Barefoot and Lost

by Brian Francis Cox

  ‘No Toby I didn’t, I thought it best if we keep that as our plan, it might not work for us if they started doing it to Mam as well.’

  ‘Yeah, s’pose you’re right.’

  ‘Auntie bloody Mavis said she posted the letter?’

  ‘Yeah Jack, she said last Monday, he should have it by now and will certainly do something about it. We both have a friend a in the police Superintendent Langdon, he is also the captain of my swimming club, that’s how I know him, I bet Pop has given it to him, you’ll see, next week there will be loads of Bobbies here taking Flynn and Mam to prison.’

  ‘I hope I’m here when they do it.’

  ‘Yeah and I do too.’

  ‘And me, can’t wait to see them waving out of the back of a Black Maria.’ Toby is pulling a face and waving, we start to laugh, the door opens, Mr. Simmons puts his head around the door, ‘Come on now, get some shut eye, busy day tomorrow; oh yes, forgot to mention, you are all excused chapel in the morning, an extra half hour in bed then get ready for the funeral, wear your best suits and look smart. Also Phillip the director wants you to read your poem at the funeral so bring it with you, good night.’

  ‘The Reverend said he didn’t want me to.’

  ‘Well he does now, he’s been overruled by his boss, now, good night.’

  ‘Goodnight Mr. Simmons.’

  ‘I think he is okay, he is not doing what Flynn and Mam are up to.

  ‘No, he’s a good bloke; I reckon that if Phil’s friend doesn’t sort it then we should tell him, what do you think?’

  ‘I agree Brian.’

  ‘So do I, what about you Phil?’

  ‘Yeah, I agree, but you’ll see, Pop will sort it.’

  As well as the Humber, the taxi that brought me from the train is in the drive. ‘Snell, you sit up front with the driver, Mam, Herbert and I will ride in the back. Gerald if you would be good enough to sit with the boys in the taxi I would be grateful.” I’ve never ridden in the front seat of a car before, how the driver can see where he is going with that long bonnet in front I do not know. ‘Are you okay son, bit of a novelty, sitting in the front, is it?’

  ‘Yes sir, riding in a car is a novelty, I’ve only done it once before.’

  ‘Well, sit back and enjoy the ride.’

  As we drive along the road I ask the driver ‘Were you the driver that found our friend in the boot?’

  ‘No son, that was Charlie, it really upset him, he’s not back to work yet. I spoke to him yesterday; he reckons he may never be able to come back. You see he has a son the same age as your mate, so ‘it’s really shaken him.’

  ‘It has upset us too, we were like brothers. Well he was more like our elder brother he was our leader. His name is Lionel, we called him Lion, and things won’t be the same without him.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t son, but you’ll see, someone will step into his shoes, it might even be you.’

  ‘I don’t think so, I’m the youngest.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with age, its strength that counts. Can’t talk now son, I have to concentrate on these narrow lanes.

  The journey only takes twenty minutes. The hearse is waiting for us, moving off very slowly as we fall, behind. With the taxi following we pass into the church yard of Saint Peter; the church is very old the bottom half is made of lots of sharp pieces of rock which glint in the sunlight, the top half is made of a yellow stone. The driver gets out and opens the rear door Mam is first out, followed by the director and then the Reverend the others, from the taxi, join us. Waiting in the porch are two clergymen, one very tall with thinning blond hair, the other much shorter and a lot younger with hardly any hair, they are both wearing white cassocks.

  The tall one unfolds his arms to greet us I can see his purple shirt and white collar. They shake hands with all of us saying welcome to Saint Peter’s. The tall one then turns to face Brian, ‘Are you the young man reading the Tribute?’ Brian looks blank, the Reverend chips in,

  ‘No young Phillip here,’ resting his hand on my head ‘Is reading a poem he has composed. Brian here’ he puts his hand on Brian’s shoulder, ‘Is reading the twenty third psalm is that in order?’

  ‘That will be absolutely fine Reverend, now you young man Phillip, is it; what is your relationship with the deceased?’

  ‘A friend sir, we are all his friends.’

  ‘I want you to sit at the front, on the end of a pew, so when I call your name you can come forward quickly. When you speak, speak loudly do not shout, there is a microphone that will relay your voices. Now please stand aside and allow the coffin to proceed. All of you follow me the boys, I think should walk behind me.’

  We stand aside to allow two men pushing a trolley with the coffin on to pass us. I have to look away, my mind running wild with the thought of Lion, laying inside that box, looking up at me trapped for the second time, in a locked box; oh Lion, why didn’t I stop you, if I had undone that handle would you have been able to escape, I wish I knew, will this haunt me for the rest of my life? The ministers hold their hands in prayer; side by side they follow Lion. Through my tears I look at Toby to see who is going first and notice he is weeping like me.

  A wheelchair is blocking half the aisle, in it is a soldier in full uniform, standing next to him is Auntie Mavis and Peter, and this makes me smile helping me to control my tears.

  The church is almost half full. I didn’t think Lion knew anyone other than us at St S’s, where have they all come from, I can see Marjorie; she has exchanged her sun hat for a smaller black one. Anne is standing beside her still looking like a figure one beside a naught; why do I think of silly things at a sad time like this. Mr. Simmons and two lady house mothers, I do not know their names. Even Mr. Potts is here, but there is no sign of Flynn. Two boys about Lion’s age, wearing school blazers, are standing together. On either side of them are two adults they are probably their parents, I wonder are they from Lion’s school. The men with the coffin position it in front of the altar, place three wreaths on top, and then slip out of a side door, shutting it with a bang that echoes around the church.

  ‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord-----.’ The minister drones on, my thoughts are not with him but with Lion, how he attacked Flynn on my behalf even though he had only just met me, how he was prepared to risk everything to save me. ‘Now we will have a tribute to Lionel from---’ I start to get to my feet but the minister indicates to me I should stay seated‘---, the Principal, of Lionel’s school Mr. Lancer.’ A man with greying hair, dressed in a black suit, walks from his seat and climbs the three steps to the pulpit. Placing his notes on the lectern he looks around the congregation then turns his head away from the microphone and gives a little cough and begins

  ‘There are no relatives to mourn Lionel, only his friends and tutors; Lionel was born of a woman who we presume was on her own and felt she could not cope. In the early hours of an October morning, in 1931, she abandoned her baby in a shopping bag, wrapped in a blanket on the steps of Saint Martins in the Fields, in Trafalgar Square. The story is told that the baby had a shock of red hair and was crying loudly, the curate who found him suggested Martin for a name, but the policeman called to the scene said, with hair like that and roaring like one of them lions, he should be called Lionel; so Lionel it was.

  Lionel came to our school almost three years ago and, in that time, proved himself to be a leader, a person that set himself high standards. He approached everything with a determination to get it right. Academically he struggled but tried hard, he captained our school cricket eleven with vigour. His leadership brought us success as county champions last season and this year we are on target to achieve the same success. Lionel will be missed by his team mates and by everyone that had the pleasure to know him; it is such a tragedy, that a life, with so much future, should be cut short; Rest in peace Lionel Bates.

  I take the place of the headmaster. Although I have the piece of paper in my hand I do not need to read it when I reach the
line, ‘Mam with a love so true.’ I am tempted to change it to not so true but think better of it. The hesitation over the word true, with me looking directly at her, probably has the same effect. Brian is waiting for me at the bottom of the steps; I have never seen him look so stern, his deep voice booms around the church as he almost shouts the words of the psalm. After another prayer the two boys in blazers come forward, the minister walks over to Brian and Jack. I can’t hear what he is saying but both of them are nodding their heads. The two men from the hearse show them how to hold their arms and, with their assistance, Lionel is lifted on to their shoulders, Brian and a blazer in front, Jack and the other blazer taking the other end, walk through the side door, staggering the twenty yards to a freshly dug grave under a yew tree. Not every one has come to the graveside; I can’t see Mam or the director. The pall bearers place the coffin beside the grave and thread straps under it, Lion is lowered into the ground.

  ‘We therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ A wail comes from Marjorie, there are several with tears running down their cheeks. Brian and Jack both have tears in their eyes, their bottom lips trembling. Toby and I put our arms around each other and sob uncontrollably. This is the third funeral I have been to in the past year none has affected me like this one; why?

  At the front of the church everyone is shaking hands and offering kind words. Nobody comes to the four of us to offer nice words; it is almost as though we are invisible. Nobody will miss him like we will.

  Peter is holding the door of the Gloria open, while Auntie Bloody Mavis lifts her husband into the front seat. Making my way to them. ‘Can I Help?’

  ‘No thanks Phil, we have this down to a fine art haven’t, you Mavis?’

  ‘I certainly have and, what is more I’m getting muscles like a wrestler.’

  ‘You’ll be nice and trim by the time I get my new legs so look out, I like my women slim and athletic.’

  ‘Watch it John Cunningham, any nonsense from you and I’ll hide one leg so you will have to hop, that should slow you down enough to give me a sporting chance. John now settled in the front passenger seat holds his hand out to me, ‘We are so pleased that Peter pestered us to come today, it has been a most moving experience, and you and Brian did very well.’

  ‘I have been very upset, in fact all of us have.’

  ‘You will get over it, you have the advantage that you can all grieve together, it will help all of you, so keep your chin up, good bye Phil.’

  ‘Saint Stephen’s is only three quarters of an hour run for us so we may drop in to see how you are getting on, goodbye Phillip.’

  ‘I would like that, bye Auntie Mavis, Peter, err, John.’ Auntie M lets out the clutch and the Gloria glides out of the gate, almost colliding with a taxi on its way in.

  ‘Mrs. Miller and I will take this one; you boys go with John in the other taxi. No nonsense now, John will tell me if you misbehave.’ The director and Reverend McGuire complete with Panama hat get in the Humber and go on their way to London without so much of a glance at us.

  ‘Well lads, are you all okay?’ John the taxi driver asks, Jack answers the rest of us deep in our own thoughts.

  ‘Yeah we’re okay, a bit upset, that’s all.’

  ‘Funerals are never good but I can honestly say that this one; and believe me I’ve been to a few, was the best, I, like nearly all others there was in tears.’

  ‘Where did all the people come from, I’m sure Lion didn’t know all of them?’

  ‘Well, yer see, this church has a tradition going back hundreds of years that, for any funeral for anyone on their own, the whole congregation turns out. That is them that are able, because of work and the likes. In forty one, a German airman was shot down near here and was buried in Saint Peter’s. The whole bloody congregation turned up, the vicar said he had never had so many at a funeral before or since.’

  ‘They probably came to make sure he was dead.’

  ‘Maybe but I’d like to think they came out of compassion, and hope that the Germans would do the same for one of our boys over there. In fact they have even put a head stone with an inscription; let me think, there’s his name, Wolfgang something or other’---. By now we have pulled up in front St S’s, John turns in his seat, ‘---- I’ve got it. Here lies Wolfgang Muller, who came to visit but was persuaded to stay, RIP.

  ‘Do you think they will put a headstone for Lion?’

  ‘Dunno son could do.’

  ‘Well, if they don’t, when I get some money I’ll put one.’

  ‘That’s a nice thought son, you do that; now, are you all going to get out of my cab so I can go and do some work?’

  I want to be on my own and I think the others do too, so I’m making my way to my bolt hole in the library. Chapter seventeen, Queen Berengaria and Lady Edith are pleading with King Richard not to execute Sir Kenneth, that the whole thing was a joke by them that has gone badly wrong. The king won’t listen, now the executioner has been given his orders. A Carmelite monk, who is a hermit dressed in rags, has come to plead with King Richard. He is followed by an Arab doctor, all of them trying to save Sir Kenneth---. I can hear my name being called, Mr. Simmons head appears over the top step of the stairs, ‘Ah, there you are Phillip, tomorrow I’m taking you for registration at your new school; you need to go and make sure your clothes are ready. You are to wear your best suit, make sure you have a clean shirt and your shoes are highly polished.’

  ‘I was wearing them today.’

  ‘All the more reason to make sure they are suitable for tomorrow. If you need a clean shirt see the house keeper, no more discussion, on your way.’

  ‘Yes Mr. Simmons, can I finish this chapter?’

  ‘What are you reading?’

  ‘The Talisman’

  ‘Which Talisman, is it the one written by Sir Walter Scott?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Interesting, is it not too difficult for you to read?’

  ‘Some of the words are, I look them up in the dictionary, but sometimes they are not there so I have to guess.’

  ‘That is because words he has used are not in our modern English. Some would say mores the pity. Where are you up to?’

  ‘Chapter seventeen, the monk, and the Physician are pleading for Sir Kenneth’s life.’

  ‘Then you are about halfway through. Would you like me in my spare time to help you read it and explain the words you don’t know?’ Is he being like Flynn, all nice so he can abuse me, I don’t think he is but you can never be sure, look at Mam we didn’t think she was doing it.

  ‘I don’t think so Mr. Simmons, I like to read on my own, and that way I can live the story but thank you anyway.’

  ‘I know what you mean, tell you what, any words you don’t know, and can’t find out their meaning, jot them down and I will look at them for you, I’m not saying I’ll know all of them but, with a degree in English literature, I stand a fair chance.’

  ‘That will be great thanks.’

  ‘Enough chat, come on, get your clothes sorted, the house keeper goes home at six.’

  Our pow wow is very short tonight, I’m telling them what Mr. Simmons said about helping me, and they all agree I should be careful until we are sure. The funeral is not mentioned, it is, as though if, we don’t talk about it we can pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t like to say anything in case I upset someone; I suppose we are all thinking the same.

  ‘Are you ready Phillip?’

  ‘Yes Mr. Simmons.’ The taxi is waiting, John the driver greets us, ‘Morning Bill; hello son, so it’s you again is it? I’m gunna have to put you on the payroll, you’re in this cab nearly as often as me’

  ‘Good morning, that would be good, and then I would be able get the money for that headstone.’

  ‘Good Morning John, can you take us to the secondary school in Tonbridge?’

  ‘Would that be the Grammar or the other one?’

  ‘The other one, as you put it. The new o
ne’s title I believe is Tonbridge Secondary Modern School for Boys. I’m not so sure this two tier standard of education is a good idea, how can anyone judge a child, at eleven, and say whether they are suitable for this job or that profession, doesn’t seem right to me?’

  ‘I think it might work, at least it gives kids from poorer families a chance to get on, instead of saving it for the rich kids who might not be as bright.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right; I just think it will lower the standards of the Grammar schools.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking Bill, did you come from upper class stock; I expect you went to university.’

  ‘Yes I did, Edinburgh. If you call being the third son of a dentist upper class, then I suppose I did.’

  ‘You’re not a Scot are you?’

  ‘No, Edinburgh was the only one that offered me a place.’

  ‘So, you would agree that the third son of a taxi driver, given the same training as you could do your job?’

  ‘John, you argue a good case, yes, I suppose they could.’

  ‘Then I rest my case, would you like me to wait for you?’

  ‘Not if you are going to keep the meter running, Saint Stephen’s wouldn’t agree to that.’

  “No, I’ll wait here. If I get a call I’ll have to go but that’s not likely as no one knows where I am unless I phone in, I’ll just call it my elevenses.’

  ‘That’s good of you John, give us an hour.’

  ‘Bloody hell Bill, if I wait that long I’ll have to call it me dinner as well, say half an hour, if I’m not here when you come out you have our number.’

  John has parked his taxi outside a long two, storey concrete building. The windows are large, almost stretching from the ground to the roof. The windows on the ground floor are blanked out preventing anyone seeing in and, I expect, looking out as well. At the right hand end there is a three storey red brick, Victorian style building, the roof is very steep and tiled in slates. Just below the gable is a large round window it’s red and green glass glinting in the sunlight. It is to this building we are making our way, across a tarmac area to a flight of six steps that lead to open double doors. Above the door is a crest of some sort bearing a lion and a griffin. Standing on the steps are two boys dressed in blazers, like the ones at church yesterday. ‘Good morning Sir; do you have an appointment?’ the boy on the left asks.