Lessons

Chapter 1

Before I start I need to say that this represents my recollection of events, the others involved may say this train rolled on a different track but what I do know is that this train did roll and we were all on it. I am looking back more than ten years now so things aren’t so clear and I want to get them written down before they fade any further. Even as I write the clouds part a little allowing me a closer look at the distant memories, now I just need to capture them.

The school year was slowly leading up towards summer and people were getting excited about the upcoming school holidays. Lunchtimes then were always mini adventures, an hour away from the boredom of lessons. It was a different escape than the half three bell delivered because it was time spent with friends, it was a shared escape. It is a stark contrast to life now but that’s another story.

Jim and Robert were my daily companions for lunch, we were joined by a revolving cast of characters but we were the regulars. I have to blame Rob for the beginnings of the lunchtime adventures. I guess he was the closest person to Huck Finn I have ever known, I only see that now though – at the time he was just crazy.

Things began so innocently, climbing trees behind a petrol station down the hill from the school gates. Jim and I sat in the lower branches eating our sandwiches, sometimes Jim had soup – soup is always fun in a tree. Robert wasn’t one for lunch among the branches - instead he would climb high among the limbs of the trees and call down mockingly to us. I know this next part won’t sit well with those who think swearing ruins a good story but if I don’t use the exact words here it won’t seem real to me as I write and as a result the reader will lose something, or I think they will. Anyway, Rob would get bored of climbing higher into the trees so he would dare himself, via Jim and I, to jump from as high up as he could. Rob had a little catch phrase before he would fling himself from the treetops, “These words will be the death of me. Fuck it!” There you go, that was the part I warned you about. Jim and I believed him too, that last part – the “fuck it!” part was always delivered in mid flight and we waited for the day when the “it” would never come. I guess Rob was made of rubber because as far as I know he is still alive and well and possibly, some where in a future every bit as cloudy as the past I am recalling, he will turn to a nurse at his bedside and utter those immortal words.

Let’s get back to the lunchtime escapades, I guess we got bored of running around behind the petrol station – even after it closed down and we could climb onto its roof. As a result of this boredom we gradually began to venture closer to the town centre and further from the school. At one stage we began collecting glass bottles on a steep wooded hill side half way between the town centre and the school. Why were we collecting glass bottles? It was to throw them, smash them and to hear the sound of them breaking. Why else would we collect them? Did you think we were going to recycle?

Anyway, you can only collect so many bottles and one good smashing session later we needed to move on to pastures new. The grass is always greener than twenty eight broken wine bottles and all that.

The next week we finally made it to the town centre. It always started with us following the crowds down to the chip shop before standing around in the shopping centre and then rushing back to make it to school in time for the bell. One day though we didn’t follow the crowds into the shops, instead we walked a meandering route back towards school. The route took us up a long set of steps at the end of the High Street. At the top of those stairs was an abandoned and partly demolished house. Huckleberry, I mean Rob, was straight over the iron railings for a closer look, disappearing behind the old house. Jim and I stood around on the stairs pointing out used condoms among the litter and dead leaves. A few minutes passed before Rob arrived with a big grin on his face. He had found something, we could tell, we could also tell it was more interesting than used rubbers.

“We’ll come back tomorrow.” Rob declared. “The house has no door and the boards on the windows have all been pulled off, we can get inside easy.”

It was decided then, tomorrow we would be back.

Chapter 2

The next morning seemed to drag on in anticipation. Jim was in all my classes and we saw it in each others’ eyes every time we looked up. Rob was supposed to be in my registration class but he was always late so I hadn’t seen him that morning. Ordinarily I might have thought he wasn’t going to come in – he was a frequent skiver – but today, I knew, he would be there.

The clock took its time to complete the required rotations but eventually it got around to twelve thirty and we were standing at the usual meeting place.

“You ready?” asked Rob.

“Erm, yeah.”

That was it; we were on our way to the house. We drifted from the crowds as they headed down the hill for chips and shoplifting. Now we were walking a different path.

As we reached the house I grew frightened, I guess you could say I was a chicken. Jim got scared too. That day only Rob entered the house. Jim and I ‘stood guard’. We could see into most of the ground floor of the house, it was a mess. The upstairs floorboards had been stripped out and the plaster had holes all over the place. There was rubbish and rubble piled and spread throughout the building. Rob was crazy, there was not doubt. While Jim and I stood worrying about men with dogs coming he had found his way upstairs and was stepping across the beams. We took a walk around. The house was on a steep hill, Rob had entered at the top of the hill but there was a downstairs which exited further down the hillside. It appeared to be a basement with no windows; it did have a door though.

Every lunch time we were at The House. Rob danced across the beams. Jim was next in. He didn’t go upstairs but he wandered around in the house. At times I couldn’t see anybody. Why was I so scared? I really don’t know.

One day a man with a dog did come, I was outside Jim and Rob were inside. It was exactly the man and exactly the dog you would expect to turn up in this situation. He was a builder – Day-Glo jacket and steel toe caps – the dog was an Alsatian, or at least part Alsatian. He asked what I was doing, I said nothing, somehow he knew there were people inside, I don’t know how.

“Oi” he called through the hole where a front door should be.

Jim appeared but Rob didn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing in there?” the man asked, “It’s dangerous.”

“Just looking around.” Jim replied.

“Was there anyone else in there with you?” the man demanded.

“Nah, just me.” Jim said. Even I almost believed him and I knew Rob was in there.

“Well, get out of here then you stupid kids, and don’t let me catch you in here again.”

“Or I’ll call the police.” He added, threateningly.

Jim and I headed off down the road towards school.

“What happened to Rob?” I asked - I wasn’t worried, just curious.

“He was in the basement of The House, when we heard that guy outside he decided to stay hidden down there and come out once the guy was gone.” Jim explained.

We looked back towards The House to see Rob running towards us.

Chapter 3

After that there was no way I was going to stand outside waiting for the man with the dog to come back. If we were all inside maybe we could just hide until he left.

Rob was the only one who would clamber among the rafters and lower himself into the basement. The stairs had long been removed and it was a precarious climb to the rafters or into the bowels of the house. Besides the place was clearly used by rough sleepers at night and we couldn’t see down into the basement to check they weren’t still there before we dangled through the hole where the stairs had been. No, Jim and I stayed in the safety of the middle floor of the house.

Rob had found some bolt cutters and a sledge hammer the demolition team must have left down stairs. He wanted to bust open the bottom door of the house, I have no idea why since it would only make access easier to the basement. I didn’t see Rob enjoying anything with easy access. He needed our help though as the door was nailed shut with planks across it. Rob was fearless but he was also a true weakling, he couldn’t hit the door hard enough to open it.

It was decided we would return on Saturday to help Rob open the door.

For some reason it felt better to go into the house in jeans instead of school uniform. Rob had always worn jeans to school, perhaps that was the secret of his fearlessness or perhaps not. In any case all three of us climbed down into the basement of the house. This was the first time Jim and I had seen the mess down there. The place was just full of rubbish and human faeces, it really stunk down there.

Rob got the sledge hammer from where ever he had hidden it and we all stood looking at the door. It opened in the way, there was no way we could bash it open from in here and we couldn’t start swinging the hammer around outside, someone would see or hear us for sure. Rob accepted this but we gave the door a good thump with the hammer anyway, just for fun. It didn’t budge.

We left the house and wandered around town for the rest of the afternoon.

Chapter 4

On Monday Rob didn’t want to go to the house anymore. I think that he wanted us to catch up with him so he could move on to the next dare. We had all gone into the basement at last so he could move on.

Opposite the house, on the other side of the stairs we had climbed all those weeks ago, was a gate. Rob said he wanted to have a look along there. It was decided.

As soon as we entered the gate we were surrounded by overgrown trees and bushes. The gate led behind an old house which had been converted into offices. We brushed past the leaves and twigs until we arrived at the rear of a property similar to the one we had just passed. This one had something attached to the side though, a disused shed or something. Rob wasn’t looking at me - he was looking at the opening to the shed – I could tell he had that look in his eye though. Without another word Rob was inside, climbing some stairs that started just inside the doorway. Jim and I could barely see through the gloom as Rob disappeared upwards.

A minute later Rob appeared at a door high in the wall of the building calling for us to come inside. We looked at each other then ducked through the dark doorway.

The downstairs of the building was completely piled full of junk, boxes, broken furniture and old bottles. The upstairs was actually a garage, it was on street level. There was a couch and an old, wooden, coffee table in it. The doorway Rob had called us from opened into nothing but air - there were no stairs, just a hole.

“This place is cool.” Rob stated.

I thought it was a smaller and darker version of the house we had just abandoned but I didn’t say anything.

Amongst the litter there was a discarded cigarette lighter, Rob picked it up, flicked it, it sparked to life. We gathered round, making small piles of paper and plastic bottles on the coffee table. It was fun watching the flames of our little camp fires and all too soon it was time to return to school.

Chapter 5

For the next few weeks our pyromania blossomed. We had all acquired matches and lighters secreted from drawers at home or bought from gullible shop keepers who believed we were over sixteen.

By now we would often return a few minutes late for class as we were too engrossed in our lunchtime world. It was upon returning late one day that Sandy asked where I had been, I told him about the abandoned garage. I didn’t know it but across the room Jim was having the same conversation with Wallace.

The next day Sandy and Wallace had joined our little group, they had been very interested on hearing about our latest hangout and wished to join us. With a great demonstration of foresight they had both brought along means of igniting flame.

“I think we should set the couch on fire.” I said as we walked towards the garage. I said this as a joke but the idea seemed to flare in the mind of the group, I don’t know if it was an attempt to impress new guests but suddenly it seemed like quite a plan.

When we reached the garage Jim and I went to work building the usual pyres upon the coffee table. By now the coffee table was a patchwork of scorch marks and melted plastic.

Sandy decided he would take the honour of setting the couch alight. He scraped a match across the sandpaper and held it to the fabric of the seat. As we watched fibres curled and blackened in the flame but there wasn’t enough heat for the couch to take flame itself. Sandy decided on a new approach, he griped a bundle of matches, five or six I think. This time the flame was far larger. He held the flaming sticks under the seat next to the wooden frame of the couch. Still there was only smoke from the blackened fabric after his matches went out.

Wallace had seen enough, “Stand back lads” he declared.

Wallace produced a lighter full of gas, he had rigged the flame to shoot out double its normal size be removing the metal flame guide and twisting the valve regulator a number of times. The orange and blue flame licked back and forth across the cloth, suddenly there was a flame dancing on the couch independent of the lighter. Sandy repeated the process at the other end of the sofa.

The couch must have been old, what with the way the fire took hold of it and the black smoke it produced there was no way it would have passed modern fire regulations, surely.

We stood and watched our miniature inferno, the heat was unbelievable.

“Right, we’d better put this out.” I don’t remember who said that but lets just call them The Voice of Reason.

“How?” asked Jim.

“Easy we’ll put the coffee table over it to smother the flame.” I said authoritatively.

Rob and I took a leg each and dumped the table on top of the blaze. The flames burst from beneath the couch and licked around the table like ripples along the sides of a boat.

Chapter 6

Fuck.

Chapter 7

We’d better get out of here we – almost - all thought as one. We bustled down the stairs and out into the hard daylight. Rob wasn’t with us. He appeared at the doorway in the wall, just as he had the first day.

“Bloody hell boys.” He Yelled down to us, “I don’t think we can put this out.”

“Get the hell out of there Rob, jump for god’s sake.” I yelled back.

Rob didn’t jump - instead he ducked back amongst the smoke. Just then we heard a loud bang from inside. Oh Jesus. I don’t think any of us expected Rob to appear at the bottom door but he did.

“Did you hear that?” He asked, “That was the fuse box exploding. It just went bang and all these sparks rained down.”

There had been a fuse box in the corner above the couch, we didn’t know if it was for the garage itself or for the office next door so we’d left it alone.

“We’d better get out of here.” Sandy suggested.

We scattered our collection of matches and lighters throughout the foliage of the hillside. Down the hill was the city centre, watched by CCTV. Up the hill was a car park. We decided to head up the hill for obvious reasons. We jumped over the wall at the top and turned to see black smoke billowing from the garage. It came out under the door and poured through air vents in the walls. There was a guy parking his car, he got out and approached us.

“What happened in there?” he asked.

“We were just walking along the hill, it was on fire when we got to it so we climbed up here to call the fire brigade. Do you have a mobile?” Rob replied, thinking on his feet.

“Yeah, I’ll call them but you better wait until they get here, they might want to talk to you.” The guy got his phone out and talked for a few minutes before standing guard over us.

People were evacuating from the office building. Apparently the fuse box was for the offices. All their power had shut off and then black smoke had started to enter the building so they had to evacuate. I could tell that our adventures in pyromania were over for good.

The man with the phone must have called for the police along with the fire brigade because a patrol car arrived before any fire engine. The officers took our details and asked what happened. We repeated Rob’s previous explanation to the police. While this was happening the fire engine had pulled up. The firemen were very quick to act, it was amazing really. They smashed in one of the vents near to the door and fed the end of their hose into it, a few of them held it in place while the pumps were started. I think they had the fire out before we left to head back to school.

Chapter 8

It was a long walk back to school knowing the police would be coming for a visit when we got home that night. As we walked we agreed a story between us. It went like this: The garage was a place we came as a hang out during lunch times. We had come across the building already alight, Rob had gone in to investigate because he was braver than the rest of us, then we had climbed over the wall to see about calling the emergency services. It was a simple story, we thought it would work. In fact it did work, at first.

The police did their first round that night, I assume they got the same story from everyone because they came up with a theory that a rough sleeper had used the place the previous night and had left a smouldering cigarette or embers form a small fire which had ignited during the day. What relief, we were free.

For a few days there was real astonishment at the narrowness of our escape. We had fooled the police, but not the fire brigade. It didn’t take their investigators long to disprove the smouldering embers theory.

Unknown to any of us the police were making another round calling to each of our homes one by one. There is some confusion here, the police arrived at my house with the story that they had found the scorch marks from Sandy lighting the couch with his matches, as you know it was actually Wallace who started the blaze with his lighter. This is the part that makes no sense, when the police told me their version of events I told them the truth, including the part about Wallace starting the fire. Jim, Rob and Sandy – I am fairly certain – must have told them the same thing. However, it was Sandy against whom all charges were filed. The only explanation is that Wallace must have been the first port of call for the police – he did live closest to the police station – and the police knew one of us had started the fire based on the evidence from the fire brigade but they didn’t know which one of us. Obviously Wallace wanted to save his own skin and Sandy was the most obvious scapegoat, seeing as Sandy had also tried to light the couch. Why then did the police still blame Sandy after the four statements refuting Wallace’s initial confession? It made no sense, then or now.

Years later I was in conversation with a drunken Sandy who thanked me for sticking up for him at the time and trying to tell the police the truth. He was quite bitter about the whole thing and believes to this day that Jim and Rob were prepared to let him take the fall. I completely disagree with this theory, I can’t see any reason for them to want to protect Wallace and I also trust the two of them without question. The only theory I have come up with is that when Wallace made his statement he must have told the police that we were all friends with Sandy and he (Wallace) was the outsider of the group so we would naturally attempt to shift the blame on to him. The only problem with this theory is I cannot honestly believe Wallace could have constructed such a cunning plan, unless he was playing dumb through all those years of high school. If he was simply playing dumb the whole time it was a performance worthy of Kaiser Sose, make no mistake about that.

The atmosphere in our group was a little different after that. It was a matter of waiting for the axe to fall. I know it must have been far worse for Sandy but we all felt terrible. We were all just waiting to find out when the case would come to court.

About a week later I had another visit from a member of the local constabulary, I could tell it was bad news.

“The owner of the premises damaged in the fire has decided not to press charges. He thinks you have all learned your lesson. I hope I won’t be down here to speak to you again either son.” The policeman said in possibly the sternest voice I have ever heard.

I hope you won’t be down here to speak to me again too. I thought. And that was that, we were free again.

Chapter 9

Did we learn our lesson? Well I don’t think any of us ever started another fire anywhere we shouldn’t. I can’t be sure if we all stuck to the straight and narrow from then on, I know I had a few minor 'indiscretions' – nothing of this scale and nothing to write home about – and I know one member of the group went way off the rails. I’m not going to tell you which one, you can guess or wonder all you like.

The group of friends has drifted apart in the intervening years, some through choice and some just because. The only friend I still see is Jim; from time to time we still talk about that adventure and the ones before it.

The house is gone now; they finished demolishing it, all that remains is an area of brown earth and a few scattered bricks. The garage is still there, still disused, still smoke blackened – I don’t know if the doorways have been blocked up but I imagine they have.

Next year, or maybe this year, there will be kids leaving that school who hadn’t even started when I was there. Somehow that frightens me. Time marches by so quietly, so gently, but every now and again something hits you.

THE END