Abomination (4 page)

‘I’m sorry, Father.’

‘So you have said, and I mean to make you a great deal sorrier presently. You will see to Abomination’s dinner, then go to your room. I will be up to correct you when your mother and I have broken bread.’

Up to correct you
. I don’t need to tell you what
that
means, do I? I wish somebody’d tell
me
something though: what’s the difference between what the Good Samaritan did for the man who fell among thieves, and what I did for Scott?

14. Martha

When Father left my room, locking the door to keep me from reaching food in the night, I got my postcards out. It helps to look at them when I’ve been corrected, because they’re from other places. Places Father’s never seen and never will. Places I’ll go as soon as I’m old enough, like Mary. She was here, under his thumb, and it must’ve seemed to her it would never end but it did. The rod didn’t keep her here. It drove her away, that and the cold Sunday mornings and the good plain food.

Birmingham’s my favourite. It shows a sort of fountain with a stone lady lying in it, but it’s not the picture I like. It’s what Mary wrote on the back. She was writing to me and I was only seven so she didn’t do joined-up writing. That’s how I know she’s nice. It says:

Dearest Marfa
(her pet name for me – I couldn’t pronounce
th
when I was learning to talk)

I hope you’re OK, as I am. Birmingham is big and full of interesting things, like this fountain. I have found a friend. She’s called Annette. I wish you could meet her, she’s so funny. You won’t forget your big sister will you, poppet? She loves and misses you every day. I’ll write again soon. Be a good girl
.

Mary

You won’t forget your big sister
. Always makes me cry, that bit. As if I would.
Jezebel
, Father calls her, when he mentions her at all, but she’s got something he’ll never have. She’s got my love.

I hope it reaches her. My love, I mean. I send it to her when I’m in bed. I don’t know where she is because she never puts her address, so I send it through the air like a radio station. I picture it, spreading through the darkness like the ripples when a pebble plops into a pond. It goes in every direction so some of it’s bound to find her, isn’t it?

15. Scott

I do like Martha, though. I’ve no idea why. She’s definitely weird – the kids are right about that but what I think is, just because someone’s weird isn’t a good reason to pick on them. I mean, you get to know a weird person – really
know
them – and I bet you’ll find there’s a reason why they’re the way they are, and it won’t be their fault.

I was thinking about all this stuff in bed Tuesday night, because I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering what Martha’s folks said to her when she got home. Did she get in trouble? They’d looked seriously strange walking down Wentworth Road, and that’s what I mean – maybe Martha just takes after them.

I was right about Wednesday morning. They did give us a hard time. Me, anyway. I walked through the gateway and the same bunch was waiting. They went straight into the chant. I’d expected something of the sort and walked on, not looking at them. They followed me across the yard going,
Snotty Scotty, snotty Scotty, brain is dead and clothes are grotty
. Other kids joined in. When I still ignored them, Simon and Gordon started pushing me in the back. They were trying to make me fight, but I’m not daft. You can’t fight five people. I escaped by going inside. You can go in to use the toilet, but if a bunch go in together the teachers chuck ’em out.

I hung about the cloakroom till the buzzer went. Martha kept looking at me as old Wheelwright marked the register. I’d a couple of plasters on my face. I caught her eye and she gave me a sympathetic smile.

Straight after registration, a kid came in and told Wheely that Killer wanted to see me. He didn’t
say
Killer, of course. Wheely nodded. ‘Yes, all right. Off you go, Scott.’ He was eyeing the plasters too.

Killer was setting out apparatus in the gym. He looked me up and down.

‘Now, young Scott – how’re you this morning?’

‘I’m fine, sir, thanks.’

‘That’s the way, laddie. Now.’ He produced a notebook and pencil. ‘Who were they?’

‘I dunno, sir.’

He glanced up sharply. ‘You don’t know? A bunch of your classmates uses you as a football and you don’t know who they are?’

‘I’m new, sir. I don’t know everybody’s name yet.’

‘Uh-huh. You could point ’em out to me though?’

‘I don’t think so, sir.’

‘You don’t think so?’

‘No, sir.’

‘I see, or at least I think I do.’ He sighed. ‘You don’t have to put up with it, y’know.’

‘Sir?’

‘Bullying, lad. You don’t have to put up with it. Oh, I know – they threaten awful things if you split on ’em, but they’re kids, Scott, not the Mafia. We can sort ’em out quick-sticks once we know who they are, but we need names. You’ll be sure and come to me if you – er –
remember
any names, won’t you?’

‘Yessir.’

‘Yessir.’ He sighed again. ‘All right, Scott – off you pop.’

He returned to his apparatus and I went back to my class, wondering why I’d acted as I had. A couple of days ago I was mad at Martha for taking it and not splitting, and here I was doing the same thing myself.

I swear she’s put a spell on me with her sad grey eyes. They haunt me, those eyes.

16. Martha

When Scott came back from seeing Killer, Simon muttered, ‘Grass us up did you, Snotty?’ and Scott said, ‘No.’

Simon smirked. ‘You’re not as daft as you look.’

‘I will, though,’ said Scott, ‘if you don’t lay off Martha.’

‘Oooh!’ went Tracy. ‘Sticking up for the girlfriend, eh? You wouldn’t be so fond if you had to sit next to her, like me.’

Scott looked at her. ‘D’you want to swap places?’

Tracy sniggered. ‘Beam me up, Snotty.’

So they changed places. It was nice to have someone next to me who didn’t move his chair as far away as possible. It still happened at lunchtime though, because he has a meal and I bring sandwiches and we use different parts of the hall. There’s always empty chairs near me.

A good thing happened at hometime, but it was spoiled later by a bad thing. I was loitering near the cloakroom, waiting till everybody had gone, when Scott came up to me.

‘Come on,’ he grinned, ‘my turn to walk you home.’

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I was glad I wouldn’t be leaving the building by myself, but I daren’t let him walk me home. Suppose Father looked out the window? Or Mother? Suppose we were seen by someone from church? He sensed my hesitation and slipped his hand under my elbow, steering me out the door.

We both expected the usual gang to be waiting, but when we got outside Killer was by the gate. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing with his hands in his pockets but the yard was practically empty. Scott let go my arm pretty fast when he saw the teacher.

‘G’night, Martha,’ murmured Killer as we walked past. ‘G’night, Scott.’

‘G’night, sir,’ we replied.

He didn’t take my arm again, and we didn’t talk. I wanted to, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I suppose it was the same for him. We kept sneaking looks at each other and when our eyes met we’d smile and look away. His cheeks looked hot and mine definitely were. When we reached the bottom of the hill, I stopped and said, ‘You’d better not come any further, Scott.’

‘Why not? I might as well walk you to the top.’

‘No. My parents might see you.’

He shrugged. ‘So what if they do? We’re not doing anything.’

‘They know you don’t go home this way. They’d wonder why you came out of your way.’

‘Tell ’em I’m your bodyguard.’ He started uphill.

‘No, Scott, please.’ He turned with a frown and I said, ‘It’s our church, you see. The Righteous. It makes us different. I can’t explain.’

He made an impatient sound. ‘I thought we were friends, Martha. I want to see you home. Why is that such a problem?’

I shook my head. ‘It isn’t, Scott. Not for you. Not for most people, but my parents . . .’

‘OK.’ He lifted his hands, palms towards me. ‘I get the message. I’m off.’ He looked at me. ‘I’m the new kid at school, Martha. I wanted to fit in, you know, without hassle? Now everybody calls me Snotty Scotty and I get roughed up because I took your part, and you won’t even let me near your gate. D’you think that’s fair?’

‘I . . .’

‘Doesn’t matter. See you tomorrow.’

He walked off. I gazed after him for a while but he didn’t look back.

17. Scott

I felt seriously depressed walking home. It’s hard enough moving to a new district, starting at a strange school and befriending its least popular pupil, but when she turns round and practically tells you to get lost, well, it’s a bummer to say the least. And of course the minute I walk in the door, Mum goes, ‘Your turn to walk
her
home today, I suppose?’ Parents.

Martha was all over me next morning, but I acted cool. I sat next to her and everything, but I grunted in response to her desperate chat. I wanted her to see I was mad, and I think she got the message. Others certainly did. First period Tracy whispers, ‘Off her already, eh, Snotty? Want your old seat back?’ I shook my head.

Sensing her misery, they got up a mob at morning break to chase her. ‘Join in, Snotty,’ says Linfoot. I didn’t, but I didn’t stick up for her either. I lounged in a corner pretending to watch a pogs game while she gangled across the playing-field like a giraffe with three legs.
Raggedy-Ann, Raggedy-Ann, we’ll all scrag you if we can
. I felt bad, but a guy who’s good enough to stick up for you is good enough to walk you to your gate.

I didn’t keep it up though. I couldn’t. I saw her at lunchtime, across the hall, sitting in the middle of all these empty chairs while the other sandwich-munchers scrunched together, chatting and laughing. Wonder what’s in her sandwiches, I thought. Treacle? Cold porridge? Spiders? From the look on her face it had to be spiders.

I found her ten minutes later, standing on the pathway outside the staffroom window. If you stand there people tend to leave you alone, but it’s a rotten way to spend your break because everyone knows why you’re there, including the teachers. I went up to her.

‘How’s it going?’

She shrugged, scraping an invisible pattern on the concrete flag with the toe of her shoe. ‘You know – the usual.’

‘Ah-ha. What d’you get in your sandwiches?’

‘What?’

‘Your sandwiches. What’s in ’em, usually?’

‘Oh. Spam. Cheese spread. Depends.’

‘Not spiders, then?’

‘
Spiders
?’

‘Yeah, things could be worse, see?’ I smiled. ‘It could be spiders.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘I know. Teachers drive me crazy, spying on me. Let’s move.’

She followed me on to the field. I saw Linfoot notice us together and run to tell Simon. Martha murmured, ‘Scott?’

‘Yeah?’ We stood by the goal-posts. Gerry Latimer was in goal.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I wanted to explain, but you see, Father doesn’t like me talking to people about our affairs.’

I shrugged. ‘It’s OK, Martha. I’m not nosy. I just wondered why you didn’t want your folks to see me. I mean, I don’t have two heads or anything and I don’t eat girls. In fact I’m harmless.’

She nodded. ‘I know. It’s just . . . well, I’m scared of my father, Scott. He beats me.’

‘He
beats
you?’ I stared at her. ‘That’s against the law, Martha. People can’t
do
that any more.’

‘He’s my father.’

‘Doesn’t mean he can hit you. You should
tell
someone, stupid.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, I dunno – the police, I suppose.’

‘I couldn’t do that. You can’t set the police on your own
father
, for goodness sake.’

‘Sure you can.
I
would.’

She shook her head. ‘No you wouldn’t, Scott. Not if it came to it.’

‘Yes I would. If he beat me I would. No danger.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t if you belonged to the Righteous, Scott. We have our own ways, see.’

‘You don’t have your own
laws
, Martha. Everybody has to obey the law.’

She sighed. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand. Nobody does. That’s why it’s no use trying to explain. That’s why I don’t go to the teachers about Simon Pritchard and the others. They’d say what you just said.’

‘But you can’t . . . go on taking it, Martha. I’ll help you. We’ll find a way out, you’ll see.’

‘No.’ She smiled sadly. ‘There’s only one way out, Scott, and that’s Mary’s way.’

‘Who the heck’s Mary?’

‘Mary’s my . . .’ She broke off as the buzzer went. We walked towards school. ‘If you really want to know about Mary, I’ll tell you at home-time.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll be by the gate.’

If I’m not on the ground being kicked to death
, I thought.

18. Martha

Killer was by the gate again so there was no hassle. He probably thinks we’re an item, Scott and me. When we were well past him, Scott said, ‘Your turn to walk me, I think.’

‘I
can’t
Scott, you know that. If I’m late again, my father . . .’

‘I know, Martha. Just kidding. Who’s Mary, then?’

‘My sister. Grown-up sister.’

‘You said there was only you.’

‘Well, there is, she doesn’t live with us now.’

‘Where
does
she live?’

‘I don’t know. She writes, but doesn’t put her address.’

‘Why not, for Pete’s sake?’

‘I think it’s because she doesn’t want my parents to know where she is.’

Scott chuckled. ‘I don’t blame her. Did they beat her too?’