* * *
As soon as Hopeful Academy was finished, our kids began to leave. The ones that wanted to clear out didn’t even wait until Easter… Six day pupils left at the end of April, and four boarders, their old men came and got them… They didn’t think Meanwell College was good enough any more… They drew comparisons with that other dazzling place…
I’ve got to admit it, Hopeful Academy made quite a splash in the middle of its grounds… The building alone was worth the trip… All of red brick, it looked out over Rochester, you couldn’t see anything else on the whole hillside… They’d put up an enormous flagpole on the lawn, they flew great big banners, every pavilion in the Maritime Register, and yards, shrouds, the whole works, for the kids that wanted to learn about rigging and seafaring and prepare for the naval academy…
That’s how I lost little Jack, my little jerker-offer… He had to trans-ship, his father wanted him to be a sailor… The Hopeful made a lot of fancy publicity about getting you ready for the navy…
We lost so many boarders that in the end there were only five of us at Meanwell, including Jongkind… The survivors weren’t very happy, actually they were burnt up… They must have been behind with their payments, they couldn’t settle their bills, that’s why they were stuck… The football team melted away in a week… The Pitwitt Pimplies, the charity palefaces, came around twice more, asking us to crush them. We tried to explain, to tell them it was all over… they didn’t understand… They missed their twelve-nils. They couldn’t understand… They had no rivals left… not a one… It depressed them something awful… They went home deep in gloom…
The Hopeful boys were too snooty, they wouldn’t play them, they snubbed them like lepers… They said they were in a higher category… The Pitwitts were sunk… They had to match up with themselves…
At our table at Meanwell the tragedy was getting serious… bitter and grim… Nora Merrywin did wonders to keep the meals going. The maids left… First Gertrude, the older one, and then four days later, Flossie… A cleaning woman came… Nora hardly touched her food any more… She left us all the marmalade, she didn’t touch it, she didn’t put any more sugar in her tea, she took her porridge without milk, that left more for the rest of us… But I was awfully ashamed just the same… When the pudding was passed on Sunday, there was such a rush we almost bent our spoons… We chipped all the platters… It was a wild scramble… Merrywin lost patience, he didn’t say anything, but he wiggled all over, he fidgeted in his chair the whole time, he beat a tattoo on the table, he cut the prayers short so we’d get out quicker… Things were getting too ticklish in the dining room…
In class he did the same thing… He climbed up on his platform… He put on his pleated cape, his lawyer’s robes… He sat behind his desk, all huddled up in his chair, staring at the class… He began to blink and wiggle all his fingers, waiting for the time to be up… He didn’t talk to the pupils any more… the kids could do as they pleased…
Merrywin was getting thin, he’d always had enormous protruding ears, now they looked like the wings of an aeroplane… The four kids that were left made enough rumpus for forty… and then they got sick of it and simply walked out… anywhere… to the garden… into the street… They left Merrywin all alone, they joined us on our walk. Later we’d meet him on the road… we’d pass him in the open country… we’d see him coming in the distance… he’d race towards us, perched on an enormous tricycle…
“Hello, Nora! Hello, boys!” he’d shout as he passed… He’d slow down a second… “Hello, Peter!” she answered ever so sweetly… They smiled at each other very politely… “Good day, Mr Merrywin,” all the kids took up in chorus… He’d go racing on. We watched him as he left, pedalling away till he was out of sight. He was home before us…
* * *
The way things were going, I felt I’d be leaving very soon… I stopped writing again… I didn’t know what to say, what to invent any more… I’d thought up everything I could… I was fed up with all that bullshit… What was the use?… I preferred to enjoy the time that was left, not to be bothered with letters. But now that Jack was gone, it wasn’t so much fun in the dormitory… the little stinker certainly knew how to suck…
I was jerking off to Nora too much, my cock was bone dry… in the silence I dreamt up some new ideas… much more ingenious, more amusing, more tempting… my fatigue was even making me affectionate… Before leaving Meanwell, I’d have liked to see the kid doing it with her old man… The idea got under my skin… suddenly I had a craving to see them together… it gave me a hard-on just to think of it. What would he do to her exactly?
I had experience at the racket… But it wasn’t an easy trick to pull off… They had separate rooms… His was on the right side of the hall, right after the gas jet… That was handy enough… But to get a look in at Nora’s room I’d have had to go out the other end of the dormitory and go up the stairs… it was after the washroom… It was difficult… complicated…
How did they fuck? Did they do it in his room? Or hers? I made up my mind… This was something I had to see… I’d waited too long.
Now that there were only five boarders, it was much easier to move around… Besides, the old man had stopped coming in at night to say prayers… The kids went to sleep very quickly once they’d warmed themselves up nicely… I waited till they were sawing wood… once I heard their snores, I slipped into my underpants, I pretended I was going to the can… and then I tiptoed…
When I got to the old man’s door, I bent down. I looked through the keyhole… I was screwed!… The key hadn’t been taken out… I went on… like I had to take a leak… I come back quick… I lie down again… But that wasn’t the end! It’s now or never, I say to myself! There wasn’t a sound in the whole place… I pretend I’m asleep… I lie there a couple of minutes, tingling but perfectly still… I wasn’t nuts!… I’d seen the light through the transom… Right over the door… It was the same layout as on the Rue Elzévir… I say to myself: “If they catch you there, kid, you’ll never hear the last of it!” I took extreme precautions… I tote a chair into the hall… If they catch me, I figure I’ll make out I’ve been walking in my sleep… I put my chair down right next to the door. I wait, I sit down a while… I flatten myself against the wall… I hear a kind of thud inside… Like two pieces of wood knocking together… Could that be coming from his bed?… I make sure the back of the chair is balanced all right… I climb up, a millimetre at a time… I straighten up… even more slowly… I’m on a level with the pane… Ah! I’ve made it! Jeepers! I can see perfectly. I can see everything!… I see my man… He’s all sprawled out in an armchair… But he’s absolutely alone! No sign of the kid!… Ah! He’s mother naked… Say!… Stretched out by the fire, all glowing… He’s positively scarlet! He’s so hot that he’s puffing… He’s naked to the belly… He’s kept on his drawers and cloak, the one with the pleats, his lawyer’s robe… it’s dragging on the floor behind him…
The fire’s blazing hot… The whole room is crackling!… The big dope is all lit up by the glow… He doesn’t seem unhappy… he’s kept his lid on, the little one with the tassel… Ah! The stinker, it tips, it topples… He catches it, he puts it back on… He’s sadder than in the classroom… He’s playing all by himself… He’s got a cup-and-ball!… A big one! A colossus! He shakes it, he balances, he tries to catch the ball in the cup… He misses, he giggles… he doesn’t get angry… His cap falls off again… his cloak too… He picks them up as best he can… He burps, he sighs… He puts his toy down for a minute… He pours himself a big glass of liquid… He sips it very slowly… So that’s where the whisky is!… He even has two bottles beside him on the floor… And two siphons… within easy reach… and a pot of marmalade… a whole pot!… He digs into it with a big spoon… he lifts it up… he gets it all over him… he’s eating!… He goes back to his game… he empties another glass… The string gets caught, it winds up aroun
d the caster of the armchair… He tugs at it, gets all muddled… he grumbles… he lets out a big laugh… He can’t find his hands… He’s tied… It only makes him laugh, the damn fool… I’ve seen enough!… I come down off my perch… I pick up my chair very quietly… I slip back down the hall… Nobody’s stirred… I go back to bed!…
* * *
We worried along until Easter vacation… We had to cut down something awful… on food… on candles… on heat… The last few weeks the kids, the ones that were left, didn’t listen to anybody. They did what they pleased… The old man didn’t even give lessons any more… He stayed in his room the whole time… or else he went out all alone on his tricycle… on long excursions.
The new maid came… She didn’t even last a week… The kids were impossible, insufferable, they turned the whole kitchen upside down… A cleaning woman took the maid’s place, but only in the morning. Nora helped her to do the rooms and the dishes too… She put on gloves for that… She protected her beautiful hair with an embroidered handkerchief, she made a kind of turban out of it…
In the afternoon I took the idiot for a walk, I did it all by myself. Nora couldn’t come any more, she had the cooking to do… She didn’t tell us where to go… I was the boss… We took our time… We took all the same streets and pavements, and then down along the waterfront. I looked all over for the fritter kid, I’d have liked to run into her. She wasn’t anywhere in town with her cart… Neither in the harbour nor in the market… nor around the new barracks… No sign of her…
We had some good times on our walks… Jongkind behaved pretty well… Except you had to be careful not to get him excited… When we passed soldiers, for instance, brass bands, loud music, you couldn’t hold him… There were lots of them around Chatham… and sailors too… On their way home from drilling they played wild tunes, triumphant hornpipes… That sent Jongkind out of his mind… He ran right into the band like a dart… It knocked him for a loop… It had the same effect on him as football… He’d dive right into the oompah-pah!
A regiment is a lively thing, the colour, the rhythm… it stands out against the weather… The band was scarlet… They made a big splash against the sky and the dun-coloured walls… The Scotsmen puff their cheeks out when they play, they’re chesty and husky and strong when they play… winsome and stalwart, they play their bagpipes… their music has hair on its legs…
We followed them to their barracks, their tents in the open fields… We discovered other parts of the country, past the soldiers… past Stroud and still further… on the other side of another river. We always came back by way of the school, the girls’ school behind the station, we waited for them to come out… We didn’t say anything, we just looked, we sopped up the vision… We came back down by way of the Arsenal, the special cinder field where the “pros” played, real tough guys, who practised by the numbers, with narrow goals, for the Nelson Cup. They kicked so hard they split all their footballs…
We came home as late as possible… I waited until it was really dark, until I saw all the streets were lit, then I took High Street, the one that ends by our steps… Often it was after eight o’clock… The old man was waiting for us in the hall, he was afraid to say anything, he was reading his paper…
As soon as we came in, we sat down to table… Nora waited on us… Merrywin didn’t talk any more… He didn’t say anything to anybody… it was getting to be the easy life… As soon as Jongkind started his soup, he began to drool. We left him alone now. We didn’t wipe him off until the meal was over.
* * *
None of the brats came back from Easter holiday. There was nobody left at Meanwell but Jongkind and me. The joint was a desert.
To save on housework they closed off a whole floor. The furniture had gone, they sold it piece by piece, first the chairs, then the tables, the two cupboards, and even the beds. There was nothing left but our two beds. They were really liquidating… There was more to eat though!… Quantities of jam! All we wanted… we could take seconds on pudding… The food was plentiful, what a change… that was really something new… Nora did the heavy work, but she prettied up all the same. At the table she was perfectly charming, almost playful.
The old geezer didn’t hang around long, he’d fill up in a hurry and start off again on his tricycle. Jongkind kept the conversation going, all by himself! “No trouble!” And he’d learnt another word: “No fear!” He was proud of that, it made him jump with joy. He never stopped saying it. “Ferdinand! No fear!” he kept saying to me between mouthfuls…
Outside I didn’t like to be noticed… I gave him a few kicks in the arse… He got the drift, he left me alone… As a reward I gave him gherkins. I always took a supply with me, my pockets were full of them… They were his favourite delicacy, that way I made him behave… He’d let himself be torn limb from limb for gherkins…
There wasn’t much left in our living room… First the knick-knacks went… then the upholstered pink couch, then the vases, then the curtains… For the last two weeks there was nothing left but the piano, the big black monumental Pleyel, all by itself in the middle of the room…
I wasn’t very eager to get back, because we weren’t very hungry any more… We took precautions, we brought provisions along, we looted the kitchen before leaving. I wasn’t in any hurry at all… Even when I was tired, I was happier roaming around… We took a rest whenever we felt like it… We’d treat ourselves to a last stop on the steps or on the rocks right beside our garden gate… The top of the big staircase that led up from the harbour was almost under our windows… Jongkind and I would sit there as late as possible, saying nothing.
From there you could see a lot of ships, coming in or passing each other in the harbour… It was like a magic game… all the reflections moving on the water… the portholes coming and going, glittering the whole time… The train burning, trembling, setting the little arches on fire as it passed… Nora always played the piano while she was waiting for us… She left the window ajar… You could hear her plainly from our hiding place… She even sang a little… in an undertone… She accompanied herself… Her singing wasn’t loud at all… Actually it was no more than a murmur… a little ballad… I still remember the tune… I never knew the words… Her voice rose softly and floated down into the valley… It came back to us… The air over the river has a way of echoing and amplifying… Her voice was like a bird, beating its wings, the whole night was full of little echoes…
The people had all passed, the ones that were going home from work, the stairs were empty… “No fear” and I were all alone… We’d wait till she stopped, till she wasn’t singing any more, till she closed the piano… Then we went in.
* * *
The grand piano didn’t last much longer. The movers came for it one Monday morning… They had to take it out piece by piece… Jongkind and I gave them a hand… First they put up a regular hoist over the window… They had trouble getting the piano through. All morning they were tinkering with ropes and pulleys in the living room… They lowered the big crate down to the veranda overlooking the garden… I can still see that big black cupboard rising into the air… over the view…
As soon as they started in, Nora went down to town, she stayed out the whole time… Maybe she had a call to make… She’d put on her best dress… She didn’t get back until late… She was very pale…
The old geezer didn’t come home until eight o’clock, just in time for dinner. He’d been doing that for several days. After dinner he went up to his room… He’d stopped shaving, he didn’t even wash, he was filthy… He smelt very sour… He sat down beside me… He began to eat, but he didn’t finish… He began to poke around in his pants, in the folds, in the cuffs… He pulled up his dressing gown… He looked all through his pockets… He was trembling all over… He belched a few times… He yawned… He grumbled… Finally he found his piece of paper. It was another letter, registered this time… This was
at least the tenth we’d received from my father since Christmas… I never answered… Merrywin didn’t either… What was there to say?… He opens it, he shows it to me… I read it just to be on the safe side… I wade through pages and pages… It was copious and thoroughly documented… I start all over again. It was a formal order to return home!… It was nothing new for them to bawl me out… Far from it! But this time there was a ticket!… An honest-to-God ticket home via Folkestone!
My father was beside himself! We knew his letters! The others had been almost the same, desperate, complaining, full of rot and threats… After reading them, the old geezer piled them up in a special box… He filed them very carefully by date and subject… He took them all up to his room… He shook his head a little and blinked… There was no call for him to comment… He kept all the letters on file, that was enough!… Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof! And all the bullshit… Still, this was a new kind of ultimatum… This time there was a ticket… I had only to pack up and leave… Time to be going, son!… Next week it would be… the month was almost up… My account was closed!
Nora didn’t seem to know what was going on… She was completely absorbed… absent… The old geezer wanted her to know… He shouted loud enough to wake her up. She came up from her daydream… Jongkind began to bawl… Suddenly she jumped up and looked through the box, she wanted to read the letter again. She deciphered it out loud…
I have no further illusions about the future you hold in store for us! Alas, we have had only too many occasions to experience all the ferocity, all the wickedness of your instincts, your terrifying selfishness… We all of us know your taste for idleness and dissipation, your well-nigh monstrous appetite for luxury and pleasure… We know what to expect… We realize that no amount of gentleness, no amount of affection will ever check or diminish your unbridled, implacable impulses… It seems to me that in that respect we have done our utmost, tried everything! And now we are at the end of our rope, there is nothing more we can do! We can spend no more of our slender resources trying to save you from your fate!… We can only trust in God!…
Death on Credit Page 29