Picture Book Moss Side

Now James was in the juniors and no one would sit with him because Carl told the whole class about wetting his bed again. So now he was copying pictures of Cecil Rhodes and William the Bruce with tracing paper and writing about them all around the picture like This Is Your Life. Not as fun as painting but it was fun enough to make the mind wander all over the place and forget about the hard wooden stools and desks with holes for ink-wells that were never there; not as fun as painting but fun enough to wander off into another world, any world would do as long as it was far enough away from the stares, nudges, giggles and chair shuffles as the others tried to get away from him as far as possible.

'They don't let smellies into Ashton-under-Lyne.'

The world where he was now was just perfect, thank you very much, because it was a hot summer's morning with everyone on their way to church. The ladies in the wide-brimmed flowered hats and the men in their best Sunday suits and stiff collars, clutching leathered Bibles and sealed envelopes for the collection plate. Little boys in their smaller suits, bri-nylon shirts and elastic ties. And the girls in their bridesmaids dresses and pink handbags. Then it must be 'Oh Happy Day' by the Edwin Hawkins Singers.

When Jesus swore, it take your pants away

Zoom up to the skies then look down, and it was a street out of Busby Berkeley, only they weren't dancing or they'd be late and miss the first hymn.

The school bell went clang. Home time, hurrah. A hot sunny Tuesday afternoon accompanied by the sound of a thousand feet tapping away from school as fast as possible. James joined them in perfect step even though he didn't do tap-dancing classes with his sisters. And none of them said anything because Carl hadn't spoken to them yet. But there was still a long way to go and anything could happen on those mean streets on the long trek home.

Three doorsteps to the right at Number 33 were two pints of milk, a bottle of orange and a dozen eggs. Three young boys round the corner. They'd seen the goodies and were waiting for the right moment to pounce. They'd be there for a long time if Mrs Smith had her way. She'd had an eye on them for ages now and was waiting for just the right moment to chuck a bucket of freezing cold water over those lazy good-for-nothing layabouts.

 …James had finally made it to the safety of home and changed into his playing clothes after having a wash. Mr Boyle had suggested he did so when he got home, immediately. And now, whilst Mum was sewing away, he was in the front hunched up on the window sill, nose pressed against the steamed up window pane, with Mum not speaking to him because he forgot to buy the washing powder and the shops shut early on Tuesday. 'What am I going to do?' she said to the wall because she still wasn't speaking to him.

(Forever and ever amen, pages 34 to 36)