The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (2 page)

The two started to travel to
school together, either by bus from the main road or in good
weather, a long walk. Although at first Daniel sometimes joined the
others at school in baiting him, he always came back afterwards and
was his friend. Simon never asked why he appeared so fickle, it was
a fact of the universe, like the sun and moon and stars. He didn't
question, they just were! But soon, as the two boys became firm
friends, Daniel would instead defend Simon rather than join in the
taunts.

Simon's problems were compounded
by the difficulty he had at school. He could not remember what all
the letters meant, and he found writing hard to grasp. Numbers
seemed totally meaningless. Soon he was sent for some of the time
to see Miss Brown for extra help. Her room was next to the balcony
which ran across one end of the hall. Simon liked being up there,
climbing the stone staircase with its brown glazed brick walls,
emerging high up on the balcony from where he could look down into
the hall, and even into some of the classrooms through their hall
side windows. Up there with Miss Brown and the small group she
helped, he felt away from the hurly burly of the school and his
large class of over forty children. He was safe for a while. He was
to remain a part of that extra help group until the end of his
junior school. Of course this added force to those who wanted to
taunt him, giving "Simple Simon" added veracity, and Simon less
defence against it.

1. 1952/2 Death of the
   King
   

He slowly became more aware of
the wider world. Daniel, being older, knew much more of course, but
Mummy would talk to him about things and Simon became increasingly
curious. One day, he was at home with some illness, sitting in bed
while Mummy tried to explain to him about the war in Korea. There
was much of it he didn't understand, but he was worried by the
Communists, and if the war would come into his life.

"Daddy won't have to go and
fight again, will he?" asked Simon anxiously.

"No, dear," said Mummy.

"But wasn't he good or
something, with his medal. They want good fighters don't they?"
Simon was in no doubt that Daddy would be a good fighter, he knew
how strong he was, although how this fitted in with being in an
aeroplane he put to one side.

"Daddy won't be going to fight
again, he's done all that. And the DFC was for the last war, it
doesn't mean he'll have to go again."

"Will I have to go and fight
when I grow up?" asked Simon.

"Oh, I hope not," said Mummy,
and gave him a hug. "I'll get you a drink."

Mummy went downstairs and he
heard the reassuring sound of the wireless. It was talking because
Mummy often listened to the Home Service. Suddenly Mummy gave a
little cry, and Simon wondered if she had dropped something. It was
a while before Mummy came back up, carrying a tray with his drink
and some bread and dripping on it.

"The King's dead!" she said, and
then started to cry, spilling the drink.

Simon was aware that this was
momentous news, he knew the King was head of the country, and he
felt the loss too in some way he didn't understand. And Mummy was
crying so he cried too.

"Who will be King now?"

Mummy smiled though her tears,
and wiped both her eyes and his.

"We don't have a King now," she
said. "We have a Queen, a new young Queen, Queen Elizabeth the
second."

"Oh," said Simon, not quite
understanding but glad that the matter had been settled and that
there was continuity.

"Eat your sandwich," said Mummy,
and she sat on the edge of the bed while Simon ate.

1. 1952/3 Miss
   Harvey
   

Then there was the day that Mrs.
Hastings was away from school. When the whistle went, Simon went
into the line, next to the high, red bricked wall round the
playground where the younger classes lined up. Beside him in the
next line was Daniel. Simon smiled at him, but one of the biguns
was watching so Daniel paid no attention. Then Miss Harvey came out
into the yard and total silence fell on the children, each
individual petrified that the icy stare might alight arbitrarily on
themselves. Miss Harvey came over to Simon's line.

"Stand up, Class two!" she
snapped. Class two did their best to comply from a standing
position already. As they were led in, Simon realised that Mrs.
Hastings was not about, and that he was to be subject to Miss
Harvey's iron rule all day. His fears were confirmed when they were
sat in the classroom.

"Mrs. Hastings is unwell today,"
Miss Harvey announced, "so I shall have to put up with you. I
expect you all to behave yourselves. Any disobedience I will deal
with in the proper manner."

Simon knew what the proper
manner was, and had no intention of bringing himself to her
attention. He tried to slide down a bit behind the desk.

"That boy, sit up!"

Simon looked up to find the icy
blue eyes fixed upon him. Miss Harvey was a tall, thin woman with
silver hair and small, steel-rimmed, rectangular spectacles. She
always wore a black dress that added to the sinister appearance.
Simon sat up.

"I shall be watching you today,
boy," said Miss Harvey. Simon felt he had failed at the first
hurdle, and dreaded the rest of the day.

After assembly, Miss Harvey gave
them all a sheet of paper. The children started to write their
names at the top. Simon was very proud because he had now learned
to write his name without copying from the card that Mrs. Hastings
had written out for each child. Miss Brown said his writing was
coming on well. He thought that this would be a good opportunity to
regain his status in Miss Harvey's eyes by demonstrating this feat.
With unerring certainty, Miss Harvey's eyes found the one desk on
which there was no name card. She strode down the aisle between the
rows of forward facing double desks until she was standing over
Simon.

"Where is your name card?"

Simon's resolve left him faced
with Miss Harvey at close quarters. Shaking, he explained.

"I can write my name without it
now, please Miss."

Miss Harvey looked at Simon's
paper. He had got as far as the first three letters.

"Sim!" Miss Harvey exclaimed.
"Sim!" she repeated, equally dramatically. Simon cowered. "Is your
name Sim?" she demanded.

"No, Miss," said Simon, barely
audible.

"No? Then why have you written
'Sim', boy?"

Simon instinctively knew that it
would be unwise to explain to Miss Harvey that this was just the
beginning of the word 'Simon', and wondered what it was about some
grown ups that made them forget such obvious things, yet were ready
to blame children for forgetting quite difficult things.

"Dumb insolence now," was Miss
Harvey's response to Simon's reticence. "What makes you think you
are different from everybody else?" she demanded.

Somehow, Miss Harvey had hit
upon the great unresolved problem of Simon's life. It did serve
though to reinforce the knowledge that he was somehow different
from ordinary boys. Simon had no answer for himself, let alone Miss
Harvey, and so he remained silent. This enraged an already fearsome
Miss Harvey. She took hold of Simon's ear, and twisting it and
pulling, forced Simon out of his seat, down the aisle to the front
of the class. Miss Harvey turned to face the class.

"Now you will see what I think
of disobedient children who are very rude as well," she said. Simon
looked miserably at the class. The sea of faces intimidated him a
bit. All those eyes! He could see that most of the children were
clearly nervous, some of the girls looked upset. One or two of the
boys, like Barry Spence, were obviously going to enjoy watching
Simon, their favourite target for both verbal and physical
bullying, suffering at Miss Harvey's hands also. A strange
alliance, Barry Spence and Miss Harvey.

"Bend over, boy!" came the
inevitable command. Simon tried hard not to cry as the bamboo cut
across his buttocks, but the pain of six successive strokes, even
through his grey flannel shorts and pants was too much, he didn't
even have time to go out of himself to protect himself by letting
it happen to his other self and he returned to his seat with tears
running down his small face to the sniggers of the Spence gang and
the frightened, averted gaze of most of the others. Still crying,
he got out his name card, with Mrs. Hastings' beautiful italic
script on it, and completed writing his name.

There was no respite for Simon
the next day, either. Mrs. Hasting was still absent and Miss Harvey
was taking the class again. Her irritation at this was plain.
Simon's next crisis came at lunchtime. It was salad for school
dinner. This meant an assortment of grated lettuce, grated tomato,
grated carrot and worst of all, grated cheese. Simon could not
stand the smell of cheese, and the taste made him feel desperately
sick. He forced down the various grated components of this meal,
except the cheese, which he tried to distribute over the surface of
the plate so that its presence would be less noticeable. He placed
his knife and fork together as Mummy had taught him, signifying
that he had finished. Barry Spence saw his chance. Thick blond hair
and sharp blue eyes, his angelic face bathed in righteous
indignation, he put up his hand to attract one of the kitchen
ladies.

"Please Miss, Simon hasn't eaten
his cheese."

"Barry, you're rotten,"
whispered Cynthia Jackson.

"Shut up, cow," snarled Barry
Spence, "or I'll bash you in."

Cynthia Jackson shut up.

"Why have you not eaten your
cheese?" demanded the figure in the yellow overall coat.

"Please Miss, I don't like it,"
said Simon.

"Miss Harvey, this boy won't eat
his dinner," called yellow overall across the dining hall. With
sinking heart, Simon heard Miss Harvey's footsteps coming across to
his table. In the hush, he was aware of the black dress next him,
and of Miss Harvey's powerful presence.

"It's you!" proclaimed Miss
Harvey to the rest of the school. Simon wondered how he could ever
not be him. Miss Harvey lowered her voice, but without any loss of
threatening power.

"Eat your meal," she demanded.
Simon knew that resistance was pointless. Miss Harvey would never
understand the effect that cheese had on him. Slowly he started to
force the abhorrent gratings into his mouth, and down his throat.
With each swallow, his bile rose even more, and the tears started
down his face again.

"It's no good just playing with
it," said Miss Harvey. "Good men died to bring us food in the war.
I'm going to stand here until it's all gone."

Simon knew that she would, and
tried to hurry up to shorten his ordeal. Suddenly, he could contain
it no longer. He felt the uncontrollable rush into his throat,
opening from within. Unthinking, he turned to the side and vomited
all down Miss Harvey's black dress.

"You vile little boy!" she
shrieked. "You did that deliberately, you wicked child!" Miss
Harvey seized a cloth from yellow overall, and frantically wiped at
her dress. Boiling with rage, she then seized Simon and dragged him
to the front of the dining hall. Simon stood shaking, the taste of
vomit still in his mouth, still feeling sick through cheese and
fear.

"Bend over, you nasty little
boy," demanded Miss Harvey. Simon bent. The force behind the
strokes seemed far greater than the earlier beating and for Simon,
whose counting was not the best anyway, there seemed to be more
than the earlier six.

Simon spent the afternoon
standing in the corner of the classroom, because Miss Harvey said
she could not bear his face. For Simon this was a blessing because
he did not want to have to sit, and while he was standing in the
corner, he could not get into trouble about his work. It was
probably the safest place to be, only returning to his place at the
end of the day to put his chair up and say the prayer.

1. 1952/3 Going
   home
   

On the way home, Daniel asked
Simon about the beatings. Simon tried to explain what had happened,
and how Miss Harvey had beat him because he was different. The two
boys took a short cut home through the wood. In fact, it was
slightly longer than going by the road route, but it was more
fun.

"Did she hit you hard?" asked
Daniel as they walked through the trees.

"Yes," said Simon, "very hard."
He knew that his face still showed the signs of his tears.

"What will your Mum say," asked
Daniel, still curious.

"Don't know," replied Simon.

"Did it hurt?" asked Daniel.

"It was horrible," answered
Simon, the memory starting to bring back his tears. Cross with
Daniel's incessant questioning, he said, "Look."

Simon stopped, and looking along
the path to see if anyone was coming, he dropped his gabardine mac
to the ground, pulled his shirt out of his shorts, and slackening
the front fastening, eased his shorts down sufficiently to expose
much of his buttocks. Looking over his shoulder, Simon could see
from the expression on Daniel's face that there were marks in
plenty.

Daniel gently lifted Simon's
shirt a bit more with one hand, and with the other, tugged Simon's
shorts down to reveal his bottom completely. Simon felt reassured
by the tenderness of his friend's touch and so allowed this. Simon
felt his gentle hand run smoothly and lightly over his hips and
buttocks, but did not resist his friend's advance. Daniel broke the
brief spell of the moment.

"She didn't half whack you," he
said. Simon nodded, pulling up his shorts. "I'm glad I'm not
different, if that's what you get," said Daniel, thankfully.

When Simon got home, he started
to tell Mummy about it, oblivious of her warning glances. Daddy
came into the room, and Simon realised his mistake.