The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin Page B

his class.
    Geoff was not so fortunate; he eventually entered the principal’s office after a long, nervous wait in the corridor. At the front of his mind was,
Have we been bubbled, has someone reported our escapade in the town?
    He stood in front of the principal’s highly polished desk. Mr. Tattersall looked up, smiled to acknowledge him, and then carried on reading a letter in his hand. Geoff relaxed a little; Tattersall didn’t seem agitated, as he would have been if he was aware of where they had been and what they had been up to that afternoon.
    He looked around and was amazed by the vast number of leather-bound books that lined all the walls from floor to ceiling, but the message that the principal, Eric Tattersall, passed on to him a few seconds later, quickly brought him back to earth. ‘Larkin!’ started Mr. Tattersall, in order to get the boy’s attention, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news that I received this afternoon about a member of your family.’
    He stopped, looking at the frail young man, hardly more than a boy, standing nervously in front of him.
    â€˜Your mother, who as you know was very ill, passed away early this morning.’ Mr. Tattersall hesitated again and then continued, ‘You have my deepest condolences. My staff and I will do our utmost to help you through this most difficult time. Arrangements will be made for the funeral by the appropriate authorities and, of course, transport will be provided for you to attend this service.’
    The rest of what the principal had to say, even though he could see the principal’s lips moving; to Geoff was just a distant muffled sound, and was not registering on his shocked brain. He left the principal’s study in a dream, after managing to mumble his thanks to Mr. Tattershall.
    He had never been very close to his mother but she was all that he’d known. Of course there had been problems but she hadn’t treated him like his father. He found he couldn’t cry, there were no tears, he went back to the only friends he had, the Bolton brothers.
    That night lying on his bunk he reflected on his past. The few happy times were those he’d spent with the old tramp, Sir Reginald, the bad times he preferred to blank from his mind. In six months’ time he would be eighteen. He would then leave the detention centre for good and from then on he would be expected to make his own way in the outside world.
    Several days later, he entered the taxi that had called at the school to collect him, taking him to the local cemetery to bury his mother. He missed the lecture that the principal gave at the morning assembly about how all the students should respect their teachers’ belongings. He would not tolerate any form of abuse to his staff or their possessions, any culprits being caught disobeying these rules would be severally dealt with by him personally.
    There were very few people at the funeral which was being held at the local crematorium. There was the vicar who attended the nursing home; he also conducted the service, several of the bearers from the funeral parlour and two old ladies from a local charity who visited the nursing home on a regular basis, plus the superintendent of the home.
    It was the superintendent who afterwards approached Geoff to ask if he would like to look at his mother’s few personal belongings, in the event of him wanting to keep any of the items.
    His mother’s room in the nursing home was small but tidy. It had a single bed, a small dressing table with a fitted swivel mirror above, a built-in wardrobe in the corner of the room and a comfortable armchair. He noticed there were no clothes or shoes in the room but there was a strong smell of disinfectant. There were only a few magazines in a brown, cardboard box along with several cheap trinkets, a photograph, going brown at the edges, of a man standing, a women sat on a chair in front of him and a four or