Chapter Thirty Three

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ERIC BLAKE (5yo), YORK, ENGLAND JUNE 1969

Eric Blake loved stickle bricks. The colours captured his imagination and building them high as high made his fingertips tingle with glee. He also loved building his stickle brick tower in the sun outside, and today started as one of those days.

The sun shone down into the garden, not too hot to burn you too a frazzle, but enough to warm the skin in a pleasant way. His mam had put the little paddling pool out on the grass, she had filled it with cold water.

'Wait until the pool is warmed by the sun, once it's warm you and William can have a splash! Okay sweetheart?' His mam had said to him as she went indoors. The scrumptious waft of the scones cooking, watered his mouth, but he regained his focus and carried on building.

William knelt down looking at the ants that played under the patio door sill. Eric shook his head; silly little three-year-old William didn't realise how important stickle bricks could be.

Eric started getting mad, three times time he'd tried to build the tower higher than his head. The higher he got, the more it wobbled and the more it wobbled the hotter Eric's face seemed to get. Then he had an idea, which popped into his head. The voice of the idea was so clear he almost jumped: 'Build a base at the bottom, wide and square. Then build up from there,' it had said, and so that's what he did.

In the space of a few minutes the tower was up to his middle, a few minutes later it was at eye level and it had no wobbles at all. Eric couldn't help but grin, he was going to do it! Higher than his head, up to the sun! Eric imagined the tower up as high as the clouds, and he climbed it all the way to the moon. He would cut a lump off and bring it back down to eat, everyone knew the moon was made of cheese. Moon cheese on toast! Eric grinned as he placed the last few stickle bricks onto the tower, he had to get on his tiptoes to fix them into place. The only purple brick placed right at the top, like a flashing purple beacon.

He stood back and admired his work. A tower as high as high. He had to tell his mam. The little boy skipped into the kitchen.

'Mam, look.' He said as he grabbed her hand. 'A tower higher than high, up to the moon mam. I'll get us some moon cheese!'

His mam threw the tea towel on the table in the kitchen and let herself be dragged out into the garden. Eric's mouth hung slack and unmoving.

The tower was smashed on the floor, in pieces strewn all over the flagstone patio. Eric's anger threatened to boil over, he tried to contain it because of the telling's off he had been given in the past. But he struggled.

'Oh never mind,' said his mam. 'The wind must have blown it over, would be so kind as to build me another?' She said as she kissed him on the top of the head.

Eric nodded, he couldn't look up because he was crying and he didn't want anyone to see he had tears in his eyes. Crying was for girls.

He set about picking up the stickle bricks and put them in their box. He glanced over at William who still followed the ants under the patio sill.

The phone rang inside the house. 'I'll just be a moment.' His mam had said as she walked back into the house. Eric knew she would be a long time 'glossiping'. That's what his dad called it.

'Ever since we got that phone installed you spend hours glossiping!' Is what he would say to her.

'It's gossiping,' A voice said from nowhere.

'And you missed a stickle brick Eric.'

Eric looked around, no one was talking to him, but yet he heard it, clear as a bell. 'I haven't missed any bricks; they are all in the box.' Eric said back to the voice.

'What does William have in his hand Eric?'

Eric looked over to his younger brother and sure enough there in his hand was the purple brick. Eric was aghast. He marched straight over to his younger brother and snatched the brick away. 'Will! Why did you break my tower? It took me ages.'

William didn't answer, he giggled and ran into the garden.

The voice appeared back in Eric's head. 'That's it? You're going to let him get away with it Scott free? No punishment?'

Eric watched his brother run around the garden, chasing butterflies and laughing.

Eric got madder, his face got redder. 'One little punishment,' The voice said. 'Mam would have slapped your bum if you did something naughty, why should William get away with it, like he always does?'

Eric walked out into the garden and grabbed his little brothers' arm. He put a stern face on. 'You have been naughty Will, and naughty children get punished.'

Eric waited for an instruction from the voice, and then it came.

'Give him a dunking! Ha ha yes! The water is cold, that is a punishment fit for the crime,' said the voice, then its sound changed to the growl of a wild animal. 'And dunk him fucking good!'

#

The tower was way above his head now, the voice told him to use the chair to get it higher. Now it was so high he would could almost taste the moon cheese.

Eric's mam appeared at the patio door, he had two scones on a plate. 'Where is Will?' She asked.

Eric shrugged his shoulders as he admired the height of the tower.

'Eric, where is your brother?' His mam asked in a more urgent tone.

Then Williams's shoes came into view, along with his legs as he floated face down it the paddling pool.

His mam screamed and dropped the plate causing Eric to jump and the tower to once again collapse to the floor. She ran to the pool and dragged the lifeless body out, she screamed and screamed.

He was going to pick up a scone, but they were now covered in ants, caught like quicksand in the butter.

The voice told Eric to go and change his socks and shoes, and his pants and shorts too. They were wet because he had to sit on Williams head to stop him squirming. William didn't like the dunking, but Eric made sure he paid for destroying his moon tower. Screaming could still be heard even after he changed his clothes, so he decided to read a book.




© Steve Ford and Joy Cronjé 2018

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