The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel

by Patrick C Notchtree

  Simon kept his promise. He and Peter talked more about it, Peter happy to have someone he could trust and be open with. Simon knew how that felt and was happy for Peter, and knowing how Peter felt about him, being attracted to him, made him feel flattered. Daniel was never told, even though Simon knew he could be trusted. He had promised Peter.

  As the nights drew in and it got cooler, the pressure of school work mounted and the scout hikes stopped. Scout activities became more indoor oriented, concentrating on badge work for Simon, as well as helping his patrol with their mainstream work, another new tenderfoot and the second class course for most. Gareth was a good Second and almost had his First Class. Definitely a future Patrol Leader. Daniel had his eye on him for promotion. Scout nights often ended with games such as British Bulldog or Hot Rice, and then perhaps camp fire songs such as Coming Round the Mountain and Quartermaster's Stores and of course the Scout 'anthem' Ralph Reader's Riding Along on the Crest of a Wave.

  "We're riding along on the crest of a wave, and the sun is in the sky.

  All of our eyes on the distant horizon,

  Look out for passers by.

  We'll do the hailing,

  When all the ships are round us sailing,

  We're riding along on the crest of a wave,

  And the world is ours!"

  One evening Daniel said, "Who knows Fire Down Below?"

  Simon looked across at Daniel, startled. Daniel refused to make eye contact but was aware of Simon, a slight smile playing round his lips. Simon knew he was being privately teased, in public! About half the boys put up their hands.

  "We did that one at school," said one and others nodded.

  "Right," said Daniel. "I'll start, you all join in and the ones that don't know it, join in the chorus."

  Daniel launched into the sea shanty, with the boys joining in. Their raucous singing of that song took Simon by surprise and for a moment he didn't sing. Then Daniel caught his eye, smiled through his singing and gave him a wink. Simon grinned back and joined in as loudly as any other.

  When the shanty ended, Daniel held up his hand, and the troop fell silent. Daniel gestured they get up, and the scouts got to their feet, all eyes on their Troop Leader.

  "Troop! 'Shun!" commanded Daniel.

  Thirty-seven boys came to attention and waited. All that could be heard was the breathing after the singing and quick standing and coming to attention. Simon knew that this was a way Daniel had of allowing the boys' exuberance to ebb, to calm the troop down before the prayers that would close the meeting.

  "Simon, tell Skip we're ready," ordered Daniel.

  Obediently Simon stepped out from his Patrol's line and up the steps to Skip's little office.

  "Troop! At ease!" Daniel barked. The scouts placed their feet apart and their hands behind their backs, right hand in left, thumbs crossed as Daniel had taught them.

  Skip came out of the office just as Simon appeared through the glass.

  "Thank you, Simon," said Skip, and followed him down the steps. When Skip entered the circle of boys next to Daniel, the Troop Leader again brought the troop smartly to attention.

  "Troop! 'Shun!" commanded Daniel. Turning to Skip and saluting, "Troop ready, Skip."

  "Thank you Daniel," said Skip.

  "Troop, stand at ease. Stand easy," said Skip. The scouts stood relaxed as the notices and reminders were given out and with the prayers, another scout night was ended.

  1960/10 Separation

  Simon woke up. Something was wrong. He switched on his bedside lamp and looked at his watch, it was just after midnight. Then he heard what had woken him It was Mum in the bedroom next door, arguing with Dad. With mounting horror, he realised what was going on.

  "No, Harry, not now. I don't want it."

  Then Dad's voice, but lower, the words indistinct. But Simon could hear the bed creaking.

  "Get off me, you brute!" shouted Mum. But the steady hammering of the bed could still be heard. Simon's heart was pounding, he felt sick, frightened, angry, powerless. He lay there, listening to his father forcing himself on his mother in the next bedroom.

  "Oh God!" he heard Mum cry. But his mother's protests went unheeded and Simon was overwhelmed with helplessness because he could not, dare not, intervene. He wanted to cover his ears but yet was compelled to listen, to share Mum's suffering. At last the hideous creaking stopped. There was silence, broken only by the sound of Mum crying through the wall. Simon turned out his light and lay in bed, weeping through that October night.

  In the morning, Dad was not at breakfast.

  "Where's Dad?" asked Frances.

  "He's left already, early this morning," said Mum, subdued. Simon looked at Frances. Had she slept through it? In which case, how did he tell her? She seemed not to notice Mum's quiet manner that morning. Outwardly, all seemed relatively normal, but Simon knew the truth. Alone with Mum for a moment, he asked, "Mum?"

  "Yes, Simon."

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes of course, darling," Mum replied, forcing a smile. Simon knew then that she would not confide in her fourteen year old son. How could he say it? What could he say? And what difference would it make if he did? Simon saw that revealing his knowledge would only upset her further. Mum was trying to protect him.

  He put on his green blazer and his coat. It was cool outside, but not cold.

  "See you tonight, Mum."

  "Yes love, have a good day."

  "I love you, Mum."

  "And I love you too, Simon. Never doubt that," Mum said giving him a hug. Simon, now taller than Mum, hugged her back. He turned and went out before the tears he felt would show.

  He waited at the corner. Daniel appeared, carrying his heavy satchel. This was his GCE year and he seemed to have more books than ever.

  "Hi Simon," he said.

  On seeing Daniel, Simon could contain himself no longer. On the corner he burst out in tears, sobbing, unable to speak.

  "What's the matter? What's wrong? They been arguing again?"

  "Worse, far worse," sobbed Simon. "I can't go to school today, I just can't."

  "You'll get detention or even worse if you don't," said Daniel.

  "I don't fucking care," snapped Simon, angrily. Seeing Daniel's hurt expression, "I'm sorry, Daniel. It's not your fault. Can I tell you about it?"

  "You can tell me anything, you know that," said Daniel gently. Simon knew he could. But not here, on the corner. Daniel continued, "Get through the day, we'll talk tonight. We have to get the bus now."

  Simon knew the sense of what Daniel said, with the wisdom of his sixteen years. Comforted by Daniel's support, he walked down with him and got the bus to school. How Simon got through that day, he could never remember. It was a blur. Peter knew there was something wrong, but Simon could not tell Peter. Not even Peter who had trusted him with his darkest secret.

  At home time, Simon was walking down the school drive to the gates past the field. Peter was with him, but in response to Simon's downcast mood, uncharacteristically quiet.

  Then Daniel was beside them. "Sorry, Peter. I'm taking him now." Without waiting for Peter's reply, Daniel took Simon's arm and steered him away. "Come on, I'm with you now," he said to Simon, ignoring Peter's puzzled look.

  They spoke little on the bus, and walking up the hill, Daniel said, "Come straight to mine. We can talk there."

  Simon nodded. Daniel let himself in, and Simon followed. They hung up their coats. The house was quiet.

  "Must check the Aga," said Daniel. Simon waited. Daniel led the way to his room. He hung up his blazer, Simon put his over Daniel's chair and stood, feeling helpless, not knowing where to begin

  Daniel sat on the bed. "Come on, sit with me."

  Simon sat next to Daniel. "I don't know how to say it."

  "Just say what's wrong. What happened? Something last night? You seemed OK when you left here."

  Simon nodded.

  "So? Something about your Mum and Dad? You can tell me, but on
ly if you want to."

  "I want to, it's just I don't know how to."

  "Simon, we've known other each practically all our lives. We've no secrets, none at all. We trust each other, don't we." A statement, not a question.

  Simon nodded again and slowly the painful events of the previous night came out. Daniel listened, stony faced, horrified by what he heard. Simon's anguish and fear manifested as he collapsed in sobs at the end, relief at having someone in whom to confide. His true friend, Daniel. In tears himself now, Daniel took Simon into his arms and rested his head on his shoulder and just held him tight, allowing the tears to flow. Daniel was outraged, and felt the same protective care he had always felt for Simon, his closest friend, his lover. But he knew he could not change what had happened and was angry at his own impotence in this matter. But the important thing now was Simon.

  "I'm so sorry, Simon. What can I say? What can I do?"

  "Just be there. Please?"

  "Always. You know that."

  "Sex with a woman isn't supposed to be like that, is it, Daniel?"

  "Well, I don't think so. I'm sorry, Simon, I know it's your parents, but it sounds wrong to me."

  "Me too," said Simon, sadly. "It's not like that with us, is it?"

  "Of course not," replied Daniel. A ghastly thought came into Daniel's mind. "Simon, tell me honestly. You've never done anything with me you didn't want to, have you? I mean, tell me now if you've ever felt forced at all."

  "No, Daniel. Never. You would never do that anyway. You're just not like that."

  "Thanks, Simon. I couldn’t bear it if I thought I'd done that."

  "I never want to do that!" said Simon with feeling.

  "Do what?"

  "Do that, to a girl. It's horrible."

  "Like that, yes," said Daniel, all concern. "But it doesn’t have to be like that. I do it to you, after all."

  "Yes, but that's different. That's you, and you're …. I love it when you’re in me, you're just special, that's all." Simon felt the emotion of his feelings for Daniel welling up inside him. Daniel saw this and his own emotions, his love for Simon, seeing his lover's distress, overtook him and he shed a tear.

  "Simon, trust me, you'll feel differently when you're older."

  Simon nodded again against Daniel's shirt, damp with his tears, wiping his eyes. "I do trust you, you know that. I'll never have a better friend than you, Daniel."

  "Same here, Simon, same here."

  Back home, Mum simply said over tea that Dad would not be home for a while. This came as no real surprise to either Simon or Frances. They just accepted it and resumed life in as normal a way as possible.

  A few days later, Simon was in bed late at night but not asleep. He heard the front door open and voices in the hallway. Mum and Dad! He got out of bed and went onto the landing, to find Frances arriving there too.

  "Dad?" she said.

  Mum and Dad looked up to see the faces of their two children peering over the banister rail.

  "It's all right," said Mum. "Dad and I have some talking to do."

  "I'll come up and see you soon," said Dad. To Simon, Dad seemed sad and drawn. The brother and sister exchanged glances as Mum and Dad went into the sitting room.

  "Is Dad coming home again?" asked Simon.

  "No," said Frances. "I don't want you to get upset, Simon, but I think they're talking about getting a divorce. It's not been right between them for years, has it?"

  Simon shook his head. "What will happen?"

  "I don't know. We'll have to wait and see. But we'll be together, won't we?"

  Simon looked at his big sister. Frances had always been there, taken for granted perhaps. The age and gender difference combined meant that they had not been playmates. But Simon knew that he could count on her.

  She in turn looked at her younger brother. She knew so much more than she could tell him, yet anyway. She had tried to protect him from so much. She knew of Mum's wartime misery, of her younger baby sister that died (accounting in part for the big age gap between herself and Simon), of how Mum had gone to the church, the Mothers Union, for help and been rejected because she had married a divorced man. Mum had been left to bear that grief alone with a young daughter to care for in the dark days in the middle of the war. And later of Simon's own harrowing birth just after the war, how Mum had nearly died in childbirth and Simon, born blue, had been labelled subnormal, retarded, mentally deficient, and of Dad's deep disappointment that his first and only son was not what he had hoped for. The rift had opened then and had simply got wider. But she could not tell him these things. Not now. If ever.

  "I'm going back to bed," said Simon.

  He lay in bed, his room being over the sitting room, he could hear the low voices of Mum and Dad talking. They weren't arguing, that was one thing. But the tones weren't happy ones either. There was no laughter or joking, as there sometimes once had been. Then the sitting room door opened and Dad's footsteps were coming up the stairs. Simon looked at his watch. Ten past midnight. Dad went along the landing to see Frances. Simon heard them talking for a while, Dad and his now grown up princess. Once or twice he thought he heard his name. Her bedroom door opened.

  "Good night, darling," Dad said.

  "Night, Dad," said Frances.

  Then a knock on Simon's half open door. A knock!

  "Dad?" said Simon, sitting up in bed.

  Dad came in. He sat on the end of the bed. Simon waited. Dad seemed so quiet, miserable even.

  "I've just come to say, Simon, how much you mean to me, son. I want you to know that whatever happens, it's not your fault, or Mummy's. Everything that might happen now is my fault, old son. Do you understand that?"

  Simon simply nodded, wondering what all this meant. He looked at this man almost apologising to his son, a man who should have been a tower of strength to him, a model to emulate but who instead had been inconsistent, capricious, feared. Simon felt anger and resentment amid his uncertainty, and yet this was his Dad. He didn't want to lose him.

  "Are you and Mum getting divorced?"

  "Yes, I think so," said Dad. "But you must remember that as far as you and Frances are concerned, we will always be your father and mother. Mummy and I are completely agreed about that. We both want the best for the pair of you. Of course Frances is a lot older, almost grown up, but we still need to take care of you, Simon."

  Simon said nothing, unsure, confused, frightened by the now uncertain future. He was aware that his world was changing. The stability of his life was breaking apart.

  Dad said, "I'm sorry, Simon. I may not be with you, but Mummy and I will always love you and take care of you."

  Simon nodded, not knowing what to say. He felt a leaden weight in his heart.

  "I have to go now, son. It's very late." Dad leaned and kissed Simon on his forehead, and then got up and went to the door.

  "Dad."

  "Yes, Simon?"

  "I love you, Dad."

  "I love you too, son. Remember that." And then he was gone. There were voices in the hall and the front door. Simon heard the Austin start up, and leave the quiet road. It was nearly one o'clock.

  "They're getting a divorce." Simon was in Daniel's bedroom after school recounting the nocturnal visit and voicing his fears for the future.

  "So your Dad's left for good then?" asked Daniel.

  "I think so. I don't know. I hope we don't move. That would wreck everything."

  "Would you have to leave Henrys?"

  "I don't know. That would mean losing Atherstone for athletics, but more, it would mean moving away from you. I can't do that. I just can't do that."

  "I hope not, Simon, I really do."

  "What can we do?"

  "Just wait and see, I suppose. They never ask kids what they want or need."

  "I can't bear it if we can't be close again. I don't know what I would do."

  "Well it might not happen, so let's make the most of the present."

  Simon found solace and comfor
t from his fears with Daniel.

  It was a few days later that Mum said she was going away for a couple of days.

  "I've got to go up north to sort some things out," said Mum over tea.

  "What sort of things?" asked Frances.

  "Work. I need to find a job, loves," replied Mum.

  "Where are you going?" asked Simon, worried.

  "Bilthaven."

  "That's miles away!" exclaimed Frances.

  "Look, it's just to see. Things have changed. I'm sorry but I have to find a proper job. The part time work isn't steady enough and it doesn't pay enough. It's only for a night or two."

  "Why there?" asked Simon.

  "I know people there. You remember Ken Thompson, used to be on the paper here? Well, he's in Bilthaven and he thinks there is work I can do there."

  Simon remembered the tall, fair journalist who had visited the house a couple of times. "Is Dad coming back to look after us?" he asked.

  "No. Frances is old enough not to need it. She can look after you, Simon. Or maybe I could ask Daniel's parents if you could stay a night or two."

  "Daniel won't mind," said Simon, hastily.

  "It's up to his mother, Simon, not Daniel. I'll have a word. Would you stay here or with Jennifer, Frances?"

  "I'll ask Jennifer, if Simon's staying at Daniel's. Yes, I suppose so."

  "That's settled then," said Mum with an air of finality.

  Later the two talked about this development.

  "Looks like we might be moving, bro," said Frances.

  "I don't want to move," said Simon. "I'm happy here. What about school?"

  "Don't worry," said his big sister, "These things take ages to sort out. Nothing will happen in a hurry."

  Simon knew he was approaching his GCEs and this would be his trump card. He just could not move now, and certainly not next year when he would be fifth year. He felt reassured, and relayed this to Daniel.

  Mrs Gray said she would be happy to have Simon to stay. She could put a camp bed in Daniel's room, if that was all right. Of course it was. Frances went to stay with Jennifer. So when the day came, Simon and Frances said good bye to Mum that morning, knowing she would soon be setting off on the long train journey north.