‘What did ya say, ya little maggot?’ Kelly spat back. Paul was bolder now, foolishly showing courage because he was the conker champion.
‘Why can’t you take your beating?’ he repeated forcefully.
Bang! Paul’s head took the powerful blow from Kelly and he could immediately taste the blood. Kelly then pushed him hard in the chest, knocking him off balance. Paul had no defence as Johnny jumped on him. But he wasn’t punching him. He was scrambling around Paul’s pockets.
‘What are you doing?’ Paul croaked. Then he realised that Kelly was after the conker.
‘A 32-er is it? A 32-er?’ Then he had it! ‘What does it feel like, Brennan? Does it hurt? Who is the King of the Conkers now?’ Kelly bellowed, as he lashed out at Paul with the conker.
Then he turned to the wall, and started hammering it off it, cursing and swearing all the while. Paul picked himself up and started shuffl ing away. Kelly had forgotten about him but Paul waited just long enough to know it took a lot of cracks – at least twenty – to fi nally break the champion conker.
Paul couldn’t hide his swollen and bloody lip from his parents. He was refusing to say a word and his mother was in a terrible frenzy in the kitchen.
‘Who did it? Why did they do it? I’m ringing the school!’ His father sat motionless in the corner. ‘Anne, can you boil the kettle, please?’ he said calmly.
Now Paul wasn’t sure what had him in more discomfort: the pain from the punch or his father’s calmness about it. His mother was still fussing over him while his father continued to muse in the corner, tapping his fi ngers on the arm of the chair. When his mother went rooting in the back kitchen for cotton wool and Dettol, Paul’s father fi nally spoke again.
‘What happened?’
‘Johnny Kelly attacked me because I’m the King of the Conkers. He stole my champion conker and broke it off the wall.’
The pain from his mouth and the intensity of his father’s stare were starting to get too much for Paul, and tears began to sting his eyes.
‘He’s just jealous because I beat him today even though he tried to cheat. Sore loser, that’s all he is. I’m the best’. Paul’s father was silent for a moment. Then he spoke.
‘I had a 212-er, son. I was the envy of the parish. I defeated all challengers for six Octobers running until I retired it, undefeated. My biggest rival was Seanie Kelly, Johnny’s father. Our match was usually to decide the champion and he never once beat me in six years. We never came to blows over it though. He was often frustrated, but we respected the game. If
150 FIRE & ICE 1
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