The Ashton Rd. Gang.

[Palustris]

Graham's attention had been caught by the sight of the milkman and his horse-drawn cart going down the road. Quick as lightning Graham dropped the piece of wood he was chewing and dashed off across the road and tried to bite the horse.
"That’s brave," remarked Noddy. "That horse is renowned for kicking."
True to its reputation the horse lashed out with its hind leg, narrowly missing the front of the cart and Graham. Graham then transferred his attention to the milkman who had been walking along side his cart. That poor man wrenched his trousers free and leapt up on to his cart shouting "Gee up!" Milkman, horse and cart clattered down the road in a cloud of dust, pain and bad language.
Laurie gave an astonished whistle. "If I had not seen that I would never have believed it. I thought you lot were kidding me. He’s lethal!" He looked worried at Graham, now sat back down on the bank. "Are we safe here?"
"Fairly," I told him. "Mind you if he comes this way it is best to run."
"I think I’ll go home then," said Laurie. "It is not safe round here."
Stew grinned. "You could be right."
When Laurie had gone we stayed on the wall discussing ways of protecting the Bonfire from the Black’s End lot. We kept a wary eye on Graham. He was now busy chewing a piece of Mrs. Potter’s sideboard.
"Graham!" said Grubby suddenly.
We jumped down from the wall and got ready to run, but Graham was busy chewing.
"What’s up with you, scaring us half to death like that," complained Noddy.
Grubby waved a hand for silence. He was obviously in the middle of some very heavy thinking to judge from the expression on his face.
"I think he’s got stomach ache," whispered Stew.
Nobody else said anything, we just watched Grubby and after a few more moments Grubby made us all jump when he announced. "Graham would make a guard dog."
Stew nodded. "Very true, nobody would go near him. But so what?"
“He’d keep people away from the Bonfire," went on Grubby as if Stew had not spoken.
"He’d keep us away too." I pointed out. "He’s doing it now"
"I’ve thought!” said Grubby.
"Miracles will never cease," sneered Stew.
"Shut up," said Noddy. "Listen to Grubby."
"Graham doesn’t go to school. He plays on the bank all day. It doesn’t matter if he keeps us away. We don’t need to go to the Bonfire until he’s gone to bed, "said Grubby slowly.
That was the longest speech I had ever heard Grubby make. I did not know that he knew that many words.
Peter nodded. "He’s right you know. Graham’s usually here when we get home from school.”
Stew was full of enthusiasm. "We can collect stuff while he’s on guard and throw it on when he’s gone. Come on, let's ask him."
Bob was not quite so full of the idea. "Hang on, hang on a minute. Just who is going to ask him? I’m not. He nearly had my ear off, last time I did not see him coming."
`"Me!" Grubby announced firmly. He jumped down from the wall and went towards Graham.
"He’s braver than me," said Bob.
"I hope he knows what he’s doing. Life would be very hard without a nose."said Noddy.
Grubby got to within two yards of Graham, but he was not given chance to speak.
"I’ll getcha!" screamed Graham and launched himself at Grubby.

[Palustris]

Those were the only words any of us had ever heard Graham utter.
Grubby fled with Graham in pursuit. For a little lad Graham could certainly shift. Grubby made a beeline for us. That meant we all had to run as well. Fortunately a lifetime of dodging adult supervision had made us expert in all the alleys and short cuts and places where one could climb over walls to escape.
"What now?" puffed Noddy when we felt safe enough to stop running.
"Still think it’s a good idea," insisted Grubby.
He did not have many ideas and tended to stick with those he did have.
"Try again."
"Well run in the other direction this time," ordered Noddy. "I haven’t got my wind back yet."
Graham had managed to find his way back to the bank. He was sat by the Bonfire digging a hole and chewing on a piece of wood.
"Anyone got a sticky toffee?" asked Grubby.
"Peter fished in his pocket and pulled out the contents. Wrapped in a dirty piece of paper was a disgusting lump of treacle toffee.
"This do you?" He offered the brown mess to Grubby. "What’s up, the running made you hungry?"
"No!" answered Grubby, taking the offering and pulling a rusty nail out of it. "Perfect!"
Grubby approached Graham again. The rest of us hid behind my front wall. Here we felt safe, as there was a greater choice of directions in which to flee.
Noddy muttered, "I hope he runs the other way."
Grubby did not give Graham time to move. He threw the toffee on the ground next to the hole the little lad was digging and fled. The toffee rolled to a halt, picking up some more dirt. That did not appear to bother Graham. He picked it up, sniffed at it cautiously, then true to form bit it. The toffee was the kind which after a few softening chews turned into a mouth filling, tooth clogging sticky goo. Peter’s mother was famous for it. After a few seconds Grahams jaw movement slowed and stopped.
"Better!" said Grubby.
Carefully we all went up to Graham and surrounded him. Try as he might he could not open his jaws to bite, nor could he escape. Noddy grabbed his arms. The look in Graham’s eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of his National Health glasses was a strange mixture of fear and hate. It was enough to turn milk sour.
Taking his life in his hands, Grubby pushed his face close to Graham’s If those teeth escaped from that toffee Grubby could end up gong through life noseless.
Returning Graham’s fierce stare, Grubby said," You like Bonfires?"
Nervously Graham nodded. His eyes flicked from side to side looking for an escape. All the while he carried on trying to free his teeth. A dribble of brown spit ran down his chin.
"People pinch the wood, don’t they?"
Graham nodded again, tongue working away at the toffee.
"You keep people away from the Bonfire. You bite them OK?"
Graham thought for a moment then nodded.
This final nod loosened his teeth from their sugary grip. Grubby only just managed to jerk his head back as Graham’s brown-stained teeth clicked together dangerously close to the end of Grubby’s nose. Noddy lost his grip on Graham’s arms and we fled with Graham’s "I’ll getcha!" ringing in our ears.
Later in Peter’s yard, Peter said, "I hope it was worth it, I was saving that toffee for later."
"You know, it’s a good job Bonfire night is only a couple of days away. The way Graham chews everything up, there might be nothing left to burn, but bits of soggy sawdust, " I said thoughtfully.
Later that day when the Foster St Gang tried to add some wood to the pile Graham chased them away snarling like a demented tiger. Eventually we persuaded them it was a good idea to have Graham on guard.
Monday was a school day. When I arrived home Graham was on the Bank. He had chewed quite a bit more of Mrs. Potter’s sideboard. I went in to tell my mother I was home.
"That Graham’s been up to his nasty tricks again," she said.
"Oh?" I asked, munching on a jam crust.
"He ought to be locked up. Do you know, just before you came home he was chasing a whole gang of lads down the road."
I almost choked. "Do you know who they were?"
Mum thumped me on the back. "No! They were not from round here."
"I am going down to see if Peter’s in yet."
"Well, don’t be late for your tea." She told me.
Peter had only just come in. His mother answered the door. "Hello, Billy, had a nice day at school?"
I said, "Yes!" even though it was not true. Explanations of bad days at school took too long.
She went on, "I saw some of those awful boys from Black's End at the bottom of the road, before."
My ears pricked up.
"One of them was showing the others a bite. I did not know there were any fierce dogs like that round here. I am not going to let Peter out if there are."
"Graham," I said, by way of explanation.
"Ah!" she said.

[Palustris]

Whoever did it must have been very nasty or did not realise he was there. Somebody set fire to the Bonfire. Bob’s mother happened to be cleaning their front room ready for their Bonfire night party. They were one of the few families with a telephone. She rang the Fire Brigade and dashed out with a bucket of water to try to put out the fire.
In her haste she had forgotten about Graham. She was stopped in her tracks when a small figure dashed out of the centre of the Bonfire, gnashed its teeth at her and disappeared back inside. She did manage to throw the water at a distance on the flames, which slowed the burning down a lot, but she could not get close enough to put them out completely.
The fire was beginning to burn quite well, when the Fire Engine arrived. Naturally, the sound of bells brought everyone who was not outside already, into the street. Bob’s mother explained to the firemen about Graham while they rolled out their hose pipes. One brave man entered the Bonfire to rescue the little boy. He backed out of the middle clutching his hand without Graham.
The wind was blowing up Ashton Rd., taking the smoke from the smouldering bonfire away from where we were sat on the wall of No.72. We had a fine view.
All this took less time to go on than it does to describe.
"Look at him!" exclaimed Peter. "He’s clinging to the centre pole."
Two firemen now entered the fire while their colleagues hosed it down.
"Here’s his mother" said Noddy.
Graham's mother came dashing up the road, screaming "Where’s my baby? Where’s my Graham?"
"He’s inside the Bonfire," shouted Stew.
Graham’s mother gave a screech and fainted.
"Hummmph! Typical," snorted Noddy. "Bet she did only that so she would not have to go in and rescue him.
The smoke was thick and black now. It cleared enough for us to see Graham’s face, his mouth was open and he seemed to be shouting something.
I’ll bet I know what he’s saying," said Stew.
There were no takers.
"I’ll getcha!" we all chorused.
The firemen had taken the precaution of wearing heavy gloves and breathing apparatus. They dragged Graham out. The Bonfire was hose piped until all traces of the fire had gone.
Graham appeared none the worse for his experience. His mother was helped down the road by Bob’s mother and mine. Graham was carried, soaking wet and black by one of the firemen. The crew began rolling up their hoses and preparing to leave. The rescuing heroes returned, one of them shaking his head in disbelief. He was wearing only one glove.
"I couldn’t get it out of his mouth!" I heard him say to his mates.
"That child should be muzzled," said the one whose hand had been bitten.
Noddy surveyed the sodden Bonfire. "It is going to take a lot of doing to get that lot lit tomorrow night," he said sadly.
Grubby nodded then gave a big beaming smile. "But you have to admit, Graham kept everybody away from it."

[ideasguy]

That was a close call for Graham, Eric.
Like our other Eric I'm keeping up in the evenings with your story.

[Palustris]

A Bike for Christmas

"Billy, go back to sleep. It is only half past five. You are not going down stairs until we all get up and I am not getting up this early just for you."
Mum did not sound too pleased at being woken up, so I crept back into bed. I thought that it would not be a good idea to start Christmas Day off by putting her in a bad mood. I did not even try to explain that the noise which had woken both of us was only my Christmas stocking falling off the bed.

Hoping that the rustling of sweet wrappers would not disturb anyone, I settled back against the pillows to explore the stocking. It contained nothing unusual. Chewing a caramel I began to daydream about the presents waiting for me downstairs.
I was not really bothered about what I was going to get, I knew that there was a brand new, at least to me anyway, sparklingly clean bicycle just waiting for me somewhere in the house.

One day about three weeks previously Mum had gone out shopping, leaving me alone in the house. While searching for a pencil in a drawer, I had found, tucked away at the back, a bicycle bell. It had to be for me. Mary already had a fairly new bicycle with a good bell, whereas my old bike was now a heap of scrap in Kronski’s Yard. Neither Mum nor Dad rode bikes any more, so who else could it be for other than me? At least that was my way of thinking.

So I could lie in bed on Christmas morning and wonder what it would be like. As I did I could not help remembering the day when my old bike was wrecked. It was rather battered to begin with. I had made it myself from bits collected from various Scrap-yards round the town.

We had had one of those Indian Summers that October. For some reason known only to itself, the weather suddenly turned hot and dry, as if it was June all over again. Naturally, the gang took advantage of the weather to go out on our bikes whenever we could.

Recently the Town Council had been given a piece of land on the edge of town, between us and the next village. The land was called Witches Knoll. It was just an area of bracken covered moorland with a few scrubby oak trees round the edge. In the centre of it was an old disused quarry. Part of the land was used to build a reservoir which was well fenced off to keep people out. The rest the Council left open for the public to use as a recreation area. To make the quarry safer they put up railings all the way round the rim about 10 feet away from the edge. A gap was left to allow people to go down a steep slope to the quarry floor.

No quarrying had taken place there for many years and the floor was covered in bracken, grass, brambles and more of the scrubby oak trees. From the description in the local paper and from what my father said about it, the Knoll sounded a wonderful place for a gang of boys to have fun.

Although none of us had ever been there before, we all knew exactly where it was and how to get there. That was the trouble. Everybody in the gang had a different route in mind. As usual we were sat discussing this on the wall of No.72.

Simon insisted. "We go up through the Willow Grove, cross the bridge and through the fields to the main road."

"Don’t be daft!" snorted Stew. "That's the long way round, We go through the Park and then along City Rd. That’s the quickest way. And we’d have time to go in Grange Gardens and look at the pond."

"Oh no. I am not going near any water!" I said firmly. "So far this year I have fallen in four lakes, one river and a stream."

They all sniggered.

"It’s all right for you to laugh, but if I go home wet through again, my Mum will never let me out of the house again."

"You can get there, by going up through Perton and along Doctor’s Lane," said Bob.

"My way’s best!" shouted Simon.

"Hey up," said Grubby and nodded in the direction of Bob’s house. The curtains were twitching. That could mean that his mother was watching us and that could mean either she would come out and make him go in because we were arguing, or worse still, send him on a message.

"Race to the bottom of the road. First one there chooses," said Simon.

He expected to win on his racing bike with its drop handle bars, but I did not turn out that way. Somehow Peter got there first. Of course Simon sulked, but as it was he who suggested the race, he had to put up with it.

"First we go through the Park," said Peter thoughtfully.

That was all right with us, we always went through the Park first.

Peter continued. "But instead of going out through the gates near Holly Bank we go thorough the ones near the Swings and stuff. Then come out on Larch Avenue. There is a little passage from there that takes you across the Iron Bridge over the railway."

He stopped and looked to see how we were taking this. No one said any thing.
He went on. "Then we cut through the Council Estate to St Luke’s Church."

"Why go there?" asked Noddy. "You getting religious?"

Peter shook his head. "Mum says the stone from the Quarry was used to build the Church so I thought it would be nice to see both places."

Simon sneered and drew a circle on his temple, showing he thought Peter was mad. "Thick head!"

"Shurrup Simon," I said. I was getting very fed up with Simon’s bad temper.

"Then where?" asked Stew pointedly turning his back on Simon.

"There is a footpath from St Luke's along the back of Doctor’s Lane to the main road. The Knoll is only just up from there."

"Sounds good to me," said Noddy.

"Well, let’s get going before it is too late." I said.

Simon was still sulking, but he followed. Peter’s choice of route was good. The gravestones in St Luke’s church yard were fascinating, especially to Grubby. We found one dated 1672. We stayed there looking at them and trying to read the names and dates until the Vicar came out of the Church and stared at us. Although we were being quiet and not doing anything wrong we thought we had better leave.

The footpath behind Doctor’s Lane was beautiful, lined with all sorts of trees. They were just beginning to put on their Autumn fancy dress.

Soon we were riding up the new stretch of road which led to the top of the Knoll. There was a fine view of the town and surrounding villages. The Council had installed a drinking fountain and provided benches and, very importantly, a public toilet. We tried out all three and found them very satisfactory.

"Let’s play ‘Hide and Seek,’" suggested Simon.

"Naw, climb trees," disagreed Grubby.

So we went along and climbed every tree we could. The soil in the hillside was very thin so none of the trees had grown very tall. They were all bent and twisted and a challenge to find a way up. The trouble was that we regularly climbed the trees in the Willow Grove and they were up to 60 feet tall, rather than 8 feet like these.

Simon grumbled, "We should have played ‘Hide and Seek’ like I said.

"Let’s go down into the Quarry," I said.

In the Quarry it was smashing. There was a narrow, sandy path that wandered in and out of the trees and bushes, between rocks of all sizes. It went all round the Quarry floor and finished up back at the slope at the entrance.

Before Simon could make a suggestion, Grubby said, "Dirt tracking."

"Rubbish," declared Simon, "The paths too narrow for more than one bike."

"Time trials?" was Peter’s suggestion.

Grubby disappeared under a nearby bush. He came out again putting something carefully in his matchbox. Nobody commented, we were used to Grubby suddenly forgetting all about us and catching some poor unsuspecting creature.

"Who’s got a watch?" asked Stew.

Of course Simon had a watch and it had a second hand too. We had to threaten to go off and leave him before he agreed to act as timekeeper.

The start and the finish were at the top of the Entrance slope. Since it was his idea Grubby went first. He took off with a spurt of sand. A few minutes later he pedalled back up the slope, red-faced and puffing, but with a huge grin on his face.

"Super!"

Stew wrote his time in a patch of sand. Peter went next. He was much slower. Stew set a faster time, which Noddy looked to be beating until he skidded off on the last bend. Bob was really slow, but then he had never mastered the art of sliding the bike round a bend.

Then it was my turn. Pedalling like a lunatic, I set off. It was a fantastic feeling to slide round the bends in the path, jerk the bike upright and speed down the short straights.

At the end of the circuit the path went fairly straight for perhaps forty paces before turning sharply to the left to bring it back to the slope. It was that bend which was Noddy’s downfall. In the middle of the track lay two lumps of rock. From the tracks it was obvious that the rest had gone one side or the other of them. I decided that there was just enough room for my wheels to go between them.

[Palustris]

The next thing I knew was that I was stood upright on the path in front of my bike, feeling very dazed and winded.

"That was brilliant!" Bob shouted as the gang came running up to me.

"What, what?" I was still not really aware of what had happened and my whole body felt as if I had been stamped on by a full rugby team.

"You’ve just done a somersault over the handlebars and landed on your feet," said Stew grinning from ear to ear.

"And look at your bike," giggled Noddy.

Painfully I turned round. My bicycle was stood upright with the front wheel jammed between the two rocks.

"You should have seen what your bike did," said Noddy. "When you flew off, the bike flipped over, bounced on the saddle, went back and stayed upright."

"You were lucky not to break your ankles," said Bob, who always thought of that sort of thing.

"Don’t know about my ankles, but the rest of me doesn’t feel so good." I said, looking at my bike, but not feeling up to going and getting it.

"Bet you couldn’t do it again," jeered Simon.

"If I was meant to fly I’d have been born a ruddy sparrow." I said.

Grubby was crouching down next to my bike and scratching his head.
That was a bad sign. It meant that there was something wrong and it was bothering him, making him think.

My heart sank, "What's up?"

"Stuck!" He said, nodding towards the front wheel.

Sure enough the front wheel was held fast between the rocks. It took us half an hour chipping away with a tyre lever from Bob’s cycle tool kit to get the wheel free. I was too relieved to see the wheel come free with only a few more scratches to add to its normal quota, to look at the condition of the rest of the machine.

"Anyway," I said. "Would I have won? How was my time?"

Simon smirked. "Dunno, I forgot to set my watch when you started off."

"You miserable....twerp. I’ll murder you!" I screamed

Simon leapt on his bike and raced away out of the Quarry as fast as he could pedal. I jumped on mine and gave chase. The others followed. My bike felt a bit odd, but I was too annoyed to stop and check it.

By the time I caught up with Simon, I was too puffed out to thump him and I still felt rather shaky from the accidental gymnastic display. We lay on a patch of grass to cool down.

After a while Simon jumped up and said," Come on, lets ride round the Quarry."

"Get lost," said Noddy. "We are too tired. You did not race, it’s all right for you."

"Who’s the leader of this gang?" Simon was getting very angry.

"Well, you ain’t, that’s for sure." I said.

"Says who? he snarled back.

"All of us," said Noddy. "We don’t have leaders in this gang. Right?"

"No, it isn’t!" Simon was really angry now. "If I’m not the leader then I’m not in the gang! I’m going."

"Bye!" sniffed Grubby.

"And what's more, I am going to ride round the top of the Quarry, INSIDE the railings, so there." Simon was in a real temper now.

"Oh, stop showing off. You’ll fall in." Stew was as fed up of Simon as everyone else.

"I won’t. I am the best rider here!" boasted Simon.

"He’s only saying it because ‘cos he hasn’t had his own way over everything," observed Bob. Sometimes he was very clever like that was Bob. Maybe Bob was right, but it was not the best thing to say when Simon was so worked up. Simon stormed away.

"Do you think he’ll really do it?" Peter looked up the path where Simon had gone.

Grubby looked up from examining the contents of one of his matchboxes, carefully pushed it closed and put it away in his pocket. He put his head on one side, pursed his lips, thought for a few seconds and nodded.

Two seconds later we were all on our bikes, racing in the direction which Simon had taken. My bike felt even more peculiar. We arrived at the edge of the Quarry just in time to hear Simon scream.

"Grief," exclaimed Stew. "He’s fallen!"

"Quick, everyone into the Quarry. Split up and find him. " I shouted.
We sped down into the Quarry.

"He’s here!" shouted Noddy.

We all dashed over. Lying in a crumpled heap, at the foot of the quarry wall was a very still, Simon. He had fallen about 15 feet. Nearby his bike was in a crumpled heap on a large rock.

"What do we do now, he’s dead?" said Stew.

[Palustris]

"Don’t move him!" I was trying desperately to remember the First Aid which I had read in my Dad’s St. John’s Ambulance books.

"Right, Bob you stay here with me and lend us your bicycle cape. Everyone else scatter and find a telephone. We need an ambulance." I carefully covered Simon with the cape. The only two things I could remember was to not move the person and to keep them warm.

Everyone scattered.

Bob shouted after them. "Better get a priest too if he’s dead."

"Don’t be stupid," I screamed at him. "He’s not dead, if you look you can see him breathing."

"What do we do?" asked Bob.

"Nothing! As far as I can see without moving him, he is not bleeding badly from anywhere so all we do is wait for the Ambulance."

I was trying to appear calm, but was far from feeling it. For once in my short life I felt the need for an adult.

Bob sat on a rock and began to cry. I sat by Simon, watching his pale face and shallow breathing and said every prayer I could think of.

A man’s voice made me jump. "OK, son, let me have a look at him. I’ve rung for an ambulance."

It was a great relief to see him there, in his shirt sleeves and braces, looking very solid and dependable. To my shame I burst into tears, like Bob.

"Is he, er, you know, er dead?" Noddy whispered. It was he who had found the man.

"Bless you, no," replied the man who had been examining Simon, very gently and carefully. "He looks to have broken his leg and his wrist. He will have concussion too. But he’s not dead." The man looked at us. "Look lads, go and sit at the top of the slope and send the ambulance men down here when they arrive. I’ll look after him. Oh and keep everyone out, we don’t want an audience now do we?"

I must have looked doubtful because the man went on. "It’s all right. I know what I am doing. I am in charge of First Aid at the Pit."

I nodded, feeling a little better. Noddy, Bob and I went to the top of the slope. The others arrived, not having found another person on the Knoll. We just sat there in silence. After what seemed like an age the sound of the Ambulance bell brought us to our feet. We showed the Ambulance men where Simon was laying. The miner gave us a thumbs-up sign, but did not speak. We went back to the top of the slope.

The next person to arrive was a policeman on his bike. He asked us all sorts of questions. We tried to answer, but I think we were all too shocked to think straight. I know for once we all gave our correct names and addresses. He too went down into the Quarry.

Simon was brought out on a stretcher. He was conscious now. I heard him mutter as they went past. "My bike, my Dad’ll kill me. Oooh my leg!"

We watched as they placed him in the back of the ambulance, then the doors were shut. The driver had a word with the policeman before jumping into the driving seat. The ambulance roared away, bells ringing and lights flashing.

I turned to Stew. "You know, I’ve always wanted to go in an ambulance with the bells ringing like that. Somehow I’ve changed my mind."

Stew just looked sick.

The policeman turned to us, "Right lads, if you are all fit, I reckon it’s time you all went home."

"Who’s going to tell his mum?" worried Bob. "She’ll have historics."

"Hysterics," answered the policeman. "Don’ worry, one of our people will go round long before you get home. Just leave it to us."

"Will we be up in court?" sniffed Noddy. We were all a bit tearful still.

"Why?" smiled the policeman. "You haven’t done anything wrong have you?"

"No, it was Simon." Grubby was at his fiercest in denying any crime.

"Well there you are then. Personally I think your friend should be very pleased to have such sensible friends. You did just the right thing." The policeman was being very nice to us.

Stew suddenly turned away and was violently sick in the bushes. I nearly joined him. Peter’s breathing sounded all wrong. Noddy’s head was jerking so much he looked like a demented puppet. Bob still had tears running down his face and he kept wiping his nose on his sleeve. Grubby just frowned very, very fiercely at nothing.

"Hmm," commented the policeman. "I am not sure any of you are fit enough to get home." He thought for a minute. "You had better all come with me to the Police house. I’ll see what I can do for you."

The miner came out of the Quarry carrying the broken bits of Simon’s bike and Bob’s cape. "I’ll put this in my shed until the lad’s parents let me know what to do with it." He looked at us stood round the policeman. "They are good lads these," he said to the bobby.

You are right there, Sid," replied the policeman. "Thanks for your help. I’ll come round and see you later, got to fill in a report you know. Now I’ve got to get these lads home somehow."

"I’d drive them there in the wagon myself, but I am due in work in half an hour," said Sid.

"No bother, I’ll manage it," said the policeman.

"Er, mister," I interrupted.

"Yes, son?" smiled Sid.

"Thanks for helping Simon." Then I blushed. It just goes to show how shaken I was.

"That’s OK," he said looking down at us. "Just you remember what happened to him next time you come up here."

"Yes sir!" We all nodded.

We followed the policeman down into the village. My bike was almost impossible to push even, but I was too worried to think about that. Outside the police house, was parked a coal lorry. "Hey look," shouted Peter, breathing a lot better now. "There’s Mister Tucker."

"You know him?" asked the policeman quickly

"He’s a friend of my Mum’s," answered Peter then for some reason he blushed.

Stay here then," ordered the policeman.

Mr Tucker had just delivered a load of coal to the house next door. He willingly agreed to find room on the lorry for all of us and our bikes.

It did not take long to get home. I was too worried do anything other than go to bed. I did not even have my tea. I felt too sick to eat. Mum must have realised what state I was in. She just tucked me in without a word about the events of the day.

Next morning the first thing I did was to ask about Simon. He had a broken leg, collar bone, wrist and pelvis plus bruising, various cuts and scrapes and concussion. The hospital said he was, ‘Comfortable’. I could not see how that was possible with all those injuries. Mum said that it meant he was going to live.

Then she burned my ears off about how naughty I had been. ME. I thought that was a bit unfair. After all I had not forced Simon to ride off the edge of the quarry. To give her, her due she did apologise later when the man came from the local paper came to take my photograph. He told the story as if I was some kind of hero.

Mum asked," Why didn’t you tell me?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Didn’t think I had done anything."

Then she said she was sorry and hugged me. I would rather she was mad at me. At least I knew where I stood when she was angry.

There was worse to come. To escape I went into the yard to look at my bike. I understood straight away why it had felt so odd. The front forks were bent. Saying the words that I had heard my Dad say when he hit his thumb with a hammer, I went to the shed to get out the tools. I said the words very quietly. I did not want my mother to speak to me like she spoke to Dad when she heard him using those words.

By the time I had taken off the front forks and all the other bits that were broken or worn out, the whole bike was in pieces. Dad came in from work through the back gate. "What’s up?"

I was sat holding the front forks wondering how I was going to straighten them.
He crouched down next to me and looked at the disassembled machine. "You know, I don’t think you are going to be able to mend it you know. You may as well take it to Kronski’s. Sorry."

Very close to tears, I nodded.

"Keep your fingers crossed and behave yourself, you never know, perhaps we’ll find a way of getting you one," he said. "But don’t expect too much. Money’s tight you know."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I made this one from scrap, I suppose I can always make myself another. But I think I’ll wait till spring. I am off bikes for a bit."

"I should think so," he laughed. "At least you haven’t wrecked an expensive machine like Simon."

"Yeah, true. His Mum will buy him a new one though. You know what they are like."

We went into the house.

For a while I had to put up with Mary calling me ‘Hero’ in a sarcastic tone of voice, until I snapped her skipping rope. Then we had a fight. She won as usual. Things went back to normal.

Now it was Christmas and I was lying in bed waiting to be told I could get up. Simon was getting better. He was expecting a new racing bike for Christmas even though it would be sometime before he would be fit enough to ride it.
I must have dozed off because Mum’s voice made me jump. "All right, you can get up now. And have a good wash this year."

Quickly I washed and dressed. It was a family tradition that we all went downstairs together on Christmas morning, so I had to wait until everyone was ready. That was hard. Eventually Dad led the way. He threw open the living room door and shouted

"Happy Christmas!"

We all said Happy Christmas to each other. I even said it to Mary and meant it, almost.

My presents were laid out on an armchair. There looked to be an awful lot of them. I was sure there had not been that many things last year, but they were mostly small, except for one large flat, square parcel. There was no sign of a bicycle. I nipped into the kitchen. There was no bicycle in there either. I would have seen one in the hall and we never ever used the front room. Surely they would not have left it outside, it was raining.

"Perhaps the bell was not for me after all," I thought. "Perhaps they could not afford one."

Disappointed, I began opening presents. As usual I started with the smallest. I do not know why I did this, but I always did. Some of the stuff was not wrapped, a selection box of sweets from an aunt. That was nice. Then I opened Granddad Jones parcel, it was a lovely set of small tools, just right for using on a bicycle. That cheered me up a bit. At least now I had my own things to use when I started building my bicycle from scrap.

The next present was the bicycle bell. "Weird!" I thought and carried on unwrapping.

I looked up to see how the others were doing with their unwrapping. They were just stood watching me. I wondered what was going on. The next thing I opened was a bicycle chain. It dawned on me that something was going on. I grabbed the large square parcel and tore off the wrapping. It was a bicycle frame.

Almost speechless I turned to my Dad, hugging the frame to me. He could hardly stand up for laughing. Mum had her face buried in her apron. Even Mary was giggling.
I waved a hand in the direction of the rest of my presents. "Is the rest of the bike there?"

Dad took a deep shuddering breath, "Aye, except for the wheels. They are in the coal shed. They were too hard to wrap up. And since you like putting bikes together, we thought you’d like to make your own."

“And," added Mum. "It might stop you searching through drawers looking for Christmas presents in future."

I blushed and simply said. "Thank-you!"