Give Us This Day Our Bailey Dead

One morning, Aunt Elsie knocked on the Watsons' front door, called a greeting and came straight in. She was in quite a tizzy.

She was wearing a black coat, smelling of motballs, which usually hung on a coat hook, on the wall of the passage in her house, an entry too short and too narrow to be called a hall. This was one of her rare excursions out of her dwelling. There had to be a good reason for it. Telling her youngest son, Geoff, to put his coat on and follow her, she'd grabbed her walking stick and headed for the Watsons'

She'd slammed the front door behind her and limped up Edward Street, with her son Geoff. Geoff, like Joan, was a child of her second marriage.

Elsie was half a generation older than Margaret and her children were several years older than Michael. Geoff was eleven and a very bright lad who had won one of the few scholarships available at that time, for the prestigious Lancaster Royal Grammar School. He was short and thin for his age and had a bit of a squint. He really needed spectacles but they cost too much. He tried to sit in the front row at school so that he could see the writing on the blackboard.

Margaret was surprised to see Elsie but greeted her warmly, "Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

Elsie paused before accepting. She had a problem. She didn't know whether to go straight ahead and take action or tell Margaret about it and see what she thought. She'd decided to have a chat with Margaret.

"Thank you, love," she replied. "I could do with one. I was just going to leave our Geoff with you, while I went up to his school to sort something out. But thank-you, yes I will have a cuppa first."

She took off her coat and sat down. Michael had never seen much of Geoff. He was usually at school or working in their parlour doing his homework. He had a couple of friends on the other side of town, boys from school, whom he used to go and play with. Michael was a bit shy with him.

"Do you want to play at something?" Geoff asked.
"I've got some marbles," Michael ventured.
"Go on then," responded Geoff, "I'll give you a game."

The two women confided while the boys played.

"What's happened?" asked Margaret.
"It's to do with him," said Elsie, pointing at Geoff.
"Come here a minute Geoff, I want Margaret to have a look at your back."

Michael watched as Geoff went over to his mother and she lifted his shirt and lowered his grey shorts slightly. His lower back and his buttocks were covered with black and blue bruises.

Geoff said, "Be careful Mam, it still hurts!"
"I should think it does!" exclaimed Margaret. "How on earth did that happen?"
"Tell her!" said Elsie.
"Do I have to?" Geoff asked.
"I said for you to tell her. Go on, tell her what you told me!"

Reluctantly, Geoff told his story. You weren't supposed to tell tales, not about anybody, no matter what. That was drummed into you at his school.

"Well, the Headmaster takes us for Divinity."
"What's Divinity?" Michael asked.
"You! Little pig with big ears! Look at one of your picture books! And keep quiet!"

Geoff went on, "It's Scripture, all about the Bible. Anyway, he'd had our books in, to mark our homework. He handed them out. Then he glared at us. As usual, we were all a bit frightened because he gives you the cane if you get a really low mark. I wasn't that worried because I'm good at Divinity.

"I couldn't believe it when he called out the name of the boy next to me and then my name. Both of us had to go out to the front of the class. I knew what that usually meant. But I was convinced that I hadn't done anything wrong.

"He took his thick cane off his desk. It was the one he uses to point things out on the blackboard. He said that he couldn't stand cheating, and he was going to teach us a lesson we wouldn't forget.

"I was scared but I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I plucked up courage and asked what I was supposed to have done?"

Margaret encouraged him to go on, "Quite right too! Nobody's guilty until it's proved."
"He said this other boy and I had been copying each other's work because all of our answers were the same. It wasn't me. Honest Margaret, I never do any copying. Some of the lads do but I don't!"
"I'm sure you don't Geoff. So what happened next?"

Geoff was close to tears telling about it.

"Well, me asking him that question made him go mad. He grabbed me and gave me a few hits with his stick. Then he put me over his desk and kept on belting me for a long time. He kept on shouting, working himself up! Right loud he was screaming, and calling me a liar, a cheat and a cheeky young thug."

Elsie said, "Dry your eyes son! Have you got your hanky with you?"
"Yes Mam!"
"Use it then! Go and play with Michael! I'm just going to finish my cup of tea."
"You won't go up to school will you Mam? Please don't. I'll only get into more trouble."
"Oh no you won't!" said Elsie grimly. "That's one thing that won't happen!"

She turned to Margaret, "Well what would you do, love?"

Margaret was absolutely sure that a terrible injustice had been done.

"You'll have to go and see him Elsie. He mustn't get away with that sort of thing. I know a lot of the kids get the stick but that is terrible. I've never seen bruises like those."

Elsie's mind was made up.

"I'll leave him with you," she said.

And off she went.

Going as fast her lameness permitted, she went up Moor Lane, then alongside the road next to the canal, climbed steep East Road, the adrenalin flowing, her temper rising, as she drew closer to the lair of her quarry.

Arrived at the school, she asked a pupil where the Headmaster was. She was directed to his house, went in without knocking, and confronted him in his study.

The startled sadist looked up from his desk.She started on him before he could utter a word. She crashed her walking-stick across his desk which made the old sod jump a bit.

"I'm Geoff Thompson's mother so you know why I'm here. I've got just one thing to say to you, you pig. If you ever lay a finger on my boy again, I'll spend my every last penny dragging you and your name though the courts. You hypocrite! You coward! You're nothing but a big bully. You should be ashamed of yourself! You're not fit to be in charge of a slaughterhouse!"

She hit his desk again with her stick, even harder than the first time. It caused ink to jump out of the inkwell and trickle down the desk onto his trousers. He just sat there transfixed, unable to believe that his Authority had been challenged.

After a few more seconds he managed to find his voice. "I'll send for the police!" he stammered.

"Go on! Send for them! I'll have plenty to tell them! You criminal!"

He didn't say or do anything. He just glared at her.

With that she flounced out, leaving the doors open behind her, and flung herself back down the long hill. She went back into Margaret's and told her all about it. Margaret told her she thought she was marvellous. Then she made Elsie another cup of tea.

Geoff was not impressed.

"He'll make my life a misery. He'll never forget. He'll be after me all the time!"

"Don't you be too sure about that," said Margaret. "Bullies don't like a taste of their own medicine. He'll leave you alone. You mark my words."

And that's how it was. The Headmaster never said another word to Geoff about the incident. He never laid another finger on him.

However, not long afterwards, Shackleton-Bailey was hauled into court by another irate parent whose son had been assaulted. The parent lost the case.

That's how it was, then.