The last car full of yelling children, pulled away. Mum hadn’t arrived, again. The duty teacher had her back to Billy and was talking to a parent holding a small child. Billy slipped away down the road to his favourite hiding place. Only Mum knew where it was.
On the corner of School Road there was a large green metal box. Something to do with ‘lectricity, Billy thought. It was surrounded by bushes, but if you knew which bush to go behind there was a space in front of the box. It was like a cave. It felt safe. Billy liked to hide there while he waited for Mum. The green box was warm to lean against, and it hummed a faint tune to Billy.
Through gaps in the bushes Billy could see down the road all the way to the corner. He could watch every car that came along the road and see if any stopped at the school. He was a spy, or a lookout, or perhaps a soldier. Best of all, there were no grownups asking questions Billy didn’t know how to answer.
Don’t tell them where we live Billy. Pretend you can’t remember the address. Just tell them we have a nice flat and you have a nice bedroom - all of your own. Never tell them the name of any of my men friends. Got it?
Yes Mum.
Mum didn’t have a car but knew heaps of men who did. Billy had to watch very closely to see if Mum was in any car that came along the road. Perhaps today, Dad might collect him. Billy always hoped that would happen, but he hadn’t seen Dad for a long time. He screwed up his eyes and tried to remember what Dad’s car looked like. Black, shiny, noisy, he remembered. He screwed up his eyes even harder as he tried to remember Dad’s face. But it was blurry. He wished he had a photo of Dad, but Mum had thrown them all out.
"Billy, Billy, come out of there," a voice said.
"Dad?"
No, it was a woman’s voice, "Mum?"
He opened his eyes and saw through the bushes the figure of Mrs Lawrence, the deputy head teacher. How did she know he was there?
"Come out Billy, hurry, it’s getting late."
Billy crawled out from behind the bushes and Mrs Lawrence held out her hand and helped him to his feet. "Mum late picking you up again?" she asked.
"I guess so, Miss," he replied. Mrs Lawrence must have seen the tears in his eyes and gave him a quick hug. It felt good, she was soft and smelled nice.
"Come back to my office and we’ll see what we can do."
They walked together into the school. The corridors were empty, and the lights were out.
"Take a seat Billy. Are you hungry?"
"A little," Billy replied.
All he had eaten that day was a sandwich a teacher had given him at lunchtime. Billy was sitting by himself away from the other kids, they all had kai, and he hated lunch times when he had nothing. Also, the kids teased him and called him - smelly Billy, and worse.
A teacher returning from the dairy just outside the school gates had said as he passed Billy, "I’ve bought too many sandwiches, help me out and have this one, Billy." Teachers often seemed to buy more lunch than they could eat.
"Here you are." Mrs Lawrence came back into the office and gave Billy a glass of milk and three chocolate biscuits. "Do you have Mum’s phone number?"
"No Miss, Mum lost her phone a few weeks ago."
"Where are you living now?"
"I’m not sure."
"I’ll ring your aunt," said Mrs Lawrence with a sigh, picking up her telephone.
Billy nodded; he was afraid of Aunt Rachel. She was big, noisy, and always in a hurry.
By the time Billy had finished all the chocolate biscuits, Aunt Rachel had arrived. She swept into the deputy-head’s office like a gust of wind. She didn’t knock first like everyone else.
"My useless sister not picked you up again, Billy?"
"Yes, Auntie."
"This is the third time in as many months," Mrs Lawrence said. "And most days it’s well after 3pm."
"I know," said Aunt Rachel.
"I was wondering about getting in touch with the social worker again."
"I’ll try again to sort something out with my sister. The social worker has changed. Leave it with me," said Aunt Rachel.
"Thanks for coming," said Mrs Lawrence.
"Well, it’s family, you have to. He’s a good kid." Aunt Rachel put her arm around Billy. "Come on hurry, I’ve got food cooking at home."
"Yes Auntie."
They drove to Auntie’s house in silence, although Billy kept seeing her look at him, as if she was trying to make up her mind about something. She wrinkled her nose a couple of times. Billy hoped he didn’t smell too much.
"You can have a bath while I finish cooking tea, Billy. Also leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll wash them and hopefully they’ll dry overnight. No member of my family is leaving here in the morning in clothes that dirty."
Billy enjoyed a hot bath. Aunt Rachel came in and vigorously washed his hair.
"I hope you don’t have nits," she said.
Later, dressed in Cousin Mike’s old pyjamas and a roomy old dressing gown, he ate the biggest and best meal he could ever remember.
Uncle Max joked and laughed with him, and Cousin Mike let him play on his Xbox.
If Dad didn’t return home soon, Billy wished he could live with Auntie Rachel. She wasn’t really scary once you got used to her. Mum told him never to go there unless she told him to.
She’s too damn nosey by half. Stay away from there. Don’t talk to any of your cousins you see at school or in the streets. If she asks if I am seeing any men, tell her you don’t know. You haven’t seen any. Got it?
Yes, Mum.
He slept well that night in a bed with snow white sheets that smelt of washing powder. Auntie Rachel fed him a big, cooked breakfast of baked beans. Fart food, Cousin Mike had called it. She also handed him a lunchbox full of sandwiches and fruit.
"I spoke to your Mum late last night. She’s promised to pick you up at 3pm today, without fail."
"Thank you, Auntie."
"So, you found her?" asked Uncle Max, who was giving Billy a ride to school. "I was asleep when you got home."
"Yeah, third pub I tried. I told her what I thought of her."
"Probably a waste of breath," muttered Uncle Max.
Auntie just raised her eyebrows and didn’t say anything.
Billy had a good day at school. Usually, the teacher let him sleep in class in the afternoon but today he was wide awake all day, and he was one of the few kids in the class to correctly answer all the math questions. Most afternoons he had a sick feeling in his stomach just before bell time. But not today. Mum had promised Auntie Rachel, she would pick him up at 3 o’clock, and no one messed with Auntie Rachel.
At lunchtime he had joined the other kids eating lunch on the seats outside their classroom. He had showed the boy next to him his lunch.
"I’ve got heaps of food today," he said.
The other boy just shrugged his shoulders, "What’s so special about that," he asked.
"I dunno," Billy replied.
Just before the three o’clock bell when Mrs Lawrence gave out certificates his name was called out and he got one with a gold star on it.
"Really good work today," said Mrs Lawrence, giving Billy a big smile. The kids in the class all clapped their hands and he felt so proud.
Billy couldn’t wait to show Mum. He ran out to the gate and was one of the first to get there. Mum wasn’t there but she wouldn’t be long. She had promised Auntie Rachel.
Later, when most of the kids had gone from outside the school gates and before the duty teacher noticed him and asked questions, Billy went to his secret place to wait. He kept watch down the road. He held the certificate carefully. He didn’t want it to get dirty or creased.
It was getting too dark to read the words on the certificate, but Billy knew them by heart. He could still see the glinty gold star, if he looked hard.
"I got a certificate for ex…excel...lence in maths today," Billy told the warm, green box.
It hummed in friendly approval. Billy waited.
Judge, Lee Murray's comments: In “Billy’s Place”, the author packs a lot into their requisite 1500 words, the story covering 24 hours in the life of a small boy neglected by his alcoholic mother, who can barely remember his father, and who slips through the well-meaning attempts of the people who might help: his teachers, his aunt, and even his classmates.
Told from the perspective of an unreliable child narrator, the strength of the story is not simply in its razor-sharp depiction of its characters, but also in its artful plotting, which returns full circle by the end of the piece, highlighting the cruel futility of Billy’s situation. Discerning readers can see it coming, perfectly foreshadowed without Billy’s being aware, with the denouement bizarrely satisfying in its completeness.
Without ever being on scene, Billy’s mother comes into full focus as internal monologues in Billy’s head, in the whispered comments of his aunt and uncle on the ride to school, and in the sighs of the deputy head teacher.
I have no idea if this story has been plucked from the author’s lived experience, or if it’s something they might have observed, perhaps as a teacher or social worker, nevertheless it reads to me as authentic and plausible, peppered with believable dialogue and keen imagery. I truly hope Billy doesn’t have nits and that he gets a proper lunch tomorrow.
As uncomfortable as this story is to read, as much as we would like to look away, the Billys of our country need us to pay heed to this important and provocative narrative.