Barefoot and Lost (14 page)

     I will need both hands if I am to get back down the stairs in silence. I put the letter in my right hand pocket then change my mind because in spite of removing the sandwich and jam, it is still very sticky. I manage the library stairs without one screech; I think I would make a good spy. Will they need spies now the war is finished, I don’t know. Making good progress I am about to pass the toilet, when I hear the chain being pulled, the door opens, Flynn is standing there in his pyjamas, the light behind him lighting me like a searchlight.  

     ‘Snell, what are doing where do you think you are going?’

     ‘Toilet
Mr.
Flynn
, too many strawberries sorry I have to go.’ Pushing past him I shut the door. I can’t hear him outside, perhaps he has gone. I’ll sit here for five minutes and then pull the chain. ‘Snell, are you all right?’

     ‘Yes
Mr.
Flynn
almost finished Ow ooh.’

     ‘
Phillip
, are you okay?’

     ‘Yes
Mr.
Flynn
, just a pain in my tummy that’s all. I can’t fake this any longer he may come in to see if I’m alright. I pull the chain, waiting until the cistern refills seems to take ages, I flush it again and rattle the toilet brush around the bowl, let him think I have done a big one. Opening the door I find he is still standing in the corridor, his hand quickly moves away from the front of his pyjama trousers revealing the bulge of his penis. ‘Snell, why are you not wearing pyjamas?’

     ‘Sorry
Mr.
Flynn
, I shit myself and had to take them off.’

     ‘Don’t be so disgusting
,
you soiled your pyjamas, wherever do you get this gutter language from I’m sure I don’t know?’

    ‘I’m sorry
Mr.
Flynn
, didn’t mean to be rude.’

    ‘Okay, now go to the bathroom and clean yourself.’

    ‘Will you be coming with me?’ He replies in his nice soft voice,

    ‘Would you like me to come with you
Phillip
?’
    ‘No
Mr.
Flynn
, it is only, if you were, I would have to shout real loud PT is in the bathroom tonight; that’s all.’
Flynn
’s face turns red and distorts with anger, thinking he is about to hit me I dodge past him into our dorm and into bed.

     Hiding under the blanket I’m not sure if I am shaking from fear or excitement, the only sound is the thump, thump, thump of my heart, after a few minutes the silence is broken by Toby whispering in my ear. ‘
Phil
are you okay did you get caught?’

     ‘No, I didn’t get caught and yes I’m okay and feel quite pleased with myself, I’ll tell all of you all about it when we are in the garden after breakfast, night, night.’

     ‘Did you get your letter?’ Pulling the edge of it out of my pocket to show him,

     ‘Yes Lion, I had a bit of excitement though,
Flynn
caught me in the corridor on the way back.’

     ‘Bloody hell, what happened?’

     ‘I’ll tell all of you later, when we are gardening; it’s a long story.’

     ‘Have you any idea where you’re going to hide it?’

     ‘No not yet, have you any ideas?’

     ‘Keep it in your pocket for chapel and breakfast, and then we will put it in my secret
hiding place. I don’t want anyone else knowing about it so only you and I will hide it, is that okay
?’

     The others have gone down to the garden leaving Lion and me alone. ‘Quick, help me pull my bed back.’ With the bed head pulled six inches from the wall Lion gets on his hands and knees and lifts a four foot section of floor board. In the cavity below is my tobacco tin and one or two things I do not recognize, they must be Lions. ‘Is that my money in the tin?’

     ‘Yeah
, and Peter’s, quick give me the letter.’ Lion places the letter in the hole and puts my tin on top of it, ‘Right it should be safe there till you go to
Maidstone
.’ With the
f
loor board and the bed back in place no one would suspect it was there.

     The week passes slowly, every plant, every blade of grass has been trimmed; three hundred and twenty seven stones have been whitewashed. We haven’t been worked hard, but steady, by our supervisor, an old gentleman from the village called
Mr.
Potts
. It was on the second day we found out his name was the same as mine. Lion asked him, was that what he did, or was that his name? He either didn’t, or chose not to, get the joke. His reply was, ‘I do not want too much familiarity, so you will call me
Mr.
Potts
.’ The truth is he hasn’t filled a pot all week but has emptied about fifty, making a floral display around the feet of our founder, on the roundabout at the front entrance.

     At three this afternoon
Mr.
Potts
gathered us together, and told us that we have done a good job and that we should be very proud of what we have achieved. He then takes my hand, I attempt to turn mine to shake his but he pushe
s a coin into my palm. ‘Ere
lad, ‘ere’s a couple of bob for yer, its not a lot but I don’t believe in slave labour, ‘ere old out yer ‘ands, there’s one for each of yer.’ Lion looks embarrassed. ‘Two shillings, that’s a lot
Mr.
Potts
.’

     ‘It’s not out me own pocket lad, the church is payin’ fer it, ‘ope yer can find a way to spend it, yer deserve it yer bloody good kids yer are.’

     Just as we think we are getting away to do our own thing Mam calls, ‘
Lionel
, I want you and your room mates to get your baths now, before tea. There will be no chapel tonight, get clean then you can have free time, but stay clean.’

     ‘Mam, why do we have to go so early, it’s only half past three?’

     ‘Don’t question me
Lionel
, everyone has to have a bath tonight, the sooner we start the sooner we finish, now get going.’
Peter
and I have both drawn the short straw and get third bath, the water is a bit grimy, but if you don’t think about it, it’s not that bad. We usually put on our pyjamas after a bath but we can hardly go for supper in them so we have all dressed. I am reading ‘The Talisman’ and
Peter
is thrashing Toby at chess. Lion has persuaded us that our earnings from gardening will be safer in his bank, otherwise Mam will get her hands on it, so all twelve shillings have been hidden, I assume, under the floor board with Peter’s and mine.

     Flynn is standing behind the lectern on the stage. With his head bowed he says grace. Then raising his head he says, ‘Quiet
,
listen to me, after your supper you are to remain seated, there will be a short address by the Reverend about what is expected from all of you tomorrow, enjoy your meal.’ That is a laugh I haven’t enjoyed a meal since I have been here.

     The Reverend taps the microphone twice, like he always does to get our attention. ‘Quiet, stop that babbling.’ The room goes silent. 

     ‘The festivities commence tomorrow morning at eleven. We, when I say we I am referring to all children and staff from both
Saint
Gabriel
’s and
Saint
Stephens
. We will be formed up around the statue of our founder at the front of the building, where we will greet the dignitaries from the Tonbridge Council, also the director of the charity that supports both Saint Stephen’s and Saint Gabriel’s will be here. With him there will be a group of VIP’s from the
London
office. When their cars pull up, I expect you to cheer and wave, vigorously, the union jack flags you will be issued with just prior to their arrival. I will introduce these people to our staff. Some of them may wish to speak to some of you. If they do, answer their question, call them sir or madam, don’t be shy, be assertive. I will then lead them into the main hall and give them a tour. While I am doing the tour you are to make your way around to the back of the house, where you will enter the dining room by the rear doors. Once everyone is seated you can then commence to enjoy the fare that is laid before you. In the afternoon there will be a demonstration of country dancing by the girls from Saint Gabriel
’s, also
there will be a display of PT by the boys from here--”

     ‘I wonder if
Flynn
will be there displaying his dick?’ I get an almighty slap around the head which makes me see stars. Swinging around ready to fight back, I see
Flynn
standing there, ‘Be careful Snell you are walking on very thin ice. The Reverend had mentioned something about Gareth Jones but I missed it, my head and ears are still buzzing. 

--“between now and eleven tomorrow morning is as normal, so now go about your business, do not let me or yourselves down, be proud of your home; oh, and thank you for the good job you have done in making Saint Stephen’s look a picture, that is all.

    
A black Daimler and a dark green Humber Super Snipe are pulling into the drive, their tyres crunching on the gravel as they swing around our newly planted roundabout. Both chauffeurs dressed in full uniform with baggy trousers, leather gaiters and peaked caps, open the rear doors with leather gloved hands, the two of them together, as though they are soldiers on parade. To me there is only one thing wrong, the driver of the black
Daimler
is wearing a green uniform, the driver of the green
Humber
is wearing black. The first to emerge is a fat man with a very red face, followed by a lady and two other men. A tall thin man steps out of the
Humber
, followed by a lady and my old friend the Reverend, still clutching his white panama hat. Mam, dressed in a pink and white nurse’s uniform, the only thing missing is the veil,
takes a step
forward with the Reverend Harrison both smiling broadly.
I didn’t know the R
everend could smile
,
to greet our guests. Looking around I can see the younger kids are waving as instructed, but us older ones are just going through the motions.

     My eye catches
Rachel
’s, she smiles and gives me a vigorous wave with her Union Jack.

    
Reverend
Harrison
is introducing one of the ladies to
Flynn
, he has that sickly look on his
face,
and I know he is speaking with his special soft voice.

I wonder if she would be so keen to shake his hand if she knew what we know about what he does with them
.
Both ladies speak to a couple of the younger kids and, the tall man from the
Humber
is speaking to Rachel, I can see her face is flushed, she is looking very shy.

       The guests and some staff have gone inside.
Marjorie
, still wearing the floral dress from Tonbridge but, thankfully, not the sun hat, and
Ann
have stayed with the kids, presumably to ensure we don’t kill each
other in our dash to the food.
They have little effect on the charge, Marjorie being too fat to keep up and Ann not wanting to do it on her own. The stampede is halted by both
Flynn
and
Mr.
Simmons
who are standing by the rear doors.

     Flynn is shouting, ‘Stop running, form into your dormitory grou
ps
then,
and
only then
will you
be allowed to file in quietly.’

     ‘What about St Gab’s, where do we go?’ a boy from there asks.

     ‘Do you not have dormitories at
Saint
Gabriel
’s? Don’t ask stupid questions and line up. Until you do nobody goes inside.’ Eventually we start to file in, the girls first
, followed by the younger
boys.

     The tables have been covered with red, white, and blue paper table cloths. At each setting there is a plate with two sandwiches, two small cakes, a couple of biscuits and, best of all, a dish with four strawberries co
vered with cream. Down the cent
r
e
of each table there are three jugs of orange cordial. The food is good. I’m not sure I enjoyed the fish paste sandwiches but the strawberries are great. I have obviously not put myself off them after last Sunday. 

     The staff, with the exception of
Reverend
Harrison
who is seated on the stage with the fat man and the lady from the
Daimler
, are serving orange juice and talking and laughing with the kids as though it was something they do every day instead of what it really is a show for the guests.

     Thump, thump on the speakers and the babble dies to a murmur, ‘Ladies, Gentlemen, boys and girls.’ The Reverend turns towards fat man. ‘Let me introduce you to Alderman
Costello.’
Turning to the Lady, ‘and
Mrs.
Valerie
White
. Alderman
Costello
is the counsellor responsible for education and
Mrs.
White
, social services. It is, thanks to them for
making this party to celebrate the end of
the war possible. A thank
you
is
also
deserved
to Long Thatch farm for their donation of the strawberries and cream.’

     ‘Some of the persons in this room have never known this country without war and all of you, in someway, or other, have been deeply affected by war. This is a new beginning for all of us, may the future be bright. Now please join me, in three cheers for the good Alderman and Mrs. White. Hip, hip we all cheer the Reverend sits down looking very pleased with himself. The Alderman gets to his feet, choosing not to use the microphone, mumbles a few words and, with a wave of his hand steps down from the stage, closely followed by
Mrs.
White
. Making their way through the door into the hall, their sudden exit seems to catch the Reverend and the other two men from the
Daimler
by surprise, as they chase after them.
Flynn
, looking flustered, leaps onto the stage. ‘Attention
,
will the girls doing country dancing from Saint Gabriel’s please report to Marjorie in the Garden---.’

Several girls scrape back their chairs, making a noise that drowns out
Flynn
. ‘---also; sit down, quiet, pay attention, all boys over ten years are to report to Mr. Jones for physical training, that is all, off you go in an orderly fashion.’

     ‘Oh it’s that sort of PT, so
Flynn
won’t be displaying his dick.’

     ‘You know
Phil
, you are a laugh; bloody hell that was some clout he gave you.’

     ‘Yeah
Toby, my head is still ringing; I remember it as though it was yesterday.’

     ‘I’m not surprised,—hang on it was yesterday; ha, ha very funny; well it hasn’t affected your sense or humour.’

     In the garden there are quite a few visitors standing in small groups, chatting to kids from here and St Gab’s, some of them
have other children with them.
I’m wishing but not too hard as I don’t want to be disappointed, I’m looking for June or Pop or Olive, even
Olive’s American boy friend
Awful, but the disappointment hits me, there is nobody I recognize.

     ‘Auntie Mavis,
Jill
,’
Peter
shouts and runs to a woman standing with a girl about my age
beside a man in a wheelchair.
Hearing his shout Auntie Mavis turns and, with arms spread wide gathers Peter and swings him off the ground, Jill runs up and gives him a hug. I can feel a lump in my throat and the tears start to well, I so much want this to be happening to me. I look around again but there is no one there for me.

     The man in the wheelchair has
Peters
hand clasped in both of his, looking at him in a very affectionate way. Auntie Mavis is standing with her arm around
Peter
’s shoulders, I think
Peter
is crying. Feeling wretched, out of place and not wanted, I start to walk away to see if I can find Coach.
Peter
notices me and calls, ‘
Phil
, come and meet my—Auntie and Uncle, oh and
Jill
as well; this is
Phil
, my best friend, we met in hospital last year, remember I told you about him?’ I am introduced,
Mr.
Cunningham
takes my hand and says, ‘Please excuse me for not standing
Phil
, my name is
John
.’ I know he is joking but I don’t know what to say, feeling awkward I just reply,

     ‘That’s alright I don’
t mind,’ then wished I hadn’t.
Mavis gives me a hug and Jill a shy smile.

     I can hear my name being called; a ball of muscle, with its head on upside down, is jogging down the path towards me.

    ‘There you are
Phil
; I need you for the PT, can’t start without you.’ Then turning to the
Cunningham
’s, Couch says, ‘Sorry to drag him away but he is our star gymnast, he will be back I only need him for half an hour.’ Then to me ‘Quick go and get your kit be at the cricket ground in fifteen minutes.’

     The Gymnastic display is a bit of a disappointment. Coach is only able to round up nine of us. He has gone to the trouble of borrowing a vaulting horse and a landing mat but no one except me has used one before. But it doesn’t matter how ragged we are there is no one watching. Poor Coach I really feel sorry for him, he is trying so hard to put on a display but half the kids don’t want to be here so are not trying. Having the experience I am obviously the best. Coach keeps using me to demonstrate. This has upset a couple of them, one even called me a bloody crawler; I ignored him but if he does it again he will learn I can box as well.

     Not wanting to interrupt Peter, I have spent the last twenty minutes looking
for Lion. Jack, Toby and Brian we
re playing cricket, they said he was with them fielding on the boundary but suddenly he wasn’t. Making my way back to the house I catch a glimpse of Lion darting up
through
the gap
leading to the formal garden between the house and the yew tree hedge. Chasing after him I’m surprised to find he is not there, and then I remember the gap in the hedge I used that first
day to get to the coach. Why would
he
go
out the front, we are not allowed out
there.
As I get to the gap I see Lion’s legs disappear as the boot lid of the
Humber
closes.

     The fool, what does he think he is doing should I shout and give him away, I
’d
better not, he wouldn’t be very happy with me but has anyone else seen him. The driver is not with the car so maybe he
has
got
away with it. I decide to keep guard so I can warn him if anyone looks lik
e discovering him. I hide
in the yew hedge where I can see the car and the front entrance, the time on the clock on the tower is twenty to four as I settle down to wait.

    Less than ten minutes passes before the driver walks to his car,
and
opens the driver’s door but doesn’t get in. He lights a cigarette then walks around the car kicking the tyres, I bet Lion is shitting himself, he will hear and feel the kicks but not know what is causing it, I hope he doesn’t panic and give himself away. The front door opens
,
the three from the head office emerge, followed by Reverend Harrison and Mam, pausing at the car, they shake hands while the driver holds open the door. The three passengers get
in;
the driver closes the door walks around the back pauses at the boot, reaches
down,
and
turns the handle to close it.
Walking to the driver’s seat with a shake of his head; does he know Lion is inside and is not letting on, or is he wondering why the handle is unlocked? I’ll never know because the Humber moves off, its twin exhausts billowing a cloud of blue smoke as it slips quietly through the gates onto the road in the direction of Tonbridge and London.

     I’m very excited, I can’t wait to tell the others but, on second thoughts, I have decided n
ot to tell anyone, the less who
know
,
the less there will be to tell; it will be mine and Lion’s secret, I will tell Mum when I talk to her tonight, she can ask God to look after him.

    
Peter
and the
Cunningham
’s are now seated on a park bench under the oak tree. I hope the paint has dried from the other day; they are talking furiously, it seems a shame to interrupt them. I turn away to leave them to it,
Jill
says something to
Peter
, turning around he sees me, ‘
Phil
, come here, I have something to tell you, I want you to be the first to know.’ I have a good
idea what he is going to say.
Although I’m happy for him, I’m sad he is not going to be my friend.