J.B. In Charge Chapter 2

We first meet Old Bootles

I first saw Old Bootles at the Summer beach races at the river mouth. It was one of those delicious sun-radiating days of sea, salt, and sand. We kids porpoised in the waves and hared on the beach.

At the end of the day when the sun's rays became a mellow gold and were sinking into the sea, the grownups fetched us. We all gathered behind a long line drawn in the sand. It was then that most of us in our district first met Old Bootles.

A lone horse came galloping towards us, and chasing madly behind it, trying to grab its bridle, was a man who was so outlandish my heart shot to my mouth. He wore on his head a bowler hat that soon flew away. On his nose there was a bright red ball. He was dressed in a smock that was striped with all the colours of the rainbow. His oversized and pointy shoes made him waddle like a panicky duck.

What was most startling was a white streak that stretched from the end of his ear to his left eye. As he came closer, I stared with my skin goose pimpling at that hideous sight. You could have poked your fingers into that scar. It was jagged like a scar in a hill when the rain and mud washes away the trees.

The little ones started screaming and their mums picked them up and soothed them. I glanced at Mum and Dad and saw to my great relief they were laughing. So I started to laugh too. Suddenly old Bootles grabbed the reins and flung himself on to the horse. Then my heart jumped again when the horse bucked and Old Bootles could only hang on to its neck and his heels flew in the air. I glanced up again. The kids were still laughing but all the grownups had suddenly become very silent and were staring at the sight.

The horse careered around and around in circles while Old Bootles hung down first on one side and then on the other. Soon he struggled up astraddle and grabbed again the reins. Then my heart soared and tears flooded my eyes when Old Bootles dropped the reins and stood! He just stood there and the horse was racing past us along the line in the sand as if it was a horse from hell.

By now we kids were screaming as loudly as the little ones. At that moment I overheard some grownup say to Dad:

That's Old Bootles. He was famous all over England as Bootles the clown. He learnt to play horse tricks when he was a cavalry trooper in the South African war.

Did a Boer slash his face open with a rapier! asked Dad.

I was excited, having learnt everything I could about the South African war.

No, he fell off his horse while performing in a London circus, replied the man.
He has just bought your neighbour's the Laidlaw's farm.

Now I had almost forgotten Old Bootles because the ground was shaking and thundering. Afar in the distance the race horses and their jockeys were rushing towards us. We kids began to scream again and without a thought we were racing over the line and towards the horse. Suddenly Old Bootles' horse was rearing and bucking almost at our feet. We all thought this was part of his act and some boys scooped up sand and threw it at the horse's eyes.

Then Old Bootles flashed on his face a scowl that made our hearts drop. You know the look that grownups sometimes give when they are really angry. Children know at that moment they are helpless because something has gone wrong that no kid can really understand.

Get back! Get back! he bellowed.

Then we saw he held in his hand a whip and he leaned over and cracked it at us. It still looked sort of funny to see a grownup really angry but in a clown suit. We turned tail and screaming now in pure fear we raced back to our mums and dads. Still he reared the horse at us and cracked the whip.

Now our mums were screaming. The racing horses shot past like lighting. Some of the children were now bruised where they had fallen on to each other. Some men approached Old Bootles and their faces had that awful grownup scowl.

Old Bootles suddenly laughed and shouted,

I've had colonials for breakfast!

He cracked his whip at the men and turned around and galloped way.

Then some grownups started saying Old Bootles was a monster and a policeman should be here.

Dad said in his quiet inarguable way.
Pile up into the gig, we're going home.

As Charlie trotted us home, Mum was fierce in her anger about Old Bootles. Dad was quiet in his way when he did not agree, but did not want an argument. I was soon fast asleep.