Kendo - Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine. Nearly halfway through and continuing to look at the world through Pete's eyes. Look forward to any feedback / comments.

 

Chapter Twenty Nine

 

Kendo

 

Pete found the playground deserted. Almost deserted anyway. There were a gang of three older kids there, so he had cycled past, peddling quickly all the way to his territory, near his house. Pete thought one of the kids was one of the Oldmans brothers and he knew through some of the legendary stories at school, that it was best to simply stay out of their way.

 

Pete deliberately didn’t cycle up quite as far as his house, just in case his mum saw him and called him in. Pete stopped in front of Marks house, but it looked empty and unoccupied, none of the usual comings and goings. Marks dads car wasn’t there, Pete wondered if maybe they had gone to town, or gone to see Marks Nan or something?. Pete cycled up and down a handful of times, whistling to himself just in case Mark was inside and might hear. Marks bedroom window was open slightly, but there was no movement.

 

Pete looked at the flashing digital dots on his Timex. It blinked the time relentlessly, twelve forty, except the middle bars on the last number didn’t work so it could easily be twelve forty eight. Yes the strap was broken and he had used plasters to stick it together, but it was all his and it worked. It didn’t have a calculator on it like Richards did, but it did have this game which was like a space game where you got to eat all the numbers. It wasn’t like proper space invaders or asteroids, but Pete sort of pretended it was. It wasn’t even as cool as the Telly Tennis; Richard had all of them he said of course and went on and on about how cool they were.

 

Pete had brought his little transistor radio with him. It sort of attached itself to him whenever he went out. The football wasn’t on because it was the summer. Pete would sometimes listen to the cricket, even thought it was really boring. Pete thought that life sort of slowed down without footie; and that wasn’t just because cricket sent everyone to sleep. Pete thought that Saturday afternoons were the best of times and also the worst of times. He, would be sat there on the sofa, with all of his slips of paper, having studied his copy of The Mirror all morning. Pete would try to have a look at it later so he could see the Andy Capp cartoon, it would be covered with biro and numbers and odds, scribbles all over it. Pete knew that as soon as Dickie the skunk appeared on World of Sport, as soon as the trumpets started on the theme tune and the plane flew overhead; it was an unspoken sign to Pete’s that he should make like the invisible man and disappear.

 

Sometimes, if he was in a really really good mood, he might let Pete watch a bit of On The Ball. He knew how much Pete loved this, Brian Moore’s chatting with all the stars from Leeds or Liverpool. But that was rare. Mainly, he would turn over to Grandstand or switch the radio on to track down the racing. Sometimes, not every week mind, Pete’s mum gave him a coin and ruffled his hair and told him to go to the shops to get some sweets. Sometimes it would be a five pence and sometimes a two bob. If it wasn’t raining and he wasn’t grounded for whatever reason, Pete knew that for the three hours or so that the drone of the races continued; that if he stayed out of his way, that he simply stopped existing. He would be cheering whatever horse he had bet on, she would be knitting like Wonder Woman’s mum; slightly nervously Pete always thought, just in case he had a really bad losing streak. Then, it could be anyone’s fault, even mums. Being invisible was a really good thing. Then Pete knew that come Dickie or Frank, he had to make himself like the invisible man. That was another good game, pretending that they couldn’t see him. Sometimes, Pete thought, it wasn’t all that difficult.

 

Pete sometimes testing getting back, or coming down the stairs if it was raining, at about 4pm as Pete absolutely and totally loved the wrestling on the telly. Pete knew not to even bother if it clashed with any late races or athletics on Grandstand or anything that was on the radio. He, would just about tolerate Pete watching it if there was absolutely nothing else at all on the telly or the radio that he wanted to watch. He, would be cussing all the way through that it wasn’t a real sport and it was all acting. Pete knew the words he would use off by heart; “a bunch on pansies messing about”. Sometimes mum would look over her glasses and give him that look. Pete called it her “leave him alone” look. It didn’t always work. Pete thought what did he know about anything anyway.

 

Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks and Kendo Nagasaki had been on at the Town Hall at Christmas time. Pete had seen the posters, they’d been stuck up on a wall just by the pub. Everyone at school had been excited. Mark had said that his dad had got tickets from a bloke at work and all of Mark’s family had gone. Mark had told him all about it the next morning. About how Big Daddy had got Giant Haystacks in a half nelson; and that Kendo had come in the ring, without even tagging, when it was a tag match and he knew that he really wasn‘t supposed to. Pete wondered why they were allowed to cheat like that. Mark had got up from his chair and shouted at Giant Haystacks and waved his fist at him and apparently the giant had come up to him and shouted at him back. Mark said that the whole crowd joined in then and he felt great because he‘d stood up to the baddies. Mark said that Big Daddy and his partner, some bloke called Steve Green won in the end and he had got up and jumped up and down when the ref counted down to nine. Mark said that the ref never got to ten because of all the cheers of the crowd. Mark told Pete how he had booed and hissed that much that night that his throat felt sore for days. Mark brought in the programme and even let Pete borrow it to take home and look through later in the week. Pete hid it from him and his mum. They didn’t understand. They didn’t even know who Kent Walton was; and he was the man who did the commentary and he made it even more special. Kent knew it mattered.

 

Pete had borrowed a mask too. It wasn’t really stealing because he was going to take it back. It had been on a peg in the changing rooms and it looked so cool Pete had put it in his pocket. It was a black balaclava. Pete had smuggled it home and hidden it in his special hiding place in the cupboard. Sometimes, if it was raining, Pete would go upstairs to his bedroom and pretend that he was Kendo Nagasaki. Pete had made a mike from a toilet roll and would pretend that he was Kent Walton. He would start off the commentary and then take on the persona of Kendo Nagasaki. He would imagine everyone hissing and booing as he strutted around in his bedroom, quietly; because he didn‘t want his mum hearing him. It wasn’t that Pete wanted to be a baddy, Pete didn’t like baddies; but sometimes baddies were cool. More that that, Pete did like the idea of the mask and no-one knowing who you are. That was cool.

 

It was difficult to fight on your own, especially when you are trying to be quiet. Sometimes Pete would do a quick change and become Big Daddy, by putting a pillow up his t-shirt. Then, he’d quietly jump onto his bed, launching himself so that he slammed onto the bed; savouring conquering his nemesis.

 

A dog ran into the playground. It wasn’t Cat though. Pete didn’t know who’s dog it was. Maybe it was a stray.

 

He, had said that Cat was a bloody stupid name for a dog. Even Pete’s mum had said it was a bit silly, although Pete thought that he‘d seen her smiling so maybe she could see that it was funny. Mark had insisted though that his oldest brother Paul had named him Cat after Catweasle off the telly; because he had a long doggy like beard too. Mark did wonder if it was just a joke on his mum though; so she’d look silly calling the dog to come in, “Here Cat“. Pete could hear her shout this most nights if his bedroom window was open.

 

Mark said that once Cat had done this funny poo in the garden and there was still a bit of thread or string there and it was stuck to more poo. Mark’s mum had been a bit worried and got a bit of tissue and pulled at the thread. Mark said that she pulled and then pulled and eventually a whole grey sock came out. Mark said that everyone had screamed. Mark said the sock wasn’t really gray anymore. Pete had felt sick when Mark told the story. Pete didn’t really believe him at first but Mark swore on Cats life and then, even on his mums; so it had to be true. Pete felt a bit sick even thinking about poo. Pete really didn’t like dog poo; and he hated white dog poo even more because that just didn’t make sense. What do they eat to make it that colour?. Just how come exactly, sometimes a dog’s poo is white? This is the sort of things adults should know the answer to.

 

Pete wasn’t allowed pets anymore because he said that it would be him or Pete’s mum who ended up looking after them. Once though, last year, when Pete was a lot younger, they’d did let him have a hamster. Pete thought he was so cool and he had called him Alfred, after the butler on Batman. Alfred had all the white bits on his head; and as they looked a little bit like grey, Pete thought Alfred was a great name. He, had hated it though. Pete had loved having Alfred in his cage in his room. Mark had lent him the cage. It had a wheel that really really squeaked and he had told him to shut his bedroom door because it had woken him up in the middle of the night. Pete played Batman with Alfred. Vicky was Robin. Pete had made a little phone out of cardboard and painted it red and put in in the cage. If Alfred went up to it and sniffed it then that meant that there was trouble in Gotham City and Batman would spring into action. Pete found that the trouble was that when he woke in the morning Alfred would forget that he was the butler for a crime fighter and would decide to eat the telephone.

 

Pete cried when it died and he had said it was because he hadn’t looked after him properly. He had also told him to stop crying like a girl. Pete thought that he had heard Mum make a “shhh” sound. Not like the Schweppes advert either. Pete had to pretend to flush him down the toilet because he didn’t want “that bloody thing” buried in his garden. What Pete had really done was sneak it around to Marks and they had gone and buried near the brook. Pete thought his mum knew what Pete was doing too, sometimes she was cool like that and didn’t say anything. Pete decided that he had a really good idea. Pete would cycle to the brook and see how Alfred was.

 

Pete cycled back down the road and stopped outside the church. There was the sound of singing inside and a whole load of cars lined up outside. The biggest car had white ribbon on it and a big statue on the front of the car. Pete saw the stream of cans tied to the back of the car and the driver, a moustachioed man in a grey suit, let Pete know with a wink, that he‘d noticed him, noticing the car. Just like Candid Camera, Pete thought, watching me, watching you. Spooky and scary, Pete felt a shiver up his spine.

 

Pete remembered that Candid Camera was on TV tonight, but The Generation Game was also back on. Not the crappy Seaside Special. If Pete asked mum early enough, begged nicely enough, if she could work on him long enough, he might let us turn over to the Beeb. “We aint snobs” he’d say, or; “we are an ITV family“ and of course, “ask the bloody family, what a load of crap that is?”. Pete knew that maybe once he’d had his moan about the “bloody licence fee” he’d give in, sometimes he did. In the end he always laughed as much as Pete and his mum ever did. The man continued to watch Pete and fingered a Rothmans cigarette box before removing a f*g that he eventually lit with a match from a box of Swan Vestas.

 

Pete quickly peddled away, past his school to the playground. It lead to the edge of safety. Pete knew if he went much further up the road his mum would be really angry with him if she found out. But behind the playground was the brook and that was still within the boundary. It was their territory. It mattered. Mark had explained that even though we are kids, we had to know what our territory was, because we might be called to defend it from outsiders one day. It mattered and Pete could see that Mark was right.

 

The playground was now empty. The kids had gone. The last thing that Pete wanted for them to start picking on him. Older kids did that sometimes. Then if you ended up with a cut or a bruise him or mum would nag and nag until they found out what happened. Once Mark and Pete had a fight with a kid called John. He was strange, he’s moved away now. He had ginger head and everyone said he had fleas. John had picked a fight with Mark, saying because Marks ball had gone into his garden and that meant that it was now Johns ball. Mark and Pete had tried to explain that isn’t how it works but John had refused to listen, or not wanted to. The next thing was that John had punched Mark in the face. Mark looked shocked, amazed he had done this, Mark jumped and kicked him in the goolies. He nearly missed but he got him. Pete had then joined in and had tried to grab him and hold him so Mark could punch him back.

 

The next thing Pete knew was that Johns mum had come out and started shouting as Mark and Pete to stop. Then Marks mum had come out. Then Pete’s mum had come out. Pete and Mark and John all stopped and stood behind there respective mums who stood, arms crossed and furious looking. Pete could still picture his mum, in her blue spotty pinny. Then the pointing of fingers and the shouting began. Pete had never seen anything like it before. Mums shouting in each others faces. Even using swear words. Pete’s mum had used a bad word that Pete knew he’d get smacked for using. Pete had sometimes seen girls fighting at school. That was scary. Girls didn’t seem to know the rules like boys did. It was better to lose than to be a cheat or a dirty fighter. Better to have a bruiser that you could show off and brag about and pretend didn’t really hurt. Girls pulled hair and bit and spat. So did a boy at school too called Phil. Mark said he thought that he was a gaylord.

 

That’s the first time Pete had ever seen his mum fighting or ever seen her that angry. Pete had heard them doing there talking sometimes; and if Pete was really honest, he wondered if it sounded a little bit like they were fighting. Once his mum had not got up for three days. He had said she had a cold and wasn’t well. Pete noticed that she walked funny though for a while afterwards.

 

Pete wondered what Callum was doing right at that moment. Pete thought to himself that he really had to remember to ask Callum where it was exactly that he lived. Pete loved Callum’s name. He felt a bit jealous he realised because it sounded like a footballers name, or an actors name even. Pete sometimes wished he had a different name. Jon without a n like Jon Pertwee, or even Sid like Sid Vicious. Pete had been going to call Alfred, Sid; but Pete’s mum had used her trump. The words “over my dead body”. The matter hadn’t even gone to him to have the final say like some things did, Pete knew it was right to do what his mum wanted.

 

Pete turned on the radio. Pete played with the little dial of the tranny until, through the crackle, he found what he was looking for; two seven five on the medium wave band. It always sounded much better or 275 than it did on 285. Always.

 

　

‘We shall survive. Let us take ourselves along.

Where we fight our parents out in the streets,

to find out who is right and who’s wrong….’

Elton John - Benny and The Jets

(Elton John/Taupin)

Dick James Music Ltd

(P) 1975 This Record Co Ltd (UK)

 

2009 © Kevin Mattingley

Author's Note

Please remember this is the very first draft and I have not even finished the book yet to start the editing process, Then I will be begging for help!!!!

Reviews

[Barbara Walker]

WWEELLL, I was all set for an editing job! I do think you need more background for HE. All of a sudden, he's there. At first, I didn't know you were referring to someone. Thought it was a typo. Is He Pete's real Dad, step-dad? Why does he call him He? I live in the States, so I was a bit lost, when you were referring to television shows. What age group are you targeting with this story? In the first few paragraphs, you were referencing Pete's hair cut, the board he had to sit on at the barbers, He and bookies. I was very confused! Is this a small man, who has to use the board, as he is so short and he plays the horses? Or is this a kid who plays the horses? Maybe it was just me>>>? I see alot of potential, maybe for a book aimed at 8-10 years old? Barbara