The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (20 page)

Simon waited to cross the road,
watching the bus bearing Daniel into the city and to Hooray
Henrys.

"Hello Simon," said a bright
voice at his side.

"Hiya Peter," said Simon. "Let's
go in together."

So Simon and Peter Holman walked
up to the juniors.

"You scared?" asked Simon,
tentatively.

"A bit," said Peter, "but I'm
not expecting much. My Dad says that if I get to the grammar tech
I'll have done well. What did your Dad and Mum say?"

"Just said do your best. But I
know they'll be disappointed when I go to Vicks."

"We might get to the tech
together. That would be good," said Peter, optimistically.

Simon wondered why Peter was
always so cheerful. But that's the way he was. He liked Peter and
this year was his best friend at the juniors now Daniel had left,
but he was irritating at times. Mainly because he wasn't Daniel.
Today Simon was glad of the friendship and company. But he was
worried. He knew Mummy was annoyed that Mr West wasn't taking the
fourth years. He had a good record with the eleven plus passes, had
got Frances and Daniel through, and this was Miss Day's first time
with the fourth years. Not good for confidence.

"Maybe," said Simon.

There was no assembly at all
this week because all the desks were set out in the hall for the
fourth years to take the eleven plus exams. The children all filed
in and sat at their allocated desks. This was the day Simon had
been dreading. A fatalism overcame him and he seemed to accept his
future. Victoria Road. It seemed that this was somehow his fate and
he must endure it. In a strange way that seemed to calm him. At the
command from Mr West, he opened the exam booklet, like so many he
had worked through with Miss Brown and Daniel. They were hard, and
Simon struggled to remember everything he had learned. He plodded
on. He noticed Sidney Forth working rapidly and confidently,
evidently finishing in good time, going back to check his work.
Forget Forth, concentrate! Simon was still on the last page when
the command came to stop. He hadn't even finished! A feeling of
desperation overcame him. He wanted to cry but could not.

They went out to play, just the
fourth years as the rest of the school had already had playtime.
Simon, unconsciously perhaps, leaned on the schoolyard wall at the
point where he had knocked Spence over in September. Peter came
with him.

"How'd you get on?" asked
Peter.

"Didn't even finish," said
Simon, miserably, watching Spence playing football as if this day
were like any other. "Did you?"

"Yes of course," said Peter,
unthinkingly, and then, trying to soften the blow, added, "But only
with a few minutes to spare."

That did not help Simon.

That night, shunning the company
of the bus he walked home in the darkness and through a thick smoke
laden fog. At times he had to use his torch to be sure he was in
the right place in the well known route. The weather matched his
mood. He was lost within as well as at risk of it from without.

Later he poured his heart out to
Daniel, and sobbed on his shoulder, while Daniel, unable to help
further, just kept his arm round him to give what comfort he could.
Nobody should have to go through this, thought Daniel.

The next few weeks dragged
slowly. Simon could not find any zest for life at all. He went
through the motions, spending what time he could with Daniel, often
just lying on his big bed watching while Daniel did his Henrys
homework at his desk or listening while Daniel played the piano. If
Daniel had the lid up, he watched the intricate patterns the
elaborate mechanism made as the hammers rippled along the strings
obedient to Daniel's fingers, reflecting in movement the patterns
of the sound. Just being with Daniel was comforting, and Daniel
didn't mind Simon being there while he did his homework.

Six weeks later Mr West came
into the classroom just before home time.

"Excuse me, Miss Day. I have
these for the children to take home."

A dead silence fell in the room.
Every child knew exactly what those letters were. While Miss Day
gave out the sealed envelopes, Mr West continued, "These letters
are addressed to your parents. You are not to open them yourselves.
If I find that any letter has been opened before it's given to your
parents, or those looking after you, I am very serious when I say
that this might be one occasion when I find Miss Harvey's cane and
use it, girls or boys."

The look on his face told
everybody that this was no joke. Miss Day dropped Simon's envelope
onto his desk, and Peter's next to him. The two boys looked at each
other, fearfully. Simon noticed, without understanding, that his
envelope and Peter's were white, many others, including Susan
James's and Barry Spence's, were brown. Sidney Forth's and Cynthia
Jackson's were white too. But Simon was not concerned about that.
As home time came, and he and Peter walked to the main road to get
their separate buses, Peter was chattering away as usual, while
Simon replied in grunts, his mind focused on what would happen when
he got home. He hoped that Daddy would not be at home, because he
knew that while he might not get hit for failing, there would be
that look that he had failed in Daddy's eyes.

He went in the back door without
his usual "I'm home!" and went into the sitting room. Mummy was
there on the settee, Daddy was not at home. Without a word, he gave
the envelope to Mummy and went to take his coat off. He lingered in
the hall, scared to go back in, listening for any reaction. None
came and unable to stand the suspense any longer, he went and stood
in the doorway. Mummy was holding the open letter in her hands, she
looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. Simon's heart
sank.

"Come here, Simon," she said,
holding out her arms, "Come here, my darling." Simon went and sat
next to her, she hugged him. "I am so proud of you, my son. You've
passed."

Simon felt dizzy. Passed? Him?
Waves of feeling raced through him. He was lightheaded. Passed?

"Me?" was all he could
manage.

"Look," said Mummy, "not only
passed, but enough for a place at King Henrys!" She showed the
letter to Simon. It was his letter all right. It was printed, but
there were gaps where someone had typed in parts that applied to
him. Simon Scott, it said, his birthday and then about a very high
score in English and Reasoning, a pass in mathematics, the mean
score (Simon didn't understand how it could be a mean score if he
had passed) entitling him to a place at either City Technical
Grammar School or King Henry VII Grammar School for Boys. There was
something about it being a direct grant grammar school with places
allocated to boys from county junior schools. Simon didn't
understand that. He lived in the city for a start.

"Does that mean I can go to
Henrys, not Vicks?" asked Simon, not yet ready to believe.

"Unless you would rather go to
the grammar tech?" said Mummy, but in a tone which made it obvious
she was joking.

Then Simon was up, dancing round
the room. He felt he could fly, the feeling of relief, of
liberation was indescribable. He started to cry from sheer relief,
a huge burden of fear lifted from his ten year old body. Mother and
son hugged and cheered. A thought came to Simon as he started to
calm down.

"Mummy, can I go round to
Daniel's?"

"What about tea?"

"Please. He helped me."

"All right. Come back for
tea."

Simon looked at the clock before
running out, forgetting his coat in the late February cold. Daniel
would probably not be home yet as he got a later bus at home
time.

"Hello, Mrs Gray, is Daniel home
yet," said Simon after knocking on the back door.

"Not yet, Simon, but he
shouldn't be long." And then noticing Simon's agitation, "Is
something the matter?"

"No, thank you," shouted Simon
cheerfully as he ran back round the house and to the corner. Just
in his short school trousers, shirt and pullover, but unfeeling of
the cold, he could not bear to wait at the corner but ran down the
hill toward the main road. There was the unmistakeable figure of
Daniel, green cap with gold piping, gabardine mac, walking up the
hill. Simon was shouting, and Daniel looked up, saw his friend
running towards him. He too started to run, and as they got closer,
Simon was yelling, "I've passed, I've passed!"

Relief surged through Daniel, no
Vicks then. Simon would at least be safe. Then they were together,
Simon was gripping Daniel, twirling him round, oblivious of any
passers by or other kids about on their way home.

"I've passed, Daniel, I've
passed."

"I gather that," said Daniel,
disentangling himself. "I'm glad, really glad." Daniel paused.
"Grammar Tech, then?"

"No! Henrys! I'm going to Hooray
Henrys with you!"

"Henrys?" repeated Daniel,
"Henrys! Simon, what did I tell you? Didn't I always say you would
be going to Henrys?"

"Yes, and now I am," said Simon
gleefully, his happiness knew no bounds. He wanted to hug Daniel
there and then. But the two ran up the hill to Daniel's house and
into the warm kitchen. Only then did Simon realise how cold he had
been outside.

"Calm down you two," said Mrs
Gray, "what's going on?"

"Mum, Simon's passed and is
going to Henrys!" shouted Daniel excitedly.

"That's wonderful Simon. Well
done," said Mrs Gray.

Simon beamed. "Thank you Mrs
Gray," he said. And then a realisation came to him. "I couldn’t
have done it without Daniel."

"Well, that's very kind of you
to say so, Simon," said Mrs Gray, thinking back to the long autumn
evenings that Daniel had spent working with Simon, often she had
wondered, at the expense of his own homework. Not to mention a
Christmas dominated by Simon's arithmetic.

"Come on," said Daniel, leading
the way to his room, hanging his coat in the hall. In his bedroom,
he hung up his green blazer, with the embroidered coat of arms, a
blazer that now Simon would be wearing, took off his Henrys tie,
and turned to Simon, white shirt now open at the neck, long school
trousers, a vision of salvation.

"Come here," he said, holding
out his arms. The two hugged tightly until emotion overcame them
both, blinking back the tears. Joy, relief, release of tension,
shared happiness. They sat down on the bed.

"I meant what I said, Daniel. I
know that without you I would be going to Vicks."

"Well, you did it," said
Daniel.

Simon looked directly into
Daniel's blue eyes. "Only with your help. I will never, ever forget
this, Daniel. I just don't know what to say."

"Just thank you would do," said
Daniel, smiling at Simon's seriousness.

"Thank you, Daniel, from the
bottom of my heart," said Simon solemnly. Daniel laughed and hugged
him again, and then the comprehension of what had happened hit them
once more, the two were dancing round the room, whooping and
yelling with jubilation.

The significance of the white
and brown envelopes became apparent over the next few days. Passes
had white envelopes, and failures had brown. Mummy was disgusted
when that was pointed out to her, saying it was wrong to show
children up in that way. She wrote a piece about it in her
newspaper column. Some people said it was only because her son had
failed, until they were told, that shut them up. Mummy and Daddy
asked what present he would like for passing; Simon said a radio
like Daniel's. In fact he got an even better one, the latest
Roberts portable. On hearing that Simon was going to Henrys, Barry
Spence, bound for Victoria Road, simply ignored him from that time
on, which suited Simon. Barry Spence was now irrelevant. To his
undying amazement, for once lost for words, Peter Holman had also
qualified for a place at Hooray Henrys. Sidney Forth too had
passed, but was going to the grammar tech. "It's a more modern
education," he said sourly. But Simon didn't care. In the cold
winter, the sun was shining for Simon.

1. 1957/6 Bike
   rides
   

Winter turned to Spring and for
Simon and Daniel it was a renaissance. Only when the burden of the
eleven plus was lifted did they realise what a weight it had been,
Daniel almost as much as Simon. Both boys became more carefree and
more relaxed. When Daniel was out with some of his friends, Simon
was more accepted now, perhaps as a Hooray Henry in waiting. But
the pair also spent much time together, riding their bikes out into
the countryside, a favourite place being the airfield where the
flying club was based. Both boys were interested in aeroplanes, and
liked to watch the small aircraft, mainly Austers, the occasional
biplane and rarely some more exotic types, landing and taking
off.

"I might be a pilot when I grow
up," said Daniel. "Either that or a policeman like Dad."

"Me too," said Simon, "or I
might be a journalist like Mummy."

"Need good exam results," said
Daniel.

"To be a journalist?"

"Maybe. But I meant to be a
pilot. I'll get them at Hooray Henrys."

The conversation turned to life
at Hooray Henrys, Simon attentively listening to Daniel's
descriptions of grammar school life, soaking in every detail so as
to be better prepared for September. Daniel had kept Simon up to
date on an almost daily basis, and Simon felt as if he knew almost
as much about Henrys as he did. The initiation ritual worried Simon
a bit, but that was for the future.

Near the airfield on a low
hilltop was a copse of trees, fringed by long grass, which they had
taken to visiting while out on their rides as it offered the
seclusion they wanted together. Apart from a drink and something to
eat, Daniel's groundsheet was always in his pack as well now. They
pushed their bikes across the field, following the hedgerow up the
hill. On the edge of the copse, they had a view of the airfield in
the distance, the runway at right angles to them so that the
aircraft didn't fly over the hill when landing or taking off.