The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (29 page)

Daniel had come down from the
office and gone out to join in the fun when several scouts came
running up to him, all talking at once.

"Daniel, it's Simon … Dead …
fallen over .. not breathing .. over the wall."

Daniel felt his heart go cold
with fear. Not Simon. Please, no. But he must function.

"Michael, go and get Skip. Now!
Right you lot, show me, quickly." He ran round after the scouts to
the front of the church hall. A couple of scouts were standing
there, including the new kid from Simon's patrol, he noted. But
what he saw froze his heart. Simon was lying face on the ground and
head down over the wall, his legs still sticking up in the air
against the wall, arms crashed out at his side. There was blood
pulsing from his forehead. At least that means his heart is
beating, Daniel thought. He took command, as his three Troop Leader
bars required.

"You and you, help me lift him.
You take his legs, you, his body," he ordered. Daniel took Simon's
shoulders and head himself and the three scouts, watched now by a
gathering crowd, lifted Simon, turning him. "Lean him against the
wall. Gently." Simon was carefully propped up against the wall,
legs in front of him. Daniel used his hanky to wipe the blood away,
and then kept pressure on the cut.

"Here, keep that pressed on
firmly," he said to the new scout, whose uniform shirt pocket was
still bereft of the coveted Tenderfoot badge.

"He's my PL," said the boy.
Daniel didn't answer, he was too busy checking to see if Simon was
breathing. With relief he felt Simon's breath. He looked under
Simon's eyelids. His eyes were looking up and unseeing. Daniel felt
a pang of strong emotion, grief, anxiety.

"Is he going to be all right?"
asked a scout.

"Yes, of course he is," replied
Daniel. "We'll sort him out OK."

When Daniel said something could
be done, all the boys believed it. Simon of course knew that
already and that was why he was Troop Leader.

Then Skip was there, next to
Daniel. Discipline and training took over.

"Skip, there's a cut on the
forehead that this scout is compressing, he's breathing and he's
unconscious, his eyes are turned up a bit. He was upside down when
I got here, but we sat him up."

"Any sign of him being
sick?"

"No, Skip."

"Well done, Daniel. I think we
should move him as little as possible." Skip carefully felt Simon's
legs and arms. "Nothing seems broken, he's breathing OK. Will you
stay with him? I need to phone an ambulance. Shout if anything
changes, even the smallest thing. Any sign of retching, turn
him."

"Yes Skip."

Skip left, leaving Daniel and
the Scouts.

"I need a couple of you to wait
with me, in case I need messengers," said Daniel.

"We'll wait," said a few voices,
but all the Scouts stayed. Daniel now noticed that all the Harriers
were there, with worried looks on their faces as they saw their
unconscious Patrol Leader. They started to talk, later arrivals
being updated by the others. Daniel sat next to Simon on the
pavement, carefully putting his arm round him and putting his own
head close to Simon's so he could detect his breathing by the
slight movement of his chest. Daniel felt a pang of pain at the
feel of Simon's completely inert body, almost dead instead of the
fit, healthy boy he knew so well. The new boy was still holding the
handkerchief.

"Here, let me," said Daniel,
placing his hand on the hanky and carefully removing the pressure.
The hanky was red with Simon's precious blood, but Daniel noticed
that the bleeding was now just oozing lightly. He remembered his
role.

"Well done," he said to the new
scout. "You controlled the bleeding. What's your name again?"

"Arthur, sir .. I mean TL, er
Daniel." He stuttered to a stop, pleasure at the compliment from
his Troop Leader mixed with confusion as to how he should address
such an important personage directly. One or two of the scouts
laughed, but kindly.

"Carry on then, Arthur. Gentle
but firm pressure. Find a clean part though."

Arthur refolded the hanky and
carefully put it back on the cut. Daniel turned back to Simon's
motionless body. He fought back tears. No way could he possibly
allow tears in front of the Scouts. But the emotion must have
shown.

"You OK, Daniel?" Daniel looked
up. It was Colley. Daniel just nodded, not risking speech until he
had control of his emotions.

"They're best friends out of
Scouts," one of the Scouts was saying. And in Scouts too, thought
Daniel. He looked, it was Neil Smith, Second of Kestrel Patrol. He
lived at the end of Daniel's road. Daniel turned his attention back
to Simon, holding his friend close, tenderly, probing with his
finger past Simon's lips. Tongue still flat, airway clear.

Soon Skip came back. "Any
change?"

"No Skip. Breathing and pulse
still OK. No sign of consciousness though. No retching, mouth still
clear."

"Good. An ambulance is coming,
and I managed to get his mother on the phone. Good job they've got
a phone."

Daniel nodded. "Have to send
runners otherwise," he said, and then remembered Arthur. "Arthur's
doing a grand job here, Skip. He'll do OK I think."

Arthur beamed with pleasure.

"Good lad, Arthur," said
Skip.

"He's my PL, Skip," said Arthur,
now emboldened.

"I know that," said Skip. "So
now you can help look after him as he looks after you." Arthur
nodded and focused on the hanky.

A clanging bell could be heard
in the distance. It was coming closer. The ambulance swung round
the corner and came to a halt by the group of Scouts, the bell
stopped. The two crew got out. One came for Simon, the scouts
parting to make way, falling back to allow room, the other went to
the back of the ambulance, and started to pull out a stretcher. A
couple of the scouts went to help.

"Simon!" There was an anguished
shout. Looking up, Daniel saw that the Scotts' Austin Cambridge was
now parked behind the ambulance. Again the scouts parted for
Simon's mother.

"What happened?" she asked.

Skip answered. "It seems he
missed his footing jumping over the wall and fell head first onto
the path."

At that point Daniel felt Simon
move.

"He's waking up, I think,"
Daniel announced, turning back to examine Simon's face. The
ambulance man was crouching down, looking at Simon, Mrs Scott
standing just behind.

"Daniel? Mum?" Simon's eyes
slowly opened and focused. Relief swept through Daniel's body. He
gently squeezed Simon.

"Are you all right, darling,"
said Mum.

"My head hurts," said Simon.

"What' your name, son?" asked
the ambulance man.

"Simon, Simon Scott."

"Can you hear me OK? Both
ears?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Where are you?"

"Scouts. We were playing a game
and Arthur was in front of me and…" Simon became aware of Arthur,
pressing the hanky onto his head. "Arthur, not so hard. It hurts.
Is it bleeding?"

"A bit," said Daniel. Simon
managed to look at Daniel without causing Arthur a problem. Daniel
was there, cradling him, as always. And Mum was there. But the
ambulance man was still speaking.

"What's the day?"

"Friday," said Simon, and then
gathering that these questions were to test if his brain was still
working, added "September 11th, 1959."

"Thank God," said Mum.

"Any bleeding from the nose or
ears?" asked the ambulance man. He looked at Skip. Skip looked at
Daniel.

"No, none," said Daniel
decisively.

"Good. Can you stand up, Simon,"
asked the ambulance man.

"I think so," said Simon.
Carefully, helped by Daniel and Skip, he stood up. Slowly he was
walked round to the back of the ambulance, bypassing the maroon
stretcher laid out on the pavement, with Arthur managing to keep
station. Simon now too remembered his two Patrol Leader bars.

"Thanks Arthur. We'll have to do
the sheepshank next week, I think."

Arthur grinned happily that his
PL recognised his efforts and where he was up to with his
Tenderfoot badge, and with relief that his PL was OK. He
relinquished his first aid job to a lint pad provided by the
ambulance man. Simon sat in the back while his forehead was
dressed, Mum on one side, holding his hand, Daniel close by on the
other.

"I think we need to take him to
get checked over by the Casualty doctor," said the ambulance man to
Mum. "Do you want to ride with him?" Mum hesitated for a
second.

"I will, Mrs Scott, if you want
to follow in the car," offered Daniel, sensing the reason for her
hesitation. "If you will give us both a lift home later," he added
with a grin. "That OK Skip?"

"Yes, fine, Daniel. I expect
we'll manage without you," he said, tongue in cheek.

So the ambulance set off for
casualty, Simon, Daniel and one of the crew in the back.

Simon called through to the
driver, "What no bells?"

The crewman chuckled. "Not much
wrong with you, son."

"Is there blood on my uniform?"
asked Simon worried.

"Not a drop," said Daniel.
"Blame Arthur."

Simon was taken down for X-ray
and then there was a long wait before the doctor announced that
Simon's skull was very thick and was not fractured. But because he
had been unconscious for quite a long time, he was to be kept in,
"for observation". Mum agreed.

"Always said you had a thick
skull," said Daniel as they parted from Simon in his hospital
borrowed pyjamas.

"You'll be OK. Don't be nuisance
for the nurses, and I'll see you in the morning," said Mum, giving
him a kiss on the unbandaged portion of his forehead.

"How will Daniel get home?"
asked Simon.

"I'll take him in the car. He
phoned home while you were in X-ray."

And they left with a wave. Simon
spent the night in hospital, making friends with the other
patients. Every so often a nurse would come and tap him to get a
reflex reaction. They seemed happy. He was discharged the next day,
and went home, but Mum made him stay in bed all weekend. Unfair! It
would be the weekend. But Daniel came round and sat with him on
Saturday after his swimming club, again on Sunday, and the two
friends talked, Daniel making a rare visit to his friend's home.
Simon went through everything that had happened, right up to when
he hit the concrete.

"It felt like straight away when
you and Mum were there, though," he said.

"It was a lot longer than that,"
said Daniel. "I was scared stiff you were going to die."

"Mum said Skip said you were
fabulous. Did everything right."

"Did Skip say that? Cor!"

"I think I'll stay away from
that wall in future," said Simon with feeling.

Daniel hugged Simon. "I would if
I were you. You're such an idiot." They both laughed. Simon was
happy.

1. 1959/11 A bogie
   wagon
   

When Simon was thirteen, he went
one winter evening with his parents to a village near the city to
visit friends. This was an ex RAF wartime friend of his father's,
Wing Commander Bob O'Hanlon. He was still in the RAF. While the
grown ups talked, Simon went with the four O'Hanlon sons, Matthew,
Martin, Michael and Melvin - Simon was about the same age as their
second son - across to a railway yard next to the station over the
road from the house. There were heaps of coal and sidings with some
trucks on them. This was a regular haunt for the O'Hanlon boys. As
it got dark, they played in the railway yard with their torches
lighting their way.

"Over here!" shouted Michael. He
had found a flat top bogie wagon, the type one can make go using
levers.

"Come on, lets have a ride,"
urged Martin. So the five boys jumped on board. It was heavy but
together they had enough muscle power to get it moving. They played
with this up and down the track a few times, but as they tired,
they lost control of it. The siding was slightly higher than the
main line that ran past and through the station. The bogie got past
the tipping point and started to move downhill.

"Harder!" shouted Matthew, as
the heavy wagon slipped out of their control. The boys all strained
to control the wagon, but despite their efforts, it trundled down
where it stopped as the points on the main line were set against
it. There it remained, half overhanging the main Central line. They
heard a bell from the signal box at the far end of the yard.

"Let's push it, " suggested
Melvin, but it was a hopeless task. It was simply too heavy.

"What are we going to do?" asked
Simon.

"You can do what you want, but
we're not staying here," said Matthew. "Come on, we're off."

The brothers ran off, realising
that this meant trouble, and Simon followed but then slowed. He
could see that if a train hit the bogie in the dark, there would be
a crash, possibly a high speed derailment (most trains sped
straight through the village station) and injury or worse. Simon
had the image of the giant steam locomotive, off the tracks
hurtling into the trucks, pulling its coaches of people behind.
Simon knew in his soul what he must do. Torn between fear of
retribution and fear of disaster, he stood unmoving, unable to
leave yet unable to do what had to be done. He needed courage. Then
he tapped himself on the chest twice, and filled with sudden
resolve, he ran along the yard to the signal box. He knew there
would be a reckoning, but as often at such times, he felt himself
simply to be an actor in his own life, watching from without.

He climbed the steps and could
see through the door windows into the lit interior of the box where
the signalman was drinking from an enamel mug, tea Simon assumed,
and looking at a newspaper. Simon's courage started to fail him, so
he tapped his chest twice and then the door twice. The signalman
looked up, and seeing a teenage kid at the door, waved him away.
Simon knocked again, harder. He was committed now. The signal man
got up and opened the door.