The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel (8 page)

The days passed by. They went
for walks, rides in the car, and climbed some of the closer
mountains. Daddy said they were just hills really, although they
seemed like mountains to Simon. But then Daddy had been climbing in
the Alps before the war. That's how he knew German, he said.

One day at breakfast, Daddy
looked at Simon. "Today, I'm going to teach you to row, son." Simon
grinned happily. He had seen people rowing boats on the lake and
now he was going to as well.

"Don't I get a chance?" said
Frances.

"Of course, Princess," said
Daddy, "everybody will." So soon they were on the launch going
along the lake to the town. They decided to leave the car at the
hotel and use the motor launch because you could catch it just at
the end of the hotel drive. From out on the lake, the scenery
seemed even more wonderful but soon they arrived at the landing
stages and Daddy ordered a rowing boat big enough for them all.
They put their bags in and a boatman pushed them off. Simon thought
the boatman was good because he could drive the motor launch as
well. Simon wanted to drive the motor launch. But Daddy was rowing
now, Mummy sitting at the back, Frances up at the front, trailing
her hand in the water. Simon was watching Daddy, pulling back on
the oars, making the boat go. The lake seemed so much bigger than
from the motor launch.

"How deep is it, Daddy?" he
asked.

"Not very, I don't think. About
seventy feet in the middle. It's not the deepest lake."

Simon gulped. Seventy feet
sounded very deep to him. He remembered the Lido from last year and
sat away from the edge of the boat. Daddy stopped rowing, the boat
rocking gently out on the lake.

"Come on then, son." Carefully
they changed places, the boat now rocking precariously.

"Careful, Harry," said
Mummy.

"I'm fine," said Daddy.

"It was Simon I was thinking
of," she said.

"Now son, take hold of the oars,
make sure they don't slip back through the rowlocks."

"The what?"

"Those, like an upside down
horseshoe," said Daddy. "Keep the collar inside the rowlock." Each
oar had a large leather collar that was to stop it sliding through
into the lake. "Lean forward, drop the oars into the water, brace
your feet and pull back."

Simon did as he was told, but
the oars were heavy. As he pulled back, one came high out of the
water, catching him unawares, so that he let go of the other. It
slid away, but the collar stopped it. The oar he still had hold of
had jumped out of the rowlock and was suddenly very heavy, trying
to slide away over the side. Making the boat rock violently, Daddy
jumped forward and grabbed the oar slipping out of Simon's grasp.
Simon looked at Daddy nervously. He knew he had got it wrong, and
he didn't want Daddy to be cross. But the cross look on Daddy's
face faded.

"Right son, try again, but make
sure you keep the oars in the water when you pull them back, and
lift them when you come forwards again."

Patiently, Daddy taught his son
to row, and Simon, now more relaxed because Daddy wasn't cross,
soon picked it up and found a rhythm. He liked the steady repeated
motion. Push down, go forward, lift the oar handles, holding the
blades vertical into the water, brace the feet and pull back. The
boat moved. Again and again, forward and pulling, forward and
pulling. Simon found the rhythm of his rocking body soothing,
coupled with a sense of achievement. He rowed along the lake,
straining and panting but not stopping. They passed the hotel,
looking strange from this viewpoint.

"Do you want to have a go,
Frances?" Daddy asked at one point.

"No, another time maybe," she
replied. "Let him keep going." And she continued to trail her
fingers in the water, lost in her own thoughts. Slowly they entered
the flat lands around where the river entered the lake. Simon rowed
up the narrowing river, reeds and grass either side. The water was
now clear, and Simon realised with horror and fear that he could
see the bottom, gravel and even a couple of fish. It looked so deep
to his young eyes. In his mind he was under the water at the Lido
and panic set in. Shaking he stopped rowing.

"I want to go back," he
said.

"What for?" said Daddy.

"It's deep." Simon was visibly
shaking now, and tears of panic were starting.

"Don't be silly, boy," said
Daddy. "It's not as deep as the water you've been rowing along
quite happily."

Simon knew it would be no good
pointing out that now he could see the bottom, that made it worse.
The actual depth didn't matter.

"Harry, can't you see he's
frightened," said Mummy.

"I'll row then," said Daddy. So
Daddy rowed the boat quickly back out onto the main lake. Simon
later rowed again, feeling safer in his mind because the dark water
of the lake hid its depth. But he knew that in some way he had let
Daddy down, that Daddy was disappointed in him.

It was another day. There was
the usual discussion over breakfast of the plans for the day.

"The weather forecast is good,"
said Mummy. "A good day for the tops."

"You mean another mountain?"
said Frances with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"A real one this time," said
Daddy. "Great Gable."

Simon felt a pang of disquiet at
this. The very name seemed somehow full of foreboding. He wondered
if at eight years old - OK, almost nine - he was capable of
climbing a mountain with such a name.

"It's quite a lot for the
children, Simon especially," said Mummy.

"We'll take the car to Honister
top – if that's all right with you?"

"Yes, OK then," agreed
Mummy.

So it was decided. Boots,
anoraks, sandwiches, flasks, chocolate all gathered together for
the expedition, and then into the car. Along the valley past some
farms and buildings, through a little village, and then Mummy had a
real job. The hill was the steepest Simon had ever seen. Mummy was
working the gears to get the Wolseley up the hill. Luckily it was a
reasonably powerful car. They overtook a small Morris stopped with
steam belching from its engine. But Mummy's skill got them to the
top. They parked by some buildings where they got slate down from
the mountain. There were mounds of it all round. Simon looked
round. This was supposed to be the easier route, but everyway up
looked steep.

"Which one is Great Gable,
Daddy?"

Daddy laughed. "You can't see it
from here, but that's our route." He pointed to the steepest path
around, it went straight up the side of a hill and disappeared
through a gap over the top.

The climb had Simon panting.
Daddy was in front, Mummy and Frances behind, talking. He was in
his own little world, putting one foot in front of the other,
plodding on and up. He kept having to stop for breath, but when he
turned round he realised how far up he had come. The car was a
little toy car next to some little toy buildings. He trudged up,
thinking about home, wondering what Daniel was doing while he was
away, remembering that Daniel was away on holiday too. He wished
Daniel was here. After going through a little rocky gap, the path
levelled out a bit and the going got easier. Daddy was up ahead
along the dead straight path, and soon they came to a stone ramp
where Daddy stopped.

"Daddy, did there used to be
trains up here?" asked Simon. He had noticed what looked like
railway sleepers on the path, and it occurred to him that the
straightness of the path was like a railway line.

"Not bad, son. Not trains in
that sense, but they used to take the slate down in wagons drawn up
and down by a big steam engine. Not a locomotive, but a big drum
that wound a cable round it attached to the wagons."

"Where was the big drum?"

"Here. This is what used to be
the Drum House, pulling the wagons up the slope. Clever boy."

Simon felt pleased to have drawn
praise from Daddy, and sat contented to wait for Mummy and Frances.
It seemed so wild and quiet. Some other people came past and said
hello.

"Do you know them, Daddy?" asked
Simon when they had gone past.

"No, but people often say hello
to each other on the fells, even when at home they would pass in
the street without a word."

After Mummy and Frances caught
up and had got their breath, the family set out away from the Drum
House following a path that would take them to Great Gable. Soon
the great, forbidding dome, black against the sky with wisps of
cloud brushing across it, was in view.

"Are we climbing
that
?" asked Frances. Simon
concurred with her concern.

"Soon be there," said Daddy.
They marched on, the path going up and down, past some small pools
until they started the steep climb to the top of Great Gable’s
little companion, Green Gable. Little in this case of course being
a relative term. But Simon now felt he had the measure of this and
simply kept going until they were all at the top, looking up at the
mass of Great Gable. Simon was first off down into the gap between
the two, Windy Gap, which justified its name when Mummy's woolly
hat blew off as the wind is funnelled between the peaks. But Simon
ran after it and recovered it. He was enjoying being so high,
looking down on the mountains and down into the valleys below. Soon
he was scrambling up the path to the top of Great Gable. It took
quite a while, and Daddy kept saying not to go too far ahead, but
now Simon had the bit between his teeth and like a mountain goat as
Mummy said, he sprang from rock to rock until it levelled out into
a broad rocky top. But where was the top of the mountain? Clouds
kept brushing past and then he could see a mound of rocks, a stick
sticking up and people gathered round it. Alone now, he set off
towards it. Sometimes it was lost in the cloud, as was he, but he
kept going and then the clouds swept away, there was sunshine and
he was there, at the very top. He clambered past some other people
who were sitting round, some eating sandwiches, and stood on the
very top. Only in one direction was the view blocked by other
mountains. Otherwise he could see now for miles and miles. He could
see the sea, so far away. And faintly in the distance beyond the
sea, he could make out the grey shapes of other mountains. It was
an exhilaration of a kind Simon had never known before. He had
conquered the mountain, he could conquer the world! Looking round,
he could see Mummy's blue anorak as a dot coming towards him, along
with Daddy's less visible brown one and Frances. But he was there
first. He let out a whoop of sheer delight, which startled the
sandwich eaters, not that Simon cared. Even when the others arrived
he refused to get down from his perch at the highest point. He was
going to savour this for as long as he could!

"Come and get your sandwiches,
Simon," called Mummy, who was producing food and a flask from her
rucksack. With some regret, Simon succumbed to the call of food and
climbed down.

"This is fantastic," he said.
"Everybody should do this."

And in the years to come, he
certainly tried his best to offer that same elation to as many
others as he could.

All too soon the holiday was
over, and Mummy drove the Wolseley back home. It was not the only
holiday Simon was to have in the Lake District as a child, but it
was the most memorable, and the most influential. Here were the
seeds sown of later triumphs and disaster. Simon spent much of the
homeward journey thinking of Daniel and hoping he would be home.
Now that the holiday was over, all he wanted was his friend's
company, to feel his comforting touch. He knew that when they got
home, Mummy and Daddy would be arguing again.

Within a few days, it was as
though the holiday had never been. Things were back to normal and
Simon sought refuge with his friend. Daniel listened patiently
while Simon told him all about the mountains and the conquering of
Great Gable. He seemed to take on some of Simon's enthusiasm.
Daniel told Simon of his family's seaside holiday, of swimming in
the sea, a prospect that would worry Simon.

"I had a snorkel," said
Daniel.

"What's that?"

"It’s a tube and you can keep
your head underwater and still breathe. You saw people with them at
the lido last summer."

"Don't remind me," said Simon
ruefully. "I didn't know that's what they were called."

"I could see fish and crabs and
all the rocks under the water," enthused Daniel.

"Is it safe?" asked Simon with a
note of concern.

"Course it is," said Daniel
robustly. "I'm an excellent swimmer."

And Simon knew that to be true.
The two boys resumed their friendship for the remainder of the
summer holidays, riding their bikes, sharing their time, their joys
and their intimacy once more. Simon was happy.

1. 1955/9 Should never have
   been born
   

It was Barry Spence, of course, who asked the question. Miss
Day was talking to the class of nine year olds about swearing.
Simon liked Miss Day, and he was now third year juniors. Daniel was
in Mr West's class in fourth year, getting ready for the eleven
plus exams. But now Miss Day had brought up about swearing. Simon
was fearful of this subject, as the years had not diminished
Daddy's propensity for raw language. Some of the children had been
glancing at Simon all through the lesson, many aware of his
situation, and wondering how he was feeling. Susan James and
Cynthia Jackson tried to smile at him, their natural empathy
stirred by Simon's plight. Simon liked both of them, they were the
best girls in the class. Daniel had kissed Cynthia, but he was
older. Simon liked Susan, and he thought that she liked him. Simon
was sitting at his double desk next to his friend Peter Holman but
at the moment though, all he wanted was Daniel to be near him,
Daniel on whom he could always rely, Daniel who had protected him
over the years from the biguns, and even though Simon was now in
the third year juniors himself, Daniel continued to protect him and
provide comfort.