Bad Company(3)

‘Ralph! Lissa!’ Murdo has a strong Highland accent, with a lisp and a habit of spitting all over you when he talks, which is why nobody ever sits in the front two rows in his class.

His lisp was even worse when he was angry, which was often. He had a temper to match his fiery red hair.

‘Lissa!’ He lisped again, and I was showered with spit.

‘It was his fault. It’s always his fault.’ I aimed my bag once again at Ralph. He sidestepped it neatly and winked. Of course, he wouldn’t get the blame. Not Ralphie, not from Murdo. He thought Ralph had ‘potential’.

Potential to be the next Hannibal Lecter is what I thought.

Murdo had thought I had potential once too. Once. Now, he always seemed to be angry at me.

‘Get in there! I want to have a word with both of you!’

And with an angry push he sent us both flying towards the English classroom.





Chapter Two


December 12th

I got detention today, thanks to that awful Ralph Aird. But I’ll get him back one of these days, and then he’ll be sorry. We were both dragged into Murdo’s class and he bawled at the two of us at the top of his voice. I’m sure they could have heard him in Sydney, Australia. Of course, I got the worst of it. As usual.

‘You will have to control that temper of yours, Lissa,’ he yelled. He had the cheek to say that to me. He’s always bawling at someone and whamming down his desk lid in his anger. ‘You used to be a nice girl.’

At that point Ralphie sniggered and I almost walloped him again.

‘People think you’re a bit of a snob, I know,’ Murdo went on, his voice a little softer now. He said it as if I had some sort of disease. If I’m a snob I have reason to be. I’m better than they are … or I used to think I was.

Murdo went on. ‘But now …’

He hesitated and I filled in his silence. ‘But now, I don’t have any reason to be a snob, is that it? Now, I’m a jailbird’s daughter. Just like him.’

‘Actually, I’m a jailbird’s son,’ Ralph corrected as if he was being really smart.

‘Neither you nor Ralph can blame yourself for what your fathers have done.’

‘I don’t,’ I snapped back at him. What makes him think I blame myself?

‘No one blames you.’

But they do. I can see it in their faces when they pass me in the corridors. And they’re glad that it happened to me. To Lissa Blythe who always thought she was so much better than anyone else. I always used to be surrounded by friends, Nancy and Asra and me, we were always together. It took what happened to J.B. to make me realise how many of them only hung around with me because of who I was … or thought I was. A rich, successful man’s daughter.

‘I always hoped what happened to your father would make you a better person. More humble. It was all you were lacking, you know. A little humility.’

Humble? Me? Never!

‘Instead,’ his anger came back with force, ‘it only made you worse.’

‘You can say that again. See her, she’s well spoiled, sir.’ This came from Ralph, and he liked the expression so much he had to repeat it. ‘Well spoiled.’

To my surprise Murdo told him to shut up.

‘You’re every bit as bad as she is!’ he shouted at him.

He eventually let me go, but of course he kept Ralph behind to discuss the banner he is making for the district art competition. At the moment it stretches around the walls of the English classroom. A collage of Great Moments in Literature. He really needs Murdo’s help with that one, considering Ralphie has never read a book in his life. Well, he has now, of course. He had to read them so he could draw the characters. The scenes go from some bloke getting his eyes poked out in King Lear (trust Ralphie to include that one. He’s so bloodthirsty), to Harry Potter, pointing off into the distance to a future where books will always survive. (Murdo’s words, not mine.) He’s always painting new figures and attaching them to the banner. ‘It’s going to be a winner,’ I heard Murdo shouting proudly. He was almost singing it with a happy Highland lilt. No wonder he was happy. It was Murdo who had first recognised Ralph’s talent for art. ‘His potential.’

I left them to it. But I had a miserable day. And it didn’t help knowing that Ralph Aird, big-time loser, has more potential than me.

I was so miserable when I wrote that. I felt I had nothing in my life. And I was dreading Christmas, even if everyone else in the family was looking forward to it. J.B. would be coming home and my mum couldn’t keep her excitement a secret. She was always cleaning the house so that everything sparkled. She had Jonny helping and even Margo tottered about with her little toy hoover. And how angry Mum was because I wouldn’t help with anything.