It was a year before I was allowed into the attic to touch anything belonging to Charles and the gloves stayed on for a long time, just in case Detective Inspector Derek Russell had a brainwave and decided to return. Thank the Lord he never did."
Simeon sat silent for a moment to allow this intelligence to percolate into his head which was now swimming. Something was bothering him.
"The Lord of the Manor ... Brian, something's wrong here! You were questioned by Derek Russell himself. Charles Hardman went to a private school. He spoke with an upper-class accent. He was never allowed anywhere near the likes of us. Don't tell me this is a modern The Prince and the Pauper. We were as common, as rough a bunch of ragamuffins as they come! You'd be found out as soon as you opened your mouth ... "
"I've absolutely no memory of opening my mouth at all. Simon told me that I was given strict instructions to say nothing but 'yes' or 'no' to the police. Of all people, he knows the importance of keeping his mouth shut at certain critical times! Anyway, father was with me all the time. If any other response were required, he would have intervened."
This produced another silence as Simeon recalled being teased about his accent by his American friends in the early days. Suddenly - another thought -
"The bicycle!"
"Oh that bicycle!" guffawed Brian. He flung back his head, stuck out his sexy tongue and gave Simeon that mischievous sidelong look which transported him back so many years.
"Well, let me put it this way, Simon is usually quite forgiving. He's a good natured fellow, always very patient but: after all: well ... that dreadful old man at Belper did try to get him sacked from his job which would have meant losing his home as well - and, Simon can cycle!
"It was Simon Tonks!"
"I gather it was just after Scott and Rex left Cressbrook Hall. Simon was given orders to ride that bike as far away as possible and return in a taxi before the police would be alerted. His revenge nearly landed us all in queer street. He went much too far and got back with just minutes to spare before the law descended on Cressbrook Hall. Very naughty of him to park it at Belper outside the 'massage parlour' - but it was just too tempting. Simon will always be Simon - bless him."
They both sank back into the comfortable seats. Belper Market Place was gradually coming to life and Simeon was unconsciously enjoying the rich scent of 'new car' during this silence. An observer might consider this moment, a moment of danger. After all this was a moment where truth had been revealed. One party, armed with damaging information could be seen as a threat to the other party and both parties were quite aware of this. Yet, notwithstanding - it was a good silence, the comfortable silence born of affection between two old friends separated, but now united and glad to be united. It was Brian who spoke. His thoughts had been philosophical.
"So which of us is the lost lad? Is it you or me? We both revere and treasure the time of Howitt. It was good then, we were all innocent, we all had fun ... but somehow ... well ... we all got lost didn't we?"
Simeon was startled to have the whole situation summed up for him in this way, yet he had to acknowledge the soundness of Brian's reasoning. Gary had often told him - 'You can never go back', but Simeon had grieved more than most for his lost youth. He was, and always would be, by temperament and disposition, nostalgic. In these few seconds there were thoughts on both sides. Both men held the unspoken thought that Simeon Hogg now had a choice before him and both men held a childlike faith that Simeon Hogg would make the right choice - the only logical choice - the only kind and considerate choice. As if to anticipate that decision Brian said -
"You'll forgive me if I don't invite you to dinner, Dobba. It could get complicated."
Dobba smiled. Again, a great deal of unspoken understanding was hanging in the air. Dobba had no choice at all. He could not discredit the memory of Algernon Hardman because that memory was precious to his adopted son. He could not destroy the life of his long lost friend. He could not destroy the lives of the children and grandchildren of Charles Hardman and so he decided to address Charles Hardman in a cheerful brisk manner -
"Well, time marches on. Thank you for your time, Charles. I've found our chat illuminating and most interesting, yes ... most interesting. I've come to the end of the road. One hates to admit defeat ... but ... we can't always win ... can we?"
Brian's eyes were sparkling more than ever, but these were the sparkles of emotion, not actual tears, but very near. He offered out his hand which was taken by his boyhood friend who found it warm and grateful.
Two friends sat looking at each other in a comfortable silence. Far from being defeated, Simeon was feeling triumphant and free. He was free from his hated progressive school of the far left and free to live in the wilds of Derbyshire where ghostly owls would be the soothing sounds of the night instead of the infuriating electronic thumps of the hard yob culture which had just started to bang out from one of the nearby pubs.
Simeon Hogg was optimistic. He would research and write his book about curious quirky characters and was looking forward to the challenge. Simeon Hogg was thinking about the future.
Simeon Hogg was thinking about life.
Cameo Roles
The author would like to thank the following for agreeing to appear as themselves -
Freda Cirillo nee Brentnall, John Holmes of BBC Radio Nottingham, Lord Ralph Kerr of Melbourne Hall and His Honour Judge Keith Matthewman QC. Yvonne and Barry Peirson of Wellhead Farm in Wormhill are still offering an excellent standard of accommodation. Carol Robinson nee Bestwick, Kathy Syson of the William Howitt Secondary Modern School Annual Reunion and Percy Wilson of Canal Cottage on the Cromford Canal.
Special thanks to Mrs B. Hull-Bailey for the use of Cressbrook Hall, still there today, a period family home offering elegant guest accommodation in a magnificent setting overlooking Water-cum-Jolly Dale.
The ever popular Exmouth View Hotel in Babbacombe appeared by kind permission from David and Milka Browne.
I am grateful to the artist Lesley Robinson of Shipley Park for her first class work in designing and painting the front cover.
Finally a big 'thank you' to John Holmes of BBC Radio Nottingham for, once again, allowing his good name to appear in front of my work. His generous encouragement and support over the last six years has been invaluable.
Lost Lad Page 27