"Hiya," greeted Daniel as he clambered into the den, "Thought you'd probably be here. Harvey was steaming when you didn't turn up. When d'you walk out?"
"Dinner time," said Simon, as he tried to put aside thoughts of facing a steaming Miss Harvey. "Have a Refresher."
Daniel took the top one of the pastel coloured sweets from the packet.
"Where'd you get these?" asked Daniel, surprised. Simon rarely if ever had money.
"Parade," said Simon. "I took them, and two Mars bars. But I've eaten them. Dint have any dinner."
"You mean you pinched 'em?" asked an astounded Daniel.
Simon nodded. "And that's not all." Simon held out the ten shilling note.
"D'you pinch that from the shop an'all?" Daniel's jaw literally dropped at this.
"No," said Simon, "from a shed on the allotments. We could have a good time with this."
"I dunno, Simon," said Daniel frowning, "I didn't think you pinched things."
Anxiously, Simon asked, "Not done it before. Are you gonna tell? You wouldn't tell would you?"
"No, course not. Let's have another Refresher." Daniel sat and thought for a moment. "Simon?"
"What?"
"Please don't ever do that again."
"What?"
"Pinch things."
"OK," said Simon lightly.
"No, really. Promise. I mean it."
Simon looked at Daniel. His face was serious, concerned. It reminded him of Mummy's face when she was worried about him. His blue eyes seemed to search his soul, they could see right into him. He knew that this was really important to Daniel.
"OK, I promise," said Simon solemnly.
"Scout's honour?" Daniel had recently joined the scouts and as with everything he did, had thrown himself wholeheartedly into it.
"I'm not in the scouts," countered Simon.
Daniel suddenly seized Simon, glaring at him, angry in a way that Simon hadn't seen before. "That doesn't matter, and you will be when I take you," he shouted, right in Simon's face. "So promise, now! You will never ever pinch things again. Scout's honour!"
Simon was frightened by the strength of Daniel's feeling, by his evident anger, and yet felt the deep concern for him that had evoked it.
"I'm sorry, Daniel. I promise. Scout's honour."
This seemed to satisfy Daniel and the mood lightened.
So the two boys sat together eating sweets, and talking about how to spend the huge sum of ten shillings. Daniel was slightly perturbed by this show of initiative on Simon's part, feeling a little insecure that his dominance over his friend might be slipping. He had no need to fear. As soon as he put his arm round Simon, he felt the other relax into the safe haven of his arms, and they lay in the den, as so often before, Daniel enjoying the power over his friend's body he achieved, Simon gladly submitting to his friend's closeness. This, after his triumphs, was true contentment.
1955/10 Retribution at Home
"Good luck," said Daniel outside his house.
"Maybe they won't know," said Simon, optimistically. He waved to Daniel and set off round the corner to his house. With every step his optimism drained away and the fear grew. He opened the side gate as quietly as he could and trod lightly down the side of the house to the back door. He eased it open. He could hear the radio, the Light Programme by the sound of it so probably just Mummy. Relief. He went into the sitting room. Mummy was there.
"Simon! Where have you been?"
Simon said nothing.
"Well? Miss Harvey telephoned and said you had left school at lunchtime. She was worried. Where have you been?"
Simon took a moment to reflect on the idea of Miss Harvey being worried about him. Two faced cow!
"The woods."
"Simon, what on earth is going on? Miss Harvey said you attacked another boy and created havoc in the classroom."
"Well, they're always picking on me. I hate it."
"But Miss Harvey said she can't understand it. The boy you attacked was not like that."
Simon could hardly explain that he had attacked Sidney Forth because he was too scared to attack Barry Spence. He could see now that there was no logic in it, not one that grown ups would understand anyway, not even Mummy. So he turned onto the attack.
"Just shut up about Miss Harvey! I hate her!" And he stormed out of the sitting room and went up to his room, and threw himself on to the bed and buried his face in his hands. He heard a sound and Mummy was there.
"Tell me what happened, darling," said Mummy's worried voice. Simon said nothing, kept his face hidden, but moved his body slightly to show he had heard. He felt Mummy's hand on his shoulder.
"What's the matter?" pursued Mummy. Simon thought, how could he say it? How could he explain how he felt? He couldn't. It was something a grown up just wouldn’t understand.
"Please tell me. I want to help."
Help is what he wanted, but Mummy couldn’t give the kind of help he needed. Murdering Barry Spence would be a good start.
"I was worried about you," said Mummy. Simon felt a pang of guilt about that, but he stayed still.
"I'll have to tell Daddy." What! No! Simon turned round and sat up, revealing his tearstained face to Mummy.
"No, Mummy. Please," said Simon, desperation growing his voice.
"Well, tell me about it," said Mummy entirely reasonably, "and then I can explain to Daddy."
"You wouldn't understand," said Simon.
"Try me," said Mummy with encouragement. But Simon did not know where to begin, let alone end. He just shrugged.
Simon was in bed when Daddy came home late, as so often. He heard Mummy come into the hall.
"Harry, I need to have a word about Simon."
"Why? Now? I'm tired," said Daddy's voice. Daddy often was in a bad temper when he came home late, perhaps too much to drink, perhaps guilt, or a combination. There was a constant feeling in the house of treading on eggshells.
Whatever, it was a cocktail that Simon feared. He lay in bed, his room illuminated gently by light seeping up the stairs from the hall. Their voices disappeared into the sitting room and became muffled. Mummy's voice in a long explanation, rising to placatory tone as she stopped speaking.
"What!" shouted Daddy. That was quite clear. More muffled conversation, and them Daddy's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Go back to bed, Frances," he ordered. It was likely she was coming out to intervene, but Simon thought she would be sticking her nose out to watch the fun. Then Daddy came into his bedroom, turning on the light, making Simon screw his eyes up against the bright light. But he could see Daddy had the slipper in his hand.
"Is this true?" demanded Daddy loudly. Simon said nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing. But nothing was also the wrong thing.
"Well?" insisted Daddy. Simon kept quiet, squinting as his eyes got used to the light.
"Did you attack this other boy and ruin all his work and then run away from school?"
Simon felt he had to speak.
"Yes, but …"
"Never mind 'but'. Out of bed!" Simon knew what was coming and climbed out of bed, resigned to his fate. It seemed that this was somehow his fate and Simon must endure it.
"Bend!" Simon bent. The pain of the leather soled slipper through just his pyjama trousers was intense. Did Daddy know he had already been beaten at school? Would he care? He stepped out of his body and watched himself being hit. It was not him, it was a character in some story; his usual way of coping with unpleasant things. But he cried out in sheer pain, something he rarely did when Daddy beat him because he felt that by keeping quiet, he was in some way winning and denying Daddy his victory. But this was just too much. Daddy stopped, and Simon collapsed to the floor next to his bed, sobbing and heaving.
Daddy, as always failing completely to understand his son, said, "Yes, I should think you are ashamed of yourself. You need to think hard, my lad, about yourself. You'll never amount to anything if you go on like this."
The light went
out and the door closed, leaving Simon alone in the dark. After a few moments he walked to the window and pushed the curtains aside to look out. The darkness of the allotments was ringed by lights from the houses, and the dark outline of the spinney could be seen against the night sky. He turned and looked at Daniel's house. His bedroom curtains were drawn but Simon could tell there was a light on. He had a vision of Daniel lying peacefully in his big bed, perhaps reading a book. He so wanted to be in that big bed with him so they could be close and feel Daniel's warmth.
Simon heard his bedroom being slowly opened. He turned, frightened because he was out of bed. But it was Frances, her face peering round the edge of the door. She saw Simon standing by the window and then came in.
"Are you all right?"
Simon realised he wasn't all right. "It hurts." he said and despite all his efforts not to cry in front of his sister, the tears flowed.
"Sssh!" hissed Frances. "What happened?"
"Miss Harvey hates me."
"She hates everybody," muttered Frances, who remembered Miss Harvey well from her time in the juniors.
"She picked on me again and caned me for something Barry Spence did and I got angry and went mad in the classroom" he took a breath "and then she came in and found it all and the others all told her it was me and so she said she was going to cane me again in the afternoon" another breath "and I was fed up and scared so I ran out at dinnertime but of course she phoned Mummy and told her and now she's told Daddy and now this." Simon stopped at last.
"You know Daddy," said Frances. "It's done now, he'll be better in the morning."
"It's all right for you," said Simon. "He never hits you."
"Let him bloody try!" said Frances vehemently.
"He calls you 'Princess'," said Simon.
"Well, it would be odd if he called you that," said Frances, brightly, hugging her little brother. Despite himself, Simon smiled at that.
"See you in the morning," said Frances. Simon nodded, as Frances tiptoed to the door and crept out along the landing to her small room. Simon returned to the window and looked again at Daniel's, trying to penetrate the curtains, imagining that room he knew well, thinking of Daniel. How long he stood there, thinking of his friend, he could not remember, but he realised Daniel's light was out and found himself falling asleep, so he crawled back into bed and back into his own private world. Simon had learnt quickly that life is hard and to retreat into a world of his own construction, using imagination to build a fantasy where he was safe and could express himself without fear of put down. In those days there were no ready made fantasy worlds available on-line or in an electronic box, children had only their imagination to fall back on with whatever tools or toys were to hand.
1955/11 Daddy learns to drive
The Wolseley sadly had gone, although Simon had been a bit puzzled when he and Daniel were in the city with a group of Daniel's friends.
"Stop!" shouted Simon. "Look!" He was looking at a garage with cars for sale in the large windows.
"What's he want?" asked one of the group. They were happy for Simon to tag along, he was no trouble. Often it seemed as if it were a case of no Simon, no Daniel. So Simon came. Simon was pointing at the window.
"Is that the same one?" asked Daniel, suddenly understanding Simon's shout.
"Yes," said Simon. "Look at the number." There in the window was Grandpa Drummond's beautiful Wolseley, freshly polished and gleaming.
"It's his Grandpa's old car," Daniel said to the group in general, who nodded and moved on.
"I'll tell Mummy and maybe she can get it back," said Simon.
"I think she probably already knows," said Daniel. "I remember her saying ages back that it would have to be sold."
"Just seems unfair that somebody else should have it."
"But you've got another car now and your Dad's learning to drive."
"Yes," said Simon with feeling. "More arguments."
"Come on," said Daniel, "let's catch up."
With a last look at the Wolseley, Simon ran after Daniel to rejoin the group.
"Mummy, Mummy!" Simon ran into the house.
"What’s the matter?" said Mummy.
"I know where Grandpa's car is. The Wolseley. We can get it back!"
"What's he talking about?" said Daddy.
"He's seen the Wolseley in the garage I think," said Mummy. Simon nodded – and then thought.
"You already knew?"
"It had to be sold, son," said Daddy. "It was never really ours, and we couldn’t afford to keep it."
"That's right, love," said Mummy. "But we've got the Austin now."
"Good thing too," remarked Daddy, "that Wolseley was a big car to drive."
"You never drove it," said Mummy.
"It's hardly my fault that you could drive and I couldn't, is it," retorted Daddy crossly.
"Hardly my fault either, Harry," Mummy came back.
Simon and Frances exchanged looks. They both knew the warning signs. Simon went up to his bedroom to ride out the storm. It actually subsided more quickly than usual. But driving had become a sore point. Daddy was learning to drive. At first Mummy had tried to teach him but they had argued too much so Daddy had gone to get lessons. It didn't help when Daddy tried to reverse the Austin Somerset off the drive by himself, and had gone backwards straight across the road and through Mr Harrop's garden fence into his pond. The car had had to be fixed, as well as the fence and the pond. The new section of fence opposite the drive was a constant reminder. But Daddy still wanted Mummy to go out with him in the Austin so he could practise.
"I'm sorry, Kate," said Daddy. Simon and Frances peered over the landing banister rail, checking on the state of the quarrel. "Can we go out for a drive, I've another lesson tomorrow?"
"No. What about the children?" said Mummy.
"They'll be all right for half an hour. Frances can look after Simon."
"We'll be OK, Mummy," called Frances unexpectedly.
"There you are," said Daddy.
"Half an hour then," said Mummy. "Be good, children!"
"We will," chorused Frances and Simon. They went downstairs while Daddy tied on the red 'L' plates.
"Why do you always take these off?" said Daddy irritably to Mummy.
"I don't like them on when I'm driving," said Mummy. "and anyway, it's against the law."
"Other people do," said Daddy going to the back of the Austin to tie on the other one.
"I'm not other people," retorted Mummy quickly. At this point Frances nudged Simon, and nodded towards the other side of the road. Mr Harrop was watching the 'L' plates go on warily from over his fence. Frances put her hand up to quash her giggles. Simon tried to suppress his laughter.
"I'll reverse the car off the drive," said Mummy. Mr Harrop's sigh of relief was almost audible the other side of the road. Daddy made no objection and soon the Austin was on the road and Daddy was slowly and cautiously driving off, Mummy, as the law demanded, sitting beside him. Simon ran to the gate to see Daddy make the trafficator arm come out at the corner as he was turning right. He would go past Daniel's house.
"We won't get the Wolseley back, Simon," said Frances kindly.
"It was much bigger and nicer than the Austin."
"Yes, but we have a car now. Most people don't. Maybe if we'd never had Grandpa's car, Daddy would never have bought one."
"Yes, money doesn't grow on trees," said Simon, wearily, but smiling.
Laughing, brother and sister went back into the house.
1956/2 Gramophone
"Jennifer's got a new radiogram."
Frances came in and deposited this news like a lead brick dropped into custard. Simon looked at Mummy, then Daddy, then Mummy again. Mummy wanted to play some records. She liked Frankie Vaughan, and had met him because of her job at the paper. She said he did lots of good for boys' clubs, although Simon wasn't quite sure what they were.
Daddy put down his paper.
"Waste of money," he announced. "Do
esn't compare with going to concerts and getting the real sound of the orchestra."
"But you can get pop records to play as well," said Frances, refusing to let the thought of a radiogram out of her head.
"Pop records?" exclaimed Daddy. "Rubbish. Call that noise music?"
Frances realised her tactics had been wrong. "You can buy proper music records too, Daddy," she smiled at him.
Daddy smiled back. He called Frances his little princess.
"Yes, darling, but we already have a radio and there's the Third Programme. And of you want to hear that awful noise that you like, you can hear it on the Light programme." Daddy picked up his paper.
Simon thought it was time to help. "Daniel's got a new bike for passing his eleven plus. He's going to go to Henrys. If I pass, can we have a radiogram then, Daddy?"
"What Daniel gets is up to his parents. It's nothing to do with what goes on here," retorted Daddy sharply from behind the newspaper.
Frances glared at Simon for his unhelpful intervention. "Daddy. Please!" Frances tried again. The paper was lowered.
"No. We can't afford it. Money doesn't grow on trees."
How often had we heard that. Mummy wanted a new sofa, but money doesn't grow on trees. The sitting room needed a new carpet, but money doesn't grow on trees. The stair carpet actually had holes it – but money doesn't grow on trees.
The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel Page 9