Chapter 10: Ouch!

Dinner was worth coming home for. Frank helped me clean up, and then I polished my essay on Work and Learning, and spent a couple of hours wrestling with some Trigonometry. I could have left it for the Sunday study group, since Robyn could probably have solved all the problems in a flash, but sometimes I get stubborn, and I ‘dug in’ and wrestled on my own.

Saturday cricket was a disaster. We were playing the First XI of a large school on the North Shore, and they were lots better than us. We batted first, and were all out for ninety odd half an hour before the scheduled afternoon tea break. I got two before a ball seamed away off the pitch and took the edge of my bat before being caught behind by the ‘keeper. Mr Smythe didn’t say much. I think he was disappointed, but recognised that we were all trying hard, but just not good enough.

Things got worse. The Westlake opening batsmen were completely untroubled by our quick bowlers, and I didn’t get a bowl until they were a couple of hundred without loss, with half an hour of the first day’s play left. My first over was treated respectfully, with the batsman taking a single, and I was hopeful that I could keep the run rate down and perhaps even take a wicket. As Frank says - ‘hope springs eternal’.

The second ball of my second over was overpitched. The batsman had been at the wicket for nearly two hours, and ‘had his eye in’. He hit it cleanly, and very very hard, and it came back to me a couple of yards to my left about two feet off the ground. I dived to catch it. Bad idea!

A cricket ball weighs around five and a half ounces – or since I was learning to think in metrics - 150 gm. This one was travelling well in excess of 90mph, and struck me on the base of my left thumb. It hurt more than anything I had ever previously experienced, and I gasped and was unable to stop myself from sobbing a couple of times. My tears flowed freely and when Jack Gavin attempted to examine my thumb there was a grating sound and I screamed. Jack supported me off the field, and that was just as well, one part of me was scared I was going to faint from the pain and the other part of me was scared I wouldn’t.

Grandpa took me to the A&E Department of Auckland Hospital, where after what he called ‘tryarge’ by a charge nurse, we were directed to a waiting area. It was Saturday night, I wasn’t seriously injured or even bleeding on the floor, and pain didn’t count in those days, so we waited about three hours before I was examined by a somewhat harried junior doctor and sent to X Ray. Half an hour later, he came back and told us I had cracked two small bones in my wrist, and had what he called a ‘displaced fracture’ of the base of my thumb. He said he needed to ‘set’ it, and told me it would hurt. He offered ‘gas’ to help with the pain.

‘Gas’ was interesting. I later learned it is a mix of Nitrous Oxide and Oxygen, and is also known as ‘laughing gas’, but at the time, I was surprised to find after five or six deep breaths, I was chortling at Grandpa’s expression, and giggling at the hissing of the gas flowing through the mask the nurse was holding over my face. I wasn’t watching what the Doctor was doing, and I soon stopped giggling in spite of the ‘gas’ when he started to set my thumb. It hurt a lot, but after a minute or so he said it was done and that the nurse would put on a plaster cast. He said he would prescribe some painkillers and that Grandad could get the prescription filled at the Urgent Pharmacy in town. The nurse plastered me. That hurt a bit too. Then I was discharged with instructions to go to my GP in six weeks to have the cast removed.

The painkillers were codeine, and the opiate let me get some sleep, but I felt like shit in the morning. I wasn’t up to going to the Sunday study group, and I rang Robyn to let her know. She was suitably sympathetic and promised to come and visit in the afternoon.

We cuddled on my bed, and Robyn began to fill me in on the discussions the three girls had had that morning. We had left the door part open, but Grandma knocked before coming in with tea and biscuits, finding us both fully clothed on top of the counterpane.

“That doesn’t look very comfortable.” She grinned. “But soon you’ll be moving to a bigger bed at Frank’s.”

“Room for a coupla girlfriends ya reckon?” Robyn gave me an elbow.

“In your dreams Romeo! You’ll have trouble keeping up with one!” I returned her elbow gently. Not gently enough! In spite of the plaster cast, my thumb let me know it did not like being jarred.

“OW!” Robyn was sympathetic, grandma less so.

“Serves ya right! You’ve been leading with your chin!” She went out, closing the door behind her with some emphasis, and we returned to our discussion of what Pauline and Alison might want with Aapi. They were both willing to be ‘temporary’ girlfriends – no forever, no troo lurve, but exactly what that meant in the short term was unclear.

“Are they going to explore sexy stuff?”

“It’s certainly on the table.”

“Wow! The dining room table?” That earned me another elbow.

“Pauline is obviously keen, Alison’s a bit more hesitant.”

“If we moved the Monday or the Friday study to Frank’s, we could study in the parlour, and anyone who wants ‘time out’ can take it in my room.” Robyn nodded, and I went on. “We’d need to clear it with Frank and probably Emma too.”

While we were thinking about that, Grandma knocked on the door.

“There’s a Mr Smythe on the phone. He wants to talk to you.” I hurried out to the phone in the front hall, wondering how he had got the number, and what he wanted. My curiosity on both counts was very soon satisfied.

“It’s Bob Smythe here David. I got your parents’ number from the school records, and your mum said you were living with your grandparents now and gave me this number. I’m calling to see how you are. That was a nasty knock yesterday.”

“I’ve broken some bones in my thumb. I’m in plaster, and I get that off in six weeks, but I’ll be out for the rest of the season.”

“That’s a real shame -you were coming along nicely. Are you medicated?”

“They’ve given me some heavy codeine, but I’ll be at school tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll see you then. Don’t worry about the essay – I’ll give you a couple of extra days. Let the school office know your new address and phone number before homeroom tomorrow.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” I went back to Robyn.

“Who is Mr Smythe and what did he want?”

“Homeroom and English and cricket coach. He called me David.”

“It’s ya name isn’t it?”

“Surnames are standard. What do they do at Girls High?”

“They use the first name you prefer. If I’m in bad trouble it might be ‘Miss Olds’.”

Robyn stayed for tea, and we had a pretty lively discussion about the political situation. The election was still six months away, but there was widespread dissatisfaction with the Labour government. Robyn argued quite passionately that a move to the right would be socially damaging, and I wondered how much her views had been shaped by contact with Emma and her friends. Grandma let Frank and me take the plates out to the kitchen but then she and Robyn shooed the men out so they could ‘clean up in peace’. I doubted Emma would approve, but we went along, and from the amount of laughter coming from the kitchen, they were having fun.

By the time I had sorted my new contact details with the school office on Monday morning, I was late for homeroom. Mr Smythe made no comment about that, but he made a joke that now that I wasn’t playing cricket, I’d have more time for study. That was funny. He followed with a comment to the effect that as a result, more would be expected. That wasn’t. The other problem was that despite the cast, after three or four minutes, writing hurt.

I took only very brief notes for the rest of the day, and spent a lot of time during the Monday study group reviewing Aapi’s work. The girls read my essay on Learning and Work, and pronounced it ‘bloody good’. Robyn raised the possibility of doing Mondays at Frank’s.

“If you wanted to get sexy you could use David’s room.” We would have to clear that with Frank, and possibly Emmy. Would you like us to do that? Pauline and Aapi looked very happy, Alison less so.

“I’m fine about holding the Monday study group at Frank’s, and I’m fine about you two swinging from the chandelier if David has one in his room.” She looked directly at Aapi. “I’m keen to spend some non study time with you, but it’ll be a while before I’m ready to do much sexy stuff.” She softened her words with a smile.

“So I’ll talk to Frank.”

“And I’ll talk to Emmy.”

In fact, I didn’t get to talk to Frank until the following Thursday. The relining in the front West bedroom was finished, and we spent a couple of hours ‘stopping’, filling the joins between the sheets of Gib and the dents where we had hammered the clouts. I only had one useful hand, but I kept Frank company, and handed him tools and materials.

We paused for a cuppa and I explained the situation with Aapi and the girls. Frank seemed less than delighted.

“So you hold study group here, and all study in the parlour and go get friendly in your room? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“See nothing, know nothing.” I took a risk. “A bit like you and your Mum ‘n Dad, except sorta on the other end.” Frank laughed. He was only slightly shitty.

“Jesus – you’re a manipulative little bastard. You should go into politics!” He looked at me over the rim of his mug.

“So – just to be clear – you are proposing that I knowingly provide premises where underage children can commit sexual offences, and that I charge the aforementioned children rent for the use of these aforesaid premises in the form of a contribution in kind from these aforementioned underage children?”

“What if we promise to come and visit you in prison?” His laugh contained no trace of his former shittiness.

“I’ll talk to Emma.”

We got our essays back on Friday. Aapi and I both got ‘A’s. We were the only ones. Mr Smythe commented on my reference to the classic NZ novel ‘Man Alone’, in relation to the importance of the ‘mateship’ between my Uncle Bruce and Robert. That felt good.

There was a surprise at the Friday study group about half an hour before we were due to finish. Pauline had reported that Marylyn Rowe had been in contact and had sent the letter of complaint to the AYD trustees. Aapi reported Heather and Tavita had given Sina permission to bring the prospective boyfriend home for a meal and had said they would consider letting her go to the movies with him. And in between all that Aapi and the two girls had flirted a little, and we had talked about the growth of cities in relation to transport and commerce.