Harkness – MacGillivray Stories

Our house in York Avenue had three bedrooms. We were a family of six, with two parents and four brothers. Naturally, two of the bedrooms were shared by us four boys. I shared a bedroom with my eldest brother Sandy. Despite having our own disagreements, we somehow found a way to peacefully coexist. I was still very young and had just started school. Yet, I can tell you with great confidence that I had already mastered the art of impressing the girl next door with small gifts.

There was this one moment that stood out among the rest not only to me but to my family. On that day, my mother was probably out getting groceries or whatever other things she went out of the house for. I took this golden opportunity to filch a large tin of biscuits from the kitchen pantry. It wasn’t because I was a greedy little boy; I wanted to impress Jane, the little girl who lived next door. I was about five, while she was about four years old. 

We sat on the back steps of the house and ‘engaged in an orgy’ — an eating orgy. We devoured every single one of those biscuits, savouring the taste, and smacking our lip. In the end, we gratifyingly stared at each other. It was quite a feast for us little kids! 

At night, as I was asleep next to my sleeping brother Sandy, I woke up feeling a little queasy. Out of the blue, nausea started to sneak into my belly; I immediately knew that the tens of biscuits were the culprits. 

I looked over to Sandy’s back facing me. After eating all of the family biscuits in one go, throwing up and revealing the evidence were the last things I wanted to happen. With all the energy I could muster, I managed to lean over to Sandy’s side of the bed and emptied my stomach on his side. Almost immediately, as if I hadn’t done anything wrong, I went right back to ‘sleep’. 

Of course, it didn’t take long for Sandy to wake up as he undoubtedly became aware of the sickly and acrid-smelling ‘gift’ I had ‘sent’ him. He woke me up (I was just ‘feigning’ sleep); and pointed at the vomit on his side of the bed. Of course, my face was one of innocence and surprise. Already, at that young age, I had learnt the tricks of deceit. To cut a long story short, when I woke up that same morning, Sandy had cleaned the bed and we never spoke about it. 

Days later, at breakfast, my mother asked what had happened to the tin of biscuits in the pantry, giving each of her children in turn an accusing look. There was silence. Sandy, without looking up, ratted out that I had ate all of them, got crazy sick in the middle of the night, and vomited all over his side of the bed. Everyone burst into laughter until my mother became serious. She said I deserved what happened to me for being a sneaky, selfish thief, and hoped that I had learned my lesson.

Perhaps she was right. This was the kind of lesson that you can only learn from the innocence and naivety of childhood. I wonder whether Jane also learned the same lesson that I did that day?