My Fight with Jane

by Crinckly-Mack

Author's note: in "My Life in Mackintosh", I said I declined to fight - this is what really happened

One morning playtime in my "last but one" year at junior school, I found myself with my back against the brick wall at the end of the classroom block, pinned there, by the arms, by a furious older girl called Jane. She was not the sort of pretty girl before whom I might have wanted to draw attention to myself - she was rather podgy and pasty faced, and wore glasses and pigtails - but I could not help wanting to interfere in her games. The only time I was at all attracted to her was when she wore her long grey full skirted gaberdine mac with its "schoolgirl" hood attached. I had just ruined a game of "hide-and-seek" by crouching behind a wall with the top of my head showing, so that Jane, who was "it", called out her finding of me, so that the other players revealed themselves; then I had stood up and run away, to the safety of the boys' toilets. As I had returned to the playground she had seized me!

"I'm fed up with you ...you...you pest!" she hissed "Do you want a fight?" I thought quickly; if we had both been in our gaberdine macs, I might have said yes, and rolled about on the ground wrestling with her - I often fantasised about fighting a girl - but, as neither of us were in a mac....."I can't!" "Why not?" "If I win" - Jane's derisive snort at this showed she expected to triumph over me, and I thought she was probably right as she was older, slightly taller and quite well-built - "If I win" I repeated "I could be punished for bullying in fighting a girl! I still could be if I lost, and lots of the boys would call me a cissy for losing to a girl.....but if we fought out of school, in the Park, say, and during a weekend, and I was disguised so no-one knew who I was, then I'd gladly fight you!" As Jane digested this, I suddenly said "Is Fiona ***** in your class?" Fiona was the eldest of 4 young children of the Vicar of the local parish church, whom I knew well was in the same class as Jane; Fiona, I also knew, owned a gorgeous (to me!) red rubberised cotton mackintosh. I had, in fact, on 2 occasions, while on an errand out of class just before a playtime break, sat on the bench that ran under the cloakroom pegs, arranged Fiona's mackintosh round me like a sort of tent and smothered myself ecstatically in it, reveling in the wonderful musky odour, and the sense of being imprisoned. Indeed, on the first occasion I had been so overwhelmed by the pleasures of the mackintosh, that I had missed the bell to begin playtime, and suddenly realised I dare not move lest I be discovered, and my love of mackintosh unmasked; I had had to sit totally still until playtime ended and I could escape, making an excuse for being late back in class.

"Yes, of course she is" came Jane's reply; now came the delicate bit - I must not disclose my love of mackintosh - "Doesn't she have a red mackintosh, with a hood?" "Yes. Why?" "If she would let me wear it, then I could put the hood up and no-one would know who I was, or even that I was a boy. Then I'd fight you!!" At this point the bell went for the end of playtime, and Jane released me. At lunchtime however she cornered me again, this time with Fiona beside her. At Jane's demand I again explained why I wished to borrow Fiona's mackintosh, but added a further thought that had come to me, "Also, if I fight in my ordinary clothes they could get wet or dirty, and my mother would be angry; if I'm in something waterproof, like a mackintosh, then my clothes would be protected". After some thought, Fiona agreed. "Come to the Vicarage at 10 on Saturday. Don't knock or ring the bell. I'll look out for you both. My mother is taking my brothers and sister into town, but my father will be in his study, working on his sermon, and mustn't be disturbed. Also, I don't want him knowing that I'm lending my mackintosh to someone for a fight - being a clergyman he'd tell me not to".

Thus, on Saturday, Jane and I arrived at Fiona's house as instructed. She let us in, and we tip-toed silently up to her bedroom, where the mackintosh, to my glee, was laid out on the bed. However, next to it were a pink blouse, a pair of girl's maroon serge knickers, and a grey woolen circular skirt! I was horrified - "I can't wear those! If I was unmasked in a mackintosh, I could just about explain it, but not girls' clothes!" "No mackintosh then" said Fiona "and anyway, if you kick your legs in the air in my mackintosh, you'll probably reveal your shorts, and be unmasked. Dressed in a skirt and girl's knickers, no-one will know". I had to admit to myself the truth of this but made one last attempt "and how can I take my clothes off in front of you girls?" "That's easy", said Fiona smugly "You take of your shirt and put on the blouse. Then you put on the mackintosh and turn away from us to remove your shorts and pants, and put on the knickers and skirt. Then we inspect you to see you've done it right, and you can do up the mackintosh". I was defeated, and could only do as instructed, "Could I deep-down want to be a girl?" I thought. I raised up the hood, well up and forward, and did up the tapes, tightly under my chin. Fiona folded the edge back to stiffen the hood and I was relieved that I could hardly see my own face in the mirror thus hooded. The three of us tip-toed back down the stairs and out of the house, Fiona donning her own grey gaberdine with hood, and made our way into a quiet corner of the nearby park.

As we walked, Jane walked ahead while Fiona by talking to me, slowed me down. Suddenly Jane turned. She shouted "I'm going to get you!" and charged at me. She put her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to do the same to try and fend her off, and drove me backwards, my mackintosh rustling frantically. Then it happened; my left heel caught on some uneven ground and I went over backwards. As my back slammed to the ground my legs, and the skirts of my mackintosh kicked up and flailed in the air - Fiona had been right about my wearing the skirt and knickers, so as not to expose my shorts. The skirts of my mackintosh fanned out like the raised tail of a peacock, and then fell crumpled onto the ground as Jane dropped onto my chest to straddle and sit astride me. She seized my wrists and banged them on the grass, and then she seized my hood, clamped it over my face and began banging the back of my head on the ground. In desperation, I reached up and grasped Jane's pigtails through her hood and began pulling her head from side to side; I succeeded in rolling her off me and we then wrestled frantically on the ground, rolling over and over, first one way, then the other. Legs and mackintoshes thrashed about as we fought. I began to tire and eventually Jane got back on top, initially sitting "side-saddle" on my chest before swinging one leg over me so that the skirts of her mac covered me from waist to above my head, and only my wrists, firmly pinned by Jane, were visible. During the more violent parts of the fight, a group of children had gathered eagerly to watch, but now bored by the lack of action, they began to drift away. Jane straddled me triumphantly for nearly an hour, but then, after extracting a groveling apology for my behaviour, and a promise never to repeat it, she rose and left me lying there. Fiona remained and after I had got to my feet took me back to the Vicarage where I put back on my normal clothes, and walked home, chastened by my defeat, but also still highly excited by my fight with a girl and my first fight in a mackintosh.

Crinckly-Mack.

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