Fourteen year old Sean lived with his grandparents.
His father had gone to the pub one grey and drizzly day when he was nine and had never come back. His mother had dwindled, peaked and pined into a ‘safe place’ for the mentally incompetent.
Nan and Pops loved him and staunchly stood up for their sensitive, quiet grandson.
“No trouble really,” said Nan to her best friend.
“Not a soccer type…..more of a reader really,” said Pops to his mate in the pub.
The neighbours remembered a fight Sean had had at school. His broken nose had been bruised for weeks. “But a nice boy really” they concluded.
Sean came in after school one day, sighed deeply and put an envelope quietly and unobtrusively on the table. At supper Pops swallowed a mouthful of Shepherd’s pie and said,’
“So what’s this then Sean?” he said as he fingered the official looking envelope.
“Mrs Haskins in the office at school says it’s a request for us to go and see Mr Timms.”
“What,” gasped his grandmother, “the HEADMASTER? Whatever for my boy?”
“Are you in a spot of trouble then Sean? Push someone did you?” said Pops.
“Some nasty types on that playground , that’s a fact, but Sean just ignore the things they say. Just come home and we can talk about things.”
They both looked at the despondent boy worn down by the humiliation his absent parents caused him…….perfect ammunition for bullies.
“I just don’t know,” he murmured.
“Well it must be something. A letter is something …..it looks very important….official like.” Said Pops quietly. “ Just give it some thought Sean, we can work this out together,” and he put his hand firmly on Sean’s clenched knot of fingers.
“Well maybe it’s Mr Crickley…..he doesn’t like me either." Sean said after a minute's silence, "I try my best in mathematics but he laughs at me because it takes me time to come up with the answer….says I’m slow. And I am,” he added miserably. "They all laugh, all the kids....well not Alan....not Sue, we three wear glasses for reading....." his voice faded away.....
“Oh no you aren’t slow,” defended Nan quickly, “ you have helped the girl down the road understand all about nouns and adjectives and things…..you’re never slow. You are our best boy Sean.”
“We’re proud of you too for helping Mrs Paulson next door getting her flower garden going…her with her love of plants.... and her arthritic fingers,” said Pops in staunch support.
Sean smiled wanly at them both.
“But there’s still the appointment. Mr Timms wants to see all three of us in his office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” he added despondently.
They stared solemnly at one another and Pops rubbed Sean’s shoulder briefly and Nan got up to make her speciality, frothy milo, to help cheer them all up.
Sean ruffled Benjy’s fur absent mindedly with his hand and the dog thumped his tail in recognition of the close bond between them. His eyes were fixed on Sean in devotion, trying his best to dissipate the sadness in the air.
“If it’s those bullies again taunting the boy and Sean shoved one of them, I’m going down to the police station,” the old man muttered to himself as he went out to the shed. His old face creased with the worry of it all.
