William The Outlaw (9 page)

THE OUTLAWS EMERGED ON THE LAWN AND MADE THEIR WAY DISGUSTEDLY TOWARDS THE GROUP AROUND MRS MURDOCH

‘MY COUSIN’S OFFERED A BOX OF CHOCOLATE CREAMS AS A PRIZE TO THE ONE WHO ACTS BEST,’ MRS MURDOCH WAS SAYING. GEORGIE’S EYES GLEAMED.

He had a plan.

First of all William kindly but firmly gathered together the odds and ends and despatched them to the kitchen garden.

‘There’s too many of us for one scene,’ he explained, ‘so we’ll do one scene and you do another scene. An’ we’d better get right away from each other
so’s not to disturb each other . . . so you just go ’n make up your scene in the kitchen garden where nobody’ll disturb you an’ we’ll stay an’ make up ours here.
Georgie’ll show you the way to the kitchen garden.’

And while Georgie was showing them the way to the kitchen garden William unfolded his plan to the Outlaws. The odds and ends had fully intended to discuss the scenes from English history in the
kitchen garden, but they discovered a bed of ripe strawberries, and considering a strawberry in the hand worth two scenes from English history in the bush, decided to leave the Past to its peaceful
sleep and concentrate wholly upon the Present. . . . So they don’t come into the story any more.

Georgie returned to the Outlaws in the summer-house. Upon his face was a resolute determination to win that box of chocolate creams at all costs.

‘What’ll we act?’ he said eagerly.

‘Well,’ said William thoughtfully, ‘he was down here talkin’ to us a few minutes ago an’ he said that his favourite period in English history was King
John.’

‘We’ll do King John then,’ said Georgie firmly.

‘He said that his favourite part of King John was where he came back from losing his things in the Wash.’

‘We’ll do that then,’ said Georgie hastily.

‘Who’ll be King John?’ said William.

‘
I’ll
be King John,’ said Georgie.

‘All right,’ said William with unexpected amenity, ‘an’ shall Ginger an’ me be your two heralds an’ Douglas and Henry your servants or
somethin’?’

‘Yes,’ said Georgie, and added, ‘You needn’t
do
anythin’ but jus’ stand there – any of you. I’ll do the actin’.’

‘All right,’ agreed William, still with disarming humility. ‘You know all about the story, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘About how King John went into the Wash tryin’ to find his things—’

‘Yes, I know all that.’

‘An’ the Wash was a kind of a bog—’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘An’ he came out all muddy but couldn’t find his things ’cause they’d sunk in the mud.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘An’ he came to his two servants called Dam an’ Blarst—’

‘Called—?’

‘
Fancy
you not knowin’ about King John’s servants bein’ called Dam an’ Blarst!’

‘I
did
know,’ said Georgie, ‘I’ve known it for
ever
so long . . . What did you say they were called?’

‘Dam and Blarst.’

‘Dam and Blarst. Of
course
I knew.’

‘Well, let’s get you ready for bein’ King John . . . ’S no good goin’ on as King John lookin’ like that when you’re s’posed to’ve just come
out of a bog looking for your things . . . no one’d give anyone a prize for
that.
’

‘I’m not going to get myself all muddy, so there!’

‘All right,’ said William, ‘
I’ll
be King John. I don’t care.’

‘No, I’m going to be King John,’ persisted Georgie.

‘Well, you can’t be King John,’ said William firmly, ‘if you don’t get yourself a bit muddy like what he was when he come back from losin’ his things in the
Wash. It’ll easy come off afterwards. Jus’ take off your shoes an’ stockings an’ paddle about a bit at the edge of the pond. You needn’t mess up anythin’ but
jus’ your feet.’

There was a silence in which Georgie’s love of chocolate creams fought with his instincts of cleanliness and put them to flight.

‘All right,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind muddying my feet just a
bit.
’

He took off his shoes and stockings. William and Ginger took off theirs too.

‘Just to help you, Georgie,’ they said, ‘and to stop you fallin’ in or anythin’.’

They held him firmly on either side, and walked him down to the pond. ‘Jus’ because we wun’t like you to fall an’ mess up your suit,’ said William.

‘Be careful, Georgie,’ said Ginger, ‘don’ go too far.’

‘Be careful, Georgie,’ said William, ‘mind you don’t fall.’

At last they returned to the bank.

‘Nice sort of
help
you were,’ said Georgie indignantly, ‘why, you made me go in
lots
further than I meant to and, look, you’ve got mud all over my
trousers.’

‘Sorry, Georgie,’ said William meekly, ‘that was where I splashed you by mistake, wasn’t it? Shall I be King John if you don’t like it?’

‘No, I’m goin’ to be King John,’ said Georgie. ‘Well, shall we go and do it now?’

William looked at him doubtfully. Georgie was gloriously muddy as far as his lower regions were concerned but his face and blouse were still spotlessly clean and his curls still glinted in the
sun.

‘It’s not
quite
right yet, Georgie,’ he said gently. ‘Don’ you remember how in History King John
dived
into the Wash after his things?’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Georgie, ‘I know all about that.’

‘Well, ’s no good you goin’ actin’ King John an’ not lookin’ as if you’d jus’ dived into a bog,’ said William.

‘I tell you,’ said Georgie indignantly, ‘I’m not goin’ to put any more nasty mud on me.’

‘All right,’ said William kindly, ‘let Ginger be King John . . .
he
won’t mind.’

‘No,
I’m
goin’ to be King John,’ said Georgie.

‘We’ll jus’ put a bit of mud on your hair then,’ said William persuasively, ‘it’ll soon wash off an’ it would be awfully nice if you got the prize,
Georgie.’

‘All right,’ said Georgie relenting, ‘but only a
little
, mind.’

‘Oh, yes, Georgie,’ said William, ‘only a
little . . .
’

They plastered his bead and face with mud from the pond and dropped a goodly portion of it upon his blouse. Fortunately Georgie could not see his upper half very well.

‘You’re only putting a
little
on, aren’t you?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Oh, yes, Georgie,’ William reassured him, ‘only a little. Now you look
lovely.
You look jus’ like King John after he’d been tryin’ to find his things
in the Wash – divin’ in for ’em an’ all . . .’

Certainly the perfect little gentleman was unrecognisable. His suit was covered with mud, his hair was caked with mud, his face was streaked with mud. He had waded in mud. His smile, though
still there, was almost invisible. No longer did his curls glint in the sun.

‘Now let’s start, shall we?’ said William, his spirits rising as he gazed at his handiwork. ‘First of all I’ll go on with Ginger – we’re your heralds
you know – and we’ll say you’re coming; “Make way for King John” or somethin’ like that. Then you come on with Henry and Douglas and you speak to ’em. You
know what King John said to ’em in History, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ said Georgie. ‘What did he say?’

‘He just looked at ’em an’ said, “Oh Dam and Blarst (their names, you know) I cannot find my things”.’

‘Of course I knew he said that.’

‘Well, you jus’ say that to ’em and – shall we start? I say, Georgie, you do make
a fine
King John.’

‘Oh, I bet I’ll win the prize all right,’ said Georgie complacently from beneath his mud.

The grown-ups sat in an expectant semicircle, smiling indulgently.

‘I do so
love
to see little children acting,’ said one, ‘They’re always so sweet and natural.’

‘I wish you’d seen Georgie last Christmas,’ murmured Georgie’s mother, ‘as Prince Charming in a little children’s pantomime we got up. I had his photograph
taken. I’ll show it to you afterwards.’

Just then William and Ginger appeared. They had replaced their stockings and shoes and looked for William and Ginger unusually neat and tidy.

‘Well, dears,’ said Mrs Murdoch smiling, ‘have you chosen your little scene yet?’

‘No,’ said William, ‘we can’t get on with it with Georgie messin’ about the pond all the time.’

At that moment Georgie, imagining that William and Ginger had heralded his approach with all ceremony, came proudly into view from behind the bushes, followed by Douglas and Henry. The mud from
the pond was a peculiarly concentrated kind of mud and Georgie had wallowed in it from head to foot. One could only guess at his white suit and glinting curls. But through it shone Georgie’s
eyes in rapturous anticipation of a two pound box of chocolate creams.

William and Ginger gazed at him in well simulated horror.

‘Oh, Georgie, you
naughty
boy!’ said William.

‘What
will
your mother say!’ said Ginger.

Douglas and Henry stepped forward.

‘We
told
him not to,’ said Douglas.

‘We
knew
you wouldn’t like it,’ said Henry to the speechless Mrs Murdoch.

Georgie felt that something had gone wrong somewhere but he was determined to do his part at any rate to win those chocolate creams.

He looked at Henry and Douglas. ‘Oh, Dam and Blarst—’ he began, but the uproar drowned the rest.

With a scream of horror audible a mile away Mrs Murdoch seized the perfect little gentleman by the arm and hurried him indoors.

Georgie explained as best he could. He explained that he was meant to be King John returning from the Wash and that Dam and Blarst were his two servants. But explanations were
unavailing. No explanation could wipe out from the memories of those present that astounding picture of Georgie Murdoch standing in the middle of the lawn caked with black mud from head to foot and
saying, ‘Oh, damn and blast!’

The party broke up after that. No festive atmosphere could have survived that shock. The Outlaws, clean and neat and sphinx-like and silent, accompanied their parents home.

‘
Well
,’ said the parents, ‘I’d never have believed
that
of Georgie Murdoch!’

‘
Caked
with mud!’

‘And such
language
!’

‘It shows that you never can
tell.
’

A
close observer might have gathered that at heart the Outlaws’ parents were almost as jubilant over Georgie’s downfall as were the Outlaws themselves.

The famous cousin, who was by the gate as William took his leave, managed to press a ten-shilling note into William’s hand.

‘To be divided amongst your accomplices,’ he murmured. ‘You surpassed my highest expectation. As artist to artist I tend you my congratulations.’

That, of course, is quite a good place to stop, but, there remains more to be said.

The next day Georgie appeared once more, cleaner and neater than ever and clad in a new white suit, walking decorously down the village street and smiling complacently. But it was no use.
Georgie’s reputation was gone. It had so to speak vanished in a night. Georgie might have paraded his clean white-clad figure and smug smile and golden curls before the eyes of the village
for a hundred years and yet never wiped out the memory of that mud-caked little horror uttering horrible oaths before the assembled aristocrats of the village.

At the end of the month the Murdochs sold their house and removed. They told their new neighbours that there hadn’t been a boy in the place fit for Georgie to associate with.

History does not relate what happened to the chocolate creams.

Perhaps the famous cousin ate them.

CHAPTER 4

W
ILLIAM walked slowly and thoughtfully down the village street. It was the week after Christmas. Henry was still away. Douglas and Ginger were the
only two of his friends left in the village. Henry’s absence had its bright side because Henry’s father had, in the excitement of the departure, forgotten to lock his garage and the
Outlaws found Henry’s father’s garage a nice change from the old barn, their usual meeting place. William was glad that Christmas was over. He’d not done badly out of it on the
whole, but Christmas was a season too sacred to the conventions and to uncongenial relatives to appeal to William.

Suddenly he saw someone coming down the village street towards him. It was Mr Solomon, the superintendent of the Sunday School of which William was a reluctant and inglorious member. William had
his reasons for not wishing to meet Mr Solomon. Mr Solomon had organised a party of waits for Christmas Eve from his Sunday School attendants and William had not only joined this party but had
assumed leadership of it. They had managed to detach themselves from Mr Solomon quite early in the evening and had spent the night in glorious lawlessness. William had not seen Mr Solomon since
that occasion because Mr Solomon had had a slight nervous breakdown and William was now torn between a desire to elude him and a desire to tackle him. The desire to elude him needs no explanation.
The desire to tackle was equally simple. William had heard that Mr Solomon, who was ever prolific in fresh ideas, had decided to form a band from the elder boys of the Sunday School. It may be
thought that Mr Solomon should have learnt wisdom from his experience on Christmas Eve but then Mr Solomon had decided to ensure success for his scheme by the simple process of debarring the
Outlaws from it. William had heard of this and the news had filled him with such righteous indignation that it overcame even his natural reluctance to meet the organiser of the Christmas Eve carol
party.