The Talisman (3 page)

The warder ushered the boys out and returned to the office. The Major was standing at his desk, holding Alex’s report file. He flipped it open. ‘Keep your eye on Stubbs – not like the rest of ’em, he’s a grammar-school boy, and cocky with it. When his mother comes next visit, ask her to see me, would you?’

The warden nodded and took out his notebook. He asked what Stubbs was in for, and the Major pursed his lips, then handed the file over. ‘As I said, he’s different. Stubbs knifed his own father. Dear God, what is the world coming to . . .’

Evelyne was dumbfounded when she was led to the Major’s office, and even more shocked when she was told of Alex’s behaviour. She told the Major over and over that it was very unlike Alex, he was always quiet, and when he showed her Alex’s school reports she was stunned. They were bad; although he wasn’t at the bottom of the class he was still well below his average at grammar school.

Although he felt sorry for Mrs Stubbs, the Major told her that as Alex had been causing trouble in the detention centre, he was denied future visiting privileges.

The next time Evelyne saw Alex was when he was led before the judge to hear what his fate would be.

‘Well, Stubbs,’ said the Beak, ‘you don’t appear to have learned your lesson. On three occasions you were warned to behave yourself. I therefore have no alternative but to send you to reform school for two years.’

Alex stood in the dock, white-faced, and could not bear to look at his mother. He could not believe his ears. Evelyne wept and hung her head, wiping her face with her handkerchief.

Letting herself into the empty house, Evelyne set her gas mask on the kitchen table and, too tired to build the fire, sat alone, sipping a cup of strong, sweet tea. The broken windows had been boarded up, and a large tarpaulin covered the bomb-damaged roof. She had always been a fighter, but now she was giving in. Overwhelmed with tiredness, she sat in the chair. She couldn’t bear to think of Edward, and now Alex had failed her, too.

The train thundered through the black tunnel, and Alex sat opposite Major Kelly, his haversack on his knee. The Major snored, his steel hand hanging limply at his side. Eventually the train pulled into Brighton.

Oakwood Hall was a gothic monster set in large grounds a few miles outside Brighton. Alex half-expected the place to be surrounded with barbed wire, but the manor house looked more like a grand hotel. As the taxi entered the gates, he stared around at the grassy fields and woods.

The hall was oak-beamed, Tudor style, with highly polished oak floors. They waited in the hall as a plump woman, wearing a starched white apron, came down the wide staircase. Alex was ushered in to meet his housemaster, Mr Taylor. He had a thick thatch of straw-coloured hair with a reddish tinge. His eyes were blue, piercing and icy, framed by round wire glasses. Alex could see that he was actually rather a handsome man, with full, red lips and wide cheekbones, very fresh-faced. When he rose from behind the desk he stood at least five foot eleven, well built with broad shoulders. He wore a crumpled tweed jacket and the fashionable, baggy grey flannels. They were held at the waist by a tie, which Alex was later informed was from Eton, where Mr Taylor had been educated.

Taylor gave Alex a quick, sharp lecture, a stamped envelope for his weekly letter home, and, just as Alex reached the office door, he snapped, ‘I run a tight ship, Stubbs. Just do as you’re told and we’ll get along. I’ll have a chat with you at a later date, run along.’

Lounging outside Mr Taylor’s office was Sidney Green. Dapper in his uniform, his hair slicked back with grease, he possessed a natural sharpness. ‘Well, that was short an’ sweet, must be yer lucky day. Name’s Sid, just follow me, I’m ter show yer the ropes . . . got all yer kit? Let’s get this over wiv, got a game of football. You play footer, do yer?’

Alex trailed behind Sid down endless corridors, until they came to a long dormitory. Sid barely paused for breath, keeping up a steady flow of chatter. He pointed out a small bed, a locker, and then sat swinging his legs impatiently while Alex unpacked. ‘Take yer gear, stick us in this ruddy uniform, makes yer sick. I got meself a nice suit just before they copped me – nice double-breasted with a crease in the pants yer could cut yer ’and on, very tasty – got one of them new skinny-rib ties what’s all the fashion . . .’

Sid continued to talk all through the tour of Oakwood Hall, making rude remarks about every room, every teacher, until his black humour had Alex smiling. ‘Yer fink I’m jokin’, mate, but wait, just wait. You’ll see all I’m talkin’ is God’s truth. This place comes wiv the ark, no kiddin’.’

Alex never really chose Sid as his friend, Sid simply latched on. He was very glad in the end as Sid was so popular, forever joking, always ready with the hottest rumours. Oakwood Hall was a far cry from Rochester House, and Alex settled in fast. Lessons were treated seriously, though not by Sid. The only thing he really worked at was his football. On the pitch he could dribble the ball so fast he was at the far end and back again with no one to touch him. They became even more inseparable when Sid saw how fast Alex could run. ‘Hey, you an’ me, yer know, we could make it on the professional circuit – did I tell yer me Dad’s a professional? Yeah, he’s one hell of a football player. Soon’s I’m out, an’ the war’s over, I’m gonna try out fer Fulham.’

Evelyne’s weekend visits left Alex increasingly anxious about her. She seemed thinner and unnaturally quiet, but she always brought him a bagful of fruit and a chocolate bar. She gave him a half-crown to slip in his pocket and told him it might be difficult for her to come every week as it was such a long way from home. ‘You look well, son, it must be the sea air. Do you get out on to the beach at all?’

Alex told her they went for long walks every other day, and one of the masters took them on country rambles. He did look well, and he was filling out. He was taller, and his long trousers made him look very grown-up. To Alex, his mother seemed vacant, and her big, worn hands fiddled nervously with her handbag strap all the time.

‘You heard from our Eddie, then, Ma?’

Evelyne frowned slightly and said he’d written, but he was very probably busy with his studies. ‘I asked Mr Taylor and he said you were doing well here. So stay that way and I’ll have you home soon. That will be nice, just the two of us.’

Alex gave her a soft, shy smile, and she reached over and gently touched his face. She noticed his quick, embarrassed glance to see if any of the other lads were watching.

‘You’ve not been getting into any fights, the way you did at Rochester House?’

‘No, it’s not bad here, and I’m working well. They tell you I was top in maths? And then there’s the sports. I play a lot of football.’

She smiled, pleased, and he slid his hand across the table to hold hers. ‘I love you, Ma . . . love you with all my heart, I do.’

‘I know, son, I know . . . I never told you much about your grandfather, but, well, you’ve got more of a look of him than ever. It’s the dimple in your chin.’

Alex had rarely, if ever, heard her mention his grandfather. He couldn’t know that Evelyne had her reasons, deep, hidden reasons, and there was also the fact that there had never been a legal form of marriage between herself and Freedom.

The wardens began to open the doors, at any moment the bell would ring. ‘I’ll write to you, Mum.’

Evelyne appeared to be miles away, staring into space.

‘Mum, I know it’s hard for you to come and see me, so don’t put yourself out too much.’

Alex always had so much more to say when the bell rang. There was that emotional surge when he first saw her that made him go dumb. Then, just as he relaxed, it was time for her to go.

The wardens called ‘Time up’, and the boys had to file out before their parents left. Evelyne noticed that Alex had a manly swagger to him now. He was growing away from her and it tore her heart. When he turned and gave her that smile of his at the door, she fought to put on a brave face, giving him a little wave of her hand. Today more than ever she saw Hugh, her father, in her son – his curly hair, his blue eyes – then the pain swept over her and she could see Edward’s face, Edward her first-born, Freedom’s mirror, and by the time she boarded the train home she was drained, a terrible empty feeling inside her. She felt cut off, and desperately alone, the confusion of faces dead and gone haunting her . . .

Like all the boys at Oakwood, Alex felt deeply depressed after these visits. He jogged out to the football field in search of Sid, who appeared never to receive either letters or visitors. Seeing two younger boys kicking a ball around, he asked after Sid.

‘Matron took ’im up to the sickroom, he’s had one of his turns.’

It was not until they were getting ready for bed that Alex saw Sid again. The matron brought him in, looking pale and drawn, and she had to help him into bed. The young lad next to Alex whispered, ‘They give ’im somefink ter quiet ’im down, drug ’im . . .’

‘Why does his Dad never visit?’

The boy sniggered, ‘You don’t believe ’is stories, do yer? He ain’t got no Dad, that’s why they keep bringin’ ’im back ’ere – he got no place else.’

Alex lay back. He couldn’t believe it – why had Sid lied to him about his father? He looked over at the still figure of his usually buoyant friend and was angry at Sid for making such a fool of him.

At breakfast next morning Sid was as lively as ever, fooling around and spilling sugar on the floor. Eventually Mr Taylor yelled at him.

‘Hey, Alex, want a quick game at break? Alex . . .? Whassamatter wiv yer?’

‘You should have told me, Sid, why’d you lie? What you lie to me for?’

Sid sniffed and shrugged, looked down at his shoes. ‘Why don’t yer mind yer own friggin’ business . . . you want ter play or not?’

‘No, I gotta see Taylor . . .’

Sid stuffed his hands in his pockets, gave Alex a peculiar smile. ‘Taylor asked to see yer, ’as he? I wondered ’ow long he’d take to get round yer . . . Well sod ya, I’ll play on me own.’

Sid went to move away and Alex caught him by the arm. ‘Sid, is it true yer don’t ’ave a Dad?’

‘Look, I ain’t got nobody, so I make ’em up in me ’ead – is that such a terrible fing? I don’t hurt nobody . . . But you try it sometimes, everybody comin’ in wiv fings what they been given. I don’t even get a friggin’ letter.’

Alex put an arm around him, pulled him towards the lockers. ‘All right then, from now on what I get, we halve . . . here you go, fruit, chocolate . . .’

Sid slipped an arm around Alex’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, then he glanced at the door and whispered, ‘Watch out for Taylor, he’s a bastard – know what I mean?’

Alex shook his head.

‘Gawd ’elp us, you are green, yer know that . . . Look, this is what yer say when he asks . . .’

Before Sid could elaborate, Alex was called by a junior to get a move on, as Taylor was waiting for him.

‘Tell me later . . . We’ll have a game after tea, okay?’

Sid watched Alex hurry off. He snapped the bar of chocolate in two and ate a square. Alex grinned from the door, and Sid gave him the thumbs-up sign. No older than Alex, Sid was streetwise. Alex was such a good-looking boy, skinny maybe, but a real looker. ‘Well, son, you’re gonna learn the ’ard way, that’s fer sure.’

Mr Taylor was sitting at his desk marking exercise books, his pebble glasses stuck on the end of his nose. He looked up, smiled at Alex and told him to sit down, he would be with him in a moment.

Mr Taylor continued to work, ignoring Alex, who sat and looked around the comfortable office. The bookcases were crammed, in fact the whole room seemed to bulge at the seams with books on every available surface. There was an old couch close to the window which overlooked the playground. On the mantel a big, white-faced wooden clock ticked loudly. The scratching of Taylor’s pen continued as the minutes ticked on and on. Alex shuffled his feet and looked at the thick crop of hair bent over the books. Taylor finished his work, carefully replaced the cap on his pen, and stood up. He yawned and stretched, took off his glasses and set them down. Then he walked to the office door and locked it. Leaning against the door he smiled again, and rubbed his hands through his hair.

‘Going to ask a few questions, Stubbs, and I want you to answer them clearly and truthfully, understood?’

Alex nodded his head, and watched as Taylor returned to his desk and picked up a steel-edged ruler. He wondered why Mr Taylor had locked the door, but he straightened up and tightened his tie.

‘Right then, tell me if you have had any sexual relations to date?’

Alex gasped, he didn’t know what to say, and he blinked at his housemaster, who moved closer. Alex shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

‘What kind of an answer is that?’

Alex felt the stinging blow of the flat end of the ruler on the top of his head. Taylor repeated his question, and Alex ducked another blow.

‘I haven’t had any, sir.’

Taylor gave a weird, high-pitched laugh, and he stood in front of Alex, smirking into his face. ‘Don’t joke with me, sonny, it won’t wash. I want every detail and you’d better tell me – big boy like you, never had a woman, that right? That what you are trying to tell me?’

Alex looked nervously towards the door, and his head was jerked back by the hair as Taylor leered down at him. Alex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Taylor went on about how he knew Alex was having an affair with Miss Walters, how he had seen Alex looking at her. He knew Alex fancied her and suspected that Alex had put his hand up Miss Walters’ skirt.

‘No sir, I swear, sir, I never.’

Taylor patted Alex’s cheek so hard that it hurt, patted it with the flat of the ruler. He pushed his face close, until Alex could smell his breath, then he hauled Alex to his feet by the back of his shirt collar. ‘So it’s not Miss Walters, all right then, which boy, come on, you’d better tell me, which boy have you been with?’

Alex tried to squirm away from Taylor’s grip, but Taylor kneed him from behind and he fell to the floor. He tried to crawl under the desk, but Taylor yanked him back and kicked hard so he curled up with a howl of pain.