“You’d better not,” Neil grated as he stood over me, his fists clenching and unclenching and his face looking pale. I knew I had his attention now, so I pressed on with the attack. “Oh yeah! Who’s going to stop me? I know most of your names and the whole school has witnessed you dragging me around the grounds.” At my words most of the group melted away. I picked myself up and dusted down. My hands stopped at the lumpy feel on the serge around my behind. Twisting my head and pulling the flare of gym frock into view, my eyes widened at a huge ragged hole in the material. “Further proof,” I said triumphantly. Neil’s shoulders hunched. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. His face twisted in a pained expression and tears welled in his eyes. Finally he stuttered. “Y-y-you really going to report us to the police, Adelaide?”

My eyes blazing I looked at him and my anger ebbed away. I truly felt sorry for Neil. His life had been turned upside down. The only thing he was certain of was the school’s free milk and an apple each day. For six weeks his dad had been on strike; no wages; no money to buy food and the parcels supplied to union members had dried up. His mum did the best she could-used our bacon bones after we’d made our pot of soup and borrowed things like sugar and tea. Suddenly I was no longer certain the attack on me had been motivated by hate, more likely envy, I decided. Our family had a regular wage and food on the table. His family struggled to exist. “Won’t tell,” I said, quietly,” but, you guys bug me again and I’ll have your guts for garters.”