"That's completely different, that was the war."
Frances grabbed Simon. "Come on, let's explore the hotel," she said quickly and practically dragged Simon out of the room. "Let's leave them to it," she said. They heard the raised voices as they ran down the passage way, Simon running his hands along the panelling. He wondered if there were any secret passages. Lots of old buildings had them he knew, and this must be pretty old. He and Frances had once gone with Mummy on one of her radio weekends and had stayed at an old hotel in Ludlow. That had secret passages, and Simon was certain that this hotel was bound to have at least one.
"Hello, children." It was Zelda again. "Are you the hotel exploring?" Simon stopped, knowing now she was German and wondering what to say.
"Yes, that's right," said Frances. "We always do when we get to a hotel."
"If you go out to the back there gives there a waterfall, but you must promise to be careful, please, children."
"We will," they shouted, finding their way out and exploring the garden and climbing the paths through the woods next to the waterfall. Simon thought it was magical. He fell in love with the place instantly.
The days passed by. They went for walks, rides in the car, and climbed some of the closer mountains. Daddy said they were just hills really, although they seemed like mountains to Simon. But then Daddy had been climbing in the Alps before the war. That's how he knew German, he said.
One day at breakfast, Daddy looked at Simon. "Today, I'm going to teach you to row, son." Simon grinned happily. He had seen people rowing boats on the lake and now he was going to as well.
"Don't I get a chance?" said Frances.
"Of course, Princess," said Daddy, "everybody will." So soon they were on the launch going along the lake to the town. They decided to leave the car at the hotel and use the motor launch because you could catch it just at the end of the hotel drive. From out on the lake, the scenery seemed even more wonderful but soon they arrived at the landing stages and Daddy ordered a rowing boat big enough for them all. They put their bags in and a boatman pushed them off. Simon thought the boatman was good because he could drive the motor launch as well. Simon wanted to drive the motor launch. But Daddy was rowing now, Mummy sitting at the back, Frances up at the front, trailing her hand in the water. Simon was watching Daddy, pulling back on the oars, making the boat go. The lake seemed so much bigger than from the motor launch.
"How deep is it, Daddy?" he asked.
"Not very, I don't think. About seventy feet in the middle. It's not the deepest lake."
Simon gulped. Seventy feet sounded very deep to him. He remembered the Lido from last year and sat away from the edge of the boat. Daddy stopped rowing, the boat rocking gently out on the lake.
"Come on then, son." Carefully they changed places, the boat now rocking precariously.
"Careful, Harry," said Mummy.
"I'm fine," said Daddy.
"It was Simon I was thinking of," she said.
"Now son, take hold of the oars, make sure they don't slip back through the rowlocks."
"The what?"
"Those, like an upside down horseshoe," said Daddy. "Keep the collar inside the rowlock." Each oar had a large leather collar that was to stop it sliding through into the lake. "Lean forward, drop the oars into the water, brace your feet and pull back."
Simon did as he was told, but the oars were heavy. As he pulled back, one came high out of the water, catching him unawares, so that he let go of the other. It slid away, but the collar stopped it. The oar he still had hold of had jumped out of the rowlock and was suddenly very heavy, trying to slide away over the side. Making the boat rock violently, Daddy jumped forward and grabbed the oar slipping out of Simon's grasp. Simon looked at Daddy nervously. He knew he had got it wrong, and he didn't want Daddy to be cross. But the cross look on Daddy's face faded.
"Right son, try again, but make sure you keep the oars in the water when you pull them back, and lift them when you come forwards again."
Patiently, Daddy taught his son to row, and Simon, now more relaxed because Daddy wasn't cross, soon picked it up and found a rhythm. He liked the steady repeated motion. Push down, go forward, lift the oar handles, holding the blades vertical into the water, brace the feet and pull back. The boat moved. Again and again, forward and pulling, forward and pulling. Simon found the rhythm of his rocking body soothing, coupled with a sense of achievement. He rowed along the lake, straining and panting but not stopping. They passed the hotel, looking strange from this viewpoint.
"Do you want to have a go, Frances?" Daddy asked at one point.
"No, another time maybe," she replied. "Let him keep going." And she continued to trail her fingers in the water, lost in her own thoughts. Slowly they entered the flat lands around where the river entered the lake. Simon rowed up the narrowing river, reeds and grass either side. The water was now clear, and Simon realised with horror and fear that he could see the bottom, gravel and even a couple of fish. It looked so deep to his young eyes. In his mind he was under the water at the Lido and panic set in. Shaking he stopped rowing.
"I want to go back," he said.
"What for?" said Daddy.
"It's deep." Simon was visibly shaking now, and tears of panic were starting.
"Don't be silly, boy," said Daddy. "It's not as deep as the water you've been rowing along quite happily."
Simon knew it would be no good pointing out that now he could see the bottom, that made it worse. The actual depth didn't matter.
"Harry, can't you see he's frightened," said Mummy.
"I'll row then," said Daddy. So Daddy rowed the boat quickly back out onto the main lake. Simon later rowed again, feeling safer in his mind because the dark water of the lake hid its depth. But he knew that in some way he had let Daddy down, that Daddy was disappointed in him.
It was another day. There was the usual discussion over breakfast of the plans for the day.
"The weather forecast is good," said Mummy. "A good day for the tops."
"You mean another mountain?" said Frances with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
"A real one this time," said Daddy. "Great Gable."
Simon felt a pang of disquiet at this. The very name seemed somehow full of foreboding. He wondered if at eight years old - OK, almost nine - he was capable of climbing a mountain with such a name.
"It's quite a lot for the children, Simon especially," said Mummy.
"We'll take the car to Honister top – if that's all right with you?"
"Yes, OK then," agreed Mummy.
So it was decided. Boots, anoraks, sandwiches, flasks, chocolate all gathered together for the expedition, and then into the car. Along the valley past some farms and buildings, through a little village, and then Mummy had a real job. The hill was the steepest Simon had ever seen. Mummy was working the gears to get the Wolseley up the hill. Luckily it was a reasonably powerful car. They overtook a small Morris stopped with steam belching from its engine. But Mummy's skill got them to the top. They parked by some buildings where they got slate down from the mountain. There were mounds of it all round. Simon looked round. This was supposed to be the easier route, but everyway up looked steep.
"Which one is Great Gable, Daddy?"
Daddy laughed. "You can't see it from here, but that's our route." He pointed to the steepest path around, it went straight up the side of a hill and disappeared through a gap over the top.
The climb had Simon panting. Daddy was in front, Mummy and Frances behind, talking. He was in his own little world, putting one foot in front of the other, plodding on and up. He kept having to stop for breath, but when he turned round he realised how far up he had come. The car was a little toy car next to some little toy buildings. He trudged up, thinking about home, wondering what Daniel was doing while he was away, remembering that Daniel was away on holiday too. He wished Daniel was here. After going through a little rocky gap, the path levelled out a bit and the going got easier. Daddy was up ahead along the
dead straight path, and soon they came to a stone ramp where Daddy stopped.
"Daddy, did there used to be trains up here?" asked Simon. He had noticed what looked like railway sleepers on the path, and it occurred to him that the straightness of the path was like a railway line.
"Not bad, son. Not trains in that sense, but they used to take the slate down in wagons drawn up and down by a big steam engine. Not a locomotive, but a big drum that wound a cable round it attached to the wagons."
"Where was the big drum?"
"Here. This is what used to be the Drum House, pulling the wagons up the slope. Clever boy."
Simon felt pleased to have drawn praise from Daddy, and sat contented to wait for Mummy and Frances. It seemed so wild and quiet. Some other people came past and said hello.
"Do you know them, Daddy?" asked Simon when they had gone past.
"No, but people often say hello to each other on the fells, even when at home they would pass in the street without a word."
After Mummy and Frances caught up and had got their breath, the family set out away from the Drum House following a path that would take them to Great Gable. Soon the great, forbidding dome, black against the sky with wisps of cloud brushing across it, was in view.
"Are we climbing that?" asked Frances. Simon concurred with her concern.
"Soon be there," said Daddy. They marched on, the path going up and down, past some small pools until they started the steep climb to the top of Great Gable’s little companion, Green Gable. Little in this case of course being a relative term. But Simon now felt he had the measure of this and simply kept going until they were all at the top, looking up at the mass of Great Gable. Simon was first off down into the gap between the two, Windy Gap, which justified its name when Mummy's woolly hat blew off as the wind is funnelled between the peaks. But Simon ran after it and recovered it. He was enjoying being so high, looking down on the mountains and down into the valleys below. Soon he was scrambling up the path to the top of Great Gable. It took quite a while, and Daddy kept saying not to go too far ahead, but now Simon had the bit between his teeth and like a mountain goat as Mummy said, he sprang from rock to rock until it levelled out into a broad rocky top. But where was the top of the mountain? Clouds kept brushing past and then he could see a mound of rocks, a stick sticking up and people gathered round it. Alone now, he set off towards it. Sometimes it was lost in the cloud, as was he, but he kept going and then the clouds swept away, there was sunshine and he was there, at the very top. He clambered past some other people who were sitting round, some eating sandwiches, and stood on the very top. Only in one direction was the view blocked by other mountains. Otherwise he could see now for miles and miles. He could see the sea, so far away. And faintly in the distance beyond the sea, he could make out the grey shapes of other mountains. It was an exhilaration of a kind Simon had never known before. He had conquered the mountain, he could conquer the world! Looking round, he could see Mummy's blue anorak as a dot coming towards him, along with Daddy's less visible brown one and Frances. But he was there first. He let out a whoop of sheer delight, which startled the sandwich eaters, not that Simon cared. Even when the others arrived he refused to get down from his perch at the highest point. He was going to savour this for as long as he could!
"Come and get your sandwiches, Simon," called Mummy, who was producing food and a flask from her rucksack. With some regret, Simon succumbed to the call of food and climbed down.
"This is fantastic," he said. "Everybody should do this."
And in the years to come, he certainly tried his best to offer that same elation to as many others as he could.
All too soon the holiday was over, and Mummy drove the Wolseley back home. It was not the only holiday Simon was to have in the Lake District as a child, but it was the most memorable, and the most influential. Here were the seeds sown of later triumphs and disaster. Simon spent much of the homeward journey thinking of Daniel and hoping he would be home. Now that the holiday was over, all he wanted was his friend's company, to feel his comforting touch. He knew that when they got home, Mummy and Daddy would be arguing again.
Within a few days, it was as though the holiday had never been. Things were back to normal and Simon sought refuge with his friend. Daniel listened patiently while Simon told him all about the mountains and the conquering of Great Gable. He seemed to take on some of Simon's enthusiasm. Daniel told Simon of his family's seaside holiday, of swimming in the sea, a prospect that would worry Simon.
"I had a snorkel," said Daniel.
"What's that?"
"It’s a tube and you can keep your head underwater and still breathe. You saw people with them at the lido last summer."
"Don't remind me," said Simon ruefully. "I didn't know that's what they were called."
"I could see fish and crabs and all the rocks under the water," enthused Daniel.
"Is it safe?" asked Simon with a note of concern.
"Course it is," said Daniel robustly. "I'm an excellent swimmer."
And Simon knew that to be true. The two boys resumed their friendship for the remainder of the summer holidays, riding their bikes, sharing their time, their joys and their intimacy once more. Simon was happy.
1955/9 Should never have been born
It was Barry Spence, of course, who asked the question. Miss Day was talking to the class of nine year olds about swearing. Simon liked Miss Day, and he was now third year juniors. Daniel was in Mr West's class in fourth year, getting ready for the eleven plus exams. But now Miss Day had brought up about swearing. Simon was fearful of this subject, as the years had not diminished Daddy's propensity for raw language. Some of the children had been glancing at Simon all through the lesson, many aware of his situation, and wondering how he was feeling. Susan James and Cynthia Jackson tried to smile at him, their natural empathy stirred by Simon's plight. Simon liked both of them, they were the best girls in the class. Daniel had kissed Cynthia, but he was older. Simon liked Susan, and he thought that she liked him. Simon was sitting at his double desk next to his friend Peter Holman but at the moment though, all he wanted was Daniel to be near him, Daniel on whom he could always rely, Daniel who had protected him over the years from the biguns, and even though Simon was now in the third year juniors himself, Daniel continued to protect him and provide comfort.
"Now children," droned Miss Day cheerfully, "we all know that there are some words we should never use, don't we, even though we may hear others say them."
"Yes, Miss," replied one or two, losing hope that Miss Day was going to provide actual examples. The response seemed to satisfy Miss Day, however.
"Sometimes people use them out of bad temper, or because they know no better," she continued, oblivious to the distress Simon was being caused by this. He looked up and saw the Spence gang smirking at him, waiting to see how they could exploit the situation to hurt Simon more.
"It's usually because of poor upbringing that people swear for no good reason, that is, supposing that there could ever be a good reason," Miss Day went on. Sidney Forth too was enjoying Simon's embarrassment. Simon hated Sidney Forth. Simon was doing well now with English and reading and was one of the better ones in the class. His stories got top marks. But arithmetic was still a closed book to Simon. The numbers just seemed to go round and round and get jumbled up. Sidney Forth was clever, he could read well, write and he knew ALL his tables, right up to twelve twelves, straight away, without having to say up the table first! But that was not the real reason Simon hated Forth; it was because Forth despised Simon because he could not do these things. He was supremely contemptuous of any who could not match his abilities. He was not one of the Spence gang, in fact at times he was just as much their victim as was Simon. Forth had his wit to protect him, and that stayed with him all the time. Simon had come to rely on Daniel, but he was not always there.
"Now, when is the only time we should use a word?" asked Miss Day, and looked expectantly round the class. Many of the childre
n were caught out by the fact that she had suddenly stopped talking, and that something was expected of them. Roused from their reverie, they glanced anxiously around. What was the question?
Cynthia Jackson raised her hand.
"Yes, Cynthia," said Miss Day.
"When we mean what we say, Miss," answered Cynthia.
"Good, Cynthia, but what about the words we use, when should we use them?"
Sidney Forth put up his hand. Miss Day nodded at him.
"When we know what the words mean, Miss," said Sidney Forth.
"That's right, Sidney, good boy," she beamed. "I'm glad that somebody was listening," she remarked tartly to rest of the class.
The rest of the class tried to look as if they had been listening all along, but had suffered a purely momentary lapse of memory.
"Please, Miss, do all the bad words have meanings?" asked Frank Hinds.
"Well, err.., yes they do," replied Miss Day, a little uncertainly, unsure of where this might lead. Inspiration came to her rescue. "But of course we don't need them because there are other perfectly good words that we can use instead of these awful words."
"What are they, Miss?" persisted Frank.
"Well, err.., we don't need to go into that right now," said Miss Day, glancing at her wristwatch hopefully. Almost playtime. Simon too hoped this lesson would end soon.
"Please Miss, what's a bastard?"
Simon went rigid, his pulse racing, every sense in his body suddenly at fever pitch. It had been Barry Spence's voice asking the question. Simon saw Spence and his cronies watching him.
Miss Day was taken aback by the question too. Another glance at the time. Surely the bell was late? I wish I had never started this discussion, she thought.
"Well, er... Barry, that's not er.. a nice word to use about anyone, is it?"
Simon felt now that everyone was looking at him. They all knew that he was the one they called bastard, and Simon was still unsure what it really meant.
The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel Page 6