It was December
1947 the west-midlands of England where it had received a bad snow fall leaving
the drifts piling up to the window ledges. In a small cottage on the side of a
main London road a child was born, but only because it was the will of god. The
will of the father was a lot more sinister who had made it known throughout the
young woman’s pregnancy that this child was unplanned and unwanted by him.
The couple were
three years into a marriage with one boy already. The father was a survivor of
the Second World War which left him with an attitude, and what would be viewed
by others as a twisted and sadistic mind. He had told his wife a short time
into the pregnancy that she had to abort the baby by any means. Whether she
agreed or not the husband plied her with all the gin he could afford on his
meagre wages. Yes it was an old wives tale but in those days it was taken as
fact.
The boy was
given the name of William by his mother whose name was Dora and even though her
husband Kit disapproved, she gave him her love. The father in his ignorance
wanted nothing to do with the boy but kept it a secret from all including his
wife. To him the boy would always be unplanned and unwanted.
William’s older brother Bobby would be the
one his farther would nurture into his ways all through Bobby’s life. Bobby was
older by fifteen months and was planned and wanted by his father, William was a
mistake. At this time the anger that William's father had for his wife would
not show for many years. However, by then his fathers’ anger would be for
another mistake by his mother. In the fathers eyes she would have to be
punished for conceiving a baby without his permission, and an idea festered in
his twisted mind.
There could have
been a deeper reason for Kit being the arrogant and aggressive person he was.
It might have been because of Kit’s own past why he turned out to be the image
of his own father.
William was born in a bungalow that had a cold
stone floor, three windows, one door, and three rooms. It was a basic house of
the time, and the same house in 2012 would be condemned as not even fit for
keeping animals. The cottage was loaned to his father while he worked for the
farm owner. By today’s standard it was small and very basic, with no
electricity or running water. It consisted of three large rooms with the living
room in the centre the biggest. It was no more than thirty feet long and most
probably only twelve to fifteen feet in depth. The whole building was of red
brick with a porch, the floors inside were made from cold Forest of Dean stone.
The centre of
the house was the living room because there was no kitchen as such. There was a
large black fireplace that sat opposite the door in a large alcove. It had a
grate for the fire in the middle with a small oven either side. There was
plenty of room behind and to the side of the fire. There was a large pine table
in the centre of the room with four chairs. All the cooking and preparing was
done in that room, as was the socialising. Either side of the living room was a
bedroom that had no heat or light during the night.
There was a
small triangle of grass in front of the house that ended at the porch of the
house. There was a path that led from the gate to the porch and once again
carved from that beautiful pink stone. If you walked into the garden through
the gate his father had planted vegetables, but they were hidden from view by
the border of flowers that bloomed in the summer. There was a large rose bush
in front of the door.
William was now
four years old living the life of all children at that age with innocent minds.
His father by this time was set in his ways and distanced himself from showing
any love for William. He showed his separation by always saying, “Your child,”
or “Your boy,” when speaking about him to Dora.
It was also
during those four years as an infant when his mother gave birth to two girls,
but unbeknown to William because one of those girls was also unplanned he would
take the lion’s share of the punishment for her.
William was almost four years old when he
looked out of the open door and saw this coloured prism in the blue sky. His
mother looked out the door seeing that it had stopped raining and the sun was
now shining. She said, “Look, William, that’s a rain bow in the sky. Wherever
the end is there is a pot of gold left by the little people.” She then went
about hanging her washing on the line. A short while later his mother walked
inside the house leaving William in the garden to play.
It was mid day
when he looked up from where he was sitting in the garden with his little
spade. His father was walking down the garden path towards him and the only
door in the house. His father always came home at that time of day to have his
dinner. He walked the short way from the farm and back six times a day for his
meals. On reaching where William was sitting he asked, “What the hell are you
doing, boy?”
“I’m looking for
the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Dad.” He answered innocently.
“Dora, that boy
of yours has dug the roses up looking for a pot of gold.” William was never his
boy, and although he never realised it at the time, it would remain that way
all of his life.
His mother
walked out and walked William inside to clean him up. As he sat waiting for his
dinner, his father replanted the rose bush and walked back through the door. He
looked at William sitting at the table in the living room and asked him, “Why
did you think the pot of gold was there?”
“Because, the
rainbow ended on top of the rose”
It was sad
really because he didn’t know what a pot of gold would look like if he had
found one. However, his father’s reply was even sadder. “You are a, stupid
boy.”
At that time
children went to primary school at the age of four and a half. William was
being taught at home how to count and write his alphabet by his mother. He told
his father one day that he could do these things, before watching his father
ignore his achievements. William’s brother that was now almost six gave him a
sneer as if it was unimportant, and it would be a look that only his father
could equal.
It was the
summer before going to school when all of the bad things in William’s life
started to take place. He and his brother slept in left hand bedroom of the
house as you looked at it from outside. It was a big double bed that they both
shared with William sleeping the side of the bed near the door. At that age
they were both in bed before five in the evening, and before their father
returned from work at six. Like all children of that age they would play on the
bed or talk and laugh.
The day
William’s world started to go wrong was one night in the winter. He and his
brother had returned home from school and were now in bed talking. “Be quiet
you boys,” their mother shouted through the thin wall of the bedroom. “Your
father will be home from work soon.” Neither boy had ever seen their father
angry but that didn’t mean he never was.
The two boys had
not listened to the warning from their mother, and were still playing and
giggling when their father got home from work. As soon as he walked in the door
his voice could be heard, “You two boys had better go to sleep and give me
rest.” The boys were in bed under the thick Eider-duck-down quilt laughing
quietly thinking they could not be heard.
There was a loud
noise of a door slamming against the wall as it opened which made both boys in
the darkness lift their heads above the quilt. The door was wide open, and
silhouetted in the lamplight of the living room was the dark figure of their
father. His contorted face was partially hidden by the long shadows of his
features. The white staring eyes could be seen as if they were alight as he
shouted, “I told you boys to be quiet and you never listened. You had to be
naughty and disobey me.”
Neither of the
boys had seen their father like this before, and they were in fear not knowing
that worse was to come. Their father walked over to the bed and threw back the
covers aggressively to show intent. He grabbed at William's wrist pulling him
roughly from the bed. Once his feet touched the floor his father bent him over
the side of the bed. Taking hold of his wrists his he held them together in the
small of his back. The pyjama trousers were pulled down moments before he
violently beat his buttocks for several minutes.
William was
screaming, “Please, Dad,” between the tears and cries of pain. “Mum, help me,”
more cries of pain. “Where are you, mum?” His mother was in the living room
crying while listening to her youngest boy getting thrashed by her brute of a
husband. She knew the reason why it was taking place at that time, and there
was nothing she could do to help him. Kit was head of the family that placed
food on the table, and her vow in church was to obey her husband. Whether she
feared his aggressive nature would never be known as it remained a secret until
she died.
His father had
deaf ears to William's cries, but eventually stopped as his anger subsided. He
roughly threw William on the bed to get dressed once more. He then took Bobby
by the wrist and gave him a few smacks on his buttocks before throwing him on
the bed. “Let that be a lesson to you both.” It had not gone unnoticed by
William that the little amount of smacks his brother had received never brought
a tear to his eye.
This was the
first of many thrashings William would receive from his father, who would walk
through the bedroom door on any minor pretext to administer his cruel and
barbaric justice. There would be many nights his screams of pain would be heard
from that day forward. They would be heard between the abnormal sounds of a hand
smacking soft flesh, or the crack of a leather belt on the same flesh. His
father had only just stated his revenge trip and it would take a reality check
before he stopped.
William's father
had become a sadistic uncontrolled force of brutality that would go through
life thinking because he was the head of the family he was the judge, jury and
enforcer of justice. This bedroom was not a child’s bedroom any longer but it
was now a place of cruelty where a grown man with a twisted mind would almost
destroy the soul of an innocent child.
Kit hated the
thought of any woman getting beat by a man, and took oath on his own soul that
he would never strike a woman. Dora had given birth to two children that he had
never wanted or asked for, but it was up to him now to feed and clothe them. He
would never bring himself to the point of striking Dora his wife, but that was
not to say he would not punish her for defying his wishes. In Kit’s twisted
mind he was not punishing William, but punishing his wife for giving birth to
William and his youngest sister. It had taken almost five years for this macho
Scotsman to vent his anger. The birth of his second but unplanned daughter a
few months previous had pushed his warped anger to the limit of endurance.
It was for that
reason when smacking Bobby he realised this was the chosen one that was in his
grasp. The smacks became lighter and few, because this was the boy that would
make him proud. When he had released the grip and threw Bobby on the bed once
more Kit knew there were very few tears. William also noticed, he might have
been four and a half years old but he had counted his smacks and those of his
brother. Bobby had not come close to having half as many as William.
At the breakfast
table the following morning both boys were sitting waiting to eat when Bobby
said, “William wet the bed last night.” Their mother never said anything but
looked at their father who was listening intently. The two boys had their
breakfast silently and went to school. It was that same night when both boys
were in bed awake, but silent with the thoughts of the previous evening of
punishment in their minds.
The door was
once more thrown open and both boys looked at the silhouetted person standing
in the door. This time it was even more sinister, because the two inch wide
leather belt that Ian’s father wore about his waist was hanging from his hand. William
was thinking that he was just checking that they were both asleep, but that
wasn’t the case.
All through the
day while the children’s father had been working on his own he had been
thinking about the things that had taken place in his life that he had no
control over. He had two unplanned children, and his wife had to be punished
for her defiance. The thoughts that were going through his head were giving him
hot flushes of anger that he found hard to control. He had thought through his
dilemma and the answer to his discomfort was now in sight. The boy was his
property and his to punish, and the law of the land was for the father to
discipline his children.
He walked over
to the bed and looked down at the two boys, and there was no mistaking the
blind anger in his eyes as he stared at William. William started to tremble a
little as fear of the unknown passed through his body. “So, boy, you wet the bed
last night like a baby. Well I am going to teach you never to wet it again. I
don’t like babies that wet the bed and tonight I will give you something to
think about if you do so again.”
He bent over the
two boys to pull back the cover so that he could pull William out of the bed
once more. Again he was bent over the edge of the bed with his wrists held
firmly in the centre of his back. This time the trousers were left on Ian's
lower body while his father’s other hand thrashed him with the belt. Once again
Ian was screaming and crying while calling for his mother to help him. He then
heard his mother plead through the sound of his own screams, “Kit,” then after
a short pause, “Please?”
The thrashing
stopped, whether because his father’s twisted anger had subsided or because of
his mother’s intervention was unclear. Once again the sobbing William was
thrown back on the bed, where he cried himself to sleep another night. Before
his father walked out of the room he threw the covers over the boys once more. There
was a silence of sorts in the room that was broken only by the sobbing of Ian
as he slept.
At the breakfast
table Bobby said, “My pyjamas are wet, mum, Ian wet the bed again,” as he gave
his father a smile. Whether bobby was just showing off to his father, or trying
to get William into trouble was also unclear, but in later life William would
realise that bobby was just as twisted as his mentor.
At the same time
as this was said, William who had a spoon in his hand to eat his porridge
placed it back on the table. He sat with his hands gripping the edge of the
table while looking at his father with fear in his face. He could not mistake
the wide staring eyes of his father looking back at him with expressionless
eyes. His mother broke the silence by saying, “Pick up your spoon, William, and
eat your breakfast.”
William picked
up the spoon with shaking hands while still looking at his father’s face. As
his eyes dropped to the spoon in his hand near the dish he tried to stop the
uncontrollable shaking. The spoon touched the side of the dish to tap in rhythm
with the nervous tremble in his hand. His mother stepped over to the table to
place her hand on top of his. He looked up at her with a tear in the corner of
his eye only to see her smile and say, “Eat your breakfast, William, nothing is
going to happen.”
William and his
brother walked off to school to return in the evening and once they had eaten
their meal they were sent to bed. That night William knowing that his father
had heard about him wetting the bed again tried to keep his eyes open while
looking at the door. He was waiting for it to be thrown open once more, but
tiredness got the better of him and he fell asleep.
A few days went
by, and while they were in bed one night Michael gave William a playful tickle
under the arms. He burst out laughing and stopped almost as soon as it started,
but it was not quite fast enough. The door burst open and their father was once
again silhouetted by the light. “So you had to disturb my rest with your
playing.”
“It was William,
Dad, he was laughing.” Yes that was true but what his father did not want to
know was the fact that Bobby forced the laugh. Bobby had already turned into
the coward and nasty vile creature he would be for the rest of his life. He
would always tell tales on others so that no blame rested on his head.
In his temper
and lust to punish Dora, his wife, the unwanted would have to take the hiding.
Whether there was a smile or any kind of emotion on the face of their father
was hidden by the darkness of the room. Before he walked into the room he
glanced over his shoulder into the living room with piercing eyes. He then
stepped to the bed and pulled William out who was already shouting. “Bobby
caused me to laugh Dad, No, please no. Mum, help me.”
“You will get
extra for trying to get your brother into trouble, because I only heard one
laugh.” The cries of William once again falling on deaf ears, because the man
in the room was now thriving on the power he held over his family.
His mother
however was closing her mind and ears to the pitiful pleading of her youngest
son while crying quietly. Once again his wrists were held by his father’s grasp
pushing them into the small of his back. His buttocks were being thrashed with
the flat of his father’s hand, but his screams of pain were falling on deaf
ears. Ian's father had once more turned into the uncontrollable monster that
was oblivious to the pain of others.
It was a long
time before his anger was controlled enough to stop the beating before he threw
William on the bed. He looked at Bobby cowering under the quilt, but the chosen
one was not guilty of any crime. “Go to sleep Bobby you have school in the
morning.” Once his father had walked through the doorway closing the door, in
the darkness William pulled the quilt over his body and cried himself to sleep
another night.
The inevitable
took place, and the bed was wet in the morning once more, William's mother
noticed when helping him dress for school but said nothing. It was Bobby that
mentioned it once more at the breakfast table. It seemed as though Bobby
realised that all the time his father was concentrating on his brother he was
safe from abuse. His father looked towards his mother asking, “Is that right?”
she never answered, but her expression said it all.
That night
William was in bed with his eyes focused on the door while straining his ears
listening for the sound of his father walking down the path. Bobby was already
asleep when William heard the gate slam shut in the wind before the front door
opened. He then heard his mother talking to his father before it went quiet
while his father was eating the hot meal his mother had prepared for him.
Somewhere during
that time of silence William had fallen asleep, but was rudely awakened by the
dramatic entrance of his father once more. The monster pulled him from the bed
roughly like all the previous nights. “I thought I told you I would teach you
not to wet the bed again, but it seems as though you want to defy me. Well this
time you had better learn because if I have to come in here tomorrow you will
get a harder hiding than you are getting tonight.” William was being thrashed
with the leather belt once more.
Even in his half
sleep he was pleading for mercy from the pain which was falling on deaf
ears. Crying for his mother to come and
save him from the hell his father was putting him through. Before he had been
bent over the bed William had noticed the leather belt in his father’s hand.
The thrashing seemed as though it would go on forever, until as suddenly as the
thrashing started it stopped. “Get into bed you, bad boy.”
William watched
as his older brother pulled the quilt up and closed his eyes once more. Without
looking he heard his father close the door behind him leaving him in his silent
world of darkness. He slipped his body off the quilt so that his knees were on
the floor kneeling at the side of the bed. After resting his arms on the side
of the bed while the tears slipped down his cheeks like rivers he cried himself
to sleep.
How long it was
he had no idea, but he felt himself being lifted up and placed on the bed. He
opened his eyes and saw his mother looking down at him.”Why didn’t you get into
bed, William?”
“I don’t want to
wet the bed again.”
With a tear in
her eye she replied, “Don’t ever be afraid of getting into bed, William.” She then pulled the quilt over him before
walking out of the room. It would be a long time in the future before William
understood the reason why his mother never came. It would also be at the same
time he would realise a lot more of the family secrets. When he did find out
the truth he would never have to forgive his mother because she had done
nothing wrong for him to forgive her for. The bond that William had with his
mother would never be broken all the time she was alive. His father had just
cut the first of many lonely notches in his coffin, but neither he nor William
had no idea.
Several days
went by before William was caught laughing again and suffered another
thrashing. Once again Bobby told them all about the bed wetting during the
night. William went to school all of that day thinking about what would take
place when he got home. It was that same day while he was at school he
collapsed while in the classroom. The doctor was called and he was diagnosed.
His documentation stated that he had suffered a traumatic experience which had
given him a nervous breakdown.
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This story is in e-book form and also in paperback on Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/Dunce-At-Back-Class-ebook/dp/B00GO7V6SS/ref=sr_1_18?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1522788930&sr=1-18&keywords=ian+johnstone
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The conclusion to this first story is in the second book called Soldier on (The Dunce at the back of the Class) https://www.amazon.co.uk/Soldier-Dunce-Back-Class-Book-ebook/dp/B00M4RPUY8/ref=sr_1_44?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1522789357&sr=1-44&keywords=ian+johnstone
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