A Class Act Read online

A C L A S S A C T

  P E T E H O W E L L S

 

  Also Available By Pete Howells

  PERSPECTIVE (eBook)

  DISENTANGLED (eBook)

  DISENTANGLED (paperback)

  TEN TO ONE (eBook)

  POETRY

  TSUMEGO DAYS (eBook)

  TEEN FICTION

  THE HORRIFIC TALE OF GREAT UNCLE STILTON (eBook)

  Available via pensup.co.uk, Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com, Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, Amazon.es, Amazon.it

  & All good bookshops.

  Copyright © Pete Howells 2012

  All rights reserved

  Published by PenSup.co.uk

  www.pensup.co.uk

  ISBN 978-0-9569792-0-8

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form other than in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  A C L A S S A C T

  It was not an impossible task. The play had been read and the group of students, all in the main keen to get their GCSEs, were expecting the external moderator to assess their capabilities. I had forewarned them. They had worked extremely hard, considering their backgrounds and situation, to reach the stage we were now at. They understood the play and were happy to participate in the ‘Court Case’ that was about to take place. Assif, an argumentative boy at the best of times, had spent hours preparing to prosecute each and every character designated. He was to accuse them each in turn of being responsible, to a greater or lesser extent, for the tragic and untimely deaths of Romeo and Juliet. In order to ensure that some order was maintained I had cast myself as judge.

  I had not met the new moderator although I had been in contact with her several times by email. She seemed austere at first but soon dropped her stern demeanour during our pre-lesson chat as I explained the nature of the school and its clientele to her.

  “If any of the pupils become violent then I suggest you leave through there,” I began, gesturing toward the adjoining door behind her. “If they are determined the lesson will not take place and decide to scupper the whole thing, or if any of them refuse to take part and walk out, then just leave me to deal with it.”

  Rather than see me as someone who she needed to be checking up on for the benefit of the board’s assessment scheme, she clearly began to see me, if not as an ally, as a possible protector in the event of mayhem and disaster. I assured her that such occurrences were rare. I liked to think I ran a tight ship. But I felt it obliged to outline the potential for upheaval in this special school for pupils with emotional and social behaviour disorders.

  She sat quietly at the back of the room as the class poured in. One or two were loud and had to be reminded not to swear. Others came in quietly and although prepared, were clearly feeling some degree of stress because of the presence of this ‘important person’ from the board. Others seemed sleepily unaware of the task they were about to undertake.

  Liverpool Jack was not one of these. He had only joined the school a week before and, despite his assurances that he’d read Romeo and Juliet at his last school and he knew all about it, I was all too aware that he knew nothing and understood less about the diverse characters in the play.

  Liverpool Jack had been imaginatively named Liverpool Jack because his name was Jack and he came from Liverpool. His strong accent not only confirmed this fact but was of great interest to his peers. At first they were fascinated, then they laughed and encouraged him to repeat words and phrases that were alien to these streetwise, Inner-City, London kids. He clearly enjoyed the notoriety. He had been a buffoon in his previous boarding schools and readily adapted his role by incorporating ‘accent’ as a new tone in his paint box. He happily reiterated when asked to do so and smiled at his own prowess. ‘This is easy;’ he seemed to be saying, ‘all I have to do is be myself and I get a laugh.’

  I reminded the class at the beginning of the lesson that the visitor was there to assess the marks I was awarding for their speaking and listening work. She was there to check up on me not them. She was there purely to ensure that they received the correct results for their efforts. We were just about to move on to the drama-based activity I had planned when Lee, sat nearest the inspector interrupted,

  “Before you start, right, I want to jus say something, right.”

  “Yes Lee, go on,” I said.

  “I jus want to say, right,” and at this point he turned to the inspector, “This man, yeh? This man is like the best man. You know what I’m sayin’? He like make them books come alive man. I ’ad all sorts of them English teachers man and none of them could teach me Jackshit, yeh? But this man he the business and you better believe it man, cos he teaches us how to write it all down and all that yeh? And when he like reads them books you know it’s happenin’ man. Like it’s happenin in your ’ead, man. D’y’ get me?”

  She looked taken aback

  “Thank you Lee,” I began, “That’s all very kind of you but, as I pointed out before you came in, this woman is here merely to check that you are all getting the right marks. She is not inspecting me or my teaching – just the marks I’m awarding you. OK?”

  “Yeh, well I’m just saying. Right!” He didn’t look in the slightest embarrassed. “Carry on.” He said.

  And so we did.

  We had Mercutio in the dock first. Assif enjoyed ripping him apart.

  “Why did you get involved in a fight that was nothing to do with you?” he asked.

  “Romeo’s one of my closest friends.” The boy replied.

  “If he had been that close a friend then surely you should have helped him to follow the edict of your Prince.”

  ‘Edict of your Prince,’ I thought. The boy has certainly prepared himself for this.

  Montague was called and remained in character. Benvolio made a valiant effort. Lord and Lady Capulet were rubbished completely by Assif and The Nurse, despite getting a good grade, was unable to stand up to the accusations of complicity, duplicity and stupidity - not his words this time.

  Throughout the court hearing and at every available turn, at every hint of hiatus, there was an interruption from Liverpool Jack. During his very first lesson with me, the week before, he asked what part he could play in this performance. He kept asking if he could be Lawrence Friar. I repeatedly repeated the correct name of the character in my response.

  The conversation went something like this.

  “’Scuse me.”

  “Yes Jack.”

  “Can I be Lawrence Friar?”

  “Friar Lawrence? Yes Jack. You can be Friar Lawrence.”

  “When can I be Lawrence Friar?”

  “As soon as we come to that bit, Jack. But don’t worry, because you have only just joined the school. We won’t be assessing you this time. I’ll probably leave you until nearer the end and then everyone who is being assessed will have had their chance.”

  That didn’t suffice though. Five minutes later, whilst we were discussing the way the ‘Assessment Lesson’ would go, he asked again.

  “So can I be Lawrence Friar?”

  Yes Jack You can be Friar Lawrence.”

  And so it was on the day. Each time an accused member of the cast was allowed to leave the dock Jack would say, “When am I going to be Lawrence Friar?”

  “Nearer the end.” I was whispering to him now, in an effort to both re-assure and avoid interrupting the flow.

  “I now want to question the Apothecary.” Assif called.

  “Send for the Apothecary.” I demanded.

  “Send for the Apothecary.” Chardonnay shouted.

  The A
pothecary, in the form of Lee, duly arrived at the chair; the one that symbolised the dock, and tried his hardest to remember what the Apothecary, a drug dealer - much like himself - had actually sold to Romeo.

  “When can I be Lawrence…”

  “You’ll be Friar Lawrence next,” I hissed back, “if there’s time.”

  And there was time. Only about five minutes but, knowing Jack knew little and realising we had to tidy up the room before the next lesson, I thought that would be more than adequate.

  “Call Lawrence Friar to the dock.” I heard myself say.

  “Lawrence Friar,” someone shouted.

  “Friar Lawrence.” I corrected them as well as myself.

  “So,” Assif flicked through his notes, “We now come to you, Lawrence Friar.”

  “Friar…” I began but let it got.

  “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Jack looked at this prosecutor. There was a noticeable change in his demeanour. This was no longer the class comedian. There was a pallor that had overcome him. He looked directly at Assif and said, “I wasn’t there.”

  “I haven’t even asked you where you were yet,” Assif said. He had finally found his page of notes on Friar Lawrence. “Were you, or were you not a close friend to Romeo?”

  “I don’t even know him.” Jack responded.

  “But it was you who married the couple wasn’t it?”

  “I never married no one.”

  “But didn’t you suggest that Romeo went to Mantua and say that you…”

  “I’ve never met no one called Romeo.” Jack protested.

  He was clearly guilty. Everyone could see it in his face. His expression had given him away but the Prosecutor, in the shape of the well prepared Assif, was flummoxed. He looked to me for help, frowning and shrugging his shoulders.

  “I repeat the question…” Assif began. But he couldn’t remember the question. “You’ve known Romeo for some time. You concluded with Juliet’s nurse and even suggested that Juliet…”

  “Look,” Jack said, “I’ve told you, I don’t know no Romeo. I’ve got a brother who looks a bit like me. But I don’t think he knows him neither.”

  Assif gave up.

  Friar Lawrence’s subsequent acquittal was, as Jack well knew, a bar to any future prosecution for the offence alleged in this first judgment. He was equally aware that this acquittal could possibly be challenged in the Higher Courts.

  It was clear that, ‘some shall be pardon'd, and some punished’, but I was totally convinced that, no matter what further proceedings were to occur, Jack would stick to his story and no jury would find it possible to believe that Lawrence Friar had ever had any connection to the unfortunate couple Romeo and Juliet.

  THE FOLLOWING PAGES CONTAIN AN EXTRACT FROM BEST SELLING NOVEL

  DISENTANGLED

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  THESE ARE CHAPTERS 1- 4 OF 39