My Best Moment
Ever
by Neil Ferguson
You must be
wondering how my dad, a senior sales executive
with a new Audi in the garage, ended up in gaol
and is no doubt baffling the prison psychiatrists
as we speak. Well, it all began when I was gazing
out of the window and spotted a burglar breaking
into our neighbours’ house.
I should have
said something but can you imagine the situation
that would have arisen if I had made a mistake?
My dad would just about hold it together until
the police had gone and then allow his
instability full rein. I decided to investigate
for myself.
I tip-toed
downstairs and went to the shed to collect a
hammer. If the burglar saw me, I would lash out
and run home. I slipped inside our neighbours’
gate and crouched inside a bush. When the burglar
reappeared, I realised that it was Mr Overton. I
stood up in the bush and said, “Hello Mr
Overton your son Mike goes to my school,”
He looked
surprised.
“What are
you doing here?”
“Just
looking round Mr Overton.”
His grip
tightened on my school tie, “You thieving
little toe-rag. What do you do?
Sheds and
garages?” I nodded in agreement but there
was a hint of menace when he said, “So where
are your tools?”
I showed him
the hammer.
“Absolutely
useless!” he said. “You need bolt
cutters. What do they teach in schools
these days? It’s not common sense, is it?
He shook his
head pityingly and handed me a bag. “These
will be worth a few quid.”
We shook hands
and he disappeared among the shadows.
I really like
Mr Overton. I never have a proper talk like that
with my dad.
I stopped off at the shed to put the hammer back
and saw that the bag contained some medals. I hid
them in a drawer but the next morning my dad
appeared clutching my bag.
“Judith,”
he said, “What are these medals doing in the
shed?”
My mother said,
“How do I know? They were probably your
father’s. We still have a box of his stuff
in the garage.”
“I
thought my sister got his medals when he died.”
“Well
obviously not,” she said, bristling with
irritation. “Put them back in the shed”.
My father
obeyed.
When the
police came to search the surrounding gardens,
they found my medals in the shed. My father
explained that they belonged to my grandfather
but one of the police officers said, “I don’t
think so sir,” and grabbed his arm.
My dad was
furious. He twisted and turned and the constable
fell backwards on to our kitchen table. It
collapsed and sent him sprawling on the floor. My
dad laughed nervously and was promptly handcuffed
and taken away in the police car.
Last week, I
went to our school prize-giving. Mr Overton was
there. I said, “Hello dad!” and then
blushed furiously. “I mean hello Mike’s
dad”. He winked at me and whispered, “I’ll
take you out one night and teach you a few things”
and then he gave me a pretend punch on the jaw.
Some kids from my class were watching.
It was the
best moment in my whole life.
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