The Boy with the Withered Arm

Nadine Jackson-Croker

Description

Two years after the visit to the fire station, Craig had had a great day at school. He had come top in his tables test.. He had scored goal in their games lesson, and then his class teacher had given him a house point for picking up some litter without being told to, and putting it in the bin. He had gone happily to bed that night, feeling very pleased with himself. What woke him up, Craig could never work out; but something had. He sat up in bed and listened. Something wasn't right. He pushed back the bedclothes and sliding out of bed, walked over to the door and opened it. That was when he smelled it - smoke.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris UK
• Date de parution: 24 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669890034
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Boy with the Withered Arm
Nadine Jackson-Croker

Copyright © 2023 by Nadine Jackson-Croker.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-9004-1

eBook
978-1-6698-9003-4
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 05/24/2023
 
 
 
 
 
 
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850057
CONTENTS
A New Move
Winter
Gone Fishing
Change


“Right Now, children, come and sit down on the mat and face me,” Mr Baines, a short man in his late twenties with short wavy hair and a pair of bright hazel eyes, stood at one side of dull red square mat in his year-three classroom. He was a kindly man who insisted on good manners from all of the children. He had a deep clear voice, which was a good thing, because year-three children can be very loud. He was reviewing a trip that children had made to the local fire station the previous day. Once the children had settled themselves cross-legged in front of him, and had stop fidgeting, he asked.
“Who can tell me what the firemen call the big red vehicle they drive?” several hands shot up. “Dale,” He indicated to a large boy sitting at the back, who appeared to be more interested in poking the boy in front of him with a grubby finger. Dale looked up.
“What?” he glared at the teacher.
“What, Sir!” corrected Mr Baines, then continued,
“Perhaps, Jennifer, you can supply the answer to my question.”
Jennifer, a pretty redheaded girl in the middle of the group answered.
“An appliance sir?” the teacher smiled. “Quite right. I suggest you pay attention, Dale,” he said, then went on to ask and receive answers about all they had seen and experience.
This done, Mr Baines came to what he considered the most important facts that the children ought to have gained from their visit.
“If you discover a fire in your house, what is the first thing you must do?”
A forest of hands shot into the air. Pleased, he pointed to a boy with thick black tightly curled hair and dark brown eyes.
“Craig, let’s hear what you would do.”
“Tell my mum, and dial 999. Get everyone outside.”
“Very good answer, Craig, You have been paying attention,” he looked round at all a young faces in front of him.
“Sarah Parks, what should you do if you can’t get out?”
Sarah looked blank. Mr Baines gave her a bit more help.
“Sarah, suppose you are all upstairs, and the stairs are on fire. What should you do?” Sarah’s face cleared.
“Oh, I know. Go to the bathroom, sir.”
“Good girl,” Sarah beamed. “Now, can you tell me what you would do next?” it was Dale who answered.
“Get a towel all wet and put it on the floor,” he said.
Mr Baines grinned. Dale didn’t usually answer questions, he was the strong silent type!
“Good So you were listening after all. Well done.! So, you just put it anywhere on the floor?” he asked.
Dale, shrugged his shoulders.
“Sir, you put it by the door,” said Jennifer.
“Oh, I see,” said the teacher. “So the wet towel is to go by the door. Is that right?”
“Sir, sir.”
A little dark head boy called Akash was waving his hand in the air.
“Yes, Akash, can you help us?”
Akash, got onto his knees and said.
“You put the towel at the bottom of the door.”
“Excellent.” Mr Bains was pleased. “Can you tell me why?” he said.
“It is to keep out the smoke, sir” He answered.
“That is exactly right. You may have a star, and a house point.”
The children were sent to their tables and told to get out there project books. They were encouraged to draw and colour a picture of the appliance, and to write three things which they considered to be the most important facts they had learned from their trip. Mr Baines wanted to know what they liked best and to find out how much they had learned that day. He was looking forward to being able to make an excellent display of the drawings, paintings, and written work when the children had finished their project. He was fairly sure that he would be pleased with the results.
As it turned out that school day was to prove a very valuable lesson indeed. Craig Thompson lived with his parents in a three- bedroom semi-detached house on the outskirts of a rural town near coventry. His mother, Cathy, a pretty blonde Irish girl, who worked in an estate agent’s office. She didn’t sell the houses, as she looked after the rented properties and the tenants. Cathy was of average height with dark brown hair and grey eyes. She had a neat figure, and loved to run and swim. She even, sometimes, ran the half marathon that was held every October. She was a good mum, but as she often had to work long hours, she had to enlist the help of her mother to look after the children until she got home from the office. Cathy was married to Billy who had come to England from Jamaica when he had been a very small boy. Craig was their eldest son, he was seven years old; He had a four year old sister called Alicia, who was in the reception class at school. Tom was the youngest. He was just five months old, a happy healthy baby who had been born early and was still quite small but doing well.
Two years after the visit to the fire station, Craig had had a great day at school. He had come top in his tables test.. He had scored a goal in their games lesson, and then his class teacher had given him a house point for picking up some litter without being told to and putting it in the bin. He had gone happily to bed that night, feeling very pleased with himself. What woke him up, Craig could never work out, but something had. He sat up in bed and listened. Something wasn’t right. He pushed back the bedclothes and, sliding out of bed, walked over to the door and opened it. That was when he smelled it —- smoke.
He went to the top of the stairs and looked down. The hall below should have been dark. It wasn’t. He could see the glow of flames — and smoke billowing up. He ran to his mother’s room, knocked on the door, and not waiting for an answer, burst in.
“Mum, Mum — quick — get up!”
“What are you talking about Craig? Go back to bed.”
“No, Mum — fire — there’s a fire.” “Where?”
“Down stairs In the hall. Get Alicia. I’ll get Tom. She won’t listen to me”
Cathy climbed wearily out of bed, and reached for her dressing gown.She shoved her feet into her slippers and went out of her room. She also smelled it the - smoke.
“Oh my God!” she breathed.
She shot back into her room and dialled 999 before running along the landing to get Alicia out of bed. Meanwhile, Craig dived back into his room and picked up the baby. Alicia started kicking up such a fuss —- crying and shouting that she didn’t want to get up. Craig put his sleeping brother back into his crib and went along to her room to help his mother get Alicia into her coat and shoes. She wanted to take all her dolls with her — Cathy had to drag her screaming down the stairs.
The flames had already reached the newell post. Alicia went very quiet, then began to whimper. She was now very frightened. Cathy picked her up and talked calmly to her stroking her hair, and she carried her against her shoulder. She hurried through to the dark kitchen and out into the garden beyond and gently put Alicia down, but kept hold of her hand. Alicia was now crying softly. By the time Craig had managed to get back to his room, and had picked up the still sleeping baby, the stairs were well alight. He carried Tom to the bathroom at the back of the house, and put him into the bath. He grabbed some towels, and, after soaking them, he pushed them hard against the gap at the bottom of the door. He could hear the fire crackling on the other side of the door. He climbed onto the edge of the bath, from where he could just about reach the window to open it. He yelled to his mum to let her know where they were. Then, he sat down to wait. Tom woke up. Craig sat him up and gave him bath toys to play with. He was shaking. Scared though he was, he knew he had to stay calm. He didn’t want his baby brother to start crying for his mum. After what seemed like ages he was able to breathed a sigh of relief. He could hear the wail of the sirens as the fire brigade approached.
The room was now becoming very warm. Craig was becoming more and more frightened. Luckily he was pretty sure that Tom didn’t understand what was happening, and he didn’t want him to. It as bad enough, without the baby being upset as well. The minutes passed slowly; every second seemed like an hour. He just hoped the firemen would get there soon. Then, he heard it, —- the thud of the ladder as it hit the wall outside. The window was small,— too small for them both to get out at the same time. Suddenly, a head appeared at the window.
“OK, Laddie - don’t be scared now,” said the fireman. “Up you come, I can get you.” His voice was encouraging.
“No” Craig replied. “Tom first - the baby