"Murderer!"
"Murderer!"
Steven joined in and shouted at the top of his voice.
"MURDERER!"
Mr. Harris looked frightened. He knew that he was a murderer, but he was surprised to realise that other people objected.
"Look, you just don’t understand. It’s not as simple as you make out."
"It’s very simple. You’re a murderer. Your victims never had a chance."
Steven glanced at Zoe as she shouted this into the man’s face. She really was very good looking. Her long dark hair kept blowing across her face and she had to hold it back with one hand as she shook her fist at the butcher. Her face was glowing red with anger and her eyes glistened. Steven really really fancied her.
"I’m just trying to earn a living, that’s all."
"By murdering defenceless animals. Murderer! MURDERER!"
If the truth were known, Steven had eaten a bacon sandwich before leaving to come on the animal rights demonstration outside the local butcher’s shop. If the truth were really known, Steven had complained to his father only last Tuesday when he had been given a vegetable lasagne for tea.
"Dad! Where’s the meat? Where’s the protein in this? I need meat!"
However, this was before he had overheard Zoe Johnson talking to his mate John about animal rights. She had given John a ten minute lecture about the dinner he had just finished in the College canteen.
"....stuffed full of antibiotics. I’m organising a demonstration next Saturday morning outside the butcher’s shop in the High Street. You will be there won’t you? Two o’clock. What do you mean, you’re going to football? Huh! You boys are all the same."
As she flounced off, Steven became a vegetarian. He had never actually spoken to Zoe; she was a year younger than he was and had only recently arrived at the Sixth Form College. he thought that he would be able to impress her if he showed that he was really a caring individual, like herself. He would be the epitome of the sensitive man, strong in his beliefs, caring for all forms of life, be they human or animal.
"Murderer!" he shouted for the twentieth time. However, this time he shouted it in Zoe’s ear, as the crowd of thirty students jostled to get nearer the entrance to the butcher’s shop. Zoe turned and looked at him, but didn’t say anything. To be honest, now wasn’t really the best time for a casual conversation about the moral dilemma of being a teenage consumer in a capitalist society. Although Steven knew more about football, he was sure he could engage Zoe in witty conversation, given the right circumstances.
"If you don’t go, I’m calling the police!"
As Mr. Harris closed and bolted the door, Steven could see that his bald head was perspiring. He looked worried. Steven wondered what was going to happen next. Were they going to liberate the dead carcasses hanging at the back of the shop? It all seemed a bit pointless and that rack of lamb looked quite tasty.
"Hypocrite! The pigs will help you, but you never help pigs!"
Steven was quite pleased with that. He looked at Zoe to see if he had heard his little joke, but she was pushing against the door of the butcher’s shop. Steven could see Mr. Harris making a phone call. Good! That would be the end of the demonstration. Nobody would want the police to be involved. Everybody surely wanted to enjoy their Saturday afternoon didn’t they? Maybe they would go for a drink in the Rose And Crown. That would give him a chance to get to know Zoe.
"Don’t think you’re getting away with it, you murdering swine." Shouted a voice from behind Steven.
Steven felt two arms pushing against his back and turned to get a glimpse of dreadlocks, torn jeans, a tee-shirt advising you to "Say It And Mean It" and hundreds of badges fixed to an old denim jacket. Steven tried to resist and was about to shout at the lad to stop, when another ten demonstrators helped push Steven into Zoe, who was forced against Mr. Harris’ door, which finally gave way with a large cracking sound. Steven fell on top of Zoe and when they picked themselves up, they found Mr. Harris with the largest carving knife in the world, waving it just above their heads.
"Don’t you two move a muscle until the police arrive."
Steven’s father was not happy. This was unusual, because Mr Williams was a humorous man. Steven admired him a lot. He admired his father because of the large number of friends that he had, most of whom he knew through coaching the local youth football team. He appreciated it when his father took him to the Rose And Crown on a Friday night and bought a round for his friends from College. Most of all, he respected his father for the way in which he had rebuilt his life after Steven’s mother had been killed in a hit and run incident when Steven was ten years old. Mr. Williams had never forgotten his wife, but he refused to let the tragedy weigh him down. He was a thoughtful, caring, funny and straightforward man and Steven loved him.
"Animal rights! Next thing you’ll be breaking into laboratories and freeing rats from cages. What on earth do you think you were doing? Graham Harris! I won’t be able to look him in the face again. Animal rights!"
"Sorry."
"Sorry?" I work hard all week at the factory. I spend all morning shopping so that there’s enough food in the house. I spend two hours cleaning. I put my feet up in front of the television and then what? The phone rings and it’s the police. Can you imagine how I felt? Do you know what I was thinking?"
Mr. Williams was pacing the living room. He was a tall, dark skinned, wiry man, and the top of his head just fitted under the bottom of the lampshade whenever he walked under it. Steven couldn’t help but be fascinated by this and kept focusing on the lampshade instead of what his father was saying.
"..as if it’s not bad enough, I have to come down to the police station, where Bill Davis is on duty, and sign your release forms. Thank goodness Graham Harris is not pressing charges. ‘Sorry?’ I think you owe me an explanation, son."
"I don’t know, Dad."
There was a silence and they both started speaking at once.
"Actually, Dad, there’s this girl..."
"Was that Reg Johnson’s girl you were with..."
They both stopped.
"Go on," Steven said.
"Was that Reg Johnson’s girl you were sitting next to."
"Eh?"
"He’s a trouble maker. He’s always trying to get us to strike, down at the factory. I’ve heard about his daughter. She’s got Reg’s brains, and his arrogance. She’s bad news. What was she doing there?"
Steven didn’t know it, but he was about to make a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life. It seemed so easy at the time. Just tell a small white lie and keep his Dad happy.
"I fancy her, so I went on the demonstration to try to get to know her."
He could have said that, but he didn’t. he was a bit embarrassed about being on the demo, and it sounded like his Dad would not approve, if things worked out between him and Zoe.
So he said "There was a girl there who also got arrested, but I don’t know her name."
Mr. Williams seemed happy at that, but still looked annoyed.
"Just tell me in words of one syllable. Why were you there anyway?"
"You’ve got it all wrong. I was not demonstrating. I was just walking past when someone shoved me in the back."
"That’s four."
"Pardon?"
"Four."
"Four what?"
"Syllables. Four syllables in demonstrating. You were supposed to tell me in words of one syllable."
Steven smiled. His Dad was cracking jokes again. It was going to be O.K.
"Walking has two syllables."
"Somebody has three."
"I said someone, not somebody."
The banter continued and father and son were smiling again. They thought it was all over. It wasn’t. It had just started.
Zoe looked up as Steven walked into John’s house. She had just finished telling the story of "The Storming Of The Butcher’s Shop" to six of her friends, one of whom was John’s girlfriend. She had described each part of the story exactly as it happened, without embellishment. The only part that she had omitted was the conversation she had had with Steven in the police station. She had not noticed Steven before that moment. If she had, she was sure she would have remembered his muscular frame, dark eyebrows and shoulder length, dark hair. She had been pleased to find out that he was full of common sense too. He was a vegetarian, a member of Amnesty International, and he had been on several demonstrations for racial equality. He was just the sort of guy she had been hoping to meet at College.
"Here’s the criminal," she bantered as he set himself down on John’s couch.
"Huh! Don’t talk about that. My Dad’s furious."
"Surely he realises that the fight is worth it."
"Oh yes," Steven improvised, "but he hates going to police stations."
"Well it’s about time that people like your Dad confronted the police a bit more and made them stand up for what’s right."
"Of course," said Steven, although he was a little taken aback to find his Dad being criticised. On the other hand, he really really fancied Zoe and didn’t want to upset her. She did have very forthright views.
"Who wants coffee, then?"
John was giving him a strange look. Although Steven didn’t like coffee, he went with John to the kitchen, while the girls chatted in the front room.
"What’s going on?" John demanded.
"Huh?"
"What’s happened to you? Vegetarian? Demonstrations? The demonstration you’ve been on before was when we had to demonstrate our shooting skills and you missed eight penalties out of ten."
"Shhhh! She might hear. Gorgeous, isn’t she? Do you think I’ve got a chance?"
"What, with Zoe Johnson? If you want her. She may have the body of a goddess, but she’s got more gob than my little sister."
They took the coffees into the front room. the girls were debating whether to go to "Kongos", a local club, the following Friday night.
"You’ll come, won’t you Steven?" Zoe asked.
"Of course," he replied. It would be O.K. He would just tell his Dad another white lie. He was seventeen anyway. He didn’t need to explain his every move to his father.
When he got home there was a message pinned to the front door.
"YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN TAKEN TO HOSPITAL"
Zoe’s family lived about three miles from Steven. As he opened the front gate, he was impressed by how tidy the front garden was. The lawn was in good condition; there were no bare patches. There was a beautifully trimmed hedge, but Steven suddenly realised there were no plants. Inside was the same. Every room was very tidy; there was one framed print in each room, the furniture was well kept and in good condition, but there was very little else. There were no ornaments, no magazines, no books, no CDs. In fact there was no sign that anyone lived in the house at all.
Zoe’s parents were very welcoming and immediately gave Steven a cup of coffee. However, while they were waiting for Zoe there were long periods of silence.
Steven felt uncomfortable. Things were getting more and more difficult for him. In order to get Zoe’s attention he had lied to her. In order to avoid a confrontation with his Dad, he had lied to him. Although things were now looking good for him and Zoe, his Dad was ill. The doctors did not know what was wrong. A viral infection they had said. That could mean anything. Steven had visited him every day for the last two weeks and although there had been a gradual improvement, his father was not his normal self. There were no jokes. There was no banter. There was very little talk. Mr. Williams showed no interest in football, in Steven’s news, in anything apart from his own illness. It seemed like his father was missing something. It was like some inner spark had been removed from him. Steven was reminded of a science fiction programme he had watched where some aliens believed that if doctors cut you open to perform surgery, your soul left your body. Well, Mr. Williams had not had an operation, but it seemed like his soul was missing.
"Hello crim!"
"Hello, Zoe."
Zoe’s parents looked at Steven questioningly.
"Steven’s a criminal. We forced open the door of that murderer in the High Street."
Mr. Johnson tried to sound mature, but his face betrayed his pride.
"Now you go carefully, young lady. Just watch your step. Where are you off to tonight?"
"The Rose And Crown," replied Zoe.
Oh! Are we?" asked Steven.
"Yes."
Zoe’s reply left no room for debate, but Steven knew there was no way he was going to the Rose And Crown. His Dad’s friends would be there and they would be clamouring to know the latest news. He hadn’t told Zoe about his Dad’s illness. There was soemthing Steven didn’t like about the way she had dismissed Steven’s account of his Dad’s reaction to coming to the police station. He still really really fancied Zoe and for some reason that he couldn’t rationalise, he didn’t want to crave sympathy from her.
"Why don’t we go the cinema?"
"No."
"Pizza?"
"No."
"I don’t want to go the Rose And Crown."
At least that was honest.
"Why not?"
"Because, because..." Steven switched his brain into overdrive.
"Because the landlord chucked a black couple out of his pub last week."
Now he was NOT being honest.
"What?"
"Didn’t you hear about it?"
"No! That’s disgraceful. We’ll have to go to the Chequers and we’ll organise a boycott of the pub. We’ll need to sort out placards, leaflets….."
What had he started? He had lied about his favourite pub and the whole of his Friday night was going to be taken up with plans for another demonstration. Why couldn’t he simply tell the truth? It always seemed so much easier to lie. He never anticipated the problems that evolved out of his lying. Now he would have to pretend to be interested in all this organising, when what he really wanted to do was organise a way for him and Zoe to become closer. They occasionally held hands, and pecked each other on the lips every now and again, but whenever Steven tried to ‘develop’ things, Zoe didn’t respond. It seemed that every time Steven put his arm around her, she was moved to become even more radical and before he realised what was happening, she was waving her arms around and planning ways to overthrow the government with all thoughts of a proper romantic kiss lost in the welter of words.
Early next morning there was a phone call.
"This is the District Hospital. Your father’s condition has deteriorated. Please come to the Hospital immediately."
"Dad, are you O.K.?"
"Can’t breathe very well son."
"You are going to be all right, though?"
"Yes! Don’t worry. In a week or two, I’ll be up and about. More active than you’ll ever be."
"When I got the message I was worried."
"They tried to phone you last night, but there was no answer."
"I was out."
"Really? I worked that one out myself! Have a good time?"
"Yes! Great!"
First lie today.
"Where were you? The Rose And Crown?"
‘No. I was out with Zoe Johnson - the girl you think is trouble - the girl whose father you think is no good.’
Steven thought afterwards about whether it would have been better if he had said that. How would his Dad have reacted? Would it have made things worse? At the time, he wanted to do everything he could to help his father get better. He didn’t want to upset him. So he didn’t say who he was with. He lied.
"Yes! All your mates were asking after you."
"Ah they’re a good bunch. I’m lucky to have a good set of mates like that. But you know what makes me even luckier? To have a son like you. You know a lot of parents get a load of trouble from their children. Old Graham Harris was telling me about his son - he steals, he cheats, he lies. Can you imagine that? He lies to his own parents! I’m lucky to have a sone like you, Steve. Since your Mum died, you’ve never given me an ounce of trouble. You’ve always told the truth and you’ve been more of a mate to me than all that lot in the Rose And Crown. Thanks Steve."
There was a silence, which Steven could have used to tell the truth about Zoe Johnson. Afterwards, he asked himself if it was really that important. Just a small white lie about a silly girl. It wasn’t Zoe that bothered him. What bothered Steven was that he had betrayed his father’s trust. His father thought he was someone special, but in truth he wasn’t. He lied to suit his own ends. A small lie, but in the end, his own self-interest was more important to him than his relationship with his father. If he had only known that this was the last time he would ever see his father alive, he would have said more than "I’ll be seeing you, then, Dad." He would have said that he loved him. He would have hugged him or done something meaningful. Instead he said "I’ll be seeing you, then, Dad."
That afternoon, Mr. Williams died.
After the funeral, Steven met up with Zoe in the College canteen. She told him how sorry she was. She asked him why he hadn’t told her that his father was ill. He told her the truth. He told her the truth about everything including Amnesty International and bacon sandwiches. But it was too late for the truth. Zoe was shocked to discover the lies that he had told her. She wanted nothing more to do with him. She kissed him on the lips and hugged him and said "I’m sorry, Steven, but you’re not the person I thought you were." Her long dark hair trailed across his face as she left.
She was right. He was a different person to the one he had been with her. He had lied to her. He had lied to his father. The worst thing of all, though, was that he had lied to himself. He had thought that it would be alright to tell a few lies to suit his own ends. He realised now that it wasn’t alright. It was wrong.
When he had lied to Zoe, he had killed his chance of forming a proper his relationship. When he had lied to his father, something else had died. It wasn’t a soul. It was the bond between them. He realised that he had got it all wrong on the demonstration. Mr. Harris was only killing dumb animals.
"Murderer!"
Steven joined in and shouted at the top of his voice.
"MURDERER!"
Mr. Harris looked frightened. He knew that he was a murderer, but he was surprised to realise that other people objected.
"Look, you just don’t understand. It’s not as simple as you make out."
"It’s very simple. You’re a murderer. Your victims never had a chance."
Steven glanced at Zoe as she shouted this into the man’s face. She really was very good looking. Her long dark hair kept blowing across her face and she had to hold it back with one hand as she shook her fist at the butcher. Her face was glowing red with anger and her eyes glistened. Steven really really fancied her.
"I’m just trying to earn a living, that’s all."
"By murdering defenceless animals. Murderer! MURDERER!"
If the truth were known, Steven had eaten a bacon sandwich before leaving to come on the animal rights demonstration outside the local butcher’s shop. If the truth were really known, Steven had complained to his father only last Tuesday when he had been given a vegetable lasagne for tea.
"Dad! Where’s the meat? Where’s the protein in this? I need meat!"
However, this was before he had overheard Zoe Johnson talking to his mate John about animal rights. She had given John a ten minute lecture about the dinner he had just finished in the College canteen.
"....stuffed full of antibiotics. I’m organising a demonstration next Saturday morning outside the butcher’s shop in the High Street. You will be there won’t you? Two o’clock. What do you mean, you’re going to football? Huh! You boys are all the same."
As she flounced off, Steven became a vegetarian. He had never actually spoken to Zoe; she was a year younger than he was and had only recently arrived at the Sixth Form College. he thought that he would be able to impress her if he showed that he was really a caring individual, like herself. He would be the epitome of the sensitive man, strong in his beliefs, caring for all forms of life, be they human or animal.
"Murderer!" he shouted for the twentieth time. However, this time he shouted it in Zoe’s ear, as the crowd of thirty students jostled to get nearer the entrance to the butcher’s shop. Zoe turned and looked at him, but didn’t say anything. To be honest, now wasn’t really the best time for a casual conversation about the moral dilemma of being a teenage consumer in a capitalist society. Although Steven knew more about football, he was sure he could engage Zoe in witty conversation, given the right circumstances.
"If you don’t go, I’m calling the police!"
As Mr. Harris closed and bolted the door, Steven could see that his bald head was perspiring. He looked worried. Steven wondered what was going to happen next. Were they going to liberate the dead carcasses hanging at the back of the shop? It all seemed a bit pointless and that rack of lamb looked quite tasty.
"Hypocrite! The pigs will help you, but you never help pigs!"
Steven was quite pleased with that. He looked at Zoe to see if he had heard his little joke, but she was pushing against the door of the butcher’s shop. Steven could see Mr. Harris making a phone call. Good! That would be the end of the demonstration. Nobody would want the police to be involved. Everybody surely wanted to enjoy their Saturday afternoon didn’t they? Maybe they would go for a drink in the Rose And Crown. That would give him a chance to get to know Zoe.
"Don’t think you’re getting away with it, you murdering swine." Shouted a voice from behind Steven.
Steven felt two arms pushing against his back and turned to get a glimpse of dreadlocks, torn jeans, a tee-shirt advising you to "Say It And Mean It" and hundreds of badges fixed to an old denim jacket. Steven tried to resist and was about to shout at the lad to stop, when another ten demonstrators helped push Steven into Zoe, who was forced against Mr. Harris’ door, which finally gave way with a large cracking sound. Steven fell on top of Zoe and when they picked themselves up, they found Mr. Harris with the largest carving knife in the world, waving it just above their heads.
"Don’t you two move a muscle until the police arrive."
Steven’s father was not happy. This was unusual, because Mr Williams was a humorous man. Steven admired him a lot. He admired his father because of the large number of friends that he had, most of whom he knew through coaching the local youth football team. He appreciated it when his father took him to the Rose And Crown on a Friday night and bought a round for his friends from College. Most of all, he respected his father for the way in which he had rebuilt his life after Steven’s mother had been killed in a hit and run incident when Steven was ten years old. Mr. Williams had never forgotten his wife, but he refused to let the tragedy weigh him down. He was a thoughtful, caring, funny and straightforward man and Steven loved him.
"Animal rights! Next thing you’ll be breaking into laboratories and freeing rats from cages. What on earth do you think you were doing? Graham Harris! I won’t be able to look him in the face again. Animal rights!"
"Sorry."
"Sorry?" I work hard all week at the factory. I spend all morning shopping so that there’s enough food in the house. I spend two hours cleaning. I put my feet up in front of the television and then what? The phone rings and it’s the police. Can you imagine how I felt? Do you know what I was thinking?"
Mr. Williams was pacing the living room. He was a tall, dark skinned, wiry man, and the top of his head just fitted under the bottom of the lampshade whenever he walked under it. Steven couldn’t help but be fascinated by this and kept focusing on the lampshade instead of what his father was saying.
"..as if it’s not bad enough, I have to come down to the police station, where Bill Davis is on duty, and sign your release forms. Thank goodness Graham Harris is not pressing charges. ‘Sorry?’ I think you owe me an explanation, son."
"I don’t know, Dad."
There was a silence and they both started speaking at once.
"Actually, Dad, there’s this girl..."
"Was that Reg Johnson’s girl you were with..."
They both stopped.
"Go on," Steven said.
"Was that Reg Johnson’s girl you were sitting next to."
"Eh?"
"He’s a trouble maker. He’s always trying to get us to strike, down at the factory. I’ve heard about his daughter. She’s got Reg’s brains, and his arrogance. She’s bad news. What was she doing there?"
Steven didn’t know it, but he was about to make a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life. It seemed so easy at the time. Just tell a small white lie and keep his Dad happy.
"I fancy her, so I went on the demonstration to try to get to know her."
He could have said that, but he didn’t. he was a bit embarrassed about being on the demo, and it sounded like his Dad would not approve, if things worked out between him and Zoe.
So he said "There was a girl there who also got arrested, but I don’t know her name."
Mr. Williams seemed happy at that, but still looked annoyed.
"Just tell me in words of one syllable. Why were you there anyway?"
"You’ve got it all wrong. I was not demonstrating. I was just walking past when someone shoved me in the back."
"That’s four."
"Pardon?"
"Four."
"Four what?"
"Syllables. Four syllables in demonstrating. You were supposed to tell me in words of one syllable."
Steven smiled. His Dad was cracking jokes again. It was going to be O.K.
"Walking has two syllables."
"Somebody has three."
"I said someone, not somebody."
The banter continued and father and son were smiling again. They thought it was all over. It wasn’t. It had just started.
Zoe looked up as Steven walked into John’s house. She had just finished telling the story of "The Storming Of The Butcher’s Shop" to six of her friends, one of whom was John’s girlfriend. She had described each part of the story exactly as it happened, without embellishment. The only part that she had omitted was the conversation she had had with Steven in the police station. She had not noticed Steven before that moment. If she had, she was sure she would have remembered his muscular frame, dark eyebrows and shoulder length, dark hair. She had been pleased to find out that he was full of common sense too. He was a vegetarian, a member of Amnesty International, and he had been on several demonstrations for racial equality. He was just the sort of guy she had been hoping to meet at College.
"Here’s the criminal," she bantered as he set himself down on John’s couch.
"Huh! Don’t talk about that. My Dad’s furious."
"Surely he realises that the fight is worth it."
"Oh yes," Steven improvised, "but he hates going to police stations."
"Well it’s about time that people like your Dad confronted the police a bit more and made them stand up for what’s right."
"Of course," said Steven, although he was a little taken aback to find his Dad being criticised. On the other hand, he really really fancied Zoe and didn’t want to upset her. She did have very forthright views.
"Who wants coffee, then?"
John was giving him a strange look. Although Steven didn’t like coffee, he went with John to the kitchen, while the girls chatted in the front room.
"What’s going on?" John demanded.
"Huh?"
"What’s happened to you? Vegetarian? Demonstrations? The demonstration you’ve been on before was when we had to demonstrate our shooting skills and you missed eight penalties out of ten."
"Shhhh! She might hear. Gorgeous, isn’t she? Do you think I’ve got a chance?"
"What, with Zoe Johnson? If you want her. She may have the body of a goddess, but she’s got more gob than my little sister."
They took the coffees into the front room. the girls were debating whether to go to "Kongos", a local club, the following Friday night.
"You’ll come, won’t you Steven?" Zoe asked.
"Of course," he replied. It would be O.K. He would just tell his Dad another white lie. He was seventeen anyway. He didn’t need to explain his every move to his father.
When he got home there was a message pinned to the front door.
"YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN TAKEN TO HOSPITAL"
Zoe’s family lived about three miles from Steven. As he opened the front gate, he was impressed by how tidy the front garden was. The lawn was in good condition; there were no bare patches. There was a beautifully trimmed hedge, but Steven suddenly realised there were no plants. Inside was the same. Every room was very tidy; there was one framed print in each room, the furniture was well kept and in good condition, but there was very little else. There were no ornaments, no magazines, no books, no CDs. In fact there was no sign that anyone lived in the house at all.
Zoe’s parents were very welcoming and immediately gave Steven a cup of coffee. However, while they were waiting for Zoe there were long periods of silence.
Steven felt uncomfortable. Things were getting more and more difficult for him. In order to get Zoe’s attention he had lied to her. In order to avoid a confrontation with his Dad, he had lied to him. Although things were now looking good for him and Zoe, his Dad was ill. The doctors did not know what was wrong. A viral infection they had said. That could mean anything. Steven had visited him every day for the last two weeks and although there had been a gradual improvement, his father was not his normal self. There were no jokes. There was no banter. There was very little talk. Mr. Williams showed no interest in football, in Steven’s news, in anything apart from his own illness. It seemed like his father was missing something. It was like some inner spark had been removed from him. Steven was reminded of a science fiction programme he had watched where some aliens believed that if doctors cut you open to perform surgery, your soul left your body. Well, Mr. Williams had not had an operation, but it seemed like his soul was missing.
"Hello crim!"
"Hello, Zoe."
Zoe’s parents looked at Steven questioningly.
"Steven’s a criminal. We forced open the door of that murderer in the High Street."
Mr. Johnson tried to sound mature, but his face betrayed his pride.
"Now you go carefully, young lady. Just watch your step. Where are you off to tonight?"
"The Rose And Crown," replied Zoe.
Oh! Are we?" asked Steven.
"Yes."
Zoe’s reply left no room for debate, but Steven knew there was no way he was going to the Rose And Crown. His Dad’s friends would be there and they would be clamouring to know the latest news. He hadn’t told Zoe about his Dad’s illness. There was soemthing Steven didn’t like about the way she had dismissed Steven’s account of his Dad’s reaction to coming to the police station. He still really really fancied Zoe and for some reason that he couldn’t rationalise, he didn’t want to crave sympathy from her.
"Why don’t we go the cinema?"
"No."
"Pizza?"
"No."
"I don’t want to go the Rose And Crown."
At least that was honest.
"Why not?"
"Because, because..." Steven switched his brain into overdrive.
"Because the landlord chucked a black couple out of his pub last week."
Now he was NOT being honest.
"What?"
"Didn’t you hear about it?"
"No! That’s disgraceful. We’ll have to go to the Chequers and we’ll organise a boycott of the pub. We’ll need to sort out placards, leaflets….."
What had he started? He had lied about his favourite pub and the whole of his Friday night was going to be taken up with plans for another demonstration. Why couldn’t he simply tell the truth? It always seemed so much easier to lie. He never anticipated the problems that evolved out of his lying. Now he would have to pretend to be interested in all this organising, when what he really wanted to do was organise a way for him and Zoe to become closer. They occasionally held hands, and pecked each other on the lips every now and again, but whenever Steven tried to ‘develop’ things, Zoe didn’t respond. It seemed that every time Steven put his arm around her, she was moved to become even more radical and before he realised what was happening, she was waving her arms around and planning ways to overthrow the government with all thoughts of a proper romantic kiss lost in the welter of words.
Early next morning there was a phone call.
"This is the District Hospital. Your father’s condition has deteriorated. Please come to the Hospital immediately."
"Dad, are you O.K.?"
"Can’t breathe very well son."
"You are going to be all right, though?"
"Yes! Don’t worry. In a week or two, I’ll be up and about. More active than you’ll ever be."
"When I got the message I was worried."
"They tried to phone you last night, but there was no answer."
"I was out."
"Really? I worked that one out myself! Have a good time?"
"Yes! Great!"
First lie today.
"Where were you? The Rose And Crown?"
‘No. I was out with Zoe Johnson - the girl you think is trouble - the girl whose father you think is no good.’
Steven thought afterwards about whether it would have been better if he had said that. How would his Dad have reacted? Would it have made things worse? At the time, he wanted to do everything he could to help his father get better. He didn’t want to upset him. So he didn’t say who he was with. He lied.
"Yes! All your mates were asking after you."
"Ah they’re a good bunch. I’m lucky to have a good set of mates like that. But you know what makes me even luckier? To have a son like you. You know a lot of parents get a load of trouble from their children. Old Graham Harris was telling me about his son - he steals, he cheats, he lies. Can you imagine that? He lies to his own parents! I’m lucky to have a sone like you, Steve. Since your Mum died, you’ve never given me an ounce of trouble. You’ve always told the truth and you’ve been more of a mate to me than all that lot in the Rose And Crown. Thanks Steve."
There was a silence, which Steven could have used to tell the truth about Zoe Johnson. Afterwards, he asked himself if it was really that important. Just a small white lie about a silly girl. It wasn’t Zoe that bothered him. What bothered Steven was that he had betrayed his father’s trust. His father thought he was someone special, but in truth he wasn’t. He lied to suit his own ends. A small lie, but in the end, his own self-interest was more important to him than his relationship with his father. If he had only known that this was the last time he would ever see his father alive, he would have said more than "I’ll be seeing you, then, Dad." He would have said that he loved him. He would have hugged him or done something meaningful. Instead he said "I’ll be seeing you, then, Dad."
That afternoon, Mr. Williams died.
After the funeral, Steven met up with Zoe in the College canteen. She told him how sorry she was. She asked him why he hadn’t told her that his father was ill. He told her the truth. He told her the truth about everything including Amnesty International and bacon sandwiches. But it was too late for the truth. Zoe was shocked to discover the lies that he had told her. She wanted nothing more to do with him. She kissed him on the lips and hugged him and said "I’m sorry, Steven, but you’re not the person I thought you were." Her long dark hair trailed across his face as she left.
She was right. He was a different person to the one he had been with her. He had lied to her. He had lied to his father. The worst thing of all, though, was that he had lied to himself. He had thought that it would be alright to tell a few lies to suit his own ends. He realised now that it wasn’t alright. It was wrong.
When he had lied to Zoe, he had killed his chance of forming a proper his relationship. When he had lied to his father, something else had died. It wasn’t a soul. It was the bond between them. He realised that he had got it all wrong on the demonstration. Mr. Harris was only killing dumb animals.
