but there was nobody to be seen apart from the three boys. Earlier Willie Rasch had waved as he had driven past them in his van and then turned down a little dead end street that had no name and held no houses. A bush shaded, rough little dirt road that rarely saw the sun and was created only as a place to push the debris from the main roads when they were created by the D8 bulldozers back in the early thirties. The end of it was now used as a rubbish dump by the locals and a casual observer would assume that Willie was heading there to dump a van full of rubbish. The hotel was closed, the boys had noticed as they walked past, and they looked at each other knowing that this was irregular, that the patrons would normally be well into their second or third beer for the day. They approached a sign that said ‘Totara Lane’ and which pointed to a street across the road and they all casually glanced that way, knowing what they would see, expecting it, wanting it. The Cutters, all of them; Fat Frog Farley, the Twins, Tu Whakatuma carving their initials and obscenities into a kowhai tree, the twins throwing stones at the Tuis that came near. The boys just stood and stared at The Cutters, observing their antics silently, until Tu looked up. He nudged Farley and pointed to them. “WHAT’RE LOOKING AT YA BUNCH OF PANSIES?” Yelled Farley from across the street.
Jack looked back and forth between Rex and Wiremu, Wiremu gave Jack a slight nod and Jack turned and cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loud as he could “A BULLFROG AND HIS TADPOLES!”
Farley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Boy are you in for it now,” he said quietly. “Get him fellahs!” He added. And the Cutters took off across the road after Jack and his friends.
Rex was in front running as quickly as he could. It wasn’t that he was faster than Jack or Wiremu, in fact far from it; it was that Jack and Wiremu were trying to shield Rex from the gang. They didn’t want him to be left behind as they all ran down the road. Because Rex was a slow runner they were barely keeping ahead of Tu and the twins. Farley brought up the rear, wheezing and red faced, as he trundled along trying to keep up with his posse. The boys turned and headed down the rubbish dump road. As they ran down the dirt road they slipped and skidded on the damp, leaf strewn surface, nearly losing their footing and nearly going over on occasions. A stone thrown by one of the twins hit Wiremu in the back causing him to cry out with pain, another hit Jack in the back of the head opening a wound; blood spreading through his hair and running down his neck; bleeding like only a head wound can. The twins laughed as they hit their targets. Not to be out done Tu bent down and picked up a large stick off the ground as he ran, and hurled it, so that it spun in the air making a whoop whoop noise as it rotated madly towards the group in front of him. He wasn’t aiming at anyone in particular, just hoping to score a hit, and it did, passing over Jack and Wiremu and striking Rex across the shoulders, knocking him off balance, making him trip and stumble and fall to the ground, skinning his knees and hands on the gravel as he hit the road. Wiremu close behind him, going too fast to stop, tripping on him, falling over Rex and cart wheeling and tumbling and rolling as he hit the ground. Cutting and bruising and grazing himself as he made contact with the gravel. Jack managing to stop, avoiding a collision, grabbing at a crying Rex urging him to get up and keep going, screaming at him and Wiremu ‘to move, keep going, for chrissakes run!’ But it was too late. Tu and the twins were there and they surrounded them. Rex still on the ground scrabbling blindly in the dirt for his glasses. Wiremu slowly getting to his feet, feeling the pain, the agony of his injuries. They were all breathing heavily as the
y eyed each other, nothing was said but smiles spread across the faces of the Twins and Tu as they knew they had already won this battle and yet it was just beginning, the best yet to come, as they looked up to see Fat Frog Farley come waddling down the road, taking his time now, no need to rush, all the time in the world in fact. “Well gentlemen I see we have cornered our prey,” wheezed Farley. “What shall we do with them now that we’ve caught them boys? I mean it couldn’t be a more perfect place to deal to these turds. There aren’t any witnesses and no one will hear them screaming should we inflict a little pain.” He rubbed his hands together.
“Take their lollies off them for a start I reckon,” said Tu.
“Yeah take the lollies of the turds,” sniggered one of the twins. “And check their pockets for money,” said the other.
Willie Rasch appeared from around the corner in the road. “If I vere you I vould not be taking zere lollies or their money as it vould only make it vorse for you,” he said.
Farley grinned and shook his head. “Oh boy this just gets better. The Jew boy with a willy rash is here. Think we can handle the Jew boy as well fellahs?”
The rest of the gang chuckled at his joke and were about to answer when they were interrupted by another voice. “You might think you can handle Mister Rasch, but do you think you can handle me as well?” Said Joe Burns the publican, the unofficial mayor of Putumu, who had appeared and stood beside Willie.
“What the hell! Where’d you come from?” Said Farley a little surprised.
From behind them another voice. “And what about us, can you handle us?”
Farley and his gang turned, ten villagers were walking down the road towards them from the direction they had just come.