It's Cold at the End of the Bed

Peter Johnson

Description

On their final day at Oakwood Primary two talented pupils, Sam Martin, the best in school at sport, and Charlie Woods, its brightest academic prospect, go head to head in the Year 6 fifty metre dash. It is a day neither of them will forget.Afterwards, they go their separate ways to different schools. Charlie achieves her goal of gaining a place to read engineering at Imperial College London and Sam fulfils his dream of winning a professional rugby contract but struggles with the physical and mental pressures inherent in playing sport for a living.When life changing events bring the two together again, can the spark of friendship that Sam and Charlie felt when they were young be rekindled?A story of loss, love, frustrated ambitions and shattered hopes unfolds as they strive to overcome their emotional and physical challenges.

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mars 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781803139111
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 4 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2022 Peter Johnson

Front cover from an original idea by Jo Wilkinson.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Matador
Unit E2 Airfield Business Park,
Harrison Road, Market Harborough,
Leicestershire. LE16 7UL
Tel: [phone]
Email: [e-mail]
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks

ISBN 9781803139111

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd



For Chrissie
with love



All that matters is love and work.
Sigmund Freud – attributed


Contents
PART ONE
1
2
3

PART TWO
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12

PART THREE
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26

PART FOUR
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40

SOME FACTS ABOUT DEPRESSION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS



PART ONE
…girls were still something of a mystery.


TRANSITION
Oakwood Primary School
Summary Comment – Sam Martin
Sam has made good progress in some subjects this year but his confidence wavers when he is out of his comfort zone. When he applies himself, he shows potential but he needs to stick at the task and be more consistent if he is to do himself justice. He is at his best in PE. His enthusiasm and skill in all sporting activities are impressive. The teams at West Park High will be strengthened by his presence. He can sing too but is rather shy about showing it! He is a kind and friendly boy who is supportive of younger children and helpful to both his peers and adults. We shall all miss his cheerful smile around the school and wish him well for the future.
Melissa Jones Head Teacher

Summary Comment – Charlotte Woods
Charlotte has worked hard and made excellent progress in all subjects. She has reached a high standard across the board and is an outstanding academic prospect. Well done, Charlie! She is a good artist and athlete too, a girl with a wide range of talents who is well equipped to compete with the best in any environment. Her ability, dedication and maturity have marked her out from the rest of her year and she has not always found it easy to make friends, so we hope that she will find more like spirits at Chelston Grammar. We wish her every success in the future.
Melissa Jones Head Teacher


1
It was a tense moment for Sam Martin when he came second to Charlie Woods in the Year 6 fifty metre dash. His father was upset. He had told him in his pep talk before the race that Martins didn’t lose, so to be beaten by a girl was an added insult. Sam would like to have won. He was a competitive boy, and good at sport, but he didn’t mind that much. He rather liked Charlie, although girls were still something of a mystery. She was the prettiest girl in his class and they got on well. It wasn’t his fault that she was taller than him and had longer legs. She was clever too and destined for the Girls’ Grammar School. Sam had a place at West Park High. Despite his mother’s efforts to make him work harder, eleven plus exam success had eluded him.
After his father had voiced his opinion on his performance within earshot of other parents and pupils, Sam made a welcome escape to get ready for the sack race.
“You shouldn’t be too hard on him, Paul. This is meant to be fun, not a preparation for the Olympics.”
“He’s got to learn to push himself. He’ll never be a serious sportsman unless he really wants it.”
“For god’s sake, he’s only eleven.”
“They start young these days and he’s got potential. It would be a shame to see it wasted.”
“It will be if you carry on putting pressure on him.” Jill walked away before she was drawn into a public performance of an argument they had already rehearsed on too many occasions.
Sam was watching and could see the tension from the way his parents were standing – stiffly, and with their faces too close to each other. They seemed to argue a lot these days. Maybe they weren’t happy, or perhaps it was because he was getting older and beginning to notice that parents didn’t always follow their own guidelines about how to behave. Mrs Jones, his favourite teacher, had mentioned in class that adults sometimes did things that were not a good example to children. He understood what she meant. Sometimes his father was an embarrassment at sporting occasions . He looked overweight and unfit compared with the other dads at mini-rugby and made the most noise. He talked as if he knew everything about the game but never helped with coaching or refereeing. Since his mother had let it slip that Sam shouldn’t believe everything his father said about his sporting exploits, he had become less in awe of him.
A whistle blew, and the first group of sack racers made their way to the starting line. Sam was next to Charlie. She smiled at him and something stirred which gave him an inkling of what it meant to be attracted to a girl. He smiled back shyly and busied himself gathering the top edge of the sack firmly in his hands, ready for the off. It was a tight race, memorable for two things in Sam’s mind: hearing his father shouting, and seeing Charlie fall as she stretched to overtake him in the last few metres.
“Well done, Sam,” Paul bellowed from his position near the finishing line.
“It’s only a sack race,” Sam said under his breath as he walked over to see if Charlie was OK. Her pride was more bruised than her body, and what Sam noticed about the incident was that Charlie’s parents left her alone to sort herself out. There was no fuss. He liked the fact that they were treating her in a grown-up way.
Charlie dusted herself down and adjusted her ponytail. “Mum’s brought drinks and some snacks. Do you want some?”
“Yes please,” he replied, happy to have the opportunity to spend more time with Charlie. He caught sight of his mother hurrying across the field to get home and change for work. He was proud of her being a senior sister at the local hospital but preferred it when she wasn’t on night duty.
Refreshments with the Woods family were enjoyable and Sam was amused by the attention he received from Charlie’s little sister Sophie who insisted on showing him all the things she had brought in her brightly coloured backpack. It felt good when Mrs Woods praised him for being patient with her. And Charlie seemed pleased too. The arrival of his father was an unwelcome interruption.
“Come on Sam, we need to get home. You’re not in any other races, are you?”
Mr Woods greeted him with his hand outstretched. “You must be Sam’s Dad. How do you do. I’m Philip Woods, and this is my wife Clare.”
“Paul Martin. Pleased to meet you both.”
“There are a couple more races to watch and then we’re going to look at the artwork in the classrooms. Would you mind if Sam stayed with us for a little while longer?”
“Sophie won’t forgive us if we let him go now… And I think the Head prefers the pupils to stay to the end,” Clare added. “We can drop him back home later, if you’re happy with that Paul.”
“You’re not interested in seeing the artwork, are you, Sam?”
Sam wasn’t sure about the art, but he definitely wanted to stay with Charlie. He breathed in deeply and looked down at the ground. “I would like to see it, if I can, please, Dad?” he replied, bravely putting extra emphasis on ‘would’.
Sam’s response took Paul by surprise and, with the Woods family looking at him in expectation, it was difficult to say no. “I suppose it’ll be alright, if Mr and Mrs Woods don’t mind.” It was clear to everyone that he would have preferred to take Sam home.
Clare made the most of the opportunity. “Not at all, Paul. We’d be delighted.”
It was a memorable moment for Sam. Being with Charlie had given him the courage to speak up. He beamed with pleasure as they wandered off to explore the classrooms and look at the cardboard mobiles, dumpy playdough figures, approximate family portraits and, their favourite, a group of sand sculptures in a tray. Charlie took pride in pointing out her picture of an athlete sprinting on a tartan track, but Sam was glad she didn’t comment on his clumsy attempt at a horse in the top corner of the display which, he thought, was the work by the less talented artists in the class. She’s so good at everything…
*
Sam noticed that it was Mrs Woods who did the driving on the way home. His Mum hardly ever drove when Dad was in the car unless they were returning from a night out. The gated entrance was open when they arrived and the gravel crunched loudly as they went through. They parked in front of the double garage and Mr Woods helped him to get his stuff out of the boot. Dad was waiting by the front door looking a bit red in the face and made his usual joke about not needing