Jimmy, The
Glue Factory and Mad Mr Viscous, chapter
three
Chapter Three
It Happened one Saturday…
“Jimmy, are you up?” his mother called out from the bottom of the stairs.
Jumping out of bed, Jimmy lied, “Yeh, I’ll be down in a tick.” Grabbing hold of his jumper, he pulled it hurriedly over his head. It stuck; his head was stuck inside his jumper, halfway in and halfway out of the hole. “Drats,” he hissed, wishing his head wasn’t so large, or the hole in the jumper so small. Recalling his mother once telling him that he had a ‘German head’, whatever that was supposed to mean, Jimmy wished that it wasn’t. Tugging harder, with all of his might, Jimmy finally managed to get his head through the opening. Pulling up his trousers, buckling his belt, splashing a few drops of waters onto his face, and then opening his bedroom door he dashed down the stairs, two steps at a time. “Morning, mum,” he said cheerily, brushing his jet-black hair, with the palm of his hand, away from his eyes,
His mother loved his hair – it was just so black, the very same as his father’s. “Now eat you oat flakes,” she said. “It’s cooked, today.”
Tucking into his breakfast with all of his usual gusto, Jimmy scoffed it back like there was no tomorrow.
“Slow down, you’re not in a race.”
“Sorry, mum,” he replied. “It’s just that I’ve got to see Eric, at nine-thirty,” he explained.
His mother laughing at his innocence pointed to the clock on the wall, saying, “In that case you had better hurry, because it’s already twenty-five to ten.”
“WHAT?” Jimmy hollered, finishing his breakfast so fast his spoon became a blur. Jumping up from his chair he dashed down the hallway, grabbed hold of his duffle coat and opened the front door, shouting, “By, mum.” He was gone.
“You’re late,” said Eric, when Jimmy finally arrived at their meeting point.
“Sorry,” Jimmy replied, “had a bit of a problem…”
“You did?”
“Yeh,” he explained. “Mum let me sleep in, didn’t call me until nine thirty. I almost jumped out of my skin when she told me that I was late for our meeting.”
“Ah, well,” said Eric, with an air of complacency, “you’re not that late. And it’s nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” Jimmy barked. “Are you kidding? The ‘Circus of Grotesques’ is in town, and you say it’s nothing special!”
“I meant our meeting,” Eric explained, feeling like he was in a hole and digging himself in deeper.
Pulling a flyer advertising the circus from out of his trouser pocket, Jimmy waved it in front of Eric’s eyes. “Look!” he said. “Go on – read it!” he barked.
Taking the flyer, Eric pretended to read it. He had no need to for he had read it so many times he knew every word printed upon it. “The Circus of Grotesques – It will change your life forever,” he said.
“And you don’t think that’s important?”
“It’s only a circus…”
“Only a circus?” said Jimmy, flabbergasted by his friend’s nonchalance to the whole affair.
“To be quite honest,” Eric, continued, feeling goosepimply all over, “I’ve been thinking…that I don’t really like the sound of it…”
Jimmy was in a quandary, for he – they had been saving up to see the Circus of Grotesques, like forever, so he asked, “What’s changed your mind?”
“I, I don’t know…” Eric mumbled.
“You don’t know? Is that all you can say? Have you no idea how hard it was to save up enough money, for the ticket?”
Becoming defensive, Eric replied, “I had to save up as well, you know. And it wasn’t easy for me, also!”
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” said Jimmy, calming down a bit. “It’s just that I’ve been looking forward to it – for ages…”
Although Eric was taller than Jimmy, he felt smaller, so much smaller, a cad for have ‘rained on the parade’. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll go. But I’m not sitting in the front row!”
Smiling, happy again, Jimmy said, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go purchase our tickets!”
Arriving at the village green, where the circus had been set up, Jimmy and Eric eyed it with curiosity, wondering why it was still called this, for South Shields, their hometown, had not been a village for many a long year.
“Look,” Jimmy cried out excitedly, “I’d guess that’s the ticket kiosk.” He pointed to a small, grubby looking tent to one side of the main marquee.
Giving it a disapproving glance, Eric said, “There’s no one there.” He appeared to be right, for there was no one behind the small counter in the tent, despite the fact that a sign was hanging above it, saying ‘open’.
Having no intention of accepting defeat so passively, Jimmy said, “Come on, there must to be someone in there.”
Approaching the tent, the two boys stared through the opening above the small counter, but there was still no one visible.
Standing on tiptoes, resting his arms on the counter, leaning across it, Jimmy called out, “Hello, anybody there?”
“What are you doing?” said Eric, mortified by his friend’s unruly behaviour.
“Seeing if anyone is here, of course,” Jimmy explained.
But…”
“Can I be of assistance?” a creaky old voice suddenly asked.
Caught off guard, startled by the sudden intrusion, Jimmy, losing his balance, fell to the ground with a bang.
“Can I be of assistance?” the creaky old voice asked, again.
Then they saw her; they saw an incredibly old woman, staring out from behind the counter.
“W, where did you c, come from?” Eric spluttered, believing that she must surely be a witch.
“I was always here,” she replied, lifting her hands as she spoke.
“B, but I never saw you!”
“Were you looking, really looking?” she asked him cryptically.
Pulling himself up to the counter, Jimmy had no problem in where the woman might or might not have come from. To him, she was a godsend, and he said, “Good morning, we would like to purchase two tickets for this afternoon’s performance, please.”
Her eyes staring into his, not at them, but burning right into them, the old woman, asked, “You are not easily offended, are you?”
Gulping hard, Jimmy replied, “Me? Nah, I’m as tough as nails. ‘Tough’ is my middle name!” On hearing this, Eric raised an eyebrow.
Strolling away from the kiosk tent, the two best friends, forgetting about the old woman and whether or not she was a witch, holding their tickets proudly, triumphantly, had some time on their hands, to ‘kill’ before the afternoon’s performance commenced.
“Let’s go to the cinema,” Eric suggested, “I’ve just about enough money left for a ticket…”
Shaking his head, Jimmy replied, “No, mine’s all spent.” Recalling how hard it had been for him to save it up, he said, “Have no idea how hard I worked, to scrape the money together?”
Nodding, Eric replied, “I do, old mate. I can still see you, in my mind’s eye, with those sacks of flour perched high on your shoulder, running errands for those crabby old women, at a penny a time.”
Dusting his shoulders, imagining some flour residue was still there, Jimmy said, “I know that you also had to save up, but it was much harder for me, because I had to give most of the money I earned to mum. She needs it, you know.” Then shaking his ticket, he added, “But I did it – we did it, and we’re going to see the ‘Circus of Grotesques’ this very afternoon!” On hearing those words, a shiver ran down Eric’s spine.
By mutual consent, the two boys decided to go for a walk along the estuary, to watch the ships as they passed by on their way in and out from port. They never tired of this activity, and each time they did it, they imagined they were grownup, and members of the crew on at least one of these ships, heading off to some far-flung, exotic destination – and adventure.
“Look at that ship,” said Jimmy. “It’s registered in Liberia. See the flag, the star and stripes? That’s a flag of convenience. It’s easier – and cheaper – for the owners, doing it that way.”
“There’s another,” said Eric, pointing to a rusty old relic.
Nodding, Jimmy said, “Yeh, that’s a tramp steamer. She could easily go down in the next storm.”
The two boys, sitting on the grassy banks of the estuary, watching ship after ship pass by, were enjoying it so much and so caught up in their imaginings, almost forgot the circus.
“Eric!” said Jimmy, quite in a panic, “What time is it?”
Looking across to the clock tower of a nearby church, “Eric said, “It’s ten to three.”
“What?” Jimmy yelled. “The circus begins at three! Come on – RUN!” And they did, the two best friends tore away so fast one would have been forgiven for thinking their lives depended on it.
