crumble?’
I glanced at Dad, and he just kind of shrugged and nodded that it was fine.
‘Yes please, Lou, cream would be nice,’ I said.
‘And ice-cream?’
‘Of course.’
‘Of course, indeed,’ Lou said. ‘And Marty – the usual for you?’
‘Indeed. Thanks, mate . . .’
‘Coming right up.’
When Lou had gone to the kitchen (stopping at two other tables on the way), Dad sat back and sighed. ‘So, how about all the different hooks in that hardware place, huh?’
‘There were heaps,’ I said.
‘There were, as you say, “heaps”.’ He paused, then cleared his throat. ‘Betty, I wanted to ask you something. How do you feel the homeschooling is coming along?’
‘Why don’t you ask my teacher?’ I said.
‘I’m asking you.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said.
‘Just okay?
‘Mum’s a pretty good teacher, but I miss my friends.’
‘Betty, what would you really like to do? About school, I mean.’
‘If I could do anything? I’d like to go back to Sacred Wimple. That’s where all my friends are. Why? Can I?’ I asked, getting tingles of excitement at the idea.
Dad scratched the side of his face. I could hear his whiskers against the tips of his fingers. ‘I’d love to say yes,’ he said.
I could hear a ‘but’ coming, sending the excitement-tingles away just as quickly as they’d arrived. ‘But you can’t?’
He shook his head. ‘Not just yet.’
‘Do you think I’ll ever be able to go back?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Your mum and I have been thinking.’
‘About?’
‘About finding a way to get you back into Sacred Wimple.’
‘But you wanted me to leave,’ I said. ‘You wanted me to do homeschooling.’
Dad shook his head. ‘No, that’s not true at all. We saw homeschooling as the best option but . . . well, it’s probably not going to turn out to be ideal.’
‘Why not?’
‘Look, there are several reasons which I don’t want to get into with you right now. Put it this way, Betty, we’d have to talk to Mr Hilder again –’
‘So do it!’ I said.
‘Let me finish. I think before he’d let you back into the school he’d like to see you showing a bit more maturity,’ Dad said. Then he lifted his hand as I opened my mouth to interrupt him again. ‘I know that the events at school weren’t entirely your fault, and that you weren’t trying to cause trouble. But if we’re serious about getting you back in there, we’re going to need to work on Mr Hilder.’
‘So what can I do?’ I asked. ‘Because I’ll do anything!’
‘Well, I think you should spend the rest of this term working really hard.’
‘I will! Of course I will! What else?’
‘Remember how Mr Hilder talked about maturity and responsibility? Well, I think that you should show him how responsible you can be. Your mum and I reckon that you should think about doing some community work.’
I made my confused face at him. ‘Community work? Isn’t that what judges tell footballers they have to do when they misbehave? For, like, a hundred hours or something?’
‘Well, that is a slightly different thing,’ he said, smiling. ‘What we mean is that you could do a few hours of volunteer work, maybe a couple of mornings a week. Then you could write a letter to Mr Hilder telling him what you’ve been doing, and what you’ve learnt about responsibility. We really think that would help. Does that sound like a good idea to you?’
This sounded like a completely dodgy idea to me. ‘What sort of volunteer work?’ I asked.
‘Well, you could go to the local pre-school and read to the kids – I’m sure Mum would be able to clear it with her friend Kelly.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘I get enough of little kids at home with Richie. Boy, he stinks! You should have smelt the –’
Dad coughed and held up one hand to stop me. ‘All right, another option is to go and spend some time with the old people at Redgrange, helping the staff
I glanced at Dad, and he just kind of shrugged and nodded that it was fine.
‘Yes please, Lou, cream would be nice,’ I said.
‘And ice-cream?’
‘Of course.’
‘Of course, indeed,’ Lou said. ‘And Marty – the usual for you?’
‘Indeed. Thanks, mate . . .’
‘Coming right up.’
When Lou had gone to the kitchen (stopping at two other tables on the way), Dad sat back and sighed. ‘So, how about all the different hooks in that hardware place, huh?’
‘There were heaps,’ I said.
‘There were, as you say, “heaps”.’ He paused, then cleared his throat. ‘Betty, I wanted to ask you something. How do you feel the homeschooling is coming along?’
‘Why don’t you ask my teacher?’ I said.
‘I’m asking you.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said.
‘Just okay?
‘Mum’s a pretty good teacher, but I miss my friends.’
‘Betty, what would you really like to do? About school, I mean.’
‘If I could do anything? I’d like to go back to Sacred Wimple. That’s where all my friends are. Why? Can I?’ I asked, getting tingles of excitement at the idea.
Dad scratched the side of his face. I could hear his whiskers against the tips of his fingers. ‘I’d love to say yes,’ he said.
I could hear a ‘but’ coming, sending the excitement-tingles away just as quickly as they’d arrived. ‘But you can’t?’
He shook his head. ‘Not just yet.’
‘Do you think I’ll ever be able to go back?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Your mum and I have been thinking.’
‘About?’
‘About finding a way to get you back into Sacred Wimple.’
‘But you wanted me to leave,’ I said. ‘You wanted me to do homeschooling.’
Dad shook his head. ‘No, that’s not true at all. We saw homeschooling as the best option but . . . well, it’s probably not going to turn out to be ideal.’
‘Why not?’
‘Look, there are several reasons which I don’t want to get into with you right now. Put it this way, Betty, we’d have to talk to Mr Hilder again –’
‘So do it!’ I said.
‘Let me finish. I think before he’d let you back into the school he’d like to see you showing a bit more maturity,’ Dad said. Then he lifted his hand as I opened my mouth to interrupt him again. ‘I know that the events at school weren’t entirely your fault, and that you weren’t trying to cause trouble. But if we’re serious about getting you back in there, we’re going to need to work on Mr Hilder.’
‘So what can I do?’ I asked. ‘Because I’ll do anything!’
‘Well, I think you should spend the rest of this term working really hard.’
‘I will! Of course I will! What else?’
‘Remember how Mr Hilder talked about maturity and responsibility? Well, I think that you should show him how responsible you can be. Your mum and I reckon that you should think about doing some community work.’
I made my confused face at him. ‘Community work? Isn’t that what judges tell footballers they have to do when they misbehave? For, like, a hundred hours or something?’
‘Well, that is a slightly different thing,’ he said, smiling. ‘What we mean is that you could do a few hours of volunteer work, maybe a couple of mornings a week. Then you could write a letter to Mr Hilder telling him what you’ve been doing, and what you’ve learnt about responsibility. We really think that would help. Does that sound like a good idea to you?’
This sounded like a completely dodgy idea to me. ‘What sort of volunteer work?’ I asked.
‘Well, you could go to the local pre-school and read to the kids – I’m sure Mum would be able to clear it with her friend Kelly.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘I get enough of little kids at home with Richie. Boy, he stinks! You should have smelt the –’
Dad coughed and held up one hand to stop me. ‘All right, another option is to go and spend some time with the old people at Redgrange, helping the staff
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