Reader Peter R. Green remembers a boy called Danny.
In around 1957, someone tried to burn down our house. The evidence was a kerosene-soaked (and partly burnt) rag and some dead matches against a charred hardwood stud in the end wall of the back veranda.The police wondered if my brother or I had anything to do with it, but we’d been out. The next most likely was Danny, who lived around the block from us.
I was 10 or 11, Danny was about 13. He’d had to repeat 6th class, and was in one of the lower classes 6B or 6C, and I was in 4A or 5A.
Several days earlier, I’d been walking home through the park when Danny caught up with me and started punching me. I fell, found a stick on the ground which gave me more reach, and drove Danny ahead of me until we were outside the local shop, maybe 100m past the park gate
The shopkeeper called me into the shop and told Danny, “You’ll be in trouble if I ever catch you giving Peter any trouble again. I know you and I know him. I know who would have started this.”
He sent Danny home and sent me off when Danny was safely down the side street.
Perhaps he was upset about that.
The police went off to investigate and returned about an hour later, having secured a confession.
They also told us that Danny’s parents weren’t around, and he was being raised by his grandmother. They asked if my parents wanted to press charges or get an apology.
My parents went for the apology.
The police went off and soon returned with a very crestfallen Danny and his grandmother. They repeated to Danny how dangerous and silly his actions had been, and he apologised. His grandmother was very distressed.
The police offered to take the two back home, but my parents invited them to stay for afternoon tea.
Danny didn’t have many friends, so my parents told him he would be welcome at our place after school or on Saturdays if we were home.
He did visit a few times. My brother and I were heavily into model aircraft, so we probably bored him with our projects.
Then they moved away.
I have often thought of that as an illustration of grace.
Recently, I wondered if Danny was still alive. He’d have to be 80 or so. He’s not on Facebook, but now I keep getting friend suggestions for another Danny of the same surname, who looks about 40.