The Other Bill Shakespeare

5. Silent Simon - Brisbane, Remembrance Day 1968

It started out as an act of defiance. I could talk. I just chose not to. At least, that was the plan. However, when I finally did decide to speak again, nothing came out. Not a single sound.

The doctors said that there was nothing wrong physically, so they called in the head shrinkers. That was interesting.

It was their expert opinion, that I was so traumatised by what had happened, my vocal chords forgot how to work. Well, duh! I was barely ten, accused of something I didn't do, and then caned when I refused to confess. Of course I was traumatised!

Miss Freeman lost her job over it. I was glad about that. Someone so cruel should never be a teacher.

As a class we'd raised more than a hundred dollars for...actually, I don't even remember what the money was for now. It's irrelevant. What's important is that a hundred bucks is a fair amount. It went missing, and Miss Freeman was convinced I'd stolen it.

I'll admit I was the class clown. I'll even admit, that sometimes I took things a bit too far, but I was no thief. I said as much at the time. She called me a liar and said that the whole class would be punished, unless I owned up.

That was all it took for my classmates to turn on me. They started saying stuff like, "just own up to it, Peacock!"

I remember yelling over and over, "BUT, I DIDN'T TAKE IT!" I'm sure the whole school could hear me, but no one actually listened.

Miss Freeman's response was to give me six of the best. It really hurt, even through my uniform, but what hurt more was the fact that no one at school believed me. No one stood up for me, not even my so called friends. So, I decided I'd never speak to any of them ever again.

Thank God, Dad believed me. Furious that I was caned for something I didn't do, he demanded that the principal, Mr Horgan, formally look into the matter.

Here's the fun part. It turned out that Miss Freeman had taken the money herself. Mr Horgan found it in an envelope, in her locker.

He speculated that she'd targeted the "rich kid," because in her distorted mind, it somehow justified her actions. She was sacked of course, but I never got an apology, and when she left, my voice left with her.

It took me almost twelve months to speak again, and when I did, I stuttered terribly. So, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why I prefer to stay silent.

For the last four years I've been shunted between doctors, speech pathologists and psychiatrists. While my speech has improved, I still stutter and lack the confidence to initiate a conversation. If I don't have to talk, I won't, but I could hear Madeline crying...

Dad hadn't come back to the hotel yet. Mum wasn't here either. She'd gone looking for Edith.

Edith is my sister. Everyone calls her Didi. I call her Didiot, because, well, she is! She's not sixteen for another two weeks, but she's been boy crazy since she started highschool, so I'm pretty sure she's already been kissed, and there's not much that's sweet about her.

Mum will probably find her in the bar downstairs, pretending to be twenty-one, flirting with every Tom, Dick or Harry dumb enough to pay her any attention. Hopefully, she's not stupid enough to actually drink...

Madeline was obviously distressed. She was trying to be quiet but, you know what it's like when you try to muffle a sob. It often doesn't work. I couldn't ignore it.

"M-Madeline are y-y-you okay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Madeline looked up at me and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, before gasping and clamping a hand over her mouth.