‘And you were never caught?’
‘No Phil, never.’
‘Then I’ll go tonight, what time is the best to go do you think?’
‘After midnight, when you can be sure all the staff are in bed.’
‘I’ll come with you Phil.’
‘That is not a good idea, Phil is best going by himself, two, people will make twice as much noise.’
‘Thanks for the offer Peter but Lion is right, I’m better on my own.’
I have been dozing for ages, the chink of light under the door from the corridor went out it seemed hours ago. I have no way of me knowing what the time is; the only clocks are in the dining room and the library. I have decided that, when the moon moves from shining in our window I will go. Just when I think it is time to go the cloud covering the moon clears and there it is shining in like before. After three attempts then changing my mind I realize it is because I am scared, finding any excuse for not going.
Eventually plucking up the courage I slip out of bed, I’m already wearing my black trousers and navy blue long sleeved pullover. Creeping to the door the handle squeaks as I turn it, opening it a couple of inches, peering into the pitch black corridor I can see a shadow of someone standing on the landing. As my eyes become accustomed to the dark I can see it is just a trick of the light from the moon shining through the window. Opening the door wide enough to squeeze through it also squeaks making me jump. ‘Good luck Phil’ a voice whispers from the dorm I think it is Toby I daren’t answer.
My bare feet make no noise on the threadbare carpet. The wooden treads on the stairs to the games room are solid, they are cold on my feet but make no noise as I quickly climb them. But the stairs to the library are a different story; every stair squeaks at the touch of my feet, in the silence the squeaks sound more like a screech, like someone drawing a finger nail over a blackboard. I find I can overcome the screeching by climbing the stairs with my legs wide apart, with my feet against the edge of the stairs. It is so dark up here the only window is at the opposite end to the bookcase, the faint glimmer of moonlight illuminating the white face of the clock. It is ten past three, how long have I been out or did I not start until the early hours. I have no idea, I wish I had borrowed Peters bicycle lamp with the blackout shutter on the lens, it would have shown very little light, still it is no good wishing that now. In the dark I stub my toe on the edge of the table and catch myself before I yell out with pain.
Finding the bookcase by bumping into it, I stub my other foot also banging my nose. Reaching down to the bottom right hand corner for the encyclopaedias, I find, to my horror they are not there, there is a gap where they had been but they are not there now. Panic hits me, where are they, have I got the right shelf. Running my hand along the shelf I can feel the carpet just below it, it has to be the right shelf. Then my hand touches a book that is lying down, to my relief I can feel the raised pattern on the cover of ‘The Talisman’ inside is my letter still being guarded by the Knight and the Saracen, I should have known they wouldn’t let me down.
I will need both hands if I am to get back down the stairs in silence. I put the letter in my right hand pocket then change my mind because in spite of removing the sandwich and jam, it is still very sticky. I manage the library stairs without one screech; I think I would make a good spy. Will they need spies now the war is finished, I don’t know. Making good progress I am about to pass the toilet, when I hear the chain being pulled, the door opens, Flynn is standing there in his pyjamas, the light behind him lighting me like a searchlight.
‘Snell, what are doing where do you think you are going?’
‘Toilet Mr. Flynn, too many strawberries sorry I have to go.’ Pushing past him I shut the door. I can’t hear him outside, perhaps he has gone. I’ll sit here for five minutes and then pull the chain. ‘Snell, are you all right?’
‘Yes Mr. Flynn almost finished Ow ooh.’
‘Phillip, are you okay?’
‘Yes Mr. Flynn, just a pain in my tummy that’s all. I can’t fake this any longer he may come in to see if I’m alright. I pull the chain, waiting until the cistern refills seems to take ages, I flush it again and rattle the toilet brush around the bowl, let him think I have done a big one. Opening the door I find he is still standing in the corridor, his hand quickly moves away from the front of his pyjama trousers revealing the bulge of his penis. ‘Snell, why are you not wearing pyjamas?’
‘Sorry Mr. Flynn, I shit myself and had to take them off.’
‘Don’t be so disgusting, you soiled your pyjamas, wherever do you get this gutter language from I’m sure I don’t know?’
‘I’m sorry Mr. Flynn, didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘Okay, now go to the bathroom and clean yourself.’
‘Will you be coming with me?’ He replies in his nice soft voice,
‘Would you like me to come with you Phillip?’
‘No Mr. Flynn, it is only, if you were, I would have to shout real loud PT is in the bathroom tonight; that’s all.’ Flynn’s face turns red and distorts with anger, thinking he is about to hit me I dodge past him into our dorm and into bed.
Hiding under the blanket I’m not sure if I am shaking from fear or excitement, the only sound is the thump, thump, thump of my heart, after a few minutes the silence is broken by Toby whispering in my ear. ‘Phil are you okay did you get caught?’
‘No, I didn’t get caught and yes I’m okay and feel quite pleased with myself, I’ll tell all of you all about it when we are in the garden after breakfast, night, night.’
‘Did you get your letter?’ Pulling the edge of it out of my pocket to show him,
‘Yes Lion, I had a bit of excitement though, Flynn caught me in the corridor on the way back.’
‘Bloody hell, what happened?’
‘I’ll tell all of you later, when we are gardening; it’s a long story.’
‘Have you any idea where you’re going to hide it?’
‘No not yet, have you any ideas?’
‘Keep it in your pocket for chapel and breakfast, and then we will put it in my secret hiding place. I don’t want anyone else knowing about it so only you and I will hide it, is that okay?’
The others have gone down to the garden leaving Lion and me alone. ‘Quick, help me pull my bed back.’ With the bed head pulled six inches from the wall Lion gets on his hands and knees and lifts a four foot section of floor board. In the cavity below is my tobacco tin and one or two things I do not recognize, they must be Lions. ‘Is that my money in the tin?’
‘Yeah, and Peter’s, quick give me the letter.’ Lion places the letter in the hole and puts my tin on top of it, ‘Right it should be safe there till you go to Maidstone.’ With the floor board and the bed back in place no one would suspect it was there.
The week passes slowly, every plant, every blade of grass has been trimmed; three hundred and twenty seven stones have been whitewashed. We haven’t been worked hard, but steady, by our supervisor, an old gentleman from the village called Mr. Potts. It was on the second day we found out his name was the same as mine. Lion asked him, was that what he did, or was that his name? He either didn’t, or chose not to, get the joke. His reply was, ‘I do not want too much familiarity, so you will call me Mr. Potts.’ The truth is he hasn’t filled a pot all week but has emptied about fifty, making a floral display around the feet of our founder, on the roundabout at the front entrance.
At three this afternoon Mr. Potts gathered us together, and told us that we have done a good job and that we should be very proud of what we have achieved. He then takes my hand, I attempt to turn mine to shake his but he pushes a coin into my palm. ‘Ere lad, ‘ere’s a couple of bob for yer, its not a lot but I don’t believe in slave labour, ‘ere old out yer ‘ands, there’s one for each of yer.’ Lion looks embarrassed. ‘Two shillings, that’s a lot Mr. Potts.’
‘It’s not out me own pocket lad, the church is payin’ fer it, ‘ope yer can find a way to spend it, yer deserve it yer bl
oody good kids yer are.’
Just as we think we are getting away to do our own thing Mam calls, ‘Lionel, I want you and your room mates to get your baths now, before tea. There will be no chapel tonight, get clean then you can have free time, but stay clean.’
‘Mam, why do we have to go so early, it’s only half past three?’
‘Don’t question me Lionel, everyone has to have a bath tonight, the sooner we start the sooner we finish, now get going.’ Peter and I have both drawn the short straw and get third bath, the water is a bit grimy, but if you don’t think about it, it’s not that bad. We usually put on our pyjamas after a bath but we can hardly go for supper in them so we have all dressed. I am reading ‘The Talisman’ and Peter is thrashing Toby at chess. Lion has persuaded us that our earnings from gardening will be safer in his bank, otherwise Mam will get her hands on it, so all twelve shillings have been hidden, I assume, under the floor board with Peter’s and mine.
Flynn is standing behind the lectern on the stage. With his head bowed he says grace. Then raising his head he says, ‘Quiet, listen to me, after your supper you are to remain seated, there will be a short address by the Reverend about what is expected from all of you tomorrow, enjoy your meal.’ That is a laugh I haven’t enjoyed a meal since I have been here.
The Reverend taps the microphone twice, like he always does to get our attention. ‘Quiet, stop that babbling.’ The room goes silent.
‘The festivities commence tomorrow morning at eleven. We, when I say we I am referring to all children and staff from both Saint Gabriel’s and Saint Stephens. We will be formed up around the statue of our founder at the front of the building, where we will greet the dignitaries from the Tonbridge Council, also the director of the charity that supports both Saint Stephen’s and Saint Gabriel’s will be here. With him there will be a group of VIP’s from the London office. When their cars pull up, I expect you to cheer and wave, vigorously, the union jack flags you will be issued with just prior to their arrival. I will introduce these people to our staff. Some of them may wish to speak to some of you. If they do, answer their question, call them sir or madam, don’t be shy, be assertive. I will then lead them into the main hall and give them a tour. While I am doing the tour you are to make your way around to the back of the house, where you will enter the dining room by the rear doors. Once everyone is seated you can then commence to enjoy the fare that is laid before you. In the afternoon there will be a demonstration of country dancing by the girls from Saint Gabriel’s, also there will be a display of PT by the boys from here--”
‘I wonder if Flynn will be there displaying his dick?’ I get an almighty slap around the head which makes me see stars. Swinging around ready to fight back, I see Flynn standing there, ‘Be careful Snell you are walking on very thin ice. The Reverend had mentioned something about Gareth Jones but I missed it, my head and ears are still buzzing.
--“between now and eleven tomorrow morning is as normal, so now go about your business, do not let me or yourselves down, be proud of your home; oh, and thank you for the good job you have done in making Saint Stephen’s look a picture, that is all.
Chapter Seven
A black Daimler and a dark green Humber Super Snipe are pulling into the drive, their tyres crunching on the gravel as they swing around our newly planted roundabout. Both chauffeurs dressed in full uniform with baggy trousers, leather gaiters and peaked caps, open the rear doors with leather gloved hands, the two of them together, as though they are soldiers on parade. To me there is only one thing wrong, the driver of the black Daimler is wearing a green uniform, the driver of the green Humber is wearing black. The first to emerge is a fat man with a very red face, followed by a lady and two other men. A tall thin man steps out of the Humber, followed by a lady and my old friend the Reverend, still clutching his white panama hat. Mam, dressed in a pink and white nurse’s uniform, the only thing missing is the veil, takes a step forward with the Reverend Harrison both smiling broadly. I didn’t know the Reverend could smile, to greet our guests. Looking around I can see the younger kids are waving as instructed, but us older ones are just going through the motions.
My eye catches Rachel’s, she smiles and gives me a vigorous wave with her Union Jack.
Reverend Harrison is introducing one of the ladies to Flynn, he has that sickly look on his face, and I know he is speaking with his special soft voice.
I wonder if she would be so keen to shake his hand if she knew what we know about what he does with them. Both ladies speak to a couple of the younger kids and, the tall man from the Humber is speaking to Rachel, I can see her face is flushed, she is looking very shy.
The guests and some staff have gone inside. Marjorie, still wearing the floral dress from Tonbridge but, thankfully, not the sun hat, and Ann have stayed with the kids, presumably to ensure we don’t kill each other in our dash to the food. They have little effect on the charge, Marjorie being too fat to keep up and Ann not wanting to do it on her own. The stampede is halted by both Flynn and Mr. Simmons who are standing by the rear doors.
Flynn is shouting, ‘Stop running, form into your dormitory groups then, and only then will you be allowed to file in quietly.’
‘What about St Gab’s, where do we go?’ a boy from there asks.
‘Do you not have dormitories at Saint Gabriel’s? Don’t ask stupid questions and line up. Until you do nobody goes inside.’ Eventually we start to file in, the girls first, followed by the younger boys.
The tables have been covered with red, white, and blue paper table cloths. At each setting there is a plate with two sandwiches, two small cakes, a couple of biscuits and, best of all, a dish with four strawberries covered with cream. Down the centre of each table there are three jugs of orange cordial. The food is good. I’m not sure I enjoyed the fish paste sandwiches but the strawberries are great. I have obviously not put myself off them after last Sunday.
The staff, with the exception of Reverend Harrison who is seated on the stage with the fat man and the lady from the Daimler, are serving orange juice and talking and laughing with the kids as though it was something they do every day instead of what it really is a show for the guests.
Thump, thump on the speakers and the babble dies to a murmur, ‘Ladies, Gentlemen, boys and girls.’ The Reverend turns towards fat man. ‘Let me introduce you to Alderman Costello.’ Turning to the Lady, ‘and Mrs. Valerie White. Alderman Costello is the counsellor responsible for education and Mrs. White, social services. It is, thanks to them for making this party to celebrate the end of the war possible. A thankyou is also deserved to Long Thatch farm for their donation of the strawberries and cream.’
‘Some of the persons in this room have never known this country without war and all of you, in someway, or other, have been deeply affected by war. This is a new beginning for all of us, may the future be bright. Now please join me, in three cheers for the good Alderman and Mrs. White. Hip, hip we all cheer the Reverend sits down looking very pleased with himself. The Alderman gets to his feet, choosing not to use the microphone, mumbles a few words and, with a wave of his hand steps down from the stage, closely followed by Mrs. White. Making their way through the door into the hall, their sudden exit seems to catch the Reverend and the other two men from the Daimler by surprise, as they chase after them. Flynn, looking flustered, leaps onto the stage. ‘Attention, will the girls doing country dancing from Saint Gabriel’s please report to Marjorie in the Garden---.’
Several girls scrape back their chairs, making a noise that drowns out Flynn. ‘---also; sit down, quiet, pay attention, all boys over ten years are to report to Mr. Jones for physical training, that is all, off you go in an orderly fashion.’
‘Oh it’s that sort of PT, so Flynn won’t be displaying his dick.’
‘You know Phil, you are a laugh; bloody hell that was some clout he gave you.’
‘Yeah Toby, my head is still ringing; I remember it as though it was yesterday.’
‘I’m not surpris
ed,—hang on it was yesterday; ha, ha very funny; well it hasn’t affected your sense or humour.’
In the garden there are quite a few visitors standing in small groups, chatting to kids from here and St Gab’s, some of them have other children with them. I’m wishing but not too hard as I don’t want to be disappointed, I’m looking for June or Pop or Olive, even Olive’s American boy friend Awful, but the disappointment hits me, there is nobody I recognize.
‘Auntie Mavis, Jill,’ Peter shouts and runs to a woman standing with a girl about my age beside a man in a wheelchair. Hearing his shout Auntie Mavis turns and, with arms spread wide gathers Peter and swings him off the ground, Jill runs up and gives him a hug. I can feel a lump in my throat and the tears start to well, I so much want this to be happening to me. I look around again but there is no one there for me.
The man in the wheelchair has Peters hand clasped in both of his, looking at him in a very affectionate way. Auntie Mavis is standing with her arm around Peter’s shoulders, I think Peter is crying. Feeling wretched, out of place and not wanted, I start to walk away to see if I can find Coach. Peter notices me and calls, ‘Phil, come and meet my—Auntie and Uncle, oh and Jill as well; this is Phil, my best friend, we met in hospital last year, remember I told you about him?’ I am introduced, Mr. Cunningham takes my hand and says, ‘Please excuse me for not standing Phil, my name is John.’ I know he is joking but I don’t know what to say, feeling awkward I just reply,
‘That’s alright I don’t mind,’ then wished I hadn’t. Mavis gives me a hug and Jill a shy smile.
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