called 'Billy Liar'. Adam Cowie isn't his real name,
but it's close enough for those who knew him to know
who I'm referring to should they ever read this.
I'd not long turned 16 when this tale I'm now about
to relate occurred. Adam, being slightly over 3 months
younger than me, was probably about to turn 16, or he'd
maybe just celebrated his birthday relatively recently. I
turned up at his door one evening to be met by a lady
called Mrs. Pert, who told me that Mrs. Cowie
(his mother) had just died.
Adam appeared behind her at the door and I ex-
pressed my condolences. I decided to return home
and leave him to his grief, but he said he'd accompany
me part of the way as he wanted to call in on another of
his pals to see him about something. As we walked, he
asked me not to tell my parents that his mother had
died as he "didn't want anyone to know", which
puzzled me, but I assented.
At least a week had passed, maybe a fortnight,
when a mutual friend asked me if I'd heard that Mrs.
Cowie had recently passed away. I was surprised, and
said "But how did you know? Adam wanted to keep it
quiet." "Everybody knows" he replied. Well, if every-
body knew, I saw no reason not to tell my parents
and duly did so that very evening.
In the fullness of time, Adam visited my house
one day and was made a fuss of by my mother in the
way that only women can. (I'd told him that my folks
knew as there had seemed no point in keeping them in
the dark, seeing as how it was common knowledge.) As
I studied Adam, it seemed to me that he was enjoying
being the centre of attention and lapping it up, like
an actor relishing playing a starring role.
It was only then I realised why he'd asked me
not to tell my parents of his mother's death - he'd
not to tell my parents of his mother's death - he'd
wanted to retain the 'element of surprise' and thereby
increase the drama of the situation. It has far more of
an effect on those offering condolences if they haven't
been forewarned of your bereavement. You may think
that fanciful, but he admitted to it when I broached the
an effect on those offering condolences if they haven't
been forewarned of your bereavement. You may think
that fanciful, but he admitted to it when I broached the
subject a couple or so years later. I'm not sure how I
feel about that - is it a natural reaction of a teenager
to exploit such a sad occasion in order to revel
in the attention and sympathy it brings?
(Not much of a story there, admittedly, but I
find such examples of human nature fascinating,
and thought that the rest of you might too.)
His father outlived his mother by only around
two years, but a similar thing happened then, also.
I'll tell you all about it in the very next instalment
of Teenage Tales - right here on Crivens!
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