There but for The (30 page)

History Of Education Part 2:
There are six days left, after this day today, of Easter holiday LITTLE PIECE OF it is okay. It is still quite a lot of days.

(Wendy Slater was writing out project stuff with her Hello Kitty pen. The Hello Kitty pen was a very short fat silver-coloured one with a little Hello Kitty head on a chain fixed to its top, but because it was such a funny shape and a bit difficult to hold, because it made you wrap your whole hand round it, it was making Wendy Slater’s writing look retarded. She’s writing with a vibrator, Jack Shadworth said. Chloe and Emily laughed like mad. Brooke thought up a good rhyme. Wendy Slater writes with a vibrator. But she didn’t say it because it would make everybody say it, and that would end up with a lot of everybody being cruel to Wendy Slater and because rhyme makes you not forget things easily people would remember to be cruel for longer. You don’t know what a vibrator is, Josh Banham said to Wendy. Yes she does, Brooke said. No I don’t, Wendy said. More boys gathered round, Daniel and Thomas, and Megan and Jessica came over from the library shelves too. You don’t know either, Josh said to Brooke. Duh, obviously I know what a vibrator is, Brooke said. She turned away from the laughing, back to the book about Flight and the page about the Montgolfier Brothers, who believed they had invented a new gas whereas the fact was, they had just discovered heated-up air. She was no good at drawing hearts. She could cut very straight with scissors, but not snap her fingers. She didn’t have a Facebook page. She had a weird accent. She didn’t talk like or sound like the other girls, any of them. Everybody knew she didn’t even have an ordinary mobile, never mind just a phone that wasn’t an iPhone. Wendy Slater was still asking everybody what a vibrator was when Mr. Warburton came back into the room. He heard Wendy and then pretended he hadn’t. He winked at the boys and then at the girls like Simon Cowell on Britain’s Got Talent when he gives the person on the stage in the theatre a wink if he’s liked them and they’re going to get through to the next round. Brooke saw his glance go round the class and allow everybody not to like her. She looked hard at the picture of the first Montgolfier balloon, blown about by the wind high above the crowds in the streets in France. Everybody in the room knew, though nobody would ever have dared say it, about Mr. Warburton not liking Brooke. She looked at the wildly blowing-about balloon in the picture. Last year a plane going from Brazil to France just fell into the sea by itself in a storm, just right there into the sea, and all the people on it drowned. In the paper a Science Correspondent said that modern jets should be able to withstand any storm.

The fact is, Brooke stood in her parents’ bedroom at 5am in the morning, with the light coming under the blind. She had not been able to sleep. She had got out of her own bed and come through. Their door had been a little open. It did not creak. Her mother was lying on her side, facing away from her father. Her father was lying on his back. Her mother’s arm was flung over her father’s stomach and side. Her mother’s breathing was steady and quiet. She couldn’t hear her father’s breathing, but could see his chest moving under the cover so he was definitely not dead. They looked really happy asleep. Brooke thought what she would say instead. Who invented fireplaces? What is the world’s most dangerous cake? There was Brooke’s father, over by the window in the kitchen with the two letters in his hand.
Over less than 80% attendance concerns over Brooke’s truanting behaviour no doubting Brooke’s intelligence however conduct leaves a great deal to be desired
is what the letter from the head said. There was her mother patting the chair next to her. Tell us. CLEVER-CLEVER CLEVEREST. Alfred the Grate. Attila the Bun. Right, Mr. Warburton shouted. Project books away. History charts out. Daniel. Give out these photocopies. Thank you. A vibrator, Brooke said to herself under her breath to nobody, is a thing which vibrates.)

The The fact is notes will all go
here.
Brooke is sitting on one of the wooden benches near the river along from the place where you go down into the tunnel and she is counting the blank pages in the History Moleskine. The The fact is notes will go after the note about being vegetarian, which came first in real time, and then there will be the note about Mrs. Young, and then the The fact is notes. The the! It is funny to say two the’s. So there are times you don’t need a the at all, and there are other times you need more than one the. There are sixteen of the the the the the—! so many the’s all said together sounds like a car that won’t start—there are sixteen The fact is notes. That will need thirty-two pages or sixteen double pages. And then the piece will come which she will write down for historic records about visiting Mr. Garth on Wednesday, and that will take up a page or maybe two, so probably (she counts the pages) that will be on
this
page, and then the fact that Mr. Garth has left the room will need to be written down
here.
And then that will be the end of this history, at least the bit that has Mr. Garth actually in it. Though it might be a good idea to leave some pages blank at the end in case there is anything else that happens, in case the history isn’t over. There are definitely enough pages. There are loads. She keeps her finger in the right place in the book and she gets the pencil out. She starts at the top of the page, in her best handwriting.
On Wednesday 7th of April Two Thousand and Ten at about half past two pm 1430 in 24 hr time Brooke Bayoude went in and sat in Mr. Garth’s room after she knocked on the door and said would he like a cup of tea and he said he would. The tea was Marks & Spencer’s Earl Grey tea the one that comes in a black box. The Milk was Skimmed kind. Brooke Bayoude made the tea in the Lees’ Kitchen. On the way up the stairs she did not spill it on the stair carpet. When she gave it to him he did not want sugar which was just as well because she had not brought any up stairs. Mr. Garth was very well and Brooke Bayoude said it was nice to see him and he said it was nice to see her. Brooke Bayoude asked him if he remembered her and he said yes he did. He told her some good jokes including the one about the grandads and grannies and there was also another astronomically long joke which was a variation on the Knock! Knock! kind of jokes, about “will you remember” see later in History). Brooke Bayoude then asked Mr. Garth if he would like a biscuit because she knows where they are kept in the Lees’ Kitchen. Mr. Garth Declined. Then the time for the visit alas was over and Brooke Bayoude said goodbye and Mr. Garth did too and they shook hands. Brooke Bayoude then closed the door after her and took the mug down stairs she washed it out at the sink and did not put it in the dish washer because the dish washer was full of Clean things. It was the mug that has the picture on it of a tiger which Mr. Garth drank out of on that historic day. Brooke Bayoude dried the mug and put the mug back in the cupboard.
She reads over what she has written so far and then checks to see if she is keeping her lines level. It is not too bad for it being blank paper, it only slopes a bit at the ends where the writing has to get smaller to fit the words in, which is only natural. She reads through it again. When she gets to the last line she crosses out the word historic. It does not need to be said, because it is implied, being in a book with the word history on the front. Then she thinks she might like to say it even though it is implied. Then she is glad she has written in pencil so she can decide about the word for definite later.

(Brooke Bayoude Ten In Four Days’ Time Fastest Runner Up Stairs In World got in the front door when the cleaning lady who comes on a Wednesday was just leaving and was loading her things into her van and Brooke slipped past her and in the door while it was still open and ran up the stairs really fast as befits a so fast runner. She had the latest The fact is note to deliver. It had actually been weeks since the last one. Brooke had not been feeling like delivering anything to anyone. But then she had seen this fact on an antiques programme on TV and had thought it was a very good one and should maybe be shared. She stood at the door and took the note out of the front pocket of her jacket and unfolded it and was about to bend to slip the note under the wooden door when she said this, out loud, to the door, just, like, said it. Listen do you want to know a joke about a door? Then the voice from inside the room said the words why not. Okay, right, Brooke said. What prize did the man who invented door knockers win? The voice didn’t say anything. (The voice was Mr. Garth.) Do you give up? Brooke said. I give up, the voice said. The no bell prize, Brooke said. Then the voice said: Knock knock. Who’s there? Brooke said. Toby, the voice said. Toby who? Brooke said. Toby or not Toby, that is the question, the voice said. Brooke really laughed because it was about Hamlet. Then she started to tell a knock knock joke herself, but when she said Knock knock, the voice answered Come in. So Brooke turned the handle and the door opened. It’s not locked! Brooke said. Mr. Garth was sitting on the exercise bike with one foot on a pedal and one foot on the frame. It hasn’t been locked for months, not since last summer, Mr. Garth said, but nobody’s knocked on it till now. I brought you a note, Brooke said. Good, Mr. Garth said, is it a fact is note? I wondered where they’d gone. What’s the fact today, then?

The fact is, a mystery clock is an old-fashioned sort of clock that seems to go by itself on its own without seemingly needing any winding or ever being looked after by anyone.
Mr. Garth read it out loud off the piece of paper. Yes, that’s a good one, he said, thank you. Thank you for sending me all the facts over the weeks, I wondered who it was that was being so kind as to think I would want to know things. I thought that you would need to, while you were in here, Brooke said, in case you were a bit bored. It’s like a newspaper getting delivered, but better, Mr. Garth said. I appreciate the time it took to find the facts and write them down for me. That’s all right, Brooke said, it didn’t take very long. It’s what I like about handwriting, Mr. Garth said, that it is about time. How do you mean? Brooke said. Well, Mr. Garth said, it takes time to write things down, put one word after another. And also, the letters you sent me are in your handwriting, which is like sending me an exclusive artefact that nobody but you could have made, so, thank you. That’s quite cool! Brooke said. Though there’s one fact in particular I did want to ask about, Mr. Garth said. Mr. Garth got off the bike and went over to the chest of drawers thing and looked through the pile of The fact is notes and held one up. This one, he said,
The fact is, deer know about weddings and about who you will marry.
I’m pretty sure it is a fact, Brooke said, it’s what it says in that song. What song? Mr. Garth asked. The one about knowing where you’re going, Brooke said. I don’t think I know that song, Mr. Garth said. Brooke sang it for him:
I know where I’m going. I know who’s going with me. I know who my love is. And the deer knows who I’ll marry.
Mr. Garth started laughing. No no, I’m not laughing at you, he said in the middle of the laughing, you sang it really beautifully. It’s just the thought, the thought of a herd of deer standing on a hillside knowing who we’ll marry. He laughed a bit more then he wiped at his eyes. Oh dear, he said. Oh God. You’ve actually been in here for a very long time, Brooke said. It’s very small for such a long time, do you not want to come out of here? Could I? Mr. Garth said. I don’t see why not, Brooke said, I mean, I think so. What I mean is, it’s not as if there’s very much a person can do to keep himself or herself occupied in here. Oh, I don’t know, I’ve been pretty busy, Mr. Garth said and he showed her how many miles he’d done on the exercise bike speedo, which said 3,015.78 miles, so that meant nearly 3,016. Yes but this bike was in the room before you came into it and there must have been
some
mileage on it already, Brooke said. I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Mr. Garth said, there were six and a half miles on it when I first sat on its seat, I cannot tell a lie. Then Brooke said, that’s funny, you’ve done all those miles, and Miles is also your first name, Miles by name and miles by nature! It’s true, Mr. Garth said. His cuffs were frayed and there was a tear in his shirt at the hem. I’m a vegetarian too now, Brooke said so he wouldn’t think she was judging him for his clothes being a bit torn, because she was pretty sure he noticed her seeing that they were. Then she asked him if he would like a cup of tea. I would really like that, he said, I haven’t had a cup of tea in months. Do you want to come down to the kitchen while I make you one? Brooke said but he said no, I’ll just stay here if you don’t mind, but thank you. Will I shut the door? she said and he said yes please. But when she came to the top of the stairs with the mug of tea he’d opened the door again by himself and he was actually standing in the open doorway, he was actually almost in the hall. He was looking a bit tired. Behind him she could hear all the noise of the people outside. It sounded funny in the stairwell now that the door was open. They went back into the room and Mr. Garth just kind of stood with his arms at his sides. Brooke said, will I shut the door again? and Mr. Garth nodded. Then he sat on the bike again and held his tea in his hands with his arms on the handlebars and Brooke sat on the floor and told him about the time she and her mother and father had gone to Greece and stayed in a hotel apartment place on an island and about how the old man whose family owned the apartment place would always sit outside right next to the main road all day on a white plastic chair, and that he always said hello when they went past to town and came back from town. But this one day we went out in the morning, Brooke said, there was this dead dog in the road that had been hit by a car, and it was quite a big dog. And the man was sitting there watching the road, only now it was as if he was watching the dead dog just lying in the road right in front of him. So he maybe even saw the dog get hit, but now he was just sitting and watching, I mean, why would he not take the dog off the road and put it at the side, even, so it wouldn’t keep getting hit? Because when we came back from the town and from going to the supermarket the dog was flattened right into the road in some parts of it like its legs and tail. It is weird what people do. Yes, Mr. Garth said. It’s very mysterious. Mr. Garth spoke very slowly. I mean, I know the dog was obviously already dead anyway, duh, Brooke said, but it is kind of horrible to think of it getting run over and over again by all the other cars all day. And what if it was a dog he knew? I don’t mean his own dog, I mean like if it was a dog he had patted or that he knew the name of? Mr. Garth nodded and shrugged. He took a sip out of the mug and he flinched. Oh! I forgot if you wanted sugar, Brooke said and jumped up to go and get some from downstairs. I don’t, but thank you very much indeed, Mr. Garth said, it is really kind of you, but I think I was just surprised at it being hot. Brooke sat down on the floor again. Am I talking too much, she said, because I have been known before now to talk too much? No, Mr. Garth said. Please keep talking to me. Okay, Brooke said. Sometimes I have this dream, do you ever have the dreams that mean that you don’t know whether you’re asleep or awake in them? Yes, Mr. Garth said. I often have dreams like that, tell me your dream. Are you sure? Brooke said, because sometimes it can be very boring to listen to people’s dreams, at least that is what my mother tells my father at breakfast sometimes. I’m not bored, Mr. Garth said, and I will tell you if I am. Okay, well, there’s this dream, I had it like weeks ago, like it was ages ago back when I was only just nine, Brooke said, it’s a historic kind of dream, and there is a boy in it and it is back in history except I am there too, and he is the same age as me. He is dressed in torn clothes, much much more torn than yours are and much dirtier like he is a very poor person from the past, and he is standing like with a crowd behind him, like the crowd outside your window kind of except in historic clothes, and behind the crowd, what the crowd are all looking at, there is like a stage with a tall post with a rope on the end of it and the rope has a noose on the end. And then the boy comes up to me and he holds up a loaf of bread and he says, look, and he points over his shoulder at the crowd and he says, they’re going to execute me to death because I stole
this,
and he holds up the loaf. I was hungry and I took it, he says, and now look, it is not fair that this is happening. Then I woke up, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep, do you ever have that kind of dream? Not exactly the same, but I think that’s a very healthy dream, Mr. Garth said. Do you? Brooke said, because I mean when I woke up I knew it had happened, and if it was real it had happened way back in history and there wasn’t anything I could do, and even if it hadn’t happened in reality and was only happening in my dream I still couldn’t stop it from happening. I think, Mr. Garth said, that the boy in your dream simply wanted you to agree with him that what was happening wasn’t fair. It really really wasn’t, Brooke said. No, Mr. Garth said, it wasn’t. Then he said, that was a very clever dream you had. Yes, Brooke said, but maybe is it too clever? No, Mr. Garth said, not at all, there’s no such thing as too clever anyway. Brooke looked round the room and wondered if maybe it would be a good place to come on the days when she didn’t go to school. Then she asked Mr. Garth did he really think there wasn’t anything wrong with being cleverest. Top of Mount Cleverest, Mr. Garth said. Brooke laughed. Then Mr. Garth said really slowly: