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John Hamish Watson lay backwards on his single bed in the bedroom that he had slept in alone ever since his older sister Harry had been kicked out by their father five years before, when he had been 10 years old. Johnny had removed his threadbare white plimsolls before lying down on the bed and turning onto his back, but he’d left his worn-out ankle socks on. It was late Saturday morning in early February, 1997. Now 15 years old, he was in the process of taking his last year of GCSEs at King Edward VI Grammar School in his home town of Chelmsford, Essex. Harriet Jane Watson, Johnny’s older sister, who was now 21 years old, had been a student at the University of London for the past three years. He gazed up at the mould on parts of his bedroom ceiling; it covered the entire ceiling throughout the aluminium-covered prefabricated bungalow that he’d lived in his whole life. (The inside walls were covered with light-brown wood, and the prefab bungalow was held off the ground by a pier-and-beam foundation, consisting of wooden beams jutting out of cinder blocks that held up the wooden crossbeams which the prefab rested on, and the porches in front of the entrance door and the kitchen door were made of wood. The electricity and plumbing had been run underneath the house. The soft grey paint covering the aluminium on the outside had peeled and chipped ever since Johnny could remember, and the front wooden porch had sagged just as long.)
Two weeks prior to that date, near the end of January, their parents, Hamish and Jean Watson, had crashed their car into a bridge abutment in another part of town, killing them both instantly; Hamish, who had been driving the car, had been drunk at the time. Their funeral had been held at Chelmsford Cathedral a week after their deaths. To protect Johnny from having to live in a foster home, Harry had reluctantly agreed to live with her little brother once more, to be Johnny’s guardian. To that end, she had decided to move back to the prefab since she was now unofficially his guardian, and so she was going to commute back and forth to her classes at London University until she graduated at the end of the school year.
Harry had returned to the University of London the morning after the funeral, to pack her things and prepare to return to Chelmsford to live while Johnny finished his education at KEGS; he was in his last year of taking his GCSEs. Harry had returned to the prefab with her possessions a few days after she had returned to London University, but had she seldom been home since. She had decided to sleep in their late parents’ bedroom when she was home, which was fine with Johnny. Their Scottish nan, Aileen Leekey, had returned to Penrith, Cumbria, two days before; she had stayed at the prefab with Johnny until a few days after Harry had returned home. She had promised that she would return to visit him and Harry as she’d done before.
Johnny felt no grief whatsoever for his father’s death, since Hamish had never been a good father or husband and had hated having children; in fact, he was relieved that his and Harry’s father was gone. However, he had mixed emotions about his mother’s death. Part of him grieved that she was gone, while another part of Johnny couldn’t help thinking that it was just as well that she was, since too often, she hadn’t been there for him the whole time he’d been alive.
For either of them.
Harry’s not here for me either, Johnny thought bitterly, as he folded his arms upwards on his pillow and rested the back of his head on them. And she’s not gonna be. He glared up at the ceiling. She’s agreed to be my guardian so I won’t have to go into care, but even though she’s come back here to live, she’s almost never here for me. Going to uni doesn’t count, though; I’m not gonna give her a hard time for that. After all, that’s what I want to do, too.
He sighed. And doing her homework doesn’t count, either; that’s got to be done, I know, just as mine has to be. But even when she’s not at uni, she’s almost never home. And when she is, she’s usually drunk, and when she’s drunk, she’s always mean. He pressed his lips together into a tight line.
And something tells me she’s not gonna even attempt to provide for me, either. Especially since she’s an alcoholic just like Dad, and so mean when she’s drunk! Knowing her, all her spare money’ll be going for liquor! She promised me she’d pay the monthly bills, and I hope she will, but knowing her, if she does, that’s all she’ll do!
He shook his head and slipped his arms out from underneath his head and laid them at his side. And who knows if she’ll pay the phone bill? I’ll bet she doesn’t! She’d better pay for our utilities, at least, or I’m gonna be really mad!
The teenage boy jutted out his chin and pressed his lips tightly. He wasn’t at all sure that he was glad that Harry had moved back home after all those years. Hamish Watson had kicked her out of the prefab when she’d been 16 and he’d been 10, and she had moved to Penrith to live with Granny Leekey. She hadn’t been back to Chelmsford since, not until after their parents had been killed in that car crash; she and Granny Leekey had driven down to Chelmsford for the funeral, which had been held at Chelmsford Cathedral. Even at the best of times, Harry was prickly-natured, but whenever she got drunk, she became downright belligerent and hostile, though she never attempted to hurt him physically as their late father so often had done to them both.
Johnny sighed. He could see no way to remain in school after he had finished taking his GCSEs. Ever since he’d been 14 years old and in his first years of taking GCSEs, it had been his ambition to become a doctor, and he still wanted to become one. But now, with both of his parents gone, and Harry unavailable to provide for him (except to hopefully pay the bills) or look after him even though she lived with him once more, it looked as if he was going to have to get a job instead, and that he’d have to give up his dream of taking A-levels and going to medical school.
I’ll have to drop out of the Boy Scouts, too! he thought resentfully, gazing above. He had been a member of the Boy Scouts ever since he’d been six, and he currently belonged to the Senior Boy Scouts. I won’t have time to participate in them now, not anymore. Maybe Mrs. Russell’ll give me a job at her shop, if I ask her. I could work there after school, and on the weekends; I hope I can make enough to buy what I need for the house and whatnot while I do. I’ll have to start working full-time there when the summer term’s over. I’ll go there and ask her tomorrow. I’ll have to provide for my own needs now, ’cause Harry sure won’t! Mrs. Russell and her husband owned a corner shop on Kings Road, and they had been Johnny and Harry’s friends ever since the two had been born (Harry in February, 1975, Johnny in April, 1981).
‘What happens to a dream deferred?’
The words of the poem from the American play, A Raisin in the Sun, by Langston Hughes, came to Johnny’s mind. After one of the librarians had mentioned the play during one of his visits to the North Melbourne Library, and had told him a little about it and where it was in the library, he had taken it off the shelf that it was kept on, had spent some time reading it in one of the library armchairs, and then he had checked it out to read it; its points still stuck in his mind. While reading the play, Johnny had also memorized the poem that began the play, and he still remembered it.
‘Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
‘Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
‘Or does it explode?’
Sure feels as if it’s going to! he thought resentfully. Or I just might!
With a sigh, Johnny pushed himself into a sitting position, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and rose to his feet as soon as he’d planted them on the bare wooden floor, which he had swept and mopped the day before. Like it or not, he had no choice but to make do from then on, and that meant getting a job; at any rate, it was time to make lunch. As Johnny trudged towards the kitchen, it came to him that it would be much better if he went to the corner shop that afternoon instead of attempting to do so the next day.
I’ll do it as soon as I’ve eaten my breakfast. After all, it’s Saturday, so I don’t have any homework today, and I cleaned the entire prefab yesterday after school was out, so all that remains is to mow the garden. Good thing I’ve got no homework this weekend! Tomorrow wouldn’t be a good day to try to see Mrs. Russell; the corner shop’s closed on Sundays.
He grimaced as he entered the front room and approached the kitchen entrance. I hate to tell her why I need a job now, but I’ll have to, if she asks.
In the kitchen, Johnny made himself a bowl of cereal and poured himself a glass of milk, and then removed a slice of white bread out of the bag of bread. The late-morning sunlight poured through the kitchen windows and the glass in the kitchen door, creating rectangles of light on the hard wooden floor. When he had finished eating, he crumpled up the paper serviette and dumped it in the garbage bin, and then he carried his plastic bowl and plastic glass to the sink, where he filled it with dishwater. After washing them both, the boy returned to his bedroom to put his shoes and socks on; there; he perched on the edge of his bed. The top mattress gently sank underneath his weight as he bent over to pull his plimsolls up over his ankles.
I’m so glad Harry and I don’t have to share this room anymore, Johnny thought, as he tied his worn-out plimsolls. As always, since his late mother had bought all his clothes at a nearby charity shop, all of his clothes were threadbare, including his shoes. Now she can sleep in the room Mum and Dad always slept in, and I’m glad; we’re too old to be sleeping in the same room anymore, since she’s a girl. I don’t especially want that room anyway; it’s no better than mine, not really.
Sitting back upright, he shook his head. I remember when Harry and I used to share this room. Right up to the day Dad threw her out, when I was only ten. That was a long time ago.
With a sigh, Johnny rose to his feet, opened the closet to put on his canvas jacket and zip it up, and went to the bathroom to comb his sandy-blond hair. Then he trudged toward the front room and then toward the front door. Swinging it open, he stepped out of the detached aluminium-covered prefab bungalow onto the sagging wooden porch; there were a few white fluffy clouds drifting in the blue sky. He went down the creaking wooden steps onto the grass.
Sticking his hands into his front jeans pockets, the teenage boy strode past the few detached and semi-detached prefabs lining that part of Taylor Avenue, and the brick houses and council houses lining both sides of the street further down, toward Langston Avenue and West Avenue, which he always took to walk to Kings Road. Eleven minutes after leaving his prefab, Johnny turned onto Kings Road. Cars whizzed back and forth him, up and down that street as he trotted up that street toward the corner shop.
As soon as Johnny came to the junction past the one that he had taken to enter Kings Road, he came to the corner shop that the Russells owned and crossed the parking lot towards the shop. A few steps away from the entrance, he paused. The revulsion that he had always felt about asking for help was welling up in him.
Come on! he silently chided himself after a long moment. It’s not as if I’m asking a stranger or even a friend at school to help me—this is Mrs. Russell, for Pete’s sake! Aunt Alice’s own daughter! All I’m gonna do is ask her for a job! There’s no shame in that.
Rolling his eyes at himself, he stepped towards the entrance. As he swung open the glass door, the bell above the door tinkled.
“Hi, Johnny.” From behind the counter where the cash register stood, Mrs. Russell smiled at him. Her husband was working in the office on the other side. “Have you come to get anything?”
“I wish.” Johnny smiled wanly as he closed the front door behind him. “I don’t have any money just now; it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve walked Mrs. Thompson’s dog, and I spent it all on Harry’s present.” Mrs. Russell nodded. He had used his money to buy Harry an inexpensive birthday present at the charity shop and a birthday card at Poundstretcher, since her birthday was a little later that month. “I’m here about something else.”
“What about?”
Johnny’s plimsolls clicked on the linoleum floor as he approached the counter. Resting his arms on its smooth, hard surface, he took a deep breath before clearing his throat. “Uh, Mrs. Russell, could you use some help?” he asked tentatively. “You know, someone to help you stock shelves and stuff like that?”
“Why do you ask?” Mrs. Russell tilted her head.
“I need the money.” Johnny grimaced. “More money than Mrs. Thompson can pay me for walking her dog, lots more.” He paused. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say any more.
“Something tells me it’s not just spending money you want this time. I know you’re not saving up for a birthday present for a loved one either,” Mrs. Russell said gently. “Suppose you tell me what the trouble is, Johnny.”
Johnny took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Much as he hated to tell her why, he had no choice. “Well…” He cleared his throat and started over. “Well, uh, I’ve got nobody to support me anymore, so I’ve got to support myself now, from now on. I can’t rely on Harry supporting me; you know what she’s like.” Mrs. Russell nodded, and he grimaced. “That means I’ve got to get a job.”
He sighed and scratched the side of his head. “I can work after school and on weekends for the rest of the school year, and when the summer term’s over, I can work full-time. I’d give the work here my best effort, Mrs. Russell.”
“I’m sure you would, Johnny, but what about your A-levels?” Mrs. Russell’s brow furrowed.
Johnny bit his lower lip. This was going to be the hard part. “I won’t be able to take them now,” Johnny said in a small voice after a long moment, gazing down at his hands resting palms-down on the smooth counter. “I’ll have to give them up. As soon as the summer term at KEGS ends, I’ll have to work full-time from then on.” He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. I’m not asking for charity, just a job. “I’ll have to drop out of the Boy Scouts, too. I won’t have time for them anymore.”
Looking back up at her, he added, “I’ve been thinking about it, Mrs. Russell, and I think I can manage, if I’m careful. I’ll have to be really careful, I know. Mummy went to Poundstretcher just a few days before she and Dad died and stocked up on stuff for the house and things like that, so they’re not gonna run out in a hurry; if I use them sparingly, I can make them last a while. Harry’s not home much, so there’s no danger of her using them all up. And I can start buying things I need, little by little, before they run out, so they won’t all run out altogether. And the phone—” He grimaced. “—I may have to give that up. I don’t think I’ll be able to pay for that, Mrs. Russell. If Harry doesn’t pay the phone bill, I’ll have to ring the phone company and cancel our phone service; I’ll have to visit Aunt Alice after that, if I need to ring anyone. I know she’ll let me use her phone if I need to use one.”
Johnny bit his lower lip. “Harry promised me she’d pay the monthly bills, but I don’t know if she’ll pay our phone bills or not.”
“And the groceries?”
Stepping back, Johnny dropped his arms at his sides. “Uh, tell you the truth, I don’t know. Guess I’ll have to live on apples when the food all runs out; at least they’re nutritious. Harry pretty much lives on alcohol anyway, and she’s away most of the time, so I don’t have to worry about her using the food up, either.”
“Not while I’m alive, you won’t be, Johnny.” Mrs. Russell smiled at him. “I made a commitment, when you were only four and Harry was 10, to make sure that you and Harry would never starve, and that commitment still holds.* I will make sure both of you have food to eat, so you won’t have to start living on limited rations.” Johnny nodded his thanks, and she paused. “Have you discussed this with my mother?”
“’Fraid not.” Fidgeting, Johnny grimaced. “Aunt Alice hasn’t been feeling so good since the funeral, so I can’t talk to her about it right now.” Mrs. Russell’s mother, Alice Templeton, was Johnny’s godmother and his across-the-street neighbour; she was closer to being a surrogate relative than merely a godmother and neighbour. She lived in one-half of a semi-detached prefab directly across the street from his home.
Mrs. Russell sighed. “Give me a chance to think about it, Johnny, and I’ll get back to you.”
Johnny nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“In the meantime—” Circling the counter, Mrs. Russell left it to go towards the section where she sold frozen fruits and vegetables. “—speaking of apples, here’s an apple for you to take home. But I fully intend to see to it that you and Harry have other foods to eat, too.” She handed him the shiny red apple, and he wrapped his fingers and thumb around its smooth surface. A wan smile crept across Johnny’s face.
“Thank you, Mrs. Russell.” Turning around, he left the shop. I’ll save it for when I get home, he thought, glancing down at the apple. Reaching up, he scratched an itch on the side of his neck with his right hand.
As he hurried across the parking lot towards the kerb, he paused to look at the state-run primary schools up the street that he and Harry had attended as children: Kings Road Infant School and Kings Road Junior School. Turning in the opposite direction, while holding the apple with his left hand, Johnny strode back to the West Avenue junction, where he would turn to head back to Taylor Avenue and his family’s detached prefab bungalow.
I sure hope I did the right thing, telling her about what I need to do, and why! He paused to look once again at the weeds growing in their garden. I’d better mow our garden soon—it needs it! Not right now, though. Maybe this evening, before sunset.
Meanwhile, back in the shop, with a shake of her head, Mrs. Russell exchanged a concerned look with her husband. Entering the office, she said, “I need to use the phone, sweetheart.” He nodded. Picking up the receiver and dialling her mother’s number, she waited until Alice answered.
“Mum?” Mrs. Russell asked. “How are you feeling today?”
“Much better than I did yesterday, I’m glad to say.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because there’s something I’ve got to discuss with you. As quickly as possible.” Mrs. Russell cleared her throat. “Johnny has just left the shop. As soon as I’m satisfied he’s returned home, I’m coming right over. I don’t want him to know I’m coming to see you.”
“I’ll be waiting, hon.”
Mrs. Russell said good-bye and hung up the phone. Fifteen minutes later, she kissed her husband, left the shop, and hurried towards her car. Within a few minutes, she had pulled out of the parking lot and was driving up the street toward Anderson Avenue, which would take her to the junction that would take her to the other end of Taylor Avenue. She arrived at the semi-detached prefab where Mrs. Templeton lived just minutes after Johnny had returned to his own prefab.
XXXXXXX
Several hours later, Johnny, who had not stepped back outside since he had returned home, sat in one of the armchairs in the front room, watching a programme on the telly. Since he’d opened the curtains facing the street wide just a short time ago, the mid-afternoon sunlight flooded the front room and formed rectangles of reflected light on the hard wooden floor. As soon as the first commercial came on, there was a knock on the door.
Rising to his feet, he approached the telly to turn it off, and then he went towards the door to open it. Mrs. Russell and Mrs. Templeton stood on the sagging wooden front porch.
With a smile, Johnny stepped aside. “Hi, Aunt Alice! Hi, Mrs. Russell. Come in.” As soon as they had entered the front room, he shut the door. Turning towards them, he looked at his godmother, puzzled. “I thought you were sick, Aunt Alice.”
She smiled. “I was sick, but I’m much better now, Johnny.”
“I’m so glad!” A broad smile spread across Johnny’s face. “I hate it when you get sick, you know?” Alice nodded with another smile, and he gestured toward the armchairs facing the telly. “Have a seat, and I’ll get us all something to drink.” He grimaced. “Sorry I don’t have any tea, or I’d give you some, but I do have some fizzy drinks in the fridge.”
“I’ll have one,” Mrs. Templeton told him.
“And so will I,” Mrs. Russell added.
Entering the kitchen, Johnny took three ice-cold cans of Coke out of the refrigerator and took them into the living room, where he handed two of them to Mrs. Templeton and Mrs. Russell. Then, that time, he sat down on the sofa, and the two women took seats in the armchairs. In a few minutes, they were taking swallows of their Coke. Johnny gazed down at the clean wooden floor as he took some swallows out of his own frigid can.
I remember when Dad used to leave his beer cans and liquor bottles scattered all over the floor, he thought, scanning at the bare wooden floor. Mum never took them off the floor, and she never cleaned the floor, either; I always had to do those jobs. The last time our floor was dirty and littered with cans and bottles was the day Mum and Dad were killed in that car crash.
With a shake of his head, Johnny bit his lower lip and shifted his position on the sofa; the cushion sank gently beneath him. I’ll bet I’ll have to remove them off the floor again, thanks to Harry—she’s never been good about throwing away hers, either!
“Johnny,” Mrs. Templeton said gently a few minutes later, as she rested her left hand in her lap while holding her can in her right, “my daughter came to my house this morning and told me about your request to be hired for a job.” She smiled. “Mind you, I’ve no objection to your doing any form of honest work. It would be good for you to work there part-time, if she decides to hire you, and it’ll be a pleasant way to earn some money, so that’s not what I have a problem with. It’s your reason for asking that concerns me.”
“She told you, huh?” Johnny looked from her to Mrs. Russell.
“Yes, I did, Johnny,” Mrs. Russell told him. “You know she would have wanted me to.” With a reluctant smile, Johnny nodded. Mrs. Russell was right, he knew.
“Johnny,” Mrs. Templeton asked, “do you still want to become a doctor?” She leaned back in the armchair as she spoke, still holding her Coke can.
Brushing his blond hair out of his eyes, Johnny nodded. “Yes, Aunt Alice.”
“Then you shall.” Alice set her can of Coke on the side table and turned her attention back to Johnny. “My daughter and I will both help you there, so you won’t have to give up on taking your A-levels. We’ll see to it that you have everything you need for the house and yourself, and we’ll make sure you can keep your phone if Harry fails to pay your phone bills. Since your sister is making no attempt to look after you, except to hopefully pay the monthly bills…” She shook her head in evident disapproval. “…I will, and Jessica will help me.”
Mrs. Russell nodded her agreement. “I certainly will, Johnny.” Shifting his position on the sofa, Johnny smiled his thanks. “Speaking of which, where is Harry?”
“Don’t know.” Johnny grimaced. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.” He took another swallow of Coke.
“I can guess why.” Mrs. Templeton shook her head, and Johnny nodded his agreement. So could he. “Well, among other things, I’ll get your clothes. Your mum couldn’t afford to buy any of them at Poundstretcher, but I can.”
Johnny smiled at the prospect. It would be such a relief to have decent clothes at last when he was out of school and not taking part in his Boy Scout activities with his patrol, instead of the threadbare clothes from the charity shop that his entire family had always been forced to make do with.
“So, here’s the deal, Johnny.” His godmother leaned forward, clasping her hands in her lap and gazed directly at her godson. “You stay in school at KEGS and take your A-levels. Give your studies your best effort, just as you’ve been doing. Then you go to medical school and study to become one of the best doctors in all of England.” She winked as she spoke that last sentence, and Johnny grinned.
“Also, you take part in your school’s activities just the way you’ve also been doing, and you stay in the Senior Boy Scouts, too. Stay active in your troop and keep earning those badges. I will provide for your needs until you’re ready to go to medical school, just as your mum did.”
“And I’ll help her,” Mrs. Russell added. “You’re 15 now, Johnny, and will be turning 16 in April, and you’re in your last year of taking your GCSEs, but you’re too young just yet to be taking on an adult role. There will come a time when you’ll have to provide for yourself, but now’s not that time. I’ll be glad to let you work at the shop part-time, so you can earn some spending money and gain some job experience, but until you’ve finished your A-levels, school comes first.” She took a sip of her Coke.
Gratitude flooded Johnny’s heart. He looked at both women, giving them a grateful smile. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Both of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Alice smiled and picked up her Coke can. “And you know, Johnny, you’ve done a fine job of learning to cook over the years, you and Harry both. But I think it’s time you learned to cook some more dishes. On Saturdays, when you’re not away on a school trip or Boy Scout event or something, you spend the night at my house, and I’ll give you cooking lessons when it’s time to get started on supper.”
After taking a sip of her Coke, she gazed thoughtfully on his now-tight worn-out polyester shirt and blue jeans, both of which were threadbare. “Also, I’d better take you to Poundstretcher next Saturday and get you some new clothes; you’re outgrowing your old ones. And when you’re 17, I think it would be a good idea if you learned to drive, too. I’ll teach you.”
“It sure would, and I’d like that.” Johnny nodded his agreement. “Thanks again, Aunt Alice, Mrs. Russell.”
“And Johnny…” Alice paused to set her can back on the side table. “Johnny, if Harry comes home drunk and spoiling for a fight on a Sunday or a weekday, feel free to come to my house to spend the night, just as you used to when your daddy was alive. Even if it’s on a school night.”
Johnny smiled. “I might just take you up on that, Aunt Alice. Guess I’d better start keeping an emergency kit packed for when I need to do that. And knowing Harry, I will need to.” He grimaced again, and the two women nodded in agreement.
At least I’ll never have to hide in the garden shed again! I don’t have to worry about Harry hurting me—not physically, anyway. Though that doesn’t mean she won’t try to hurt me with her words when she’s drunk! She can be downright belligerent when she is.
The three of them rose to their feet, picking up their partly empty Coke cans, and Mrs. Templeton approached her godson and wrapped him in a hug, holding her can behind his back. He didn’t return the hug, but since it came from her, neither did he stiffen. Her arms felt good, so comforting.
“Do you have any homework tonight?” Alice asked him as she dropped her left arm at her side and held up her can of Coke, and took a step back, and he shook his head. “Then why don’t you go ahead and come over to my house? You can spend the night there tonight, and I’ll give you your first cooking lesson after a while. We’ll go to church in the morning, too, same as always.” She paused. “Bring your catechism with you, too, while you’re at it, Johnny, and we’ll go over it after we’ve washed the supper dishes this evening.”
Johnny nodded his acquiescence. He was in the process of studying for his confirmation, which he planned to undergo when he had turned sixteen. When the time approached, he would take the confirmation course at Chelmsford Cathedral, where he had been christened and would be confirmed, and that he had attended his whole life. Even though confirmation wasn’t a requirement for membership in the Church of England as it was in the Catholic Church, Johnny did have to undergo the rite if he wanted to receive communion (which he did), and besides, he still wanted to get confirmed just as both Harry and their parents and Mrs. Templeton all had, and Mrs. Templeton and his gran had long encouraged him to do so.
He nodded. “I’d like that, Aunt Alice. Thanks. I’ve got to mow our garden later, though, so I’d better do that before we get started on supper. I want to get it done before sunset begins. Give me a moment to pack, please.” Alice nodded in return.
Setting his can on the coffee table, Johnny went to his bedroom to take out the suitcase that Mrs. Templeton had bought for him at Poundstretcher a few years before, so that he wouldn’t have to depend on his rucksack to pack everything. Before he began, however, he paused to look back on the day, when he’d been 14 years old and in his first year of taking GCSEs, on which he had realized that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up.
I’ll never forget what happened when I told Mum about my ambition, he thought. He pursed his lower lip out as he recollected his father’s reaction to the news…
**“I’ve decided what I want to be, when I’ve finished my A-levels,” the 14-year-old boy told Jean in the front room as his mother reclined in the armchair. “I want to be a doctor when I grow up.”
“No, you will not!” a rough male voice boomed as Hamish entered the front room from the kitchen, carrying a can of beer. It was clear to Johnny that his father had overheard him and was absolutely livid at the news. Approaching his wife and son, Hamish glared at Johnny. “You’d never make it in medical school if you went! You’d flunk out the first year if you did! I won’t have my son growing into some posh little wanker.”
The teenage Johnny swallowed. “Maybe I would make it,” he said. “And I won’t be posh! People need doctors, Daddy. Doctors are needed to save people’s lives and make people well. I can do that.”
“You’d never make it!” Hamish repeated. “I won’t have you putting on airs and puffing yourself up, Johnny! You think you’re better than the rest of us? You think you got the right to be any better than me?!”
He slapped his son viciously across the face; taking an involuntary step back, Johnny clenched his fists and glared at him, and then he stalked out into the kitchen, rubbing his throbbing face. He stopped for a moment to turn around, glaring at his father as a scowling Hamish plopped down on the sofa and opened the can of beer; after a moment, the boy turned to face the kitchen window, both hands tightly clenched.
Looking at the small, dusty, scratched-up mirror hung on the kitchen wall opposite from the entrance, Johnny saw his mother shaking her head and then rising to her feet; Johnny turned to face her as she entered the kitchen. She approached her son.
“It’s just your daddy’s way, son. You know that,” she told Johnny wearily, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, scowling and still clenching his fists. “You just got to make allowances for him. We’ve all got to.” With a shrug, Johnny looked past her at his father, who was taking a large swallow of beer…
Johnny shook his head. “He was never able to talk me out of it, though he kept giving such me a hard time about my wish to be a doctor till before he died,” he told himself. “And now that he’s dead, he’ll never be able to stop me from becoming one, or from taking A-levels, either. And thanks to Aunt Alice and Mrs. Russell, I won’t have to give up my dream to get a job, either.” Silently thanking God, he removed his suitcase out of the closet, opened it, and started packing some clothes inside.
When he had packed what he had decided to take, he closed it and carried it into the front room.
“I’m ready, Aunt Alice,” he announced.
“And I’m ready to return to the shop,” Mrs. Russell added. Turning to Johnny, she added, “Come to the shop after school on Monday, and we’ll work out your hours of working there so they won’t interfere with your homework, or your school and church and Boy Scout activities.” Johnny nodded.
Picking up their cans of Coke, the three of them left the prefab and crossed the street to the one that Alice lived in. Mrs. Russell got into her car and, waving good-bye, pulled away from the kerb, driving toward Langston Avenue that time. Johnny accompanied his godmother into her half of the prefab.
“Do you know how to make balsamic chicken, Johnny?” Mrs. Templeton asked him, as they stepped into her front room.
Johnny shook his head. “No, Aunt Alice. I’ve never had it.”
“When you’ve put your suitcase in the bedroom, come to the kitchen, and I’ll teach you how. There won’t be time for you to mow now, so you’d better wait till after church tomorrow to do that.”
Reluctantly, Johnny nodded. She was right; it was getting too late in the day, since sunset came early that time of year. He would just have to wait till the next day, after lunch.
“I’ve never made it when you or Harry have spent the night, and it’s been a while since I’ve last made any, but I thought we’d have some balsamic chicken tonight,” Alice added. “It’s very good. And we’ll have bread-and-butter pudding for dessert; I’ll teach you how to make that, too.” Johnny nodded with a smile. That would be a treat.
“What’s balsamic chicken made of?” he asked.
“Well, instead of using spices, you use sugar and balsamic vinegar.” Alice smiled at him. “It’s a great dish to make in a pinch, when you’re out of spices and you’d like to have some spiced chicken for supper.”** Johnny smiled at the thought.
It’ll be a great dish to make for myself when I start medical school! he thought.** I do like chicken.
After giving his Coke can to his godmother so she could set it aside for him, he carried his suitcase to the bedroom that he and Harry had always slept in whenever they had spent nights with her (and later, by himself, when Harry had lived with Granny Leekey). A great weight had been lifted off Johnny’s heart. He wouldn’t have to give up his dream after all! He could still take his A-levels and take part in school activities; he could still go to medical school and become a doctor. And he could still stay active in the Senior Boy Scouts until he had finished his A-levels; he wouldn’t have to drop out of that organisation unless he chose to. And he had no desire to do so.
Thank You, God! Johnny silently prayed, as he set his suitcase on the bare wooden floor near the closet. I won’t have to defer my dream after all! Thank You! Since he was only spending one night with Mrs. Templeton, he would not bother to unpack his suitcase, but would simply take what he needed out of it. He tucked his threadbare polyester shirt into his jeans and returned to the kitchen to receive his first cooking lesson from Mrs. Templeton.