Copyright: Michael Coatesworth.

Last revised: September 21, 2006

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Time for a Cuppa!

The Magazine

For all the Family

The Biscuits

Mike Coatesworth

According to passers-by, this was one of the worst winters they had known in many a year. It was snowing hard and had been for almost a day and a half, and there appeared to be no let up in the weather. From what I could see, the grey snow filled sky would remain this way for another couple of days at least. I was walking through the local park, and the snow was already half way up my Wellington boots, and my feet were cold, and wet from where the snow had managed to get into my boots from the splits in the side of them. The calves of my legs were slightly chapped with the constant rubbing from the top of the boots against them.

It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon, and already it was getting dark. By all rights I should have been at home in the warmth, sat in front of the coal fire, playing with my brothers. But something had gone wrong at home. I’d been caught taking a biscuit from the bag that was kept in the cupboard. The biscuits were being kept for Sunday as a treat for us after we’d had our dinner.

But I hadn’t known this, as no one had informed me; well I was only ten-years-old, so why should I be told anything? This was only one of the attitudes of my parents. The other was that if you didn’t work, you didn’t get a cooked meal. This rule was strictly adhered to except for special occasions like a birthday or Christmas.

Anyway I’d been hungry, and when I’d seen the bag of biscuits in the cupboard, my eyes had lit up and I’d placed my hand in the bag and taken one. My mouth watered as I’d taken the first bite, and I’d closed my eyes as the taste of this delicious biscuit had filled my whole mouth. As I’d been savouring the moment, not swallowing the biscuit, just letting it melt slowly in my mouth in preparation for it to glide down my throat and satisfy my hunger, I’d become aware of a very sharp pain on my right ear, and in shock, the chewed up biscuit flew from my mouth to land on the floor in front of me.

Thinking it was my brother playing tricks on me, I turned fast on my heels ready to square up to him. My eyes opened wide in terror when I saw the figure in front of me.

‘You little thief!’ my step-mother had screamed at me as she’d aimed another blow.

But I’d been too quick for her and had ducked and ran out of the house through the open door that she’d just come through. I hadn’t noticed the snow at first as I’d ran along the road, I just knew that I’d had to get as far away as possible in case my mother had sent one of my brothers to fetch me back. I knew that if this had been done, then on my return it would have meant a good hiding and a night in the dark damp coal cellar, well, that was if she was not in too bad a mood.

When I’d finally felt it safe and far enough away from the house to stop running, I found that I was outside the park. I’d stopped to take a deep breath, and it was then that I’d noticed how heavy the snowfall was. At first I hadn’t known what to do except that somehow I’d had to keep moving to keep warm. The taste from what remained of the biscuit was still in my mouth and I’d bitterly regretted at having been tempted to take one.

As I walked through the park I knew that the only thing that I could look forward to on my return home, was at least one night in the cellar, where I knew I would also be kept all through the cold winter night. I know, because this had happened to me on several occasions, but they are tales to be told later.

The night was falling quickly and I was getting cold, well to be truthful, I was freezing, as when I’d run from the house, I’d not had chance to pick my coat up, and the thin sleeveless jersey that I was wearing was insufficient to my needs.

‘Are you okay?’ a voice asked from the side of me.

I’d been so engrossed in my own thoughts that I’d not heard the person approaching me.

‘Here, put this on, it’ll warm you up.’

The one thing that my parents had instilled in my brain; was that I was never to speak to strange men or women, but they’d never said anything about strange boys, like the one at my side offering me his coat.

For a moment, I looked at the coat, then at the boy offering it. He was about my age and size, and was dressed in what I can only describe as “well to do” clothes, but he hadn’t got a posh accent.

‘Go on take it before you catch your death.’ He insisted.

I reached out and took the heavy coat and put it on, and immediately I felt the full benefit of it, and with the help of my young benefactor, I managed to fasten the buttons with my cold hands, which soon warmed up with the gloves he helped put on. No matter how hard I had tried to protest at his generosity, he had insisted. It appeared to me that this young boy was more mature than his years of age.

For a moment, I had pictured myself returning home with these nice clothes and being accused by my step-mother of being a thief again. If this happened, I knew that it would be taken from me, and I wondered which of my brothers would receive the coat.

The boy introduced himself as “Graham,” and stated that he didn’t live far away. ‘Would you like to come to my home for tea?’ he asked. He stated that after tea, we could play with some of his toys. Although he didn’t have an upper crust accent, he was very polite.

I began to remove the gloves as I informed him that I hadn’t wanted to get into any more trouble than I was in already. I explained the events leading up to that moment, and afterwards, he too realised the consequences of what would happen to me if I was caught and taken back home.

‘Well the way I look at it, you are already in trouble, so what difference does another hour of fun make?’ He waited patiently for me to reply.

I didn’t need to think too much about it, and after asking him what we were having for tea, he laughed and we ran towards his home.

His home was nothing really special; it was a terraced house with two upper floors. As we entered, a portly lady who turned out to be his mother, greeted us warmly, and she helped me off with Graham’s coat and gloves and didn’t even ask why I was wearing her son’s belongings. Neither did she enquire if my family knew where I was on this freezing cold winter’s night.

After a lovely cooked meal, that to me was a banquet, where I was allowed to eat as much as I wanted, Graham and I went upstairs and played with some of his toys, and for a while we had a great time and all thoughts of my own home and consequences of my actions disappeared while I was engrossed in having the best time of my life. It turned out that Graham was an only child, so his parents had lavished him with toys.

Graham’s mother came into the room, and stated that she thought that it was time that I went home before it got too late. Graham escorted his mother out onto the landing and for a few moments, I could hear them talking in low tones.

They came back into the room, and I could see from the sympathetic look on his mother’s face that he had informed her of my predicament.

‘I’m sorry, and as much as I’d love to have you stay here, you must return home.’ She told me not to worry though and stated that she and Graham would escort me and try to explain things to my parents.

We walked alongside of the park, as Graham’s mother had stated that she never felt it was a safe place to be at night. As we passed the houses opposite the park, I could see the lights in most of the windows, and in some of the homes, children’s laughter filtered through the panes of glass. I smiled to myself and was glad that at least someone was having a nice evening. As I neared my house, my legs grew heavy and my pace slowed to almost a crawl. I could see activity up ahead and from the sound of the voices, I knew that it was my brothers, and I could now see my father. They were all wrapped up, and it appeared that they had been searching for me.

They all ran up to me as soon as they saw me, and my father picked me up in his arms and hugged me. Apparently they had been really worried, as with all the snow falling and mounting up, they had reckoned that I wouldn’t have survived the night.

Graham’s mother spoke to my dad and explained everything that had gone on that night. It appeared to have worked as after the conversation he walked towards me with a rare smile on his face. Later in life, I asked him on several occasions what she had spoken about, but he refused categorically to tell me what it was that she had said to him.

I was taken into the house and for a while a fuss was made over me and questions were asked, in fact so many questions were being fired at me that my head began to spin.

When Eventually I had been left on my own, I made my way to the cellar. I had decided to go voluntary into the underground hole, as it was better than being thrown down the steps as what normally happened. At least I wouldn’t have any cuts or bruises. A few minutes later, the cellar door opened and I heard my name being called.

My father called out and asked me to come upstairs to the living room.

Preparing the area, by moving the large pieces of coal away from the bottom of the steps, so that I wouldn’t land on them when I was thrown down again, I climbed the steps slowly, and through the door where everyone was standing and waiting for me.

‘What are you doing in the cellar?’ my father asked

I didn’t answer I was too busy thinking of why I wasn’t already back at the bottom of the steps.

‘You’ll be delighted to know that you are not in any trouble at all,’ my father stated as he picked me up in his arms.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was not going to be punished after all? This was confirmed when my step-mother took me and undressed me ready for a bath. I hadn’t had a chance to thank Graham or his mother as they had left me at the front door.

I slept well that night in my warm comfortable bed and dreamed of happier times, when laughter echoed quite regularly around the household. I woke up early, but I had to wait for permission to be allowed out of bed. Eventually as I went downstairs, my step-mother greeted me with a large brown parcel in her hands.

‘This is for you,’ she stated handing me the parcel with my name written boldly on top, and she explained that it had been left outside the back door. As was usual, it had already been opened and the short note stating that it was solely for me, had been read.

I found that it was the coat and gloves that my newfound friend, Graham, had lent to me in the park the previous night. I was determined to visit and thank Graham and his mother for their generosity. So after breakfast, I put on my new coat and set off to their home. My heart was beating a little fast as I arrived on their doorstep and knocked on the heavy dark brown door. I hadn’t wanted to disturb them, but I just had to thank them for their help and generosity.

The door opened gradually after my second knock and a small ageing man stood in front of me. ‘Is Graham in, please?’ I asked.

For a short while the man stared and said nothing, and I was about to leave, as something about this person sent shivers up my spine.

‘Why do you want to see Graham? He asked suddenly, while at the same time opening the door wider.

I explained about the previous night and the parcel outside my door, and I told him that I wanted to thank him.

A strange faraway smile appeared on his face as I explained what had happened, and the man asked me to enter the house.

I thanked him politely, but refused as I still was unsure of this man and his strange actions. Something was warning me to stay outside unless Graham’s mother appeared.

He seemed to have understood what was going through my mind and asked me not to be afraid. Just at that moment my father appeared at my side, apparently he’d been worried that I’d run away again and he hadn’t fancied spoiling his day searching for me.

The man asked us to wait a moment while he went into his house, and returned with a photograph. He explained to my dad that he couldn’t understand how I had met and spoken to his wife and son, as the previous winter they had been involved in a car accident, and although his wife had died, his son, Graham was in a psychiatric institution due to a severe head injury.

It was three weeks later that I finally got to meet Graham. He’d been allowed home after making a recovery, not a full recovery, but enough to allow him to try to lead a fairly normal life.

I asked him about that night in the park and how he had managed to be there?

He stated that he didn’t really remember the incident, but he did remember that at the time, there was someone worse off than he was and he felt he just had to reach out and help, and it was also around this time that he began to recover.

With Graham going in and out of hospitals for various treatments, I only saw him once after that day, and it was a few months later that I’d found out that he had passed away.

His father had called to our house and when I was on my own, he handed me a letter that Graham left for me. Apparently, Graham had asked him not to hand over the letter to anyone else, as it was for my eyes only.

Opening it, I read the contents; “see you in the park.” I smiled and with tears falling down my cheeks, I walked outside and looked up into the clear blue sky, ‘I’ll be there,’ I whispered.

Mike Coatesworth

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