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Fiction |
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Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 7
(2/2)
By Frank Beill
1886: Hull, Yorkshire
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(1/2),
(2/2).
Part 1,
2,
3.
4,
5,
6,
7,
8,
9,
10,
11,
12,
13,
14,
15,
16,
17,
18,
19,
20.
Part 2
Prologue,
Chapter 1,
2,
3.
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Mr Thorne nodded towards Mrs G. Our surrogate mother was now placed in control of the feast. 'Take only one cake each. There may be enough for seconds when you have eaten the first,' she ordered.
The trick, of course, was to be at the front of the queue, get your cake and eat it quickly before slipping back to the tail end - but you must do this before there was any calculation of possible seconds. If one worked surreptitiously in this way it was possible to get three cakes.
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It never worked for George and me because we were too noticeable, especially when Sal was involved. As always, she was at Mrs G's right hand helping to supervise children who were sometimes older than Sal herself.
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We tucked into the cakes - mine was sweet apple - and our founder walked amongst us chaperoned by the Master. The other teachers were also present but kept at a discrete distance, making sure good order was maintained. The rule when anyone visited - and especially Mr Thorne - was not to speak unless spoken to but there was something I needed to discover. Our visitor must have been a man who would know the answer.
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I edged towards Mr Thorne who continued walking around the room and talking to children. Full mouths made it difficult to reply. George looked puzzled by my strange perambulations; his attention was on the table and the remaining cakes. The time for Mrs G to call out 'seconds' was drawing nearer but we were moving further and further away from the food. I could understand why he was puzzled.
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Finally, we converged on Mr Thorne's route and for once I was glad I stood out from the rest. 'And who might you be, young sir?' John Thorne's face expressed amusement. Was it because of my brown face?
'This is Samuel Smyle.' The Master didn't give me the opportunity to reply for myself.
'Are you making good use of your time in this fine home?' The self-satisfied smile told me he knew what my answer would be even before he asked the question.
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I swallowed the last morsel of cake. 'Very good use, sir.' My reply was dutiful but before there was chance for him to either ask another question or move on to another sycophantic respondent, I continued speaking without drawing breath. 'Is it true that Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show are coming to Hull, sir.'
At first, he seemed taken aback by my question. The Master scowled behind Mr Thorne's back. I was pleased Jolly Rodgers was well out of earshot.
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Our visitor smiled. 'Yes, it is true and he is leaving Hull directly after the performance to return to America. He will be leaving on a fine ship, the Persian Monarch from Alexandra Dock. My company has been involved in making the arrangements for his departure.' The smile became a rather smug beam but it was what he was saying that was all-important to me.
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He turned to the Master and spoke quietly. 'I would like to say something to all the children.'
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The Master nodded his agreement and clapped his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. Silence fell and teeth stopped munching.
'Mr Thorne has something to say to you all.'
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The thumbs of large hands went into a mustard yellow waistcoat and John Thorne stuck out his prosperity. The pose he adopted was that of a giant canary with the long tails of his black coat hanging behind him like wings and a tail.
'This young tyke here has asked me about Colonel William Cody. You may have heard of him as Buffalo Bill.'
My body sank into my suit. Was my summary dismissal by Jolly Rodgers the previous evening nothing but a rehearsal for a total public humiliation now?
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'Well, I am pleased to tell you that he is coming to Hull with his Wild West Show and as is Colonel Cody's custom, thirty tickets have been set aside for scholars from this orphanage to attend his show!'
My heart leapt but then it sank. Only thirty could go. There was more than four times that number in our home. How could I be certain to be included in that select band?
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Copyright © Frank Beill 2005
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