Nottingham Young Creatives Compeition - Winner - www.youngcreativeawards.org/hall-of-fame/2024/

The Making of Merrier Men

Taupe. Taupe. Why did Mariane’s hair have to be taupe? 

Robin was sat in physics class. They were learning about the electromagnetic spectrum. They had studied X-rays and gamma-rays, and today it was the turn of visible light which, as far as Robin could see, was the only one worth studying. That said, if he had a broken arm like Hugo in front of him, possibly Robin would also want to learn about X-rays. Robin wouldn’t mind physics if it wasn’t that Mr Collins set them the most pointless exercises. For example, currently, the whole class was scanning classroom objects with their phone cameras to see what shade they were using some vaguely physics-based app which somehow managed to classify itself as ‘educational’ in the Apple Store. It was as educational as Minecraft. At least Minecraft was fun. This activity wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t going to help Robin pass GCSE physics. 

That was when Robin decided he would scan Mariane’s hair. Of course, Robin would never, ever send Mariane the poem he had written about how madly he fancied her – could you imagine the humiliation! – but for his own peace of mind, Robin needed to find a better way of phrasing ‘I love your hair, it is so beautifully brown.’ This counted as English and Physics revision in one, did it not? Alas, Colour Scanner did not provide Robin with the inspiration he had been searching for - ‘Colour match- Taupe’ Robin didn’t even know what taupe meant. It didn’t sound especially romantic. Oh, why couldn’t Mariane be blonde, strawberry blonde, that would fit his poem much better. But of course, he wouldn’t want her to change. Maybe just to notice him a bit more. 

‘What does taupe mean?’ Robin asked John. John knew everything, even though he was only 5ft3. He was living proof that height didn’t correlate with brain capacity. 

‘It’s a shade of brown, isn’t it?’ said John. 

‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘Anything else?’ 

‘I think it’s also a type of French mole.’ Robin sighed and sat back in his chair. He couldn’t compare the luscious locks of his beloved to the fur of a French mole. 

 ‘Has everyone scanned at least one object?’ said Mr Collins. ‘Fabulous. Now, who’d like to share what they found? Let’s start with, let me see, Andriy?’ 

Andriy always sat at the front of the class, next to the door. Despite this, Robin often forgot he was there. Andriy had joined their class a few weeks ago and apart from introducing himself, Robin hadn’t heard him mutter a word. Mr Collins was obviously of the same opinion; it was time for Andriy to be involved. 

Andriy evidently had other ideas. He sat there in silence. Robin exchanged a perplexed look with John. Had Andriy heard Mr Collins? Robin couldn’t see Andriy’s face, but he imagined him staring straight forwards blankly, rabbit in the headlights. 

The class began to mutter. A few kids at the back started to laugh. Robin urged Andriy to say something – anything - in Mr Collins’ classes, the wrong answer was better than no answer. 

‘Come on Andriy,’ said Mr Collins. ‘It was a simple exercise. All you had to do was scan an object and see what colour it was.’

Still no answer. Robin could see Andriy’s head position shift from looking straight ahead, to looking down at the table. 

‘Come on Andriy,’ mocked one of the kids from the back. 

‘I couldn’t complete,’ mumbled Andriy. 

‘You couldn’t complete? This really was a simple exercise, Andriy,’ said Mr Collins. 

‘I don’t have a phone,’ Andriy said. There were chuckles from the back of the class and insulting mimics of Andriy’s accented voice ‘I don’t have a phone, I don’t have a phone,’ they chanted. 

‘Ah, I see, my bad,’ said Mr Collins. ‘How about you share with us something you learnt from your homework then? Researching the uses of X-rays and gamma rays?’

‘I couldn’t complete, I couldn’t complete.’ The chanting started again from the back of the room. It rippled through the desks of students like a heckling Mexican wave. Robin turned to catch sight of the ringleader. It was Dylan – no surprises there. Robin quickly turned around again. 

‘Have you completed the homework?’ asked Mr Collins, more sternly now.

‘No, sir. Sorry,’ answered Andriy. 

‘Sorry!’ sniggered Dylan. The back half of the room cackled and chortled. 

‘Can we have quiet at the back, please? Andriy, stay behind after class. I’d like to have a chat with you.’ 

The jeering didn’t end when the bell rang. As Robin waited for John to pack his stationary meticulously into his pencil case, he heard the jeers and taunts directed at Andriy as the other students filed out, and Andriy remained seated at his desk. The front, corner desk which had previously been unnoticed was now very much the centre of attention. Robin tried to give Andriy a supportive smile as he and John left the room, but Andriy’s eyes were glazed and emotionless. He looked straight forwards, sat in a physics classroom in Nottingham, but Robin got the sense his mind was elsewhere. 

‘Do you think there’ll be a big turnout at chess club today?’ said John as they unlocked their lockers. 

‘Why would there be anymore than usual?’ said Robin. 

‘I don’t know, I’m just making conversation,’ said John. ‘I’ll expect around ten to fifteen then.’ 

‘More like three,’ scoffed Robin. ‘When have we ever had ten to fifteen? We’ve never had anyone but you, I and Will.’ 

‘Honestly, Robin,’ said John, slamming his locker door. ‘What’s got you in such a mood? You were fine earlier.’

‘I just can’t stop thinking about Andriy,’ said Robin. 

‘Andriy?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, do you not think it was unfair how everyone laughed at him in physics? Mr Collins didn’t do anything to stop people mocking him.’

‘Mr Collins doesn’t do anything to stop people mocking me when I point of out the spelling mistakes on the board,’ said John. 

‘That’s different,’ said Robin, rolling his eyes.

‘Maybe we should invite Andriy along to chess club,’ suggested John. ‘As you say, we could do with some more members.’

‘I’m not sure chess is Andriy’s thing,’ said Robin.

‘You were the one that said you felt sorry for him.’

‘Fine, let’s go for lunch and see if we bump into him there.’

*

Just as he did in each classroom, Andriy had his own spot in the lunch hall. Andriy had elected each of these places himself, but with as much voluntariness as an animal giving themselves up for slaughter. Since the moment he set foot in Nottingham, he knew he didn’t belong. The streets teemed with people, always rushing, always with their heads down in their phones. It was so noisy – the cars, the traffic lights, the music bellowing out from the shops. But at least it wasn’t the bombs. The air sirens. The screams of people running for shelter. Andriy knew he should be thankful. He was safe here. He was protected. Yet he felt more alone than he could explain. 

He missed the streets of Kyiv. He missed the colour and architecture, the ornate and beautiful and blessed. Now broken. Andriy forgot sometimes that Kyiv was no longer as it should be. He forgot that the golden domes of the cathedral were now stained black with soot and ash. He forgot that the streets no longer danced to Ukrainian music. He wished he could forget the screams…it was always the screams. 

But Andriy was lucky. He was safe in Nottingham. He and his mum were staying with an elderly couple – Mr and Mrs Langley - who had kindly given up their spare room. Their journey from Ukraine to the UK had been relatively smooth, and the house was nice, the Langleys were friendly, and offered them endless amounts of food and clothes. Andriy had quickly been given a place at a local school, and his mum was working at the shop owned by the Langley’s daughter. It was a florist, and at the end of each week, Andriy’s mum came back to the house with a new bouquet of flowers, given to her by the Langley’s daughter. 

‘We’ve got to live in hope,’ she told him. ‘When these flowers blossom, Ukraine will be a better place.’

Half a dozen bouquets of daffodils and tulips had blossomed and wilted and died, and yet the streets of Ukraine, so far away from here, looked more wounded than ever on the screen on of the Langley’s TV. 

The Langley’s had offered Andriy a phone. They had been adamant he should have everything a typical boy of fifteen would own. Andriy’s mum had quickly declined on Andriy’s behalf.

‘Thank you so much for your offer,’ she had said. ‘But we cannot take more from you than we need.’ The Langleys had insisted, but Andriy’s mum had been adamant. And no one could budge Andriy’s mum when she had her mind made up on something. The Langley’s hospitality was more than enough. 

After the first week, Andriy’s mum returned to the house with a box. 

‘Here,’ she had said, giving the box to Andriy. ‘It’s the most basic type, but I have one too. I have saved my number. It’s important that we can always contact each other if we need.’ Andriy opened the package. It was a basic phone – not even touchscreen – not like the phone he’d had in Ukraine which was now probably smashed and burnt and forgotten under a pile of rubble – but Andriy couldn’t thank his mum enough. 

‘Thank you so much,’ said Andriy. 

‘I don’t ever want to lose connection with you,’ said Andriy’s mum. 

‘Or with dad,’ said Andriy. 

‘Or with dad,’ said Andriy’s mum. ‘We’ll all be together again, one day.’

*

Andriy’s chat with Mr Collins couldn’t have been that long, for he was already sat in the lunchroom when Robin and John entered. 

‘He’s over there,’ said John. 

‘I see him,’ said Robin, walking towards the table. He paused midstride when he saw Dylan and his gang. They were jeering again, shouting something at Andriy while they waited in the lunch queue. It was Dylan’s birthday, and he had a massive box of chocolates and sweets. They were taking it in turns to run up to Andriy and dangle a sweet in front of his face, pretending to offer him it, before running away. One would gauge from their laughs that it was a very amusing game.

‘Come on, boys,’ shouted the dinner lady. ‘Leave the boy alone. What are you wanting? Jacket potato? Burger? You can’t live on chocolates.’ The boys moved on. 

‘Just wait a second,’ said Robin. ‘Check they’re not going back.’

‘What?’ said John. ‘You’re scared of Dylan?’ 

‘I’m not scared of him,’ said Robin. ‘I just don’t want to be too confrontational.’ 

‘But we need extra members for chess club,’ said John. ‘Can’t you see where our priorities should be?’

‘Can’t you see where our priorities should be? Andriy obviously has no friends, and no one’s made any effort to speak to him. He probably feels so alienated.’

‘Stop caring about what Dylan thinks then.’

‘I don’t care about what Dylan thinks.’

‘Or about what Mariane thinks, then,’ said John. Robin sighed. Mariane trudged behind Dylan, at the back of the gang. What she saw in him, Robin didn’t know. Maybe Dylan could write Mariane a romantic poem in which he didn’t compare her hair to the fur of a French mole. 

‘Come on,’ said Robin.

Andriy had finished eating and was sat gazing forwards. Despite this, he still jumped when Robin began to speak. 

‘Hey Andriy, how’s it going?’

No answer. 

‘Hey, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry we haven’t spoken before. I just wanted to check how you were settling in.’ Robin gave a nod to Dylan and his gang in the lunch queue. ‘I know people can be pretty horrible sometimes.’

‘They can,’ added John. ‘You should hear what they called me when I reported Dylan for cheating on the physics mock!’ 

Andriy looked at them, perplexed. 

‘Robin, isn’t it?’ 

‘That’s right.’

‘And John?’ Although lanky, Andriy wasn’t a small boy. He was tall and easily looked his age. His voice, however, sounded smaller. He sounded timid and mouse-like, uncertain of himself, as if meeting his voice for the first time. 

‘Have you ever played chess?’ asked John.

‘Chess?’ 

‘I know chess, yes.’

‘Oh fabulous! I knew he’d play chess. See, Robin. I told you so.’

‘He hasn’t agreed yet,’ said Robin. ‘Would you like to come play with us? It’s just us and our mate, Will, in the history computer room. You’re more than welcome to come and join if you’d like?’

Andriy contemplated for a moment. 

‘When? I must be home straight away tonight. It’s my mum’s birthday.’

‘No, now, at lunchtime.’

‘Ok then.’ 

‘Cool. We’ll just get something to eat, then we’ll see you there. Ten minutes, ok?’

*

Chess was very popular in Ukraine. Andriy had never taken to it, but he knew he couldn’t be particular. These were the only boys to have made any attempt to speak to him and, yes, it had taken several weeks, but still, he knew his mum pined for him to make some friends here. 

‘So, when did you move here?’ asked the other boy. Andriy couldn’t remember his name, was it Will? He wasn’t in any of his classes. 

‘A couple of months ago,’ said Andriy. The time had simultaneously flown and crawled by. It seemed like seconds ago that he awoke in the night to the sound of muffled gunshots – yet not muffled enough – but years since he last looked his dad in the eye. 

‘Where are you from originally?’ said Will, moving his pawn. The other boys exchanged looks of – Andriy couldn’t place it – apprehension, maybe? Did they know? Had they been told from where he had travelled?

‘I’m from Ukraine,’ said Andriy. The boy – Will – didn’t answer back. The other boys didn’t speak either. Andriy felt, for the first time since arriving here, that he had power over the room. They didn’t know what to say. They didn’t want to offend him, or upset him, but equally they didn’t want to dismiss the importance of this revelation. 

‘I’m…sorry,’ said Robin. Andriy nodded. That was what people often said. It was what the Langley’s had said as soon as they had opened the door, before even introducing their names. It was what the shop keeper said as his mum collected groceries, the teachers when he first moved to the school. It was such a simple phrase, yet one which provoked so much for Andriy. He wanted people to be sorry for what was happening to his country, yes, but he didn’t want people to be sorry he was from Ukraine. Ukraine was a wonderful, beautiful country – and still is – Andriy hope everyone knew that. He hoped the images they saw on the television of the fragmented streets and fractured buildings didn’t fully define their perception of his country. 

‘Ukraine is a wonderful country,’ said Andriy. ‘I love Ukraine. I love the people of Ukraine. What is happening to my country it…it isn’t fair…’ Andriy felt his voice crack as he moved his castle. 

‘I’ve never been to Ukraine,’ said Robin. ‘What’s it like?’

‘What’s it like?’ said Andriy. Did he mean the bombed cities and broken homes? The sound of guns and the smell of smoke? Or did he mean before the war. The streets embellished with gold and silver, the monuments and sculptures raised high in the sky? Andriy told them of this version. He told them of the hustle and bustle of the busy streets, the games he used to play with his friends at breaktime, the smell in the kitchen as he returned home from school to his mum’s freshly made borshch. Andriy told them until the bell rang and they had to pack up their game of chess, unfinished. 

‘Are you doing anything for your mum’s birthday?’ asked Robin, as he dropped the carved pieces into the drawstring bag. Andriy shuck his head. 

‘We don’t have enough money to do anything special, and mum doesn’t want to take more from the Langley’s than we need. She hasn’t even told them it’s her birthday, in case they buy her a cake or something. In Ukraine, we’d always have massive parties for birthdays. Mum had loads of friends, and they’d all come to our house. We’d all sing Mnohaya Lita  and eat so much food – varenyky and  zirochki and yabluchnyk. There’d be balloons and presents and so much singing and clapping.’ Andriy paused for a breath. The thought of it all filled him with excitement, and then sadness. ‘I haven’t even got my mum a present this year,’ he said. 

‘That’s not your fault,’ said Robin. 

‘Come on,’ said Andriy. ‘We’ll be late for the next class.’ 

*

‘I didn’t realise Andriy was from Ukraine,’ said Will to Robin and John, as they entered the changing rooms for PE. 

‘Me neither,’ admitted Robin. ‘Did we get told? Maybe I’d forgotten.’

‘No,’ said John, hanging his blazer on the peg. ‘We wouldn’t have forgotten. No one told us.’ 

‘I can’t imagine having to leave everything like that,’ said Robin. 

‘It’s dreadful, isn’t it?’ said Will. ‘I mean, you see it on the TV, but it seems so much more real knowing its actually happened to someone we know.’ Robin nodded. With every word Andriy had said, guilt had gripped him tighter. He shouldn’t have let Dylan make fun of him. Regardless of Andriy’s background, Robin should’ve stood up to Dylan. He should’ve spoken to Andriy sooner. Robin wished there was something he could do. 

PE was a sombre affair. Neither Robin, nor John, nor Will were particularly gifted athletically. Where most boys ran towards the ball, Robin had developed a habit of running away from it. Initially, this had been due to lack of sporting prowess, but the behaviour now persisted for the sake of self-preservation. Being hit by a football / rugby ball / even a ping-pong ball hurt, and it was a risk Robin was no longer willing to take. 

‘Right lads,’ said Mr O’Donnell, the PE teacher. ‘Hockey today. Has everyone got their mouth guards?’ He walked up and down like an army officer, boys bearing their protected teeth at him in alliance. 

‘Andriy,’ called Mr O’Donnell. ‘Where is your mouthguard?’

‘I don’t have one, sir,’ Andriy replied. 

‘I don’t have one, sir,’ mocked Dylan. 

‘You can’t play without a mouthguard,’ said Mr O’Donnel. ‘Get yourself one sorted for next week, please.’

‘Have you heard that, Andriy?’ scoffed Dylan from behind his hand, quiet enough for the icy breeze to prevent Mr O’Donnell from hearing him. 

Andriy didn’t say anything. He looked at the floor. 

‘Andriy? Did you hear me?’ Andriy nodded. 

‘Inside then,’ said Mr O’Donnell. ‘Go and get changed, and turn up with full kit next week, please.’ Mr O’Donnell’s phone rang. ‘Hang on a second, boys.’

Mr O’Donnell turned and walked to the side of the pitch to take the call. Dylan took his chance. As Andriy began to walk off the pitch, Dylan began to roll hard hockey balls towards him, one after another after another. He started rolling them, but then the other boys joined in. They started to roll them more vigorously, throwing them, towards Andriy. Andriy started to run. The balls were like bullets, chasing him, he ran as fast as he could…he had to get away…

‘What are you doing?’ said Robin. 

‘What are we doing?’ laughed Dylan. ‘We’re playing hockey. Or bowling. It’s a mixture.’ Robin shuck his head. 

‘You’re horrible. All of you.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ said Dylan. The other boys laughed supportively behind him. Robin’s mouth twitched. Mr O’Donnell was still on the phone. Robin ran off the pitch, after Andriy. 

‘That’s right,’ shouted Dylan. ‘Run away. Run after your little friend.’ 

But upon entering the changing rooms, it wasn’t Andriy that Robin bumped into. It was Mariane. Quite literally. 

‘Woah,’ she shouted, as Robin ran straight into her. 

‘Sorry, sorry, Mariane.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Mariane. ‘I’ve just been hit by a netball, being ran into is no big deal.’

‘Are you ok?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘Have you seen Andriy?’ asked Robin. Mariane looked at the floor. 

‘I’ve just seen him running into the changing rooms, crying.’

‘Ahh,’ Robin said, shaking his head. 

‘Was it Dylan?’

‘Yes. I know he probably doesn’t realise Andriy’s from Ukraine, but he shouldn’t be like that to anyone.’

‘Andriy’s from Ukraine?’

‘Yes,’ replied Robin.

‘I…I didn’t know,’ said Mariane. Her face was a picture of guilt. 

‘Me neither, until earlier today,’ said Robin. ‘I feel awful. He was telling me earlier about how it’s his mum’s birthday, and how he feels guilty about not getting her a present. I can’t imagine that even being on my mind, if I knew my country was being torn apart by war. He seems like a nice lad; we should have made a better effort to speak to him’. Robin paused. ‘Speak to him nicely, I mean.’ Mariane looked away, skittishly. 

‘I don’t want to be involved in what Dylan’s doing. I don’t like the way he acts. I…don’t like him anymore at all, for that matter.’ 

‘Does he know that?’ said Robin. Mariane’s mouth twitched. 

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But he will soon. It’s his birthday party tonight, but I’d already decided I wasn’t going. I wasn’t going to tell him – it’ll humiliate him when I don’t show up. The way he’s acted today just confirms I’ve made the right decision. He’s a horrible person. End of.’ Robin nodded. He’d never seen this side to Mariane. He saw her as the popular, pretty one, so very out of reach. He hadn’t put her down as the fierce, opinionated one. Oh, this only made him like her more. 

‘One second,’ said Mariane, nipping into the changing rooms. ‘Give Andriy these. It was going to be my present for Dylan, but he shan’t be getting it anymore.’ Dylan opened the envelope. A voucher for a three-course meal for two at a local restaurant. 

‘Are you sure?’ said Robin. 

‘Definitely,’ said Mariane. ‘And if you want a chocolate?’ She opened the lid of the chocolate box Dylan had been selectively offering around earlier. 

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ said Dylan. ‘Can I take one for Andriy too?’

‘Sure,’ said Mariane. ‘In fact,’ she closed the lid. ‘Take the whole box. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Dylan doesn’t know it was you that took them.’ Robin smiled.

‘Thanks, Mariane.’

‘My pleasure,’ she said. ‘Andriy went into that changing room, by the way.’

‘Ah, of course,’ Robin replied. He couldn’t help but notice the glimmer in her eye as she smiled at him. He was sure she’d not looked at him that way before. 

*

‘Andriy! You shouldn’t have bought this for me!’ said Andriy’s mum, as Andriy handed her the vouchers. 

‘I didn’t,’ Andriy confessed. ‘A friend gave me them, mum. A friend I made at school today.’

‘A friend? Oh, Andriy, that is the best gift you could’ve given me, the news that you have a friend. How kind of him. What’s his name?’

‘Robin,’ said Andriy. 

‘Ah, like Robin Hood!’ said Andriy’s mum. Andriy laughed.

‘I guess so.’

‘You must invite him round for dinner so I can thank him. He would come?’

‘Definitely. And the others- Mariane and John and Will too.’

‘Oh fabulous! A full house! It will be just like home!’

‘Just like home,’ Andriy repeated. 

He looked at the bouquet of flowers, fresh, on the windowsill. Maybe this time, things would get brighter before they began to wilt.