William The Outlaw (12 page)

‘Hello,’ said William.

‘Do you know anything about those children?’ panted Mr Solomon.

‘Yes,’ said William calmly, ‘if you’ll promise to let me be a trumpeter in your band, you can have them. Will you?’

‘Y-yes,’ spluttered Mr Solomon.

‘On your honour?’ persisted William.

‘HERE THEY ARE,’ SAID WILLIAM. ‘YOU CAN HAVE ’EM IF YOU LIKE.’

‘An’ Ginger an’ Henry an’ Douglas – all trumpeters?’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Solomon desperately. It was at that moment that Mr Solomon decided that not even Ethel’s charm would compensate for having William for a brother-in-law.

‘All right,’ said William, ‘come round here.’

THE GARAGE WAS FULL OF ‘MIXED INFANTS’ HAVING THE TIME OF THEIR LIVES.

Johnnie, the largest and healthiest of the infants, was engaged in chewing tobacco and evidently enjoying it.

‘Here they are,’ said William carelessly, ‘you can have ’em if you like. We’re gettin’ a bit tired of them.’

No words of mine could describe the touching reunion between the mothers of the Mixed Infants and the Mixed Infants, or between Johnnie and his chest protector.

Neither could any words of mine describe the first practice of Mr Solomon’s Sunday School band with William, Ginger and Douglas and Henry as trumpeters.

There was, however, only one practice, as after that Mr Solomon wisely decided to go away for a very long holiday.

CHAPTER 5

‘W
ILLIAM,’ said Mrs Brown to her younger son, ‘as Robert will be away, I think it would be rather nice if you helped me at my
stall at the Fête.’

William’s father at the head of the table groaned aloud.

‘
Another
Fête,’ he said.

‘My dear, it’s
centuries . . . weeks
since we had one last,’ said his wife, ‘and this is the Conservative Fête – and quite different from all the
others.’

‘What sort ’f a stall you goin’ to have?’ said William, who had received her invitation to help without enthusiasm.

‘A White Elephant stall,’ said Mrs Brown.

William showed signs of animation.

‘And where you goin’ to gettem?’ he said with interest.

‘Oh, people will give them,’ said Mrs Brown vaguely.

‘
Crumbs!
’ said William, impressed.

‘You must be very careful with them, William,’ said his father gravely, ‘they’re delicate animals and must be given only the very best buns. Don’t allow the people
to feed them indiscriminately.’

‘Oh, no,’ said William with a swagger, ‘I bet I’ll stop ’em doin’ it that way if
I’m
lookin’ after ’em.’

‘And be very careful when you’re in charge of them. They’re difficult beasts to handle.’

‘Oh, I’m not scared of any ole elephant,’ boasted William, then wonderingly after a minute’s deep thought, ‘
white
’uns, did you say?’

‘Don’t tease him, dear,’ said Mrs Brown, to her husband, and to William, ‘white elephants, dear, are things you don’t need.’

‘I know,’ said William, ‘I know I don’t need ’em but I s’pose some people do or you wun’t be sellin’ ’em.’

With that he left the room.

He joined his friends the Outlaws in the old barn.

‘There’s goin’ to be white elephants at the Fête,’ he announced carelessly, ‘an’ I’m goin’ to be lookin’ after them.’

‘
White elephants!
’ said Ginger impressed, ‘an’ what they goin’ to do?’

‘Oh, walk about an’ give people rides same as in the Zoo an’ eat buns an’ that sort of thing. I’ve gotter feed ’em.’

‘Never seen
white
’uns before,’ said Henry.

‘Haven’t you?’ said William airily. ‘They’re – they’re same as black ’uns ’cept that they’re white. They come from the cold places
– same as polar bears. That’s what turns ’em white – roamin’ about in snow an’ ice same as polar bears.’

The Outlaws were impressed.

‘When are they comin’?’ they demanded.

William hesitated. His pride would not allow him to admit that he did not know.

‘Oh . . . comin’ by train jus’ a bit before the Sale of Work begins. I’m goin’ to meet ’em an’ bring ’em to the Sale of Work. They’re
s’posed to be savage but I bet they won’t try on bein’ savage with
me
,’ he added meaningly. ‘I bet I c’n manage any ole
elephant.
’

They gazed at him with deep respect.

‘You’ll let me
help
with ’em a bit, won’t you?’

‘William, can I help
feed
’em?’

‘William, can I have a ride free?’

‘Well, I’ll see,’ promised William largely, and with odious imitation of grown-up phraseology, ‘I’ll see when the time comes.’

The subsequent discovery of the real meaning of the term White Elephant filled William with such disgust that he announced that nothing would now induce him to attend the Fête in any
capacity whatsoever. The unconcern with which this announcement was received by his family further increased his disgust. The disappointment of the Outlaws at the disappearance of that glorious
vision of William and themselves in sole charge of a herd of snowy mammals caused them to sympathise with William rather than jeer at him.

‘If there isn’t no white elephants,’ said William bitterly, ‘then why did they say there was goin’ to be some?’

Ginger kindly attempted to explain.

‘You see that’s the point, William – there
isn’t
white elephants.’

‘Then why did they say there was?’ persisted William. ‘Fancy callin’
rubbish
white elephants. If you’re goin’ to have a stall of rubbish why don’
they
say
they’re goin’ to have a stall of rubbish ’stead of callin’ it White Elephants? Where’s the
sense
of it? White elephants! An’ all the time
it’s broken old pots an’ dull ole books an’ stuff like that. What’s the
sense
of it . . . callin’ it White Elephants!’

Ginger still tried to explain.

‘You see there
isn’t
any white elephants, William,’ he said.

‘Well, why do they say there is?’ said William finally. ‘Well, I’m jus’ payin’ ’em out by
not
helpin’ – that’s all.’

But when the day of the Fête arrived William had relented. After all there was something thrilling about serving at a stall. He could pretend that it was his shop. He could feel gloriously
important for the time being at any rate, taking in money and handing out change. . . .

‘I don’t
mind
helpin’ you a bit this afternoon, Mother,’ he said at breakfast with the air of one who confers a great favour.

His mother considered.

‘I almost think we have enough helpers, thank you, William,’ she said, ‘we don’t want too many.’

‘Oh, do let William feed the white elephants and take them out for a walk,’ pleaded his father.

William glowered at him furiously.

‘Of course,’ said his mother, ‘it’s always useful to have someone to send on messages, so if you’ll just
be
there, William, in case I need you . . . I
daresay there’ll be a few little odd jobs you could do.’

‘I’ll sell the things for you if you like,’ said William graciously.

‘Oh no,’ said his mother hastily, ‘I – I don’t think you need do
that
, William, thank you.’

William emitted a meaning ‘Huh!’ – a mixture of contempt and mystery and superiority and sardonic amusement.

His father rose and folded up his newspaper. ‘Take plenty of buns, William, and mind they don’t bite you,’ he said kindly.

The White Elephant stall contained the usual medley of battered household goods, unwanted Christmas presents, old clothes and derelict sports apparatus.

Mrs Brown stood, placid and serene, behind it. William stood at the side of it surveying it scornfully.

The other Outlaws who had no official positions were watching him from a distance. He had an uncomfortable suspicion that they were jeering at him, that they were comparing his insignificant and
servile position as potential errand-goer at the corner of a stall of uninspiring oddments with his glorious dream of tending a flock of snow-white elephants. Pretending not to notice them he moved
more to the centre of the stall, and placing one hand on his hip assumed an attitude of proprietorship and importance. . . . They came nearer. Still pretending not to notice them he began to make a
pretence of arranging the things on the stall. . . .

His mother turned to him and said, ‘I won’t be a second away, William, just keep an eye on things,’ and departed.

That was splendid. Beneath the (he hoped) admiring gaze of his friends he moved right to the centre of the stall and seemed almost visibly to swell to larger proportions.

A woman came up to the stall and examined a black coat lying across the corner of it.

‘You can have that for a shilling,’ said William generously.

He looked at the Outlaws from the corner of his eye hoping that they noticed him left thus in sole charge, fixing prices, selling goods and generally directing affairs. The woman handed him a
shilling and disappeared with the coat into the crowd.

William again struck the attitude of sole proprietor of the White Elephant stall.

Soon his mother returned and he moved to the side of the stall shedding something of his air of importance.

Then the Vicar’s wife came up. She looked about the stall anxiously, then said to William’s mother:

‘I thought I’d put my coat down just here for a few minutes dear. You haven’t seen it, have you? I put it just here.’

William’s mother joined in the search.

Over William’s face stole a look of blank horror.

‘It – it can’t have been
sold
, dear, can it?’ said the Vicar’s wife with a nervous laugh.

‘Oh no,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘we’ve sold nothing. The sale’s not really been opened yet. . . . What sort of a coat was it?’

‘A black one.’

‘Perhaps someone’s just carried it in for you.’

‘I’ll go and see,’ said the Vicar’s wife.

William very quietly joined Ginger, Henry and Douglas who had watched the
dénouement
open-mouthed.

‘
Well!
’ said Ginger, ‘
now
you’ve been an’ gone an’ done it.’

‘Sellin’ her
coat
’ said Henry in a tone of shocked horror.

‘An’ she’ll prob’ly wear it to church on Sunday an’ she’ll see it,’ said Douglas.

‘Oh, shut up about it,’ said William who was feeling uneasy.

‘Well I should think you oughter
do
something about it,’ said Henry virtuously.

‘Well, what c’n I do?’ said William irritably.

‘IT – IT CAN’T HAVE BEEN SOLD, CAN IT?’ SAID THE VICAR’S WIFE.