The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (19 page)

Simon stalled.

"How many fifteens are there in
fifty eight?" tried Daniel.

"Dunno," said Simon glumly.

"What's two fifteens?"

"Thirty?"

"Good, now what's three
fifteens?"

"Er, forty five?"

"OK, what's four fifteens?"

"Sixty. Oh, that's too much. So
it goes three times, remainder … um …thirteen."

"Yes. You see, you can do it.
Put down the three."

Simon wrote 3 under the pounds,
and started to write the 13 under the shillings.

"Wait," said Daniel. "That
thirteen remainder. Thirteen what?"

Simon looked puzzled.

"Well, what did we just
divide?"

"Oh, pounds. Thirteen pounds,"
said Simon.

"Good. But you can't put
thirteen pounds just like that in the shillings. It's not thirteen
shillings, is it?"

"No," said Simon, understanding
starting to form. "You've got to change the thirteen pounds into
shillings first."

"You mean
you
have," said Daniel. "How do you
do that?"

"Twenty shillings in a pound, so
times by twenty?"

"That's right. So what's
thirteen times twenty?"

Simon scribbled at the side of
the sheet. "Two hundred and sixty?"

"Good. What next?"

"Carry it to the shillings
column and add it to the six shillings there. Two hundred and sixty
six."

"OK, so now we have two hundred
and sixty six shillings to divide by fifteen. Ordinary long
division I think, a bit high to keep adding fifteens like we did
for the pounds."

Daniel watched as Simon did the
division of 266 by 15 at the side.

"Seventeen remainder eleven,"
announced Simon.

"That's what I get too," said
Daniel, pleased. "So far we've got the answer three pounds and
seventeen shillings, now to divide the pennies. What's your
remainder from the shillings?"

"Eleven. But that's eleven
shillings, it's got to be changed into pennies," said Simon, as the
darkness lifted to reveal understanding at last of how this
worked.

"You're getting it," said
Daniel, smiling. "So, twelve pennies make a shilling; what's eleven
shillings in pennies. Twelve times table."

Simon thought for a moment. He
had been working hard on learning his tables. "One hundred and
thirty two."

"Right. So carry that to the
pennies column."

"Add that to the thrupence, is
one hundred and thirty five." said Simon.

"OK, so now divide that by
fifteen."

Once again, Simon did the long
division sum at the side. "Nine, and no remainder."

"Good. So put the nine in the
pennies column, and that's it."

"That's it?" repeated Simon.
"You mean I've done it?"

"You have, Simon. What is fifty
eight pounds, six shillings and thrupence divided by fifteen?"
grinned Daniel.

Simon looked at the sum. "Three
pounds, seventeen shillings and ninepence. Yes! It's the changing
the remainders I didn't understand, but I do now. Thanks to
you."

"You did it," Daniel reminded
him. "I didn't do a single calculation for you in all that."

"You're the best friend anybody
could have," said Simon.

"So are you," said Daniel. "And
I mean that."

Under Daniel's watchful eye,
Simon worked through more examples until Daniel was sure Simon
really had grasped it. Some involved ha'pennies and farthings, but
now Simon had the concept in his head, he coped with those too.
Daniel watched with pleasure at Simon's happiness as he gained
confidence.

Daniel spent many such sessions
with Simon that autumn and winter. He knew his emotional and
vulnerable friend would go under if he had to go to Vicks, and he
was determined that would not happen.

1. 1957/1 Sledging
   Accident
   

Simon lay on his bed, wrapped in
his pyjamas and dressing gown. It had been a good day and he had
even been able to forget the approaching eleven plus for a few
hours. All the local kids had been on the hill with their sledges,
careering down, getting faster and faster as the snow became more
compacted from their passage, as well as the very occasional car
that moved cautiously along. As soon as it was gone, the hordes
returned, vying for the best run. Simon's sledge was sought after
as it was long enough for two, three with a squeeze, and some of
the kids, boys and girls, who hadn't got their own sledges would
ask for, and get a ride down with Simon. But best of all of course
was when he and Daniel would go flying down together at top speed,
often falling off in a heap together at the bottom of the hill, and
then trudging back up again hauling the sledge, dodging the others
as they came flying down.

Only encroaching cold darkness
in the late afternoon had called a halt and slowly the children had
drifted away homewards for tea. Simon and Daniel had parted at the
corner with a quick "See ya!", each off to their own home. Simon
lay, happily savouring the fun of the day just gone, reliving it in
his mind. He should really be in bed, asleep, but excitement had
kept him up.

He was aware of the sound of the
car engine running and side gates opening. Then Daddy opening the
garage doors. Suddenly there was a stream of swearing and Simon
knew with abrupt certainty what the cause was. He had forgotten to
put the sledge away and it was left outside the back door, in the
way of the car. Quietly, Simon got up and looked out of his bedroom
window, peering down to see the open garage doors, and Daddy,
lifting up the sledge high over his head (and it was a heavy
sledge) and hurling it across the small patio area, it crashing
into the side of the coalhouse, smashing into pieces as it did so.
Simon watched shocked and helpless, tears coming to his eyes as the
device of so much joy that day was quickly and ruthlessly
destroyed. He watched unseen as Daddy stood a moment looking at
what was now a broken mess of wood and metal runners, and then
turned away. The headlights came on illuminating the garage and the
car passed slowly into view as it came down the side of the house
and then out of view as it went into the garage. Simon looked down
at his ruined sledge. He could see that repair would be difficult,
if not impossible. He got into bed and cried, half fearing his
father's wrath and more for failing to put the sledge away. But
Daddy never came and he fell asleep, his happy memories now
expunged by the loss of his sledge.

The next morning, Simon was wary
indeed. He looked out of his bedroom window. It had not snowed
again, but yesterday's was still lying. No good now. The wreckage
of the sledge had been moved from by the coalhouse to near the
garage, footprints across the patio. He could see now by the white,
winter morning light that the damage was considerable. He could
hear the Home Service from the radio downstairs.

Mummy's voice called up.
"Frances! Simon! 'Lift up your hearts'!"

Simon heard Frances reply and
shouted and OK from him too. This was a reminder of the time, as
'Lift up your hearts' was on the wireless at ten to eight each
morning. He finished dressing and went downstairs to the dining
room, warmed by the electric fire.

"You left your sledge out last
night, Simon," said Daddy, stating a fact. Simon felt it best to
say nothing, wondering which way this would go. He sat down and
picked up a piece of toast.

Daddy continued, in mollifying
tones, "I'm sorry, son, but when I put the car away, I didn't see
it and the car hit it. It's broken I'm afraid." Daddy looked at
Simon, smiling, wholly unaware that this deception, this attempted
softening of the blow, had already been scooped by Simon's own
witness. Simon felt empty inside, astonished at this version of
what he had seen. He wanted to shout out that he had seen what had
happened, he knew that it wasn't true! But at ten years and four
months he dare not, in case his challenge of the new orthodoxy
would lead to a further release of temper and retribution. Feeling
cold inside like the snow outside, Simon simply nodded and bit his
toast. As Daddy got up to leave for work, he patted Simon on the
head as he went past.

"I'm getting the bus into the
studio today," he said. "I'm trying to get some extra petrol
coupons though. Bloody Nasser."

"Maybe it won't last long," said
Mummy. "We're out of Egypt and perhaps Macmillan will sort
something out."

"I doubt it, Kate. Bye love," he
was saying to Mummy in the hall. "I may be late tonight," he
added.

"So what's new?" muttered
Frances more to herself than Simon, as the front door closed.

"I saw it," said Simon, now
tearful.

"What?" said Frances, puzzled by
her little brother's upset. "It'll be OK, it's only a sledge."

"It's not that," said Simon,
"Daddy smashed it on purpose."

"What for?" asked Frances. "You
mean he drove into it on purpose."

"He didn't drive into it,"
explained Simon. "I saw from my bedroom. It was in the way so he
picked it up and threw it against the coalhouse. That's when it
smashed."

"I thought I heard something,"
said Mummy, who had come in from the kitchen and caught the tail
end of this. Simon turned, he had been oblivious to Mummy's return.
"I thought it was from next door," Mummy continued. "I'm sure Daddy
didn't mean it," she added hopefully.

"Mummy!" shouted Frances
indignant, who then got up and stormed out.

Mummy looked at Simon, knowing
that her attempt to gloss over the issue had been fruitless.

"Never mind, darling," she said.
"We'll see what we can do."

Simon dawdled round the corner
to Daniel's, disconsolate, wondering what to say to his friend. And
there he was, smiling, wrapped in his dark blue duffel coat, the
dear face peering out from the hood.

"I was just coming for you," he
said. Then, seeing Simon's downcast mood, "What's the matter?"

Simon recounted the whole
episode. Daniel listened saying nothing, allowing Simon to relate
the whole thing.

"Sorry, Simon," he said, with
the comforting arm round his shoulders. He knew what Simon's Daddy
was like. Then an idea!

"Come on, Simon!" Daniel led the
way to his house and round into the garden. There was a large,
slightly dilapidated shed into which Daniel disappeared.

"Help me shift this lot," he
said, indicating piles of miscellaneous stuff that meant little to
Simon. But when they had moved stuff, there was revealed – a
sledge! Simon looked at Daniel, eyes hopeful.

Daniel laughed at Simon's
expression. "It's my sister's old one," he said dragging it out. It
looked old, too. the runners were rusty and a lot of paint was
missing. But it was a sledge. The two boys dragged it out where it
stuck in the snow. They dragged the unwilling sledge to the back
door, leaving long brown, rusty marks in the snow.

"Mummy," called Daniel, only to
be stopped by a poke from Simon.

"Don't tell, please," implored
Simon quietly.

"Course not, silly." Then again,
"Mummy!"

"Yes, Daniel?" said Mrs Gray,
coming into the kitchen. "Oh, hello Simon. Shut the door, you're
letting the heat out."

The two boys stepped in and
closed the door. Daniel's kitchen was much bigger than Simon's, and
there was a table where they had breakfast. There was the Aga too
that kept the house warm.

"Mummy, Simon's sledge got
broken. Can he have Louise's old one?"

"Heavens, have we still got
that?"

"It was in the shed," supplied
Daniel.

"I expect so," said Mrs Gray. "I
doubt if Louise will want it again. Certainly he can use it in the
meantime."

"Thank you, Mrs Gray," said
Simon happily.

The two boys took the rusty
sledge to the hill where some others had already gathered. After a
few slow runs, held back by the rust, the sledge started to pick up
speed, and now side by side, Daniel and Simon would race the others
down the hill. By the end of the morning, the runners were shiny
and polished, and the sledge as fast as any other. Simon was
content. He looked at Daniel.

"Thanks for getting me the
sledge," he said to his rescuer.

"S'OK," said Daniel. "Race yer!"
And off down the hill again.

1. 1957/1 Eleven
   Plus
   

Miss Day and Miss Brown could
not help him now. Not even Daniel could help him now. It was
January and the last eleven plus day. Arithmetic day. Simon and
Daniel sat together on the bus that morning as usual. Simon was
actually shaking with fear, which Daniel noticed, and
surreptitiously held his hand to calm him. Simon felt his friend's
strength, and yet the green Henrys blazer under Daniel's gabardine
mac only served to taunt him. The Vicks kids on the bus were as
rowdy as ever.

"You'll be fine. You said the
English and Reasoning went OK," said Daniel.

"Yes, but I'm going to fail the
arithmetic, and you have to pass them all," said Simon, close to
tears.

"You will pass, I know it. Look
at all the work you've done."

"
We've
done," said Simon, gloomily.

"I've only helped as much as I
could. You've got to pass, for me," said Daniel. "And anyway,
you're young in your year. They add marks on if you're young, so
that will help."

"What about you then? You didn't
get any marks added on, then."

"No, but I'm brainy. And
so are you. You
will
be at
Henrys. I know it."

"Here's my stop," said Simon,
"See you tonight." Daniel moved to let Simon away from the window
seat, and Simon, his legs feeling so heavy, got up into the
aisle.

"Simon," called Daniel after
him, as he moved to the top of stairs. Simon looked back and Daniel
tapped his chest twice. Simon nodded and went down the stairs.
Daniel slid back to the window and wiping the condensation off the
window, looked down to try to see Simon. There were crowds of
junior kids about and he couldn't pick him out soon enough before
the bus moved off into the city centre. Daniel sat and thought
about Simon's stress these past few months. Seeing his young
friend's torment had been an eye opener for Daniel. He had not
found the eleven plus that hard, and had been confident of a pass,
and not just a place at the grammar tech, but a high pass, getting
a coveted place at King Henrys. Seeing what it cost Simon, and
presumably so many other kids, was changing Daniel's mind about the
whole process. There had to be a better way, it was so unfair on
kids like Simon. All he could do now was cross his fingers and
hope. Even a tech grammar place would be better than Victoria
Road.