The Just William Stories: William Below Stairs

In another delightful story about William by Richmal Crompton, William feels that life is getting very unfair and that everyone has it in for him. He decides he had better run away to seek his fortune (which he will certainly not share with his family) - with hilarious consequences.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks ever so much for joining me tonight.

I'm going to be reading another William story by Richmald Crompton and this one's called William Below Stairs.

Before I start,

Please go right on ahead and make yourself really comfortable.

That's great,

Then I'll begin.

William was feeling embittered with life in general.

He was passing through one of his not infrequent periods of unpopularity.

The climax had come with the gift of sixpence bestowed on him by a timid aunt who hoped thus to purchase his goodwill.

With the sixpence he had bought a balloon adorned with the legs and head of a duck fashioned in cardboard.

This could be blown up to its fullest extent and then left to subside.

It took several minutes to subside and during those minutes it emitted a long drawn-out and high-pitched groan.

The advantage of this was obvious.

William could blow it up to its fullest extent in private and leave it to subside in public,

Concealed beneath his coat.

While this was going on,

William looked around as though in bewildered astonishment.

He inflated it before he went to breakfast.

He then held it firmly and secretly so as to keep it inflated until he was sitting at the table.

Then he let it subside.

His mother knocked over a cup of coffee and his father cut himself with the bread knife.

Ethel,

His elder sister,

Indulged in a mild form of nervous breakdown.

William sat with a face of startled innocence.

But nothing enraged his family so much as William's expression of innocence.

They fell upon him and he defended himself as well as he could.

Yes,

He was holding the balloon under the table.

Well,

He'd blown it up some time ago.

He couldn't keep it blown up forever.

He had to let the air out some time.

He couldn't help it making a noise when the air went out.

It was just the way it was made.

He hadn't made it.

He set off to school with an air of injured innocence and the balloon.

Observing an elderly and irascible looking gentleman in front of him,

He went a few steps down a back street,

Blew up his balloon and held it tightly under his coat.

Then,

When abreast of the old gentleman,

He let it off.

The old gentleman gave a leap into the air and glared fiercely around.

He glanced at the small,

Virtuous looking schoolboy,

With obviously no instrument of torture at his lips,

And then concentrated his glare of fury and suspicion on the upper windows.

William hastened on to the next pedestrian.

He had quite a happy walk to school.

School was,

At first,

Equally successful.

William opened his desk,

Hastily inflated his balloon,

Closed his desk,

Then gazed round with his practised expression of horrified astonishment at what followed.

He drove the French master to distraction.

Step out,

Or makes the noise,

He screamed.

No one stepped out and the noise continued at intervals.

The mathematics master finally discovered and confiscated the balloon.

I hope,

Said his father at lunch,

That they've taken away that infernal machine of yours.

William replied,

Sadly,

That they had.

He added that some people didn't seem to think it was stealing to take other people's things.

Then we may look forward to a little peace this evening,

Said his father,

Politely.

Not that it matters to me as I am going out to dinner.

The only thing that relieves the tedium of going out to dinner is the fact that for one short time one has a rest from William.

William acknowledged the compliment by a scowl and a mysterious muttered remark to the effect that some people were always at him.

During preparation in afternoon school,

He read a storybook kindly lent to him by his next-door neighbour.

It wasn't because he had no work to do that William read a storybook in preparation.

It was a mark of defiance to the world in general.

It was also a very interesting storybook.

It opened with the hero as a small boy,

Misunderstood and ill-treated by everyone around him.

Then he ran away.

He went to sea and in a few years made an immense fortune in the gold fields.

He returned in the last chapter and forgave his family and presented them with a noble mansion and several shiploads of gold.

This idea impressed William,

Except the end part.

He thought he'd prefer to have the noble mansion himself and only pay rare visits to his family,

During which he would listen to their humble apologies and perhaps give them a nugget or two,

But not very much,

And certainly not to Ethel.

He wasn't sure whether he'd ever really forgive them.

He'd have rooms full of squeaky balloons and trumpets in his house anyway,

And he'd keep caterpillars and white rats all over the place too,

Things they made such a fuss about in their old house.

And he'd always go about in dirty boots,

And he'd never brush his hair or wash,

And he'd keep dozens of motor cars,

And he wouldn't let Ethel go out in any of them.

He was roused from this enthralling daydream by the discovery and conviscation of his storybook by the master in charge and the subsequent fury of its owner.

In order adequately to express his annoyance,

He dropped a little ball of blotting paper,

Soaked in ink,

Down William's back.

William,

On attempting retaliation,

Was sentenced to stay in half an hour after school.

He returned gloomily to his history book,

Upside Down,

And his misanthropic view of life.

He compared himself bitterly with the hero of the storybook and decided not to waste another moment of his life in uncongenial surroundings.

He made a firm determination to run away as soon as he was released from school.

He walked briskly down the road away from the village.

In his pocket reposed the balloon.

He had made the cheering discovery that the mathematics master had left it on his desk,

So he had joyfully taken it again into his possession.

He thought he might reach the coast before night and get to the gold fields before next week.

He didn't suppose it took long to make a fortune there.

He might be back before next Christmas and crumbs he'd jolly well make people sit up.

He wouldn't go to school for one thing and he'd be jolly careful who he gave nuggets to for another.

He'd give nuggets to the butcher's boy and the postman and the man who came to tune the piano and the chimney sweep.

He wouldn't give any to any of his family or any of the masters at the school.

He'd just serve people out the way they served him.

He just would.

The road to the coast seemed rather long and he was growing rather tired.

He walked in a ditch for a change and then scraped through a hedge and took a shortcut across a ploughed field.

Dusk was falling fast and even William's buoyant spirits began to flag.

The fortune part was all very well but in the meantime he was cold and tired and hungry.

He hadn't yet reached the coast much less the gold fields.

Something must be done.

He remembered that the boy in the story had begged his way to the coast.

William determined to beg his but at present there seemed nothing to beg it from except a hawthorn hedge and a scarecrow in the field behind it.

He wandered on disconsolately deciding to begin his career as a beggar at the first sign of human habitation.

At last he discovered a pair of iron gates through the dusk and assuming an expression of patient suffering calculated to melt a heart of stone walked up the drive.

At the front door he smoothed down his hair.

He had lost his cap on the way pulled up his stockings and rang the bell.

After an interval a stout gentleman in the garb of a butler opened the door and glared ferociously up and down William.

Please began William plaintively.

The stout gentleman interrupted.

If you're the new boots he said majestically go round to the back door.

If you're not go away.

He then shut the door in William's face.

William on the top step considered the question for a few minutes.

It was dark and cold with every prospect of becoming darker and colder.

He decided to be the new boots.

He found his way round to the back door and knocked firmly.

It was opened by a large woman in a print dress and apron.

What you want she said aggressively.

He said said William firmly to come round if I was the new boots.

The woman surveyed him in grim disapproval.

You've been round to the front she said nerve.

Her disapproval increased to suspicion.

Where's your things she said.

Come in said William without a moment's hesitation.

Too tired to bring them with you she said sarcastically.

All right.

Come in.

William came in gratefully.

It was a large warm clean kitchen.

A small kitchen maid was peeling potatoes at a sink and a housemaid in black with the frilled cap and apron was powdering her nose before a glass on the wall.

They both turned to stare at William.

Here's the new boots announced Cook.

His valets bringing his things later.

The housemaid looked up William from his muddy boots to his untidy hair then down William from his untidy hair to his muddy boots.

Impudent looking child she commented haughtily returning to her task.

William decided inwardly that she was to have no share at all in the nuggets.

The kitchen maid giggled and winked at William with obviously friendly intent.

William mentally promised her half a shipload of nuggets.

Now then smutty said the housemaid without turning round.

None of your sauce.

Add your tea said the cook to William.

William spirits rose.

No he said plaintively.

Sit down at the table.

William spirits soared sky high.

He sat at the table and the cook put a large plate of bread and butter before him.

William set to work at once.

The housemaid regarded him scornfully.

Learned his way of eating at the zoo.

She said pityingly.

The kitchen maid giggled again and gave William another wink.

William had given himself up to wholehearted epicurean enjoying of his bread and butter and took no notice of them.

At this moment the butler entered.

He subjected the quite unmoved William to another long survey.

When next you come a hentering of this house my boy.

He said kindly remember that the front door is reserved for gentry and the back for brats.

William merely looked at him coldly over a hunk of bread and butter.

Mentally he knocked him off the list of nugget receivers.

The butler looked sadly around the room.

They're all the same.

He lamented.

Eat,

Eat,

Eat.

Nothing but eat.

Eat all day and eat all night.

He's not been in the house two minutes and he's at it.

Eat,

Eat,

Eat.

He'll have all the buttons bust off his uniform in a week like what the last one had.

Like eating better than working don't you.

He said sarcastically to William.

Yes I do too said William with firm conviction.

The kitchen maid giggled again and the housemaid gave a sigh expressive of scorn and weariness as she drew a thin pencil over her eyebrows.

Well if you've quite finished my lord said the butler in ponderous irony I'll show you to your room.

William indicated that he had quite finished and was led out to a very small bedroom.

Over a chair lay a page's uniform with a conventional row of brass buttons down the front of the coat.

Togs explained the butler briefly.

Your togs.

Fix them on quick as you can.

There's company to dinner tonight.

William fixed them on.

You're smaller than what the last one was said the butler critically.

They hang's a bit loose.

Never mind.

With a week or two of stuffing you'll have most probable bust them so it's as well to hang loose first.

Now come on who's bringing over your things.

A friend explained William.

I suppose it is a bit too much to expect you to carry your own parcels went on the butler in these here days.

Blooming bolshevists I spec aren't you.

William condescended to explain himself.

I'm a gold digger he said.

Crikey said the butler.

William was led down again to the kitchen.

The butler threw open a door that led to a small pantry.

This here is where you work and this here pointing to a large kitchen is where you live.

You have not he entered haughtily the hentry into the servants all.

Crumbs said William.

You might as well begin at once went on the butler.

There's all this lunch is knives to clean.

Here's a apron,

Here's the knife board and here's the knife powder.

He shut the bewildered William into the small pantry and turned to the cook.

What do you think of him he said.

He looks said the cook gloomily the sort of boy we'll have trouble with.

Not much class said the housemaid arranging her frilled apron.

It surprises me how any creature like a boy can grow into an experienced sensible broad-minded man like you Mr.

Biggs.

Mr.

Biggs simpered and straightened his necktie.

Well he admitted as a boy of course I wasn't like him.

Here the pantry door opened and William's face plentifully adorned with knife powder came round.

I've done some of the knives he said.

Shall I be doing something else and finish the others afterwards.

How many have you done said Mr.

Biggs.

One or two said William vaguely then with a concession to accuracy.

Well two but I'm feeling tired of doing knives.

The kitchen maid emitted a scream of delight and the cook heaved a deep sigh.

The butler advanced slowly and majestically towards William's tousled head which was still craned around the pantry door.

You'll finish them knives my boy he said or William considered the weight and size of Mr.

Biggs.

All right he said I'll finish the knives.

He disappeared closing the pantry door behind him.

He's going to be a trial said the cook and no mistake.

Trial's hardly the word said Mr.

Biggs.

Affliction supplied the housemaid.

That's more like it said Mr.

Biggs.

Here Williams had appeared again.

What time's supper he said.

He retired precipitately at a hysterical shriek from the kitchen maid and a roar of fury from the butler.

You better go and do your potatoes in the pantry said the cook to the kitchen maid and let's have a bit of peace in here and see he's doing of his work all right.

The kitchen maid departed joyfully to the pantry.

William was sitting by the table idly toying with a knife.

He had experimented upon the knife powder by mixing it with water and the little brown pies that were the result lay in a row on the mantelpiece.

He had also tasted it as the dark stains on his lips testified.

His hair was standing straight up on his head as it always did when life was strenuous.

He began the conversation.

You'd be surprised if you knew what I really was.

She giggled.

Go on she said.

What are you?

I'm a gold digger he said.

I've got ship loads and ship loads of gold.

At least I will have soon.

I'm not going to give him pointing towards the door any nor any of them in here.

What about me said the kitchen maid winking at the cat as the only third person to be let into the joke.

You said William graciously shall have a whole lot of nuggets.

Look here.

With the princely flourish he took up a knife and cut off three buttons from the middle of his coat and gave them to her.

You keep those and they'll be kind of tokens.

See when I come home rich you'll show me the buttons and I'll remember and give you the nuggets.

See.

I'll maybe marry you he promised if I've not married anyone else.

The kitchen maid put her head around the pantry door.

He's loony she said.

It's lovely listening to him talking.

Further conversation was prevented by the ringing of the front doorbell and the arrival of the company.

Mr Biggs and the housemaid departed to do the honours.

The kitchen maid ran to help with the dishing up and William was left sitting on the pantry table idly making patterns in knife powder with his finger.

What was he doing said the cook to the kitchen maid.

Nothing except talking said the kitchen maid.

He's a curious she added.

If you finish the knives called out the cook there's some boots and shoes on the floor to be done.

Brushes and blacking on the shelf.

William arose with alacrity.

He thought boots would be more interesting than knives.

He carefully concealed the pile of uncleaned knives behind the knife box and began on the shoes.

The butler returned.

Soup ready he said.

The company's just going into the dining room.

A pal of the master's.

Decent looking bloke he added patronisingly.

William in his pantry had covered a brush very thickly with blacking and was putting it in heavy layers on the boots and shoes.

A large part of it adhered to his own hands.

The butler looked in at him.

What's happened to your buttons he asked sternly.

Come off said William.

Bust off corrected the butler.

I said so soon as I saw you.

I said you'd have eaten your buttons bust off in a week.

Well you've eaten bust off in 10 minutes.

Eaten and destroying of his clothes he said gloomily returning to the kitchen.

Ish all boys ever do.

Eaten and destroying of their clothes.

He went out with the soup and William was left with the boots.

He was getting tired of boots.

He covered them all thickly with blacking and he didn't know what to do next.

Then suddenly he remembered his balloon in his pocket upstairs.

It might serve to vary the monotony of life.

He slipped quietly upstairs for it and then returned to his boots.

Soon Mr Biggs and the housemaid returned with the empty soup plates.

Then through the kitchen resounded a high-pitched squeal dying away slowly and shrilly.

The housemaid screamed.

Lorks said the cook.

Someone's a torturing of the poor cat to death.

It'll be that blessed boy.

The butler advanced manfully and opened the pantry door.

William stood holding in one hand an inflated balloon with the cardboard head and legs of a duck.

The butler approached him.

If you let off that thing in here once more your little farm int he said.

Oh threateningly he had advanced his large expanse of countenance very close to Williams.

Acting upon a sudden uncontrollable impulse,

William took up the brush thickly smeared with blacking and pushed back Mr Biggs's face with it.

There was a moment's silence of sheer horror and then Mr Biggs hurled himself furiously upon William.

In the dining room sat the master and mistress of the house and their guest.

Did the new boots arrive,

Said the master to his wife.

Yes,

She said.

Any good,

He said.

He doesn't seem to have impressed Biggs very favourably,

She said,

But then they never do.

The human boy,

Said the guest,

Is given us as a discipline.

I possess one.

Although he is my own son,

I find it difficult to describe the atmosphere of peace and relief that pervades the house when he is out of it.

I'd like to meet your son,

Said the host.

You probably will sooner or later,

Said the guest gloomily.

Everyone in the neighbourhood meets him sooner or later.

He does not hide his light under a bushel.

Personally,

I prefer people who haven't met him.

They can't judge me by him.

At this moment,

The butler came in with a note.

No answer,

He said,

And departed with his slow dignity.

Excuse me,

Said the lady as she opened it.

It's from my sister.

I hope,

She read,

That you aren't inconvenienced much by the non-arrival of the boots I engaged for you.

He's got flu.

But he's come,

She said wonderingly.

There came the sound of an angry shout,

A distant scream and the clattering of heavy running footsteps growing nearer.

A revolution,

I expect,

Said the guest wearily.

At that moment,

The door was burst open and in rushed a boy with a blacking brush in one hand and an inflated balloon in the other.

He was much dishevelled with three buttons off the front of his uniform and his face streaked with knife powder and blacking.

Behind him ran a fat butler,

His face purple with fury beneath a large smear of blacking.

The boy rushed round the table,

Slipped on the polished floor,

Clutched desperately at the neck of the guest,

Bringing both guest and chair down on the floor beside him.

In a sudden silence of utter paralysed horror,

Guest and boy sat on the floor and stared at each other.

Then the boy's nerveless hand relaxed its hold upon the balloon,

Which had somehow or other survived the vicissitudes of the flight,

And a shrill squeak rang through the silence of the room.

The master and mistress of the house sat looking round in dazed astonishment.

As the guest looked at the boy,

There appeared on his countenance amazement,

Then incredulity,

And finally frozen horror.

As the boy looked at the guest,

There appeared on his countenance amazement,

Then incredulity,

And finally blank dejection.

Good lord,

Said the guest,

It's William.

Oh crumbs,

Said the boots,

It's father.

Reviews

Your reading is very lyrical. We love listening to your stories and ☺️👍👏

Absolutely hysterical, I laughed out loud! Wonderful reading, Mandy!