Puffing Billy

“C’mon Billy, don’t just stand there!” shouted Mr Jones, the games teacher. “You’ve got to run for the ball if you want possession! Move, will you? Your team mates need your help back in their own penalty area.”

It was the same old complaint. Billy would have liked to be good at football, but he couldn’t get himself going. His classmates called him ‘Puffing Billy’ after the world’s first-ever steam locomotive, built in 1814, which pulled coal trucks in Northumberland. Puff – pant – puff – pant, just like that ancient engine; poor Billy just couldn’t build up any speed. Too many chips and pizza, his grandma used to say. He hated it when Mr Jones got the class together and asked two captains to pick teams. He was always second to last, with only Weedy Willy Wilson left after him.

Billy got a lift to school with his friend John, whose mum drove past on her way to work, but he walked home on his own. His route took him past a row of houses with interesting gardens. The last one contained a family of gnomes. Through the tears that dribbled down Billy’s cheeks, he thought he could see a head turning. As he looked closely at the gnome’s kind, elderly face and long, snowy beard, he heard a quiet voice whisper, “Now then, young man, what’s wrong?”

Billy noticed the mischievous twinkle in the gnome’s eyes, then told him all about his miseries on the football field. The gnome seemed genuinely sad for him, and said, “Well, well, we’ll have to do something about this, won’t we now. But it’s nothing a little taste of chocolate won’t fix, to be sure!”

And with that, he handed Billy a small parcel wrapped in leaves. Inside were twelve large chocolate buttons.

“Now, son, be sure to eat these an hour before you next play,” said the gnome. “And don’t you give them away, mind. See you again soon!”

When Billy woke the next morning, he was convinced he’d been dreaming. But sure enough, the leaves were there on his dressing table, just where he’d put them. He knew that most of the boys in his class were playing in Montague park after school, so he packed the parcel into his school bag along with his boots…

-o-O-o-

“Hey, Billy, great tackle! You’ve speeded up so much, you aren’t Puffing Billy but an express train today!”

“Billy – there you are, run onto it. Well taken. Great cross!”

“All yours, Billy – hey, that’s a smashing goal!”

Billy just couldn’t believe the difference twelve little chocolate buttons could make. How wonderful to be praised and admired by his classmates instead of being their laughing-stock! And how good he felt inside, to feel his body moving with energy and purpose. He couldn’t wait to play again.

But the following day, he knew the magic had worn off. Walking home from school, his legs felt like lumps of lead. It was just as well that the elderly gnome was watching out for him. Billy told him his good news, but then his face clouded over.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” replied the gnome. “That’s why I’ve got some more chocolate for you.”

Billy’s life had begun to change. He looked forward to training with his classmates, who were a lot more friendly towards him. He quickly learnt to pass the ball, to blend in with his teammates, to keep his position and to tackle cleanly. And it wasn’t long before Mr Jones noticed his amazing improvement. Indeed, Billy couldn’t believe it when he found he’d been selected to play in midfield in next Wednesday’s game against Heath Manor Junior School.

Of course, every day he passed his old friend the gnome on his way home, and whenever football was due the next day he picked up another package of buttons. He never forgot to say ‘thank you’.

On Tuesday afternoon, Billy visited the gnome as always and collected his chocolate. Tuesday evening was Cubs, so he got changed and left his clothes and belongings in his room. He arrived home at half past 8, to find that Mum had been in, and had moved his belongings. Oops – he’d just had an awful thought…

“Mum, where’ve you put my trousers?” asked Billy. “There was something special in the pocket that I wanted.”

“Well, I did find a few dirty leaves in there,” said Mum, “with a few disgusting-looking chocolate buttons inside. I’m afraid I threw them away and put your trousers to wash.”

“Oh Mum!” cried Billy, “They were very special buttons. It sounds silly, but I can’t play football without them!”

Mum looked very puzzled, but said, “I’m so sorry Billy, but they’re right at the bottom of the compost bin. Dad’s emptied it out tonight and turned the bin over. You can’t get them out now. Oh, and…” she added, “your trousers seem rather loose around your waist for some reason…”

Billy was beyond distraught. He grabbed his coat, dashed out of the house despite Mum’s protests, and arrived at the garden where his gnome lived. Alas, all the gnomes – including his special friend – stared with a fixed gaze exactly as you’d expect of a stone object.

Billy hardly slept that night. He had visions of turning out for the school, and becoming Puffing Billy all over again. Imagine the jeers, the ribbing for weeks afterwards. He made up his mind to invent an excuse to say he couldn’t play. He practiced walking with a limp…

The following morning passed miserably, with Billy going over and over the conversation he was about to have with Mr Jones. At lunchtime, he pretend-limped his way up the corridor to the staff room. Shaking like a leaf, he plucked up courage and knocked on the door. It opened, and there stood Mr Jones beaming at him. Billy opened his mouth to begin his ‘excuse’ speech, when –

“Ah, Billy, come in! I was just explaining to Mrs Dickens the Head that you’ve our secret weapon against Heath Manor.” Mrs Dickens gave Billy such a gorgeous smile that he couldn’t bear to say his piece. He simply said,

“I don’t think I’m going to play well this afternoon. I don’t feel too good.”

Mr Jones grinned at him. “C’mon Billy. Everyone has nerves before their first game. I know you’re going to be a star!”

Almost beside himself, he slunk back to his classroom ready to begin afternoon school.

-o-O-o-

At 4 o’clock, on the dot, the whistle blew. Heath Manor kicked off, and the ball was played to their tall centre-forward. Somehow, Billy forgot about his chocolate buttons. Just as the guy received the ball, Billy slid in to tackle and the ball bounced into the path of his teammate. And so it continued. Billy didn’t score that afternoon in his side’s 3-2 victory, but he ran, he passed, he shot, he blocked the opposition…and earned a big pat on the back from Mr Jones.

    -o-O-o-

As Billy passed the garden where the gnome sat motionless, an old lady looked up from her weeding. She handed him a packet of chocolate buttons. Billy was just about to open his mouth when she explained,

“No, these aren’t magic buttons. Old Barnabas gave you twelve magic ones the first time, then every time after that he reduced the magic ones – eleven, then ten, then nine…and substituted an ordinary button. I think you’ve gradually become fitter and faster so you haven’t needed his magic. You’ve played football today using your own body. The buttons he gave you yesterday only had one magic one among them. His work’s finished; that’s why you see him as  just an ordinary gnome now.”

Billy picked up Old Barnabas, cradled him in his arms and peered lovingly into his face. “Thanks, mate!” he said. But Barnabas just looked towards him with a fixed gaze.