The Goalkeeper's Revenge by Bill Naughton

Author:Bill Naughton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1959-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

I slept badly that night. Next morning when I was on my way to school Harry Finch called out, “He’s here, Mum!”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” he said.

“Heard what?” I said.

“Waldo the Lion-tamer has been badly mauled by that wild lion. It’s on the front page of the Dispatch. I told me mum an’ she wants to ask you about it.”

Out came Mrs Finch with her spectacles on and the Dispatch in her hand. “Ee, luv, they says he’s in a critical condition—”

“Let’s have a look, please,” I said to Mrs Finch. It was true. The lion had mauled him! I gave her the paper back. “I’m not surprised,” I said, “the way that lion went at him. It clawed the blinking shirt off his back. He could hardly hold it at bay with his whip, an’ a woman with a revolver was about to shoot it.”

“Ee, suffering Simon! An’ did you see all that?”

“ ’Course I did. Your Harry had a coconut instead.”

By this time a few neighbours were at their doors, and when I went off there was a crowd of lads all wanting to hear about Waldo and Nero. I described the powerful physique of Waldo, and the beauty of the woman with the revolver, and told of the wild roaring lion that tried to claw at me through the bars. The school whistle made us run, but in the classroom they began to whisper questions to me. Teacher told me to stop talking.

“Please, miss,” said Harry, “it isn’t his fault. He was telling me about seeing Waldo the Lion-tamer all but torn to bits last night.”

“Is that the person who was so severely mauled?” she asked. “Then you’d better come in front and tell us all.”

I went to the front of the classroom and began. “The lion was making furious deep-throated roars even before Waldo attempted to get into the cage. And when it caught sight of him in his blue silk shirt it went into a fury. I was very close to the cage, and when its huge body hit the bars it made the whole tent shudder. The roars were bloodcurdling.”

Suddenly the class door opened and in came Mr Victor, the headmaster. I was going back to my place, but he called me out again. “Oh, I must hear this—please continue.”

I began all over again, adding any new bits that came to mind, when suddenly there was a knock on the door and a monitor ushered in Major Piatt, the Inspector of Schools.

“I’m afraid I’ve interrupted something,” he said.

“Not at all, Major,” said Mr Victor hurriedly. “It just happens that this boy was present at the fairground performance last evening when the lion-tamer was so badly mauled.”

“My goodness, I must hear this!” exclaimed Major Piatt. All three of them sat down, and I stepped back a foot to stand on the teacher’s platform. I felt in fine form.

“After three attempts to enter the cage the lady with the pearl-handled revolver tried to dissuade the Great Waldo, but he refused to give up, and I heard him say: ’The show must go on.

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