his weekend homework without beingreminded. Usually he was reading until bedtime, and had to scramble to do it before school on Monday.
‘I can’t understand why you don’t get down to it as soon as you come in from school on Friday afternoon,’ Mrs Dover often said, ‘then you would know you had the whole weekend clear for any other activities. Putting off anything never does any good, it has to be done eventually. In any case you want to pass the scholarship, don’t you?’
‘I’m not bothered,’ Johnny had said several times. ‘I shall have a barrer like Dad when I leave school, anyway.’
‘But you like reading and writing and talking,’ Mrs Dover insisted on one occasion.
‘Yes I do, but I can read when I finish work each day, and talking will be part of me job, won’t it? I mean I won’t have to pass the scholarship for that, will I?’
Mrs Dover smiled and shook her head at him.
On Monday morning there was no post at all for Annie. She had had her parents’ card last week with the pound note, of course, but….
Johnny gave her the birthday-card he had bought during the week, and that was all she had. He could hardly believe it. Why, in his house birthdays were special no matter how old you were. Birthdays and Christmas were the two highspots of the year.
The strange thing was that Annie didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interest, although she did seem happy with the card he gave her. He had chosen one with a bunch of balloons on the front and had written each letter of her name in five of the balloons. Perhaps he shouldn’t havegone to all the trouble of a cake after all, he reflected, when he should have been concentrating on his English lesson. Annie was used to a different kind of life from his, and maybe what his mum had said was right, that what you didn’t have you didn’t miss.
They walked to school together as usual, and Johnny said as casually as he could manage, ‘Have a nice day, Annie.’
‘Thanks.’ As she turned away to go to her classroom she said, ‘Johnny, thank you for the card, it’s lovely. I’ve got it in my satchel.’
They didn’t always walk home together; often Johnny was with his pals and Annie with hers, but on Annie’s eleventh birthday Johnny watched out for her. He was torn between rushing back to see if Mrs Dover had managed to bake a cake, and waiting to see if Annie was chattering to Janet. He didn’t like Janet much. She treated him as though he were Annie’s cross to bear – the boy who had to be looked after. But she was Annie’s friend.
‘She’s very nice when you know her properly,’ she told him, ‘and she can’t help her high falutin manner, as you call it. That’s just the way she is, Johnny. You have to learn to take people for what they are in the end you know.’
Johnny often thought how wise Annie was. But he never let her see he thought so. He reached Kerry Avenue seven minutes before she did and almost flew in through the back door. Mrs Dover was in the kitchen.
‘Goodness, Johnny, you startled me,’ she said. ‘Change out of your school things quickly now and then you can help me.’
By the time Annie arrived he knew there was not only a cake, but a special birthday meal. He hustled her upstairs.
‘You’re early Johnny,’ she said. ‘I looked for you on the way home.’
‘I’m helping Mrs Dover, I won’t be long.’
When she came downstairs fifteen minutes later Mrs Dover sent them both into the front room. ‘I can manage beautifully now Johnny, thank you,’ she told him.
For once Johnny’s book didn’t hold his attention. Usually he was so absorbed he heard and saw nothing but the characters and action of the story. Tonight, however, he was listening to every sound from the kitchen and dining-room. When Mr Dover came down from his study and put the six o’clock news on Johnny willed himself to keep absolutely quiet, for nothing must spoil this evening for Annie.
He thought she looked a bit sad,
‘I can’t understand why you don’t get down to it as soon as you come in from school on Friday afternoon,’ Mrs Dover often said, ‘then you would know you had the whole weekend clear for any other activities. Putting off anything never does any good, it has to be done eventually. In any case you want to pass the scholarship, don’t you?’
‘I’m not bothered,’ Johnny had said several times. ‘I shall have a barrer like Dad when I leave school, anyway.’
‘But you like reading and writing and talking,’ Mrs Dover insisted on one occasion.
‘Yes I do, but I can read when I finish work each day, and talking will be part of me job, won’t it? I mean I won’t have to pass the scholarship for that, will I?’
Mrs Dover smiled and shook her head at him.
On Monday morning there was no post at all for Annie. She had had her parents’ card last week with the pound note, of course, but….
Johnny gave her the birthday-card he had bought during the week, and that was all she had. He could hardly believe it. Why, in his house birthdays were special no matter how old you were. Birthdays and Christmas were the two highspots of the year.
The strange thing was that Annie didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interest, although she did seem happy with the card he gave her. He had chosen one with a bunch of balloons on the front and had written each letter of her name in five of the balloons. Perhaps he shouldn’t havegone to all the trouble of a cake after all, he reflected, when he should have been concentrating on his English lesson. Annie was used to a different kind of life from his, and maybe what his mum had said was right, that what you didn’t have you didn’t miss.
They walked to school together as usual, and Johnny said as casually as he could manage, ‘Have a nice day, Annie.’
‘Thanks.’ As she turned away to go to her classroom she said, ‘Johnny, thank you for the card, it’s lovely. I’ve got it in my satchel.’
They didn’t always walk home together; often Johnny was with his pals and Annie with hers, but on Annie’s eleventh birthday Johnny watched out for her. He was torn between rushing back to see if Mrs Dover had managed to bake a cake, and waiting to see if Annie was chattering to Janet. He didn’t like Janet much. She treated him as though he were Annie’s cross to bear – the boy who had to be looked after. But she was Annie’s friend.
‘She’s very nice when you know her properly,’ she told him, ‘and she can’t help her high falutin manner, as you call it. That’s just the way she is, Johnny. You have to learn to take people for what they are in the end you know.’
Johnny often thought how wise Annie was. But he never let her see he thought so. He reached Kerry Avenue seven minutes before she did and almost flew in through the back door. Mrs Dover was in the kitchen.
‘Goodness, Johnny, you startled me,’ she said. ‘Change out of your school things quickly now and then you can help me.’
By the time Annie arrived he knew there was not only a cake, but a special birthday meal. He hustled her upstairs.
‘You’re early Johnny,’ she said. ‘I looked for you on the way home.’
‘I’m helping Mrs Dover, I won’t be long.’
When she came downstairs fifteen minutes later Mrs Dover sent them both into the front room. ‘I can manage beautifully now Johnny, thank you,’ she told him.
For once Johnny’s book didn’t hold his attention. Usually he was so absorbed he heard and saw nothing but the characters and action of the story. Tonight, however, he was listening to every sound from the kitchen and dining-room. When Mr Dover came down from his study and put the six o’clock news on Johnny willed himself to keep absolutely quiet, for nothing must spoil this evening for Annie.
He thought she looked a bit sad,
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