Matty Doolin Read Free Page A

dad, or anything else like that. No, no.’ His voice rose higher. ‘It’s . . . well, it’s just that he’s stubborn, set-like, can’t see beyond his nose. I told him I wanted to work on a farm, and he said don’t be daft, where are the farms around here? He said the nearest one was miles out in the country, and when I said I knew that and what about it, for if I got a job I’d be living in, he said I was going to do no living in, me mam wouldn’t hear of me leaving home when I was fifteen. And so that was that.’
    ‘Do you think it would do any good if I had a word with him?’
    Matty shook his head slowly. ‘No, sir, I don’t, not with me dad.’
    ‘Is he against you going into the yard as an apprentice, like Joe Darling is going to do?’
    ‘In a sort of way yes, sir, for he keeps saying, start at the bottom and you’ll get there. If there’s anything in you you’ll get there. But I keep tellin’ him, you can’t get any place the day unless you have certificates and things. Not that I want to go on the scheme, I told you, Mr Funnell. But me dad just wants me to get a full-time job and start earning good money straight away. He’s in the docks himself, you see.’
    Mr Funnell shook his head. Then leaning across the table towards Matty, he said, ‘As I see it, your best plan is to keep pegging away at this farm idea, and if you can bring your father round to your way of thinking I might be able to help you here. You know, there’s a YMCA scheme. It takes boys like you, in your position, and gives them an eight weeks’ training. You don’t get any pay, just five shillings pocket money. It’s an intensive course. And then they find you a job on a farm where you live in and work under the direction of the farmer, or his manager, and you learn all there is to know, and the keener you are the better it is for you. This scheme operates all over the country. I could set about making enquiries for you, that is’ – he smiled – ‘if you can bring your mother and father around to see it your way.’
    ‘It sounds fine, sir.’ Matty was smiling now, and the smile took the solemn, bored look from his features and gave to his face a brightness and a particular attractiveness that could not have been guessed at from his usual expression. But like a cloth being wiped over the blackboard to erase the chalk, Matty passed his hand over his face, and his smile was gone.
    ‘They’ll never let me,’ he said.
    ‘Keep on trying. There’s three weeks before the end of term, a lot can happen in three weeks. Come and see me next Friday. Go along now.’ Mr Funnell smiled at him, and Matty, getting to his feet, stood looking down at the master for a moment before he muttered, ‘Thank you, sir, it’s kind of you to bother.’
    ‘I’m paid for it.’ Mr Funnell chuckled deeply, and Matty turned from him and left the room, thinking, Aye, they’re all paid for it, paid for teaching, but some do it different to others.
    It was as Matty, accompanied by Joe, left the school side gate and walked along by the wall that a head popped up from its hiding place and a falsetto voice cried, ‘Nighty night, Doolin Darlin’.’
    This interplay with their names was like a red rag to a bull to Matty. Joe might be able to stand it but he couldn’t. With a bound he was over the low wall and on top of Bill Cooper. With one arm he pinned Bill’s shoulder, with the other he did his best to bring his fist into contact with Bill’s nose. But Bill Cooper was a match in strength for Matty, and the next moment it was Matty who had his back to the pavement and Bill who was on top. But only for a second, for Matty’s fighting spirit was being fanned by his burning indignation against this big hulking boy, who usually did his fighting with his tongue, and then made a run for it.
    It was at the same instant that Matty felt his coat sleeve ripping from his left shoulder that he swung his right arm, fist doubled, and had the sweet