Mr Clement - John Jones (best reads .txt) 📗

said, pointing an accusing finger. Clement didn’t look up straight away. Instead, he slowly put down his cup in its saucer, then looked up at Lee. There was no recognition on his face.

“I don’t suppose you remember me do you?” Lee continued. “I was just another kid for you to hit with your stick. Well let’s see you try it now”. With his left hand, Lee leaned on the table and pointed his finger a few inches from Clement’s face.

“The amount of pain you caused me, and all the other innocent kids who didn’t deserve it. You should have been bloody locked up. I ought to take that walking stick and break it over your face”. After a few seconds, Clement said:

“Don’t you dare point your finger at me, little boy”.

“Little boy? Who are you calling a little.…?” he stopped, and slowly stood back up straight. A slight wave of fear had swept through him, and he frowned. Clement grabbed his walking stick and slowly got to his feet. He twisted it around and pointed it at Lee.

“You come round here, while I’m having a quiet drink, disturbing me. How dare you? How dare you?” The fear surged through Lee’s veins. He downcast his eyes to the table.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry sir”. Oh my God, he thought. I just called him sir. Why did I do that? His face flushed red, and the embarrassment and fear became one.

“I remember you,” said Clement. “Little troublemaker. And I’m guessing that you still are. Which hand did I break?”

“L-left sir”. Oh my….I said it again, he thought. By now a few people had stopped nearby, and were watching. Some slowly did other things whilst looking over.

“Hold out your right,” Clement said. Lee struggled not to. “I said, hold out your right,” Clement shouted. Lee’s right hand shot out. Clement raised his walking stick, and brought it crashing down. He cracked two bones, and Lee yelled out in pain. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his hand.

“That’s for disturbing me” Clement said. Lee clambered up into a seat at the table. Clement struck him across the head with the stick.

Lee yelled out again. “Sorry,” he cried.

“That’s for embarrassing me in front of everyone”.

“I won’t do it again sir, I promise”.

“Damned right you won’t, boy”. He then struck him on the head again, a little harder. Lee screamed. A trickle of blood streamed past his left eye.

“That was for….er. That was for”. Clement looked around for a few seconds, and saw that there was still tea left in the cup.

“That was for making me leave a perfectly good drink”. Clement pointed the stick at Lee again.

“I’d better not be disturbed by you again, boy, understand?” Lee nodded.

“Yes, sir, sorry sir”. Clement nodded, spun around, and slowly limped away, using the stick to help him walk. Lee leaned forward, his forehead touching the table, clutching his throbbing hand. He could not have known that the power of authority figures was still a dominant force within him, and as it was embedded at an early age, these figures still held influence over him. Schoolchildren see teachers in this way, and because the young mind is so impressionable, it did not fade in Lee, and nor would it have in many children. Mr Clement did not know it either, but reacted to Lee’s responses, proving that Lee, even in adulthood, still did as he was told by the people he was brought up with as authority figures.

 

After five minutes, he felt a tapping on his shoulder, and he slowly looked up through teary eyes to see Ray holding a ten-pound note towards him.

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Publication Date: 11-08-2021

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