‘That’s from Words and Music, isn’t it?’ asked Henry. ‘Blue Moon.’
‘You’re right,’ stated Pip happily.
‘How many times did you see it?’ asked Jeffries.
‘Once.’
‘Once?’ repeated Henry. ‘How can you remember it all?’
‘I just do,’ he said simply. ‘What kind of films do you like best, Jeffries?’
‘Old films, like Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes. And The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I’d really like to see King Kong. My mother was too scared to take me when it came out and I was too small to go on my own.’
‘I like musicals, and films with animals in them, like Lassie,’ said Pip.
‘I know someone who likes musicals,’ said Henry. ‘Her name’s Grace.’
‘Is she your girlfriend?’
‘No,’ said Henry indignantly, ‘she’s just someone I met, that’s all.’
‘I’d like a girlfriend,’ said Pip. ‘But they don’t like me.’
Henry and Jeffries glanced at one another.
‘It’s the same for me,’ said Jeffries. ‘But I don’t want one.’
‘Me neither,’ said Henry.
‘Though I do like Doris Day,’ Jeffries added.
‘So does Grace,’ said Henry matter-of-factly.
It took them all morning to put the first coat of paint on the walls, ceiling, door, window frames and door frame. Sergeant appeared with three mugs of tea and a large portion of chips.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘get this down you. An army marches on its stomach.’
They sat cross-legged on the floor, and after eating the chips, warmed their frozen fingers round the mugs, grinning at one another. Henry had never dreamt he could feel so happy.
‘Ready for the second coat?’ Sergeant enquired. ‘We don’t want them brushes going hard, do we? Start from where you began. It’ll be drier there. And take your time. When you reach where you’ve just finished, it should be dry enough to paint over it.’
‘What about the floor, sir?’ asked Henry.
‘If there’s enough paint left, you can start from the far wall and work backwards towards the door.’
Later, after they had washed the paintbrushes and had scrubbed the paint from their hands, they peered into the room from outside to survey the day’s work. They were all beaming at one another, pleased with what they had done. The red light bulb that had belonged to Mrs Beaumont’s brother finished it off nicely.
‘It’s all down to Mr Finch now,’ Sergeant said. ‘You boys have done a good job.’
Strolling through the school gates, Henry’s high spirits took a sudden nosedive when he realised that he couldn’t invite them back to his house.
‘Are you going to the Cinema Club tomorrow?’ he asked Pip.
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t, do you, Jeffries?’
‘I go to the Odeon.’
‘Why? The Plaza’s much closer to you.’
Jeffries looked awkward.
‘I knew you went there and wouldn’t be too keen to see me.’
‘You’re right,’ said Pip.
Henry shrugged.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Whoever gets there first saves a place for the others.’
‘Me too?’ asked Pip incredulously.
‘You too.’
Henry was the first to arrive. The next person to turn up was neither Jeffries nor Pip. It was Grace.
‘May I join you?’ she asked.
Henry nodded. Having spoken about her to the others, he felt a little shy.
‘I’m meeting some more people here,’ he warned her.
‘Oh. Will they mind if I tag along?’
‘No, ‘course not,’ he added, trying to sound casual.
He spotted Jeffries walking up the steps and then falter when he caught sight of her. Henry gave him a wave.
‘Jeffries, this is Grace.’
‘Grace, Grace, the family disgrace,’ she chanted.
‘Why the family disgrace?’ asked Jeffries.
‘I keep being expelled from schools because I can’t read.’
‘You poor thing,’ he said and he gave her a sympathetic smile.
To Henry’s alarm, Grace’s eyes suddenly filled up. Luckily Pip arrived.
‘Pip,’ said Henry quickly, ‘this is Grace.’
‘Grace, Grace, the family disgrace,’ she said, hurriedly blinking.
But Pip was oblivious. He gazed stupefied at her and beamed.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said.
‘Pip!’ chorused Henry and Jeffries.
Grace laughed. Everything was going to be all right, thought Henry. They liked her and she liked them. The queue began to move slowly up the steps.
‘But it was exciting when there was a fight between the saloon-keepers,’ protested Grace as they left the Plaza together.
‘I liked that bit too,’ said Pip. ‘And Hopalong Cassidy always sorts everything out.’
‘But he looked like he’d just stepped out of a laundry!’ said Jeffries.
‘At least he didn’t start singing,’ added Henry.
‘You’re both being horrible. We liked it, didn’t we, Pip?’
‘Yes,’ he said happily.
But it was obvious from the way he looked at her that if Grace had said she had enjoyed a film about a cow-pat, Pip would have said he had enjoyed it too.
When they left the cinema Henry wanted them to stay together.
‘Let’s get a pennyworth of scraps,’ he suggested.
‘What are they?’ Grace asked.
‘You’ve never eaten scraps?’ asked Henry.
She shook her head.
‘It’s bits of crispy batter left over from the fish,’ explained Jeffries. ‘They sell them off in bags at the fish and chip shop.’
While they ate them on the railway bridge overlooking Hatton Station, the crossing bell began to ring.
‘A train will be arriving soon,’ said Henry.
‘There’s a Monty!’ yelled Pip excitedly.
‘Look out,’ Henry warned Grace, ‘it’s a steam train.’
But they were enveloped in a smutty cloud before he could finish his sentence.
‘I thought you liked electric trains,’ said Jeffries.
‘I like both,’ said Pip happily. ‘That’s why Hatton Station is the best station in the world.’
‘Why?’ asked Grace, puzzled.
‘Because both steam trains and electric pass through,’ explained Jeffries, who was now just emerging through the cloud.
‘Oh. By the way, why is your name Jeffries and not Jeffrey?’
‘It’s my surname.’
‘I can’t call you by your surname. That would be like you calling me Forbes-Ellis. What’s your first name?’
‘Roger.’
‘I’ll call you Roger, then.’
‘Do you think you should be mixing with people like us?’ Jeffries asked. ‘You know we go to a secondary modern school?’
‘Do you think you should be mixing with someone who keeps being expelled?’
When they had finished eating, Henry suggested they call in on Mrs Beaumont.
‘She said we could rehearse our presentation at her house.’
He had no idea how she would take to the four of them turning up unexpectedly at her door, but he wanted her to meet his new friends. As soon as she set eyes on them she gave a broad smile and beckoned them in. Observing the others’ expressions when they walked into the hall, Henry wished he could have taken a photograph.
‘Gosh,’ he heard Jeffries whisper.
‘Now it just so happens I have a tin of powdered lemonade in the kitchen. What do you say?’
‘Good idea!’ said Pip.
Although the kitchen was large, it was the warmest room in the house because of the range. Henry noticed some typed sheets and shiny blue-black pieces of paper at the end of the table.
‘Wha
t are those?’ asked Pip.
‘Carbons,’ she explained, ‘for copies.’
Henry glanced at the neatly typed words on the top sheet.
‘Did Mum type these?’
‘Yes. She’s wonderful. You didn’t tell me she could do shorthand. I was going to write my stories out neatly so that she could read them but she suggested I dictate them to her instead.’
‘Are you a writer?’ asked Jeffries.
‘Yes. But I haven’t written for a very long time. These are stories I wrote three years ago.’ She picked up a newspaper which was lying beside them. ‘Grace, there’s a film with Doris Day in it next week at the Apollo. It’s an A. Do you want me to take you in?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ said Jeffries.
‘Is it a musical?’ Pip asked.
‘I’m not sure.’ She glanced over at Henry. ‘But if it is I doubt it will be entirely romantic. And the film with it is about racketeers so there should be plenty of crooks and wheeling and dealing for you.’
Henry smiled. He knew he was beaten.
Henry realised that sooner or later he would have to tell his grandmother he had spoken to Jeffries and Pip. He decided to wait till Sunday afternoon when Uncle Bill and his mother were out with Molly. He refilled Gran’s coal bucket and then nervously sat down on the rug in her room. The wireless was playing Family Favourites.
‘I hope that Mr Finch is pleased with what you done at half-term,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I expect he will be,’ said Henry. He bit his lip. ‘Gran,’ he said slowly, ‘about the History presentation, it’s a bit difficult doing it on my own.’
‘You’re managing,’ she said.
‘Mr Finch wants us to work as a team, see.’
‘Well, you can’t and that’s that.’
‘And everyone else in the class is doing it together.’
‘They haven’t been put with the son of a deserter and a . . . you know.’
‘Gran, what I’m going to tell you is going to upset you.’
His grandmother sat up straight and stared at him.
‘Upset me?’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think anything you do would upset me.’
‘This will, Gran.’
There was an awful silence. It was at this point that Henry decided to tell her only half the truth. But he’d start with the worst first and get it over with.
‘I’ve been to see Jeffries.’
‘You’ve what?’ she said quietly.
‘Mr Finch said I had to, see. He said that if I don’t work with . . . ’ He stopped. ‘He said I won’t be allowed to take part in the presentation. And I’d be the only one, Gran. And I don’t want to be the only one.’
‘And you’ve spoken to him?’
‘About the presentation.’
‘I see.’
‘I’m sorry, Gran.’
‘I see,’ she repeated.
‘Gran, he’s nice. I know what his father’s done is terrible, but he didn’t do it.’
To Henry’s amazement she leaned forward and patted him on the knee.
‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘And if you think that’s the right thing to do.’
‘Well, I didn’t, but I do now.’
‘How did you know where to go?’
‘Mr Finch gave me his address.’
‘Well I never. I hope you didn’t have to travel too far.’
‘No. They live in Trafalgar Road, near the Kings Theatre.’
‘Well I never. I used to walk down there quite often on the way to Disraeli Road before it was bombed.’
‘Did you?’ said Henry surprised.
‘I sometimes do that now, so’s I can sit in that little garden the council’s made where the department store used to be.’ She tapped her legs. ‘When me pegs let me.’ She gave a smile. ‘Do you know, I’m sure I’ve passed the house where they live.’
‘Was it big?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment as though trying to remember. ‘Number 63!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘No, Gran. It’s Number 25. Right at the top.’
‘Well I never,’ said Gran. ‘Fancy that.’
‘So you don’t mind, Gran?’
‘Of course I don’t mind, love. If that’s what you think is best, you go ahead and do it.’
Henry laughed with relief.
She stayed looking at him, her head on one side, smiling.
‘And?’ she said.
Henry stared back at her.
‘And,’ he repeated. ‘That’s it.’
‘You said that Mr Finch gave you Jeffries’ address?’
‘Yes, Gran.’
‘So why didn’t he give you that other boy’s address? I mean, that don’t seem very fair to me.’
‘Well, Gran,’ he struggled, ‘I was going to tell you but I thought . . . ’
‘You didn’t want me to have two shocks?’
‘No.’
‘You’re a good boy, Henry.’
Henry smiled awkwardly.
‘So,’ she said, ‘did you visit him too?’
‘Yeah.’
Once Henry began talking, he couldn’t stop. He hated keeping secrets from his gran. Describing what it was like visiting Jeffries and Pip, he could feel a massive weight on his chest dissolving. And she didn’t get upset at all. She listened patiently and smiled. He was almost tempted to tell her about his mother typing for Mrs Beaumont, but then he remembered he had promised Mrs Beaumont to keep it a secret and changed his mind.
‘Oh, Henry,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad we’ve had this little chat.’
‘Why did you paint the room black?’ asked Mr Finch.
It was the first day back after half-term and Mr Finch had alarmed Henry by taking him aside to have a quiet word. He kept his fingers crossed that Mr Finch wasn’t still angry with him.
‘You wanted a darkroom, sir.’
‘I thought that might be the reason.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You don’t need to have dark walls for a darkroom. You could turn a bathroom into a darkroom simply by covering the windows and putting a board over the bath to use as a table for the trays and equipment. A darkroom means not being in daylight. I suppose a better word for it would be a dim room. To avoid exposure, you just need to turn off the light.’
‘Oh,’ said Henry awkwardly.
‘Not that I’m not grateful. In fact . . . ’ Mr Finch hurriedly examined his feet and Henry noticed the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘You see, when Miss Dawson heard that the room had been emptied, she told the headmaster just before half-term that she had had her eye on it for some time as another laundry room for teaching the girls washing and ironing. The headmaster gave her permission to move in this morning.’
‘Oh, no, sir!’
‘However,’ continued Mr Finch, ‘unaware that your decorating team had visited it yesterday, as indeed I was . . . ’
‘We wanted it to be a surprise, sir,’ interrupted Henry.
‘Which it was, lad, which it was.’ Mr Finch looked away again for a moment. ‘Miss Dawson was all set to move in this morning with her mangle and ironing board . . . ’
He broke off, unable to speak.
‘And she walked into a black room,’ finished Henry for him, imagining the look on Miss Dawson’s face.
‘With a red light bulb swinging from the ceiling,’ added Mr Finch, his voice shaking.
For a while neither of them spoke.
‘What did she say, sir?’ Henry asked hesitantly.
‘She didn’t say anything, lad. She screamed and ran out.’ Henry struggled to keep a straight face. By now neither of them dared look each other in the eye. ‘So, it looks as though we’ll have our darkroom after all.’
‘You mean we might have lost it if we hadn’t painted it black, sir?’
He nodded.
‘So it’s turned out to be necessary after all,’ said Mr Finch.
Henry couldn’t help smilin
g.
‘This is one of those conversations which never happened, Dodge.’
‘What conversation, sir?’ asked Henry innocently.
12. Homeless
SCHOOL SEEMED LIKE A DIFFERENT PLACE. SINCE THE conversation with Mr Finch and his new friendship with Pip and Jeffries, Henry stopped pretending he didn’t find the lessons easy. He jumped into French with abandon. He joined in with the mental arithmetic as though it were a game. He even stood up for the girls in Maths because he thought it unfair that Mr David never let them answer any of the questions. Eventually he was sent off to the head for his insubordination and a caning. Henry didn’t mind, because he ended up making two new friends, Jane and Margaret. As he came out into the playground, clutching his throbbing hand, they were waiting for him.
‘Thanks,’ they said.
The biggest change was football. He finally admitted to himself that he didn’t like it, even though he knew he would be letting Gran and his father down. Finding it boring didn’t matter because Jeffries hated it, unlike Pip who was so enthusiastic about it, he almost made it interesting.
‘He’s good,’ commented Jeffries when he and Henry were standing on the sidelines watching him.
‘He’s better than half the boys in the team, isn’t he?’ said Henry thoughtfully.
‘Yes. But he’ll never be picked for it.’
‘I asked him the other day why he didn’t get upset or angry at not being chosen.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He just accepts it. He thinks it’s because he’s not tall enough.’
‘So he doesn’t know the real reason?’
‘No.’
And then it was the History lesson on Friday. To Henry’s surprise he felt nervous again. Pip and Jeffries turned round and grinned at him. Henry gave them a casual nod.
As soon as their group was mentioned he flung his arm up.
‘Yes, Dodge?’ said Mr Finch.
Henry beamed.
‘There’s this man in London who has some old films,’ he began.
‘Henry tells me your mother was a ballerina, Roger. Is that right?’
They were all round at Mrs Beaumont’s eating thick vegetable soup.
Jeffries nodded through a mouthful of bread.
‘She was with a ballet company when she met my father and married him. The company had a season at the Kings Theatre. She gave it up to be near him. He had lots of pupils here. He was a piano teacher.’
Just Henry Page 11