The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (12 page)

"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.

1. 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.

1. 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.