What others say about this book

“A very emotional read. Your book was v enjoyable, emotional and sad. How I wished I could have been there to help so many times.” - Brad Durham

"It is about need, caring and love. There is something beautiful even nurturing about this growing friendship and love.” - Carol Powney

“I could not put it down, I read many, many books, and this hand on heart is the best thing I have read. Follow anything this guy writes, this book is a classic." - Rob Bassindale

“It is a tender story, it is a loving story, at times funny, at times sad, at times sexy - a bit like life." – P. J. Leeson

The Secret Catamite

Episodes from inside a life

A Biographical Trilogy

by

Patrick C. Notchtree

First published 2012 by Limebury Books

www.limebury.com

ISBN 978-0-9572361-5-8

@SecretCatamite

Copyright © Patrick C. Notchtree & Limebury Books

Formatted and set by Limebury Books

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Foreword

This is a work of fiction. It is an account of one person's struggle with the demons within, and not always successfully. It was originally written as a form of therapy. If others wish to read it, perhaps they too may gain something from it. They may condemn it and the characters within. That in a free society is their privilege. But one thing the author has learned is not to rush to judgement, heeding the advice of St Matthew, "Judge not, that ye be not judged" (Matthew 7.1), and also the sound advice of Islam, "Good deeds annul evil deeds." (Qur'an, 11:114).

Inevitably it draws upon the life experiences of the author and of others but should not taken as a factual autobiography of the author. The names used are also fictitious and where they coincide with real people, those real people have no connection whatsoever with the fictional characters of this novel.

"Let us have the honesty to see things as they are,

since to see things as they ought to be is to miss them entirely."

Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935)

For my dear wife,

for whom my love knows no bounds,

for her devotion and forgiveness;

and my family,

the greatest blessing a man can have.

Also for my close friend

Stephen

whose tragic life could so easily have been

my own.

&

For ‘Daniel’

Book One – The Book of Daniel

1. 1949 First Memory

Simon felt the increasing panic well up in him. He knew that he was not going to make it in time. He ran up the stairs, nearly tripping over a loose stair rod that was failing to keep the worn, rough, red stair carpet in place. The bathroom door was closed, and Simon reached up for the handle struggling to turn it. Perhaps it was the way his small body had to stretch up, but he knew then that he had lost. As he stood inside the bathroom, his body could contain its load no longer and he felt the wet warmth as it slithered out of his little shorts and down the back of his left thigh on to the linoleum floor.

"Mummy!" Simon cried out in despair. And then the tears started to flow. Mummy appeared, and calmly set to clearing up the mess.

"I couldn't wait," wailed Simon through his sobbing.

"Why don't you go earlier?" asked Mummy irritably, as she carefully deposited the smelly lump into the pan which had been its intended destination.

"I didn't know I wanted to," explained Simon, now racked with guilt at having let Mummy down and caused all this upset.

Steadily, Mummy removed the stained clothing, dropping it into the bath which stood on its little iron feet next to the pan. While the tears subsided, Mummy wiped her son down with a warm wet flannel, removing the evidence of his failure.

"Are you cross with me?" asked Simon, pleading for her not to be.

Mummy regarded the three year old, and her love for him watered her eyes.

"Of course not," she replied, and she took him into her arms. There, on the bathroom floor, mother and son re-affirmed their love and mutual dependence. She looked at her son, as ever worried about him. Since his very difficult birth which had nearly killed her, he had been a cause of concern, born blue, his slow development leading to him being labelled in the terminology of the day as Mentally Deficient, a crippled spastic. But now he was walking and talking, even if he had not yet mastered bowel control. She hugged him again and his sobbing subsided.

Later, Daddy came home, and was cross with him for making a mess. To Simon, Daddy was a part of his life. Some of the other, older children in the street said he was bad because he had been divorced from another woman so wasn't properly married to Mummy and they would go to hell, but Simon could not understand that. Going to hell was something to do with God, and that was far too remote for him to deal with. Perhaps the older children had met God; after all, Mummy said that when people were old, they did go to meet God. Maybe some of the biguns already had. Simon kept away from the biguns as much as he could. They made him cry by calling him names, and some of their mummies said that they were not to play with him because his Daddy swore, and that it was all very wrong. Sometimes, when he went out to play in the street, in his pedal car or on his battered old green tricycle, the nasty ones would shout names at him like "Simple Simon". When it wasn't that it was "Little bastard!" One or two had started calling him this, and it had taken hold and was a regular taunt. Simon knew from the tone in which it was said, or often shouted, that it was not nice, whatever it meant. He asked his older sister, Frances, what names she got called. She didn't seem to know what he was talking about. But Frances was five years older and rarely played with Simon. She had her best friend, Jennifer, with whom she spent lots of time.

Once, when a little older, Simon asked Mummy what a bastard was, and she started to cry. So he did not ask the question again, but he felt sure that it was something about him that the biguns knew, that he did not. The mystery remained unsolved in Simon's mind, and the situation became one of the accepted factors of his existence. The problem did not go away and with each hurtful name-calling, it was again brought to the fore. But he never mentioned it to Mummy in case that made her cry, and when Mummy cried, Simon could not bear it.

Simon had to bear it though, because Mummy seemed to cry sometimes for no obvious reason, and would not tell him why. Frances would not tell him why either, and told him not to worry. Mummy sometimes said it was the war, but Simon did know that the war had ended just before he was born. And anyway, he knew Daddy had got a medal for flying in the war and that was supposed to be good. So Simon cried too, and he and Mummy would cling to each other, sharing their joint misery, hers caused by the natural injustice of the lottery of life, perhaps for her precipitate wartime marriage, his for no better reason than Mummy was unhappy. Simon could never discover what he had done to make Mummy cry, and although she always said it was not his fault, he knew that it must be. What he did not know of were the tears shed in the loneliness of the nights after his bedtime when Daddy came home very late, or not at all.

As he grew older, Simon started to be frightened of Daddy. He often came home in a very bad temper, and would shout at Mummy and him for no real reason that Simon could see. If he was really in a bad temper, he would make Simon bend over a chair and hit him with one of his old black, leather soled slippers. Mummy would protest sometimes that he was being too hard, and that the offence that Simon had committed did not merit such treatment. Daddy's response was always either one of two.

"Spare the rod and spoil the child!" or,

"My father used to beat me when I did something wrong, and it never did me any harm!"

Simon used to wonder how it was that anyone could be beaten and it not hurt them. He found a way of coping with this by pretending it was someone else. It was as though he was outside his body, watching Simon being beaten as though in a film. But it hurt and after the punishment, he would go upstairs to his bedroom and cry, while the raised voices of argument could be heard from below.

Yet Daddy could be loving. He took Simon aged almost five to London to see the Festival of Britain, which Simon found exciting and stimulating, the image of the delicate Skylon apparently magically suspended in mid air remained fixed in his mind. Daddy also took him the Battersea Fun Fair associated with the festival. Simon knew Daddy was important because when they went to get a meal first in a restaurant, suddenly Daddy said, "Stop eating."

Simon stopped eating.

"I've come out without my wallet," said Daddy. "I can't pay for the meal."

Daddy called the waiter over and explained. The manager came over and Daddy explained again.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the manager. "Perhaps if you had some form of identification?"

Daddy looked in his pockets and found some small white cards with printing on, his business card. The manager looked impressed.

"Certainly, sir. Send us a cheque. Please finish your meal." The manager paused. "Were you planning to take the boy on the funfair?"

"Yes, I was actually."

The Manager reached into his pocket and took a note out of his wallet, and gave it to Daddy.

"Please allow me to lend you this, sir, and I hope your son enjoys the fair."

"Thank you very much," said Daddy. "That is extremely kind of you. I will send a cheque as soon as I get home. Come on, son. Eat up!" Daddy smiled at Simon, who was thinking how special Daddy must be, ate heartily. And then he enjoyed the funfair.

2. 1951 Starting school, Daniel

Starting school was an upset for Simon. Firstly, he had to leave Mummy, and he worried about whether she would be even more unhappy. Secondly, he was frightened of how he would be received by the other children.

He liked his teacher, Mrs. Hastings, because she was a bit like Mummy, except that she did not cry. He did not like Miss Harvey, the headmistress, because she never smiled and used to get cross with the children. She had a bamboo cane that she would hit children with. The girls were hit across the palm of the hand, but Miss Harvey made the boys bend over while she caned their bottoms. Simon did his best to keep out of her way.

His sense of isolation did not diminish at school. The other children called him names still, and so he retreated into the security of his own company, clutching his teddy bear at night for comfort. One solace to which an isolated Simon clung was that he could meet Frances at playtime in the school yard. The juniors were supposed to play in a different area from the infants, but she would come to meet him. Simon liked the reassurance, but he knew that soon Frances would be leaving the juniors and then he would be friendless again.

The exception was Daniel. He was almost two years older than Simon, and therefore not in the same class, but he did live near Simon, in the next street. He could see Daniel's house from his bedroom window. He had become aware of Daniel not long after starting school and his quiet self-confidence attracted Simon. He was good at school and at sports, and, with his dark hair, kind face and deep blue eyes, the girls said he was he was dishy. Simon thought so too.

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.

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. 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.

"What have you done?" demanded Daddy sternly.

"Leave him, he'll be alright," said Mummy.

"He must have done something," said Daddy, then, glaring at Simon, "Well, what was it?"

Simon didn't answer, unsure of what response any answer would bring. Daddy insisted on examining the marks on Simon's bottom. Simon did not like this, but was no position to refuse. In the end he got away with being sent to bed early.

6. 1952/3 Daniel in the Den

A few days later, at the weekend, when Simon and Daniel were discussing what had happened, Daniel thought it was unfair.

"It's not your fault," he said. "Did old Harvey really hit you because you were different?"

"I think so," said Simon, "But I don't know how I am. I don't look much different to anyone else do I?"

"Not really," said Daniel, "but you are a bit odd sometimes."

"I'm the only one the biguns call 'bastard'," said Simon, "but I think I'm the same as everyone else, like you."

"Don't know," said Daniel, "let's have a look at you, and I'll see if we are different."

It was decided that they should both compare themselves. They set off into the small wood, known as the Spinney, that lay beyond the allotments at the end of the street. Simon felt an unexplained thrill of anticipation as they searched together for a suitably hidden place.

"I know a place," said Daniel, "Come on." Simon followed as Daniel led the way across a bombsite and through the trees, and down into an overgrown depression that was hard to see unless one knew it was there. The warm sunlight cast speckled green shadows over the two boys' faces as they sat in a small clear area, almost totally concealed by the bushes from any casual passer-by.

"It's my den," announced Daniel, looking at Simon with the pride of one who has shared a great secret, and yet seeking Simon's approval. Simon beamed back at him, and looked around the den.

"It's a super den," said Simon.

"Our secret den," said Daniel.

"Yes," said Simon simply.

For a few moments, the two boys sat in the warmth of the den and each other's company, the communion of their eyes saying more to each other than their limited vocabulary could ever have done.

"We could be soldiers in the war," suggested Daniel.

"A secret base against the Germans," added Simon. Neither boy was exactly sure who the Germans were, but both knew that they were to be feared, even though they had been beaten in the war. Simon knew about the war, because Daddy had been in it, and had shown Simon some photographs of him in uniform. Daddy's RAF uniform still hung in the wardrobe and the medal was in the top drawer. Sometimes, some men would come to the house, and they and Daddy would drink a lot of beer and then start talking and laughing about what they had done in the war together. Simon thought the war must have been great fun, even though the Germans had obviously tried to spoil it. Maybe that's why we fought them, to stop them spoiling the war.

Daniel suddenly threw himself onto his stomach, holding an imaginary rifle.

"Quiet, men!" he commanded. "The Germans are close."

Simon lay next to Daniel, and both boys stared out through the leaves and trees to where the houses could be seen beyond the allotments. One or two men could be seen digging in their allotment patches, but in the minds of the two boys, these were the real Germans, out to kill them.

The Germans made no attempt to advance and do battle, in fact they seemed unaware of the British soldiers lying concealed in the wood. The boys lay increasingly uneasily, each waiting for the other to admit first that the game had lost its sparkle. Daniel eventually gave way.

"What shall we do now?" he asked, tacitly admitting the lack of co-operation afforded by the allotment diggers.

"We could light a fire," suggested Simon in a moment of inspiration. He had watched Mummy light the fire at home, using paper and sticks to get the coal burning, but it occurred to him that he had no paper, sticks, coal or matches.

"You burn wood," said Daniel, looking around the den.

"We haven't got any matches." said Simon finally.

He remembered then why they had come here, and asked Daniel The Question.

"What's a bastard?" asked Simon. Daniel thought for a moment.

"Don't know," he said. "Why?"

"I asked Mummy, but she didn't tell me."

"I'll ask mine," offered Daniel, "and then I'll tell you. Why do the biguns call you that?"

"Don't know," said Simon. "I don't know what it is."

"Why are you different?" persisted Daniel. Simon thought about this. He was always aware that he was somehow different from the others, that they knew this. They laughed at some of the ideas he came up with, at the way he talked, at Mummy and Daddy, and at him because of the 'Bastard'. Now Daniel too knew that he was different, and Daniel was his friend. He was older, and knew lots of things. Sometimes he even played with the biguns.

"Don't know. I don't want to be. I've looked in the mirror, and I can't see what's wrong," said Simon.

"Let's have a look," said Daniel, assuming an air of authority that Simon found somehow exciting, yet feeling compelled to oblige. He looked around the wood from the concealed den to check that no-one was about. Daniel stood up.

"It's all right," he said. Simon started to undo the buttons of his shorts. Watching him, Daniel felt his dominance over his younger friend growing, and felt he had to assert it.

"Take everything off," he commanded. Simon stripped off, conscious of Daniel watching him, and felt a stirring of excitement at what they were doing.

"Socks as well," said Daniel, and Simon obeyed. He sat naked on the soft grass in the hollow, arms round his drawn up knees, buttocks feeling the warm grass. It felt good. Daniel knelt beside him and gently pushed Simon so that he was lying down, face up, looking at the overhead canopy of green, with the blue sky peeping through here and there. Daniel looked over Simon's body. He gently ran his hand over Simon's skin, and as his friend made no move, established mastery of the relationship by caressing Simon's most intimate parts.

"I think I know what it is," he said. "It's your cock."

Simon lifted up onto his elbows and looked at his penis.

"What about it?" he asked.

"It's different," said Daniel. "Look." Daniel quickly undid his shorts and pulled them and his pants down. Slipping them off and his T-shirt, he lay next to Simon on the grass. Simon could see the difference. The end was different from Daniel's. Simon looked at his circumcision and wondered. He looked at Daniel frightened and puzzled.

"How do they know?" he asked.

"Who?" asked Daniel.

"The biguns and Miss Harvey and all them."

"Don't know, but I won't tell", said Daniel. "Are your marks still there?"

Simon rolled over and Daniel examined the fading bruises. He again ran his hand round Simon's body, over his buttocks and through his legs. Simon felt the softness of his touch and was glad for it. He felt the warmth of Daniel's body close to him and felt something of the comfort he got from Mummy. Simon was glad he had a friend who knew how he was different, and still wanted him. Simon was happy.

They lay there for a while, as the day cooled, then dressed and went home, Daniel for a piano lesson, Simon for tea, each happy with their time in the den, each for their own reasons.

7. 1953/6 Coronation

The Coronation was a memorable event for Simon. It was going to be on television! Daddy had always said television was a waste of money and radio was much better. But then it said that the Coronation would be on television. Daniel's family were going to get one, a point raised one day when all four were at home having tea.

"Daniel's Daddy's getting a television," announced Simon. He had no real hope that this would produce a 'yes, let's get one too' moment, but felt compelled to say it.

"Maybe Daniel's father can afford one," said Daddy, sharply.

"I think Jennifer's going to get one too," said Frances. "She says I can go and watch the Coronation at hers if I want."

"Can I come?" asked Simon quickly.

"Definitely not," said Frances curtly.

"I'll go to Daniel's then," said Simon.

"Good, at least you won't be bothering me," retorted his sister.

"Children, stop it," said Mummy. "Frances, you must wait to be asked by Jennifer's mother, not just by Jennifer. Same goes for you Simon. Wait to be asked properly."

"I'll get Jennifer to ask her," said Frances.

"And I'll get Daniel to ask," said Simon not wishing to be outdone.

"For heaven's sake, stop it," said Daddy crossly, glaring at Simon. Was it just because he had been the last to speak, or was because Frances was older. Whatever, Simon fell quiet.

"I expect it'll be on the radio," said Mummy brightly.

"Help Mummy clear the table," said Daddy, getting up and leaving the dining room.

"That meant you," said Frances to Simon, also getting up.

"Ask to leave the table properly," said Mummy. Frances sat down again, but tensed ready to get up again.

"Please may I leave the table?"

"Yes dear," said Mummy.

"Why isn't she going to help clear up?" demanded Simon indignantly.

"Yes," said Mummy to Frances, "you can help."

"Mum!" whined Frances, "I'm going to Jennifer's and I've got to get ready and I'll be late if I don't get ready now."

Simon often wondered why Frances took so long to 'get ready'. This was some feminine ritual that was completely incomprehensible. She would disappear for ages and then come out again, looking to Simon's eyes pretty much as she had when she went in. Simon would just get up and go out, it saved a lot of time. But Mummy fell for it. She spent a lot of time 'getting ready' too.

"Well, you do it next time," said Mummy.

"Thanks Mummy," said Frances, already half way out of the dining room door.

Simon looked at Mummy crossly. "It's not fair," he said. "I bet she doesn't do it next time."

"Come on, love," she coaxed, "we'll do it together, you and me."

It was the Wednesday tea time before the Tuesday of Coronation Day when the van came to the house.

There was a knock at the door.

"Ah," said Daddy, who had come home early for some unexplained reason. He got up, smiling broadly. Mummy was smiling too.

Simon and Frances exchanged glances, they were suspicious of these parental conspiracies.

Daddy opened the door to a man in overalls.

"Mr Scott?" said the man.

"Yes," said Daddy, turning to smile at the two puzzled and curious children behind him.

The man in overalls went away to return with another overall man, and they were carrying a television!

"Is that ours?" said Frances.

"Yes, princess," said Daddy.

The men carried the television through to the sitting room. Mummy and Daddy moved the table out of the corner to make room.

"Will there do?" said Daddy.

The man looked round and then out of the window for some reason.

"Fine, sir," he said. "OK if we go round the back?"

"Of course," said Mummy.

Simon followed to see what they were doing.

"Don't get in the way, love," called Mummy.

"He's OK," said the man.

They took ladders off the van and took them round to the back garden. Then a big roll of round wire and of course! The aerial.

Simon watched as they climbed up onto the roof of the house. The large 'H' shaped aerial was strapped to the chimney and the wire fixed to the wall, in through the window frame to the television set.

"You're a lucky young fellow," said the man to Simon.

"Why?" said Simon.

"Why!" repeated the man. "Do you know what the waiting list is for these things? There's going to be a lot of disappointed people on Tuesday."

"Will we see the Coronation on it?" asked Simon.

"I expect so," said the man, laughing. "I expect it helps when your Dad works for the BBC."

Simon knew Daddy worked for the BBC and that this was important. Daniel thought so anyway. He said it was because Daddy had done well in the war. But Daniel's Daddy was a policeman and a high up one too, and Simon thought that was pretty important.

The two men, one up by the aerial and the other looking at an instrument on the ground, spent some time talking about something called alignment, then they seemed happy.

"What's that for?" asked Simon.

"The aerial's got to be lined up with the transmitter," explained the man. Simon liked the sound of 'transmitter'. It sounded mysterious and powerful.

Simon looked out across the garden and the allotments to see if he could see the transmitter.

"No, son," said the man, chuckling, "you won't see it from here. It's at Sutton Coldfield." Simon had never heard of Sutton Coldfield, so he let that pass.

The men went into the sitting room. They connected up the wires and the plug. Time to turn it on.

Nothing happened at first and then there was a noise from the set, a steady hum. The men seemed pleased, then the picture appeared. Simon was disappointed. He thought it would perhaps be cowboys or something interesting. Instead it was a load of black, white and grey patterns.

"That's the test card," said the man to Daddy and Mummy. "It's looking good."

"Thank you," said Daddy and went out with the men. Simon and Frances stayed, looking at the unchanging test card, with its thin lines, squares and the big circle in the middle with more lines inside. But it was magic. A picture coming through the air.

Daddy came back in. The two jumped up.

"Thanks Daddy," said Frances, and they hugged Daddy. Daddy smiled down at his children. Mummy was smiling too.

"You've got a telly," said Daniel when the two met up.

"How'd you know?" asked Simon, annoyed that his surprise had been spoiled.

"There's a damn great aerial on your roof, idiot!" said Daniel, laughing.

"Oh," said Simon, deflated. He had forgotten that. Daniel could see his house from his bedroom window. They had tried to set up a signalling system from their bedroom windows, but it had proved too complicated to devise a code with sufficient variety of meaning. Then it occurred to him that there was no aerial on Daniel's house.

"When's yours coming?" said Simon.

"Dunno," said Daniel, glumly. "Might not get it in time."

Simon remembered what the man had said about waiting lists.

"Well, there's a long waiting list for them, you know," said Simon knowledgeably.

"So how'd you get yours then?" demanded Daniel crossly. Again Simon remembered the man's comments.

"My Dad works for the BBC."

"Well, my Dad's important too, he's a high up policeman."

"I know," said Simon, suddenly aware of his friend's hurt feelings. It mattered to Daniel to be in the lead, in their friendship, in everything. He hated being second.

"You can come and watch it on ours if you like," offered Simon, generously.

"Can I?" said Daniel, smiling back now. Simon's soul warmed to that smile, as always. He nodded happily.

A very similar conversation, with a similar outcome was taking place not far away at Jennifer's, with Frances being equally expansive. So it was at tea, the usual place for family conversations, that the diplomacy began.

Sitting round the dining room table, the burning question was on Simon's mind. He was committed, he had asked Daniel, but now he had to make sure it was OK. But of course, Frances got in first.

"Mummy, is it all right if Jennifer comes to watch the Coronation? Their television hasn't come yet, so I said she could."

"I think that'll be all right," said Mummy. Daddy just nodded.

"Can Daniel come? His telly hasn't come yet," said Simon, hoping that the recently established precedent would work in his favour.

"Television," said Daddy. Daddy hated 'telly'. He said it was slovenly language.

"We can't have everybody," said Mummy, a bit worried.

"I've asked Jennifer already," said Frances.

"That was naughty of you, dear," said Mummy.

"You should ask first, Frances," said Daddy.

Frances looked at her parents, waiting for the decision. Simon waited, wondering what to do for the best.

"I expect it'll be all right," said Mummy. Frances smiled, and turned to Simon with a look of triumph.

"I've asked Daniel," said Simon.

"For God's sake! This isn't a public house!" said Daddy, getting angry.

Simon was taken aback by the sudden change and Daddy's anger. He got frightened when Daddy was angry. It showed.

"It's all right, Simon," said Mummy. "Harry, it is a special occasion. And you have done well to get a set in time."

Simon looked hopefully at Daddy.

"Oh very well," said Daddy, "In for a penny, in for a pound."

Simon and Frances cheered.

By the time Tuesday came, the small sitting room was full. Some friends of Daddy's and Mummy's were there, Jennifer and her brother and both parents, Daniel and his Mummy. His sister Louise was watching it somewhere else, and his Daddy was at work. They had brought some extra chairs round from Daniel's, the two boys struggling round the corner with them. Mummy had made some sandwiches and some jam tarts. Mummy's pastry was lovely. There were cups of tea and pop for the children out of their coronation mugs.

They watched, the end of Westminster Abbey used as a filler shot becoming very familiar, but there was the Queen, actually getting crowned. And it was happening at the same time as they were watching it. The children all had their special souvenir programmes, and it was a great occasion.

Simon and Daniel sat together in one chair as there were still not enough chairs to go round. But they enjoyed the close physical contact this afforded and when, to make more room of course, Daniel boldly put his arm round Simon, nobody seemed to care. So it stayed there. The two boys unified by the common bond of friendship, Daddy in his chair, revelling in being the generous host, who just happened to be the only person in the road with a television. Of course, certain people had not been invited, the nasty ones, and serve them right too! Simon rested his head on Daniel's shoulder, and was happy.

8. 1953/8 Westward Ho!

A major event each year was the annual family holiday. The week before this was always one of chaos and stress, mixed with excitement and anticipation. The packing of The Trunk was the centre of all this from Simon's point of view. The Trunk was a large brown case, easily big enough for Simon to climb inside, into which all the family's needs for two weeks away in the boarding house would be packed. There were lists, and lists of lists.

Simon looked forward to this. Things seemed different somehow when they were away. Mummy seemed happier, Daddy didn't get so cross with him and Frances played with him.

The journey itself was an adventure. The alarm clock would be set early so everybody would be up in good time. They now had a telephone, which Daddy had for his work, and not many people had telephones, although Daniel did because his Daddy was a policeman. The phone would ring in the small hours of the morning and Daddy or Mummy would go downstairs to answer and speak to the operator. This was safer than just using the alarm clock because sometimes you could go back to sleep.

To Simon, the world seemed strange and exciting at three or four o'clock in the morning. Outside there was a strange quiet, unlike the darkness of the evening, this morning darkness was somehow peaceful, the family's activity seeming out of place and a disturbance. Breakfast, prepared the night before, would be eaten, although Simon and Frances were usually too excited eat much, and then the taxi would come. Daddy always said the taxi had to big enough to take The Trunk, so it was usually a big car that came. It took Daddy and the taxi driver to carry The Trunk out. Then they went down to the station to catch the train to London.

Simon liked trains, they were big, powerful and exciting. The train would arrive on its journey south, everything would be loaded on board and off they would go. Sometimes it was a corridor train which Simon liked because he and Frances would explore the train, although Simon was always nervous about crossing the wobbly bits where the coaches joined. They tried to go from the very front to the back where the guard's van was, and among everything else, The Trunk would be there. The guard was usually friendly and didn't mind them looking in. When he went out along the train for something, he locked it. Then they would go back along, looking for their own compartment where Mummy and Daddy would be sitting. Sometimes they got the wrong coach and a moment of panic would set in, but Frances always knew which way to go.

Simon was always fascinated by the stations in London. Every other station he knew of the trains came in at one end and went out the other. But in London, the line stopped! When they got off, he would run to the front of the train where the huge locomotive was now at rest, hissing and steaming, say hello to the driver in his mucky overalls and battered cap and then look at the giant buffers with the front of the locomotive just a few feet away.

But the best part of this journey from Simon's point of view was yet to come. The Devon Belle!

This took them from London to Devon and their holiday. He loved the ornate Pullman coaches, the slab sided look of the powerful locomotive and especially the observation coach at the rear of the train with windows all round and armchair seating. Simon liked to sit right at the back of the train, looking out through the rear facing window, watching the track speeding out from under him and the wreaths of smoke from the locomotive many coaches ahead of him writhing away in the train's slipstream.

It was teatime before they arrived at Barnstaple, and from there to Bideford for the last leg of their journey, another adventure, by pony and trap to the boarding house at Westward Ho!

Mrs Thorne – there never seemed to be a Mr Thorne in this world of widows – ran the boarding house and Simon liked her because she was kind and gave him extra biscuits. Mummy and Daddy used to grumble about her rules though, but that was grown-ups' stuff.

In the morning after breakfast, they would fill bags with buckets, spades and walk down to the beach where the Atlantic rollers would come crashing when the weather was rough, but often there would be waves just right for Simon to jump around in, making Mummy and Daddy laugh. And then of course there was the pebble ridge. This long mound of stones, seemingly endless to Simon, was a source of fascination. He would lift the stones and find crabs, search for barnacles and pull out long strands of seaweed. There was a metal track laid over the ridge and he would watch tanks come over this, going where to and from he didn't know, and when they came, he had to watch from a distance.

But this was the last year of the Devon Belle, and Simon would never ride it again. A death and a legacy meant the end of holidays in Westward Ho! and a new horizon opening for Simon.

9. 1954/8 Swimming Lesson

"Why don't you come?" Daniel looked at his friend and could not understand Simon's hesitation.

"I can't swim," said Simon dully.

"That's OK, I'll teach you," said Daniel confidently. Daniel had found swimming to add to his love of music and piano, and what's more found that he loved it just as much. He loved the feel of his healthy young body coursing through the water, the almost weightless agility it gave him to twist and turn, somersault and dive, and move in a way that was simply impossible on dry land. He looked at Simon, who although younger of course, was just as fit. "You'll love it," he continued encouragingly.

Simon looked at Daniel whom he trusted absolutely and nodded.

"Go get your trunks then," Daniel advised, adding helpfully, "You'll need a towel as well, and a shilling."

Simon ran off home. Mummy was at work but Frances was in.

"What's the matter?" she asked as Simon entered like a tornado.

"Need my swimming trunks!" shouted Simon back as he ran up the stairs. He found the rarely used trunks at the bottom of his drawer and bounded down again. Frances was in the sitting room.

"Which towel shall I take?" Simon asked his big sister.

"Any," said Frances, uninterested. But then, "You can't swim," she added, puzzled.

"Daniel's going to teach me at the lido," said Simon.

"Might have guessed."

"I need a shilling, Daniel says," said Simon hopefully.

"Well, don't look at me," responded Frances tersely. Then, seeing Simon's crestfallen face, added, "Wait a moment." Frances disappeared upstairs while Simon paced around impatiently.

"Here you are," said Frances returning with the prized shilling. "you owe me that."

"I'll tell Mummy," shouted back Simon, who was already half way out of the house.

Daniel was waiting at the corner.

"Shall I get my bike?" asked Simon.

"No," said Daniel, "We'll walk. They might get pinched."

Simon nodded agreement. The Lido wasn't far away and the noise of the bathers could clearly be heard.

"Race you," said Simon, impishly. He might not be able to swim yet, but at almost eight years old Simon was a fast runner and could hold his own against the older and slightly taller Daniel.

"One, two, three!" said Daniel, setting off immediately.

"Hey, that's not fair!" shouted Simon, taken unaware by the quick start. But soon he was off, hard on Daniel's heels. The two boys raced down the hill, along past the Parade and arrived at the Lido entrance, both panting out of breath in the summer heat.

"I won," said Daniel.

"Only coz you set off first," complained Simon, then punching Daniel playfully. Daniel punched back equally playfully. "Come on then," he said. "Got your money?"

Simon nodded.

They paid their ninepence entry fee. "The thruppence change, we can get some sherbet," Daniel pointed out. They were each given a locker key.

Then they were through the turnstile and the shimmering pool lay before them. It was semicircular, the straight side was the deep part below the diving boards, that looked horribly high to Simon. In the middle was an island platform. On the grass and paved area around the pool, people lay in the sunshine. The pool had quite a lot of people in it.

"Come on," said Daniel. The two boys moved around the semicircular building that followed the shape of the pool looking for an empty cubicle. They squeezed into one together. As they were only wearing a few summer things, there weren't many clothes to cope with. They got undressed, each comfortable with the other in their familiar nakedness and then wriggled into their trunks.

"Wrap your clothes in your towel," said Daniel. Opening the door, he led the way out into the sunshine and along to a bank of lockers. They were next to each other luckily with consecutive numbers, and they put their things in and locked the doors, wrapping the key bands round their wrists. They turned and looked at the blue pool, its little wavelets catching the sun in a dazzling display that made the boys squint. Then Daniel ran forward and jumped into the water creating a large splash, some of which landed on Simon.

"What are you waiting for?" shouted Daniel happily as he surfaced and looked around for Simon. "It's OK, it's not deep," he said unnecessarily as he was standing up and the water was just above his waist. Simon ventured forward and jumped. The water was colder than he had expected and he gasped as the splashing subsided. Daniel was laughing, water streaming off his face and body.

"Right," said Daniel, "just do what I do." He launched himself forward into the water, burying his face and with a kick of his legs and strong arm strokes set off in a rapid front crawl away from Simon, who tried to follow but ended up floundering in the water and putting his feet down again after a couple of breathless attempts. Daniel swam back to his friend.

"Let me support you. Lie flat on my hands," said Daniel, extending his arms to make a platform. Simon leaned forward and lay trustingly across them. Daniel lifted Simon up in the water until he was lying along the surface.

"Now kick your legs." The result was a wild cascade of water as Simon obeyed, his legs flailing about in and out of the water.

"Keep them under the water if you can and sort of wave them."

Simon obeyed to some effect.

"Now pull over with your arms like I did." Simon made the front crawl arm movements, twisting his head to keep it clear of the water.

"You have to keep kicking as well, idiot!" said Daniel. Simon realised that in the effort to get the arm movement right, the kicking had stopped. As he did both together, Daniel stepped sideways to absorb the slight forward motion that Simon was creating.

"That's right!" exclaimed Daniel, and let go of Simon, who promptly started to sink and had to put his feet down. They tried again, with the same result.

"You're not doing it right," said Daniel crossly.

"I'm doing my best," argued Simon.

"You've got to put your face down so your back's straighter," diagnosed Daniel. So Simon tried but could not synchronise the arms, legs and breathing successfully. He managed a few independent strokes by holding his breath, but his eyes filled up with water so he could not see. But this small progress seemed to satisfy Daniel who was growing weary of his teaching role and wanted to show his friend his own swimming skills. He swam round Simon who stood up to his chest in the water, while Daniel tried to swim under water and between Simon's legs. Simon felt him wriggling through and then Daniel surfaced just in front him, smiling.

"Follow me!" said Daniel, climbing out of the pool. The two ran round to the straight side of the pool.

"Watch this!" said Daniel and started up the diving board steps. Simon, still obeying the 'follow me' instruction, followed. Up they went, behind a tanned looking man with a crew cut. He ran along the high board and just vanished! Then Daniel went out without looking behind, reached up with his arms and dived off into the water seemingly far below. Simon watched from the end of the board as his friend's body curved deep under water. It looked so easy. Then, with the same blind trust that Simon always had for Daniel, he did the same. But instead of entering the water smoothly like Daniel, he landed awkwardly, the water, much more resistant that he had thought, knocking the breath out of him. He was underwater, his eyes open in surprise. He could see the side of the pool wall, pale blue. Near the bottom there were some drain type holes. He was in an upright sitting position, almost foetal – and sinking. He settled on the bottom, twenty feet down, and stopped. A brief moment of serenity.

But he had no idea what to do next and fear gripped him. He couldn't breathe! Simon panicked, sure he was going to die. A shape appeared in front of him, dark hair floating free in the water, those blue eyes like beacons of hope. Daniel grabbed Simon's arms and pulled up. Thinking again, Simon pushed hard with his legs, using the last of his energy to propel himself upwards. Daniel was pushing him now, upwards and towards the pool wall. Simon felt as though he were going to burst. He opened his mouth and swallowed pool water in desperation for breath. After an eternity, Simon grabbed the lip that ran round the edge of the pool and broke surface. Air! Air! Simon gasped. His eyes were waterlogged again and he could not see, but he could feel Daniel next to him, holding him up. All he wanted to do was breathe. Spluttering, he took one hand from the tiled lip and tried to wipe the water from his eyes. He was shaking and frightened.

"I thought I was going to drown," he gasped, as he made out Daniel's face next to him, still trying to clear his vision. He hated the water in his eyes, he wanted to see and it made him feel still closed in.

"Not while I'm around," said Daniel, who was holding the lip with one hand while he trod water and supported Simon with the other. "What did you do that for, you idiot?"

"What?" answered Simon, still rubbing his eyes. If only just one of them would clear!

"Dive in!" said Daniel's voice. "You were supposed to watch me from the side."

"You said follow," explained Simon, "and when you did it, it looked so good, I wanted to as well." His eyes cleared a bit now and blinking, he could see Daniel next to him, his strong legs still treading water, supporting them both.

"Idiot!" said Daniel again. "Come on, let's get out."

Simon again realised he was hanging onto a tiled lip and to Daniel, with his body suspended above twenty feet of water, the deepest part of the Lido beneath the high boards. Occasionally there was a splash a few feet away as someone entered the water from the boards. He nodded and tried to pull himself out of the pool, but all his strength had gone. Daniel pushed him, Simon finding time to wonder briefly what Daniel was pushing against, but then he had enough grip as Daniel's push left his upper body flat on the paving. Ungainly, he scrambled forwards to pull his legs out and sat on the slabs. Daniel seemed to bob back into the pool and then in one swift movement, lifted himself clear of the water and onto the paving next to Simon.

"You OK now?" Daniel asked. He had been scared when he realised that Simon had jumped off after him and was only aware when he broke surface and could not see him, but felt the shockwave of Simon's entry not far away. He had looked down and seen Simon, a blank expression on his face, sinking to the bottom. He had surfaced again, taken a deep breath and pushed hard down to where Simon was now sitting unmoving on the bottom. His fear initially had been of retribution if anything had happened to Simon, but then he realised that he didn't want anything to happen to Simon. Simon meant so much to him, idiot though he was sometimes. He was his closest friend whom he knew would never let him down.

He looked at Simon sitting, still breathing hard, rubbing his eyes and nodding his answer to the question. He looked at Simon's body and knew how much he would miss his friend. He patted his shoulder, wanting to do more, but conscious of people around.

"Let's get some sherbet," he said.

Dipping their wet fingers into the little conical paper sherbet bags, and licking it off, they sat on the grass, resting.

"Do you want to try again?" said Daniel. "In the shallow side," he added quickly.

"Next time," said Simon.

"Mind if I go in again?"

Simon shook his head. Daniel jumped up and was in the water, powering along with his front crawl, occasionally turning for back stroke, weaving in and out of other swimmers, completely at home in the water in a way that made Simon envious yet proud of his talented friend. With a shout for Simon to watch – unnecessary as Simon's eyes followed Daniel's every move – Daniel went up to the highest board and dived off, his lithe body entering the water like an arrow, and then he surfaced, grinning at Simon, who waved and grinned back. He swam over to Simon and climbed out.

"I've got to go," said Daniel. "I've a piano lesson later."

"That's OK," said Simon, quietly pleased that this removed any threat of being lured back into the water.

Back in a cubicle, the two boys dried down together.

"Thought I'd lost you then," said Daniel.

"I really thought I was going to drown," said Simon, the memory of that fear real again. "But you saved my life." He looked at Daniel, emotion in his eyes.

"Had to, didn't I?" Then the two boys held each other close and hugged tightly, feeling their bodies together and safe.

Daniel looked at his friend. "You're just too pretty," he said smiling.

"Pretty?" said Simon, unsure of this use of the word to describe a boy.

"Yes, it's those long eyelashes of yours, they hold the water. That's why you can't see."

"Well, I'm not going to pull them out just so I can swim."

"No, never do that," said Daniel simply. The boys got dressed.

Once out of the Lido, the boys ran home, the race was on again, with Simon just edging the win to the corner.

"You're fast!" said Daniel, panting. Simon grinned, happy to have regained some status after the failure in the water.

"Don't tell what happened will you?" asked Daniel. "I might get into trouble."

"Course not," said Simon, "you know I can keep a secret." He laughed and Daniel laughed too, the context not needing to be spoken. Simon looked at Daniel, now serious.

"I'll never forget what you did today," said Simon.

He never did.

10. 1954/9 Bike ride & Autumn Radio

"I've made you a card," said Simon, "but it's not very good." It was September again, and they would be moving up classes. Daniel, because his birthday was so early in September, so early in fact that it often was in the school holidays as this time, was the oldest in his class. With his late August birthday, Simon was always the youngest in his. Their birthdays were exactly a week apart. The two boys were out on their bikes and as they had got older, they had become more adventurous, leaving the city behind and heading out into the countryside.

So this day they were out among the green fields, winding country lanes and little villages. They had stopped at the top of a hill from where a good view all round could be had. They needed a rest and were sharing a bottle of lemonade that clever Daniel had thoughtfully brought along, sitting on the grass near their bikes and were talking birthdays. This was the one week in the year when their ages were just one year different. Simon now eight and Daniel still, just, nine.

"Made a card yourself?" said Daniel. "Where is it?"

"Home," said Simon, "but it's not very good."

"Bet it is," said Daniel. Then thinking of something his mother had said, he continued, "Anybody can go and buy a card, but sitting down and making one, takes time and thought, so it's much better than a bought one. And I'm sure it'll be very good."

Simon smiled at his friend's encouragement. "I'll get it when we get back in case I don't see you tomorrow. Know what you're getting?"

"I 'xpect you will," replied Daniel. "I think so, but I'm not supposed to say."

"Go on," pleaded Simon. Daniel grinned, and shook his head.

"But you can be the first to see, I promise. So you bring your super card tomorrow."

"OK. Hey! Don't drink all the pop!"

"I carried it here," said Daniel.

"Well, I'll carry it back," said Simon.

"Empty. It's a lot lighter when it's empty, " argued Daniel.

"Well then, you can get the money back on the bottle," offered Simon.

"I will. It's my bottle to start with," Daniel reminded Simon, who knew when he was defeated, and he slumped back from his pose of indignation. Daniel laughed and thrust the bottle at Simon.

"I've had enough, you finish it off." Simon took the bottle and gratefully drank off the last few mouthfuls. "You're carrying it back though," said Daniel. 'Glug' said Simon.

"Thanks," said Simon, removing the glass bottle from his lips and wiping them on his bare forearm. Shorts and T Shirts were the order of the day. Putting the bottle in his bag, he turned and threw himself on the unsuspecting Daniel. Quickly Simon had the advantage through surprise and was on top, pinning Daniel down. This did not last long though as the older and stronger Daniel managed to get Simon off and then the two were wrestling on the grass, panting and laughing. For a moment, Simon regained dominance, but Daniel played the trump card.

"Hey, no tickling!" shrieked Simon as he writhed in response to Daniel's probing fingers.

"All's fair in love and war – and fun fights," said Daniel. "And anyway, you started it." But he stopped tickling and was now sitting astride Simon, pinning his arms back. Simon knew it would end like this, it always did. Daniel was stronger than he was.

"You're a bully," he said to Daniel. "I'm a year younger than you."

"Two years," corrected Daniel.

"Not this week," said Simon defiantly.

"You're an idiot," said Daniel, threatening to tickle Simon again. "I'll always be two years older than you. You can't change that now."

"OK, but not quite two years."

"Right, one year and fifty-one weeks, if it makes you feel better." Daniel rolled off Simon and lay next to him panting. Then, propping himself up, he looked around. "There's a little wood over there. No houses round." He looked meaningfully at Simon, who just after the physical closeness of their fun fight, understood perfectly. He nodded and they rode their bikes a short distance along the lane to the wood. It was unlike the spinney at home because there were no worn paths created by many cycling children or more sedate walkers. It was wild, cool and quiet. They wheeled their bikes into the wood.

"This'll do," said Daniel. He had chosen well, they were shielded by undergrowth but would hear any approach, and were some distance into the wood from the lane. As he removed his T shirt and shorts, Simon copied and the two stood naked, facing each other.

"We've got nothing to lie on," said Simon. "There might be prickles in the grass."

"We've laid on the grass before," said Daniel. He knelt down and felt all around. "It's fine, no prickles." He lay down himself and beckoned Simon downward. Simon looked quickly round and obeyed. The two explored each other with tender hands, each caressing the now familiar contours of the other.

"Yours is almost as big as mine," said Daniel.

Simon looked at that part which fascinates boys about their bodies more than any other. "Is that good?" he asked.

"Suppose so. Dunno really," said Daniel. "Maybe it's because it's different. Probably be OK."

The two lay together in the woods, listening for any danger, but relaxed in each other's company. Daniel propped himself up on his elbows and reached across pulling Simon toward him, holding him. Simon looked up at his friend's face. He knew he could always trust Daniel. He had saved his life in the Lido just a couple of weeks before, although each time he mentioned it, Daniel just said it was OK and to stop going on about it. But Simon kept thinking about it.

"Do you like doing this?" asked Daniel. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Bike rides?"

"No, idiot. Like this. Stripping off together and sort of, stroking and all that."

Simon thought how he could express his feelings of safety and security when he was with Daniel, and especially when he was being held in their shared nakedness. "I love it," he said simply.

"Me too," said Daniel relieved, and ran his hand slowly down Simon's back from the nape of his neck, down his spine and on, staying a bit longer on his buttocks and then to the backs of his thighs, a move he knew Simon loved. Simon gently sighed, and then responded equally. Their eyes met but neither had the words or dared, so the bond remained unspoken.

"We'd better get back," said Daniel after a while. "Must be getting on for tea time. Piano practice." The boys got dressed and wheeled their bikes back to the lane.

They raced down the hill on their bikes, passing the thirty mile an hour sign with a laugh as they cycled through the village at top speed, imagining themselves to be space rockets breaking the sound barrier. More carefully when they reached the main road and saw their first cars again since they had left it earlier. Cycling on the paths, they were soon back on their own quiet streets.

"See you tomorrow," said Daniel at the corner.

"Yes. Happy birthday," said Simon. "Oh, I was going to get the card. Will you be in later?"

"Not sure," said Daniel. "We might be going out. So I'll have to see you tomorrow." They parted with a wave.

The next morning, after rushing his breakfast of bread and pork dripping, Simon looked out of his bedroom window to see if he could see Daniel, but his bedroom window showed nothing. Simon thought of Daniel's family, his Daddy, wishing him a happy birthday. Simon often wished his Daddy was more like Daniel's. He sat looking out across the allotments towards the spinney, and where their den was, although that could not be seen of course. Something attracted his eye and he looked back at Daniel's house. He was there at his window, waving at Simon. Then Daniel opened his bedroom window and was shouting something. Simon opened his window, however it opened towards Daniel's house and so was still between them, but he could hear Daniel's voice, although not what he was saying. But the beckoning motion he was making was clear enough. Simon waved and closed the window, running downstairs, just remembering to pick up the homemade card. It was beside the bought one Daniel had given him last week.

"Going round Daniel's, Mummy," he shouted.

"Oh, OK love," came Mummy's voice form the sitting room. "Oh, say Happy Birthday from me. It is today isn't it?" But she got no reply as by that time Simon was running along the path to the corner and then round to Daniel's house. As usual he went straight to the back door and there was Daniel, waiting.

"Come in Simon," said Mrs. Gray.

Simon stepped in, looking at Daniel, glad he was there. He held out the homemade card.

"Happy Birthday, Daniel," he said.

Daniel looked at the card, with his name on it and pictures Simon had drawn of the two of them on their bikes and Daniel playing his piano, and then turned to the message of friendship inside. Simon looked anxiously for Daniel's reaction.

"Thanks," said Daniel. "It's super."

"Did you make that yourself, Simon," asked Mrs Gray, coming over to have a look. Simon nodded. She took the card from Daniel and opened it. Simon instantly regretted his message inside, thinking maybe it was too much. And then she read it out.

"'Happy Birthday to Daniel, my very best friend forever and always.' That's really nice, Simon. Taking the time and trouble to make a card yourself."

Relieved, Simon beamed with pleasure at Daniel and his mother.

"Come upstairs, I've something to show you," said Daniel. The two went upstairs to Daniel's bedroom. Daniel stood expectantly while Simon looked round for anything different.

"What?" said Simon. "Oh! Gosh!" This was what Daniel wanted him to see. It was his very own wireless, an Ever Ready.

"Let's turn it on," said Simon. Daniel turned it on. Soon the speaker was blaring music.

"Once I had a secret love

That lived within the heart of me

All too soon my secret love

Became impatient to be free"

The two joined in, adding their raucous voices to Doris Day's.

"Try something else," said Simon. Daniel turned the tuning knob and the two boys listened as strange voices came from the wireless.

"That's German," said Daniel with the authority of a new ten year old. Simon thought it could be, because he knew what French sounded like a bit. "It's got four valves and of course it's battery powered so we can take it out if we want."

"Will your Mummy let you?" asked Simon.

"Probably," said Daniel. And then a new thought came to him. "Did you know 'Journey into Space' is coming back?"

"What's that?" said Simon.

"It's excellent, " said Daniel, "it was all about spaceships and that, and going to the moon. But in the new one they are going to Mars. We can listen to it together."

Simon nodded enthusiastically. He liked space. Daniel liked Dan Dare and so did Simon, so 'Journey into Space' sounded very good.

11. 1954/9 A Death and a Car

Simon came home from school to find Mummy already home from her part time journalism. But Mummy was, or just had been, crying.

"Mummy, what's the matter?" he asked nervously. "Is Daddy in?" When Mummy was crying, it was usually something to do with Daddy. But Mummy shook her head.

"No, darling." She paused, and drew her lips tight, trying to find the words to say. "Grandpa's died."

Simon's grandparents were on the periphery of his life. Both pairs lived an hour's bus ride away but in opposite directions, and sometimes the family – well, Mummy, Frances and Simon – would go and see Grandpa and Nana Drummond, Daddy only went sometimes, but all went to see Grandpa and Grandma Scott. Of course.

"Grandpa Drummond?" said Simon, although he was sure by Mummy's tears it was her Daddy. Mummy nodded. Simon moved to where Mummy was sitting and put his arms around her and he started to cry too. Because he knew he would never see Grandpa again, but mainly because Mummy was crying. A thought occurred to him.

"Is Nana all right?"

Mummy nodded. At that moment the back door opened and shut and the whirlwind that was Frances came through the kitchen.

"I'm home," she called cheerfully to whoever might be listening, dropped her bag in the hall and was gone upstairs to the bathroom. Mummy disentangled herself from Simon's grasp and dried her face with a handkerchief just as Frances reappeared. Mummy and Simon turned to face her.

"What?" said Frances, seeing that all was not as it should be. "Mummy, what's the matter?" she added now tuning in to Mummy's distress. Again that tightening of the lips. Simon intervened to save her the pain of having to say yet again.

"Grandpa Drummond's died," he said.

"Oh Mummy!" shrieked Frances, grief on her face and she flung her arms around Mummy. "When? What happened?" For Grandpa Drummond, although seeming old to Simon, was not that old.

"Earlier today," said Mummy. "Lilian phoned. She's with Nana now. Heart attack." And Mummy cried again.

"Does Daddy know?" asked the sensible Frances, recovering and moving into command mode with all the force of her thirteen years.

Mummy nodded. "He's coming home as soon as he can."

About an hour later, they were in the dining room trying to eat the small tea Frances had prepared when the front door opened. Daddy was home. Mummy got up and went into the hall, followed by Frances. Simon hung back, fearful of Daddy's reaction to this unique circumstance.

"Oh Kate," was Daddy's voice. Simon ventured into the hall to see Daddy hugging Mummy tightly, his face upset and drawn. Then Frances started to cry again and joined in the hug. Soon all four were hugging, united by the shock of the news. It was a moment of rare family togetherness that Simon would long remember, and not just for the event that engendered it.

Mummy went over to see Nana the next day in the village out in the country where they lived. Daddy had to go back to work and of course, Simon and Frances were at school. The funeral was held in the village a few days later, but this was held to be too upsetting for Simon to attend, although Frances went. So Simon went to school as usual, and by the time he came home, Mummy, Frances and Daddy were back home. Simon had wanted to go. He knew Grandpa Drummond as a kindly man who would take Simon down his large garden and pick blackcurrants for Nana to make a pie. He also kept hens and they would gather the eggs and check the fence was secure against foxes.

Grandpa Drummond's death led to a major change in the family's lifestyle. Grandpa Drummond's pride and joy was his Wolseley Series III, but Nana couldn't drive. Neither could Mummy's sister, Auntie Rose who lived down near London anyway. But Mummy could drive. Grandpa Drummond had taught his older daughter even before she had met Daddy, or in that phrase with which Simon was so familiar, 'before the war'. So it was, that one day when Simon was walking home from school, he and Daniel came up the hill from the main road to the corner.

"You've got visitors," said Daniel. Simon looked along from the junction to his house. Outside was a big black car. In Simon's road, only Mr. Searle had a car, an old Rover and it was always in bits. Sometimes Simon had gone to watch and was fascinated by the engine parts, laid out on the floor. How was it that this jumble of metal of all sorts of shapes, could when properly assembled, come alive with power, energy and motion? At the far end of the road, Mr Millward had a Morris 8. So a car parked outside a house was noteworthy. It took a moment for Simon to register.

"It's my Grandpa's car."

"The one that's died?" queried Daniel. Simon nodded. He was puzzled, and hesitated. He wasn't sure what to do. Daniel sensed his friend's uncertainty and he was also very curious.

"I'll come with you if you want," he offered. Simon nodded and the two boys went round to the back door and in through the kitchen. Mummy was in the dining room, getting tea ready.

"Oh, hello Daniel," said Mummy.

"Hello Mrs Scott," said Daniel respectfully, but nudging Simon at the same time. Taking the hint, Simon asked the burning question.

"What's Grandpa's car here for?"

"Well, Nana can't drive, so until things are sorted out, I'm using it."

"You mean it's ours?" exclaimed Simon gleefully.

"Just for the time being," said Mummy, and her further explanation about settling the estate was lost in whoops of joy from Simon, with Daniel joining in.

"Can we go out in it?" said Simon.

"Don't be silly, Simon," said Mummy. "Frances will be home soon and I'm getting tea ready."

Faced with two boys' faces looking disappointed, she continued, "Maybe after tea just for a short run."

"Can Daniel come?" asked Simon.

"I expect so," said Mummy. "Daniel, would you like some tea?"

Daniel hesitated. He was cautious about getting trapped at Simon's house for he too shared Simon's apprehension of his father, but the prospect of a ride in the luxurious Wolseley proved too much.

"Yes please," he said, and noted Simon's pleasure at his acceptance. He rarely did and it was far more common for Simon to go to Daniel's for tea than the other way round.

"You'd better tell your mother then," said Mummy.

"OK, back in a minute!" and Daniel fled, keen to get back as quickly as possible in case the car vanished while he was away.

Annoyingly, his mother insisted on him putting his school things away and getting properly washed before going back round the corner to Simon's. He needn't have worried. He ran round the corner and the car was still exactly where it had been an age earlier.

"That was quick," said Mummy when Daniel reappeared panting in the back doorway. "Come on in."

Frances now arrived and much of the scene was repeated.

"Mummy's taking us out for a ride after tea," announced Simon. Frances shot a questioning look at Mummy, who simply nodded as she put the last tea things on the table.

"I'm sitting in the front, then," said Frances, with a look that challenged Simon, or Mummy for that matter, to deny it. But Simon was not taken aback by this.

"OK," he said. "Daniel and I will be in the back."

"Won't you be in the front, Mrs Scott," asked Daniel puzzled. His father could drive, and there had been talk of buying a car, but his mother couldn't drive as far as Daniel knew anyway.

"I hope so," replied Mummy, laughing. "It's hard to drive from anywhere else."

Daniel's face flushed with his mistake. "I'm sorry, Mrs Scott, I just thought Mr Scott…" His voice tailed off.

"That's all right, Daniel," said Mummy. "I can drive. I learned before the war. Simon's Daddy can't drive." And with that, for some reason neither Simon nor Daniel could fathom, she burst out laughing. Soon everybody had the giggles.

"But Daddy can fly a plane," said Simon, loyally.

"So can I!" said Mummy, with another burst of laughter.

"You're a pilot?" asked an astounded Daniel.

"I learned to fly before the war," said Mummy. "I had a friend at the local flying club."

"Did you fly Spitfires?" asked Simon, equally amazed by these revelations.

"I wish I had," said Mummy. "I wanted to, as a ferry pilot, but I'm not tall enough. I would love to have flown a Spitfire."

"What planes did you fly, Mrs Scott," asked Daniel, a little more composed, while Simon wondered how one could fly a ferry.

"Just one," said Mummy. "Tiger Moth. Lovely little aeroplane."

Mummy continued to talk of her pre-war flying days and the light mood lasted through tea, eaten rather hurriedly so as to hasten the car ride.

Simon and Daniel climbed into the back seat and sprawled on the brown leather. It had a posh smell, thought Simon. Of course he had ridden in the car once or twice before when Grandpa drove it, but this was special. Mummy was going to drive and Daniel was with him. Simon was pleased that he had a car before Daniel, but also pleased that his friend was there to share the moment.

"Sit properly," said Mummy.

"Boys," remarked Frances scornfully from her front seat status.

Mummy pulled out the choke, turned the ignition key and pressed the starter button to start the engine and they were off. Simon revelled in the car, he had chosen the nearside, hoping to be seen by as many people as possible while they drove around. As the car swept down the hill to the main road, they passed a couple of boys they knew, but sadly they barely gave the passing Wolseley a glance. Still, nothing should detract from the joy of this moment.

"Let's pretend this is Discovery," said Simon.

"I'm Jet Morgan then," said Daniel, instantly understanding the reference to 'Journey into Space' that had both boys, and the country, enthralled.

"The other cars can be the freighters," said Simon. Then Daniel pulled a strange face and holding his arms in front of him intoning, "I'm Whitaker from freighter number six." He then moved closer to Simon in a scary way.

Simon pushed him off.

"Will you sit still please boys," said Mummy. "It's very distracting and I'm still getting used to the car."

So the boys fell silent for a time as the game hadn't been such a good idea after all. But soon they were chatting again. Simon from his seat could see Mummy driving, the movement of her hands and feet creating a sort of poetic ballet that translated into the speed and power of the Wolseley.

The drive lasted about half an hour and took them out into the countryside that in those days was so close to the city. Going along the country roads familiar to both boys from their bike rides, it seemed so quick compared to the effort involved in pedalling so far. All too soon they were back.

"Thank you for taking me," said Daniel dutifully.

"No trouble Daniel," said Mummy, "glad you enjoyed it." Lovely manners, that boy, she thought.

Duty done, Daniel poked Simon and said loudly, "Coming round mine?"

Simon looked at Mummy, who simply said, "Don't be late."

"Race yer!" shouted Daniel, and the two boys ran off, Simon overhauling Daniel to beat him round the corner to Daniel's house.

"You're faster than Roger Bannister," panted Daniel. Now the roles were reversed in terms of decorum.

"I'm back Mummy," shouted Daniel. "We went for ride in Simon's new car."

"New car?" said Daniel's father, looking up from a book, suddenly interested.

"Hello, Mr Gray, Mrs Gray," said Simon. "It's not new, it was my Grandpa's car but he died."

"Yes, Daniel told us about that. I'm sorry," said Mrs Gray. Simon was puzzled for a moment until it dawned on him she was sorry about Grandpa, not the car.

"It's like a police car, only a lot posher," said Daniel by way of explanation to his father.

"Ah, I saw it when I came home," said Mr Gray. "I wondered about that."

"Can we get a car, Daddy?" said Daniel. His father was often collected and brought home in a car, and sometimes he drove one, but he had never felt the need for one of his own.

"Maybe, just maybe," he said, ruffling Daniel's dark hair, and smiling.

"When did this happen?" asked Mrs Gray.

"I wasn't going to say anything until it was certain, but it looks like I've got the promotion," Mr Gray smiled.

"Darling, that's wonderful," said Mrs Gray, beaming with delight.

"Yes!" shouted Daniel leaping up and down. He looked at Simon expectantly, waiting for enthusiasm. Simon responded with as vigorous a nodding as he could muster.

"You won't have to move, will you?" asked Mrs Gray suddenly. Everybody froze for a moment. Move? Away? Simon and Daniel exchanged worried looks.

"No, right here in the city," said Mr Gray, looking pleased.

"What'll that make you, Daddy?" asked Daniel.

"Chief Superintendent, Daniel," said Mr Gray, still grinning. "But it has to be confirmed."

"And can we get a car then?" persisted Daniel.

"Maybe, Daniel, maybe," said his father.

"You might be Chief Constable one day," said Mrs Gray. "It's true that some are now being promoted from the ranks instead of this daft idea of bringing in these ex army colonels and the like."

"Sir Malcolm is an excellent Chief Constable," replied Mr Gray loyally. "But he can't go on forever either," he added mischievously with a grin just like Daniel's.

At that point Daniel's older sister Louise arrived, and the whole scene had to be rerun.

Daniel soon afterwards gave Simon the news that the promotion was confirmed. A few weeks later a small Ford car appeared on the driveway of Daniel's house. Not as posh as the Wolseley, but as Simon quickly pointed out in compensation, the Wolseley didn't really belong to his family.

Mr Harrison two doors along from Simon got a Ford Prefect soon after. The motor age was arriving.

12. 1955/8 Lakes in the Wolseley

The monotonous hum of the windscreen wipers, back and forth, back and forth. Everywhere seemed so wet. It was the end of a long journey from home to the Lake District. Simon looked through the trees across the broad lake and to the mountains. Having the Wolseley meant his horizons had been opened up with drives to the Peak District, more frequent visits to both grandmothers and a variety of days out. It had helped Mummy too because she had been able to take on more work, and was on the radio now as well as in the newspaper. But it meant she was away from home sometimes at the weekends making the radio programmes at different places. Then, Daddy would be at home all the time, but thankfully he was often busy and left Simon pretty much to own devices. Simon went out with Daniel most of the time. But now they were here. The trips to Westward Ho were over and this, making use of their temporary windfall, was the summer holiday.

"Are we nearly there yet, Mummy?" asked Simon, yet again.

"Almost, darling," she replied. "I think it's just along here." Suddenly the trees cleared and there was a view right across the lake. There was a wooden boat with people on it in the distance, and the rain seemed to be stopping. The sun was just over the tops of the mountains opposite.

"Yes, I think this is it," said Mummy, and steered the big car off the road and through a gateway.

Daddy drew in his breath sharply. "Careful Kate, you nearly hit the gatepost."

"There was plenty of room," she snapped. Simon thought Mummy was an expert driver and now she was really used to the Wolseley she handled it well, just like her Tiger Moth she said. But Mummy's tone of voice showed Simon and Frances that she was tired. The car went up a long drive with a field on one side, and a large white building up ahead with a few cars parked in front of it. Mummy brought the big car to a stop on the gravel and turned off the engine. The rain had stopped and there was evening sunshine.

"Everybody help get the stuff in," said Daddy. The two children were out of the car and busy hauling cases out of the boot. Simon felt suddenly excited, all tiredness gone. Spread before him was the large field in front of the hotel, beyond that the lake and mountains, the sun now settling behind them, their flanks in shadow. Over to the right a large mountain was still catching the sun on its upper slopes. Simon thought it was beautiful.

"Come on, Simon, help with the luggage!" Daddy's urging brought Simon out of his reverie and he picked up a suitcase and struggling, took it to the door of the hotel, following Frances. A young woman came and took it from him.

"Please. I must help you," she said. She was dressed in a maid's uniform, and Simon thought she spoke in a funny way. That must be how they speak here, he thought. But then Mummy was talking to a man behind the large, polished wooden counter in the hallway.

"Scott," he said, turning the pages of a large book. "Ah yes, here we are. Scott," he repeated, in quite a normal voice, Simon thought. "Zelda, rooms fourteen and fifteen."

"Fourteen and fifteen," the maid repeated in her precise tones. "Feartsayn, foonftsayn." Simon wondered what that meant.

Zelda led the way up the large carpeted staircase with panelled walls, with the family following behind, Simon now with a smaller bag, Zelda still carrying Simon's. Daddy said something to Zelda he couldn't understand, sounding like 'zindsee doitch.' but Zelda nodded and said "Yar." Simon thought this a peculiar Lake District custom that Daddy knew about.

"She's German," said Daddy to Mummy.

"I gathered that," said Mummy, her tiredness still apparent. They put the bags in the rooms and Daddy said something to Zelda who said 'Bitter' back and smiled. She winked at Simon as she left the room. Frances lost no time.

"This is my bed," she said, using the authority of her fourteen years to bag the bed near the window.

"We're just next door, children," said Mummy.

"Who's for a walk before dinner?" said Daddy brightly.

"I'm going to have a lie down," said Mummy. "I've driven all that way, and I'm tired."

"You've just been sitting down all the time, how can you be tired?" said Daddy. Mummy looked furious.

"Well, weren't you just sitting down all the time you flew to Berlin and back or wherever? You got tired."

"That's completely different, that was the war."

Frances grabbed Simon. "Come on, let's explore the hotel," she said quickly and practically dragged Simon out of the room. "Let's leave them to it," she said. They heard the raised voices as they ran down the passage way, Simon running his hands along the panelling. He wondered if there were any secret passages. Lots of old buildings had them he knew, and this must be pretty old. He and Frances had once gone with Mummy on one of her radio weekends and had stayed at an old hotel in Ludlow. That had secret passages, and Simon was certain that this hotel was bound to have at least one.

"Hello, children." It was Zelda again. "Are you the hotel exploring?" Simon stopped, knowing now she was German and wondering what to say.

"Yes, that's right," said Frances. "We always do when we get to a hotel."

"If you go out to the back there gives there a waterfall, but you must promise to be careful, please, children."

"We will," they shouted, finding their way out and exploring the garden and climbing the paths through the woods next to the waterfall. Simon thought it was magical. He fell in love with the place instantly.

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.

13. 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.

"Now children," droned Miss Day cheerfully, "we all know that there are some words we should never use, don't we, even though we may hear others say them."

"Yes, Miss," replied one or two, losing hope that Miss Day was going to provide actual examples. The response seemed to satisfy Miss Day, however.

"Sometimes people use them out of bad temper, or because they know no better," she continued, oblivious to the distress Simon was being caused by this. He looked up and saw the Spence gang smirking at him, waiting to see how they could exploit the situation to hurt Simon more.

"It's usually because of poor upbringing that people swear for no good reason, that is, supposing that there could ever be a good reason," Miss Day went on. Sidney Forth too was enjoying Simon's embarrassment. Simon hated Sidney Forth. Simon was doing well now with English and reading and was one of the better ones in the class. His stories got top marks. But arithmetic was still a closed book to Simon. The numbers just seemed to go round and round and get jumbled up. Sidney Forth was clever, he could read well, write and he knew ALL his tables, right up to twelve twelves, straight away, without having to say up the table first! But that was not the real reason Simon hated Forth; it was because Forth despised Simon because he could not do these things. He was supremely contemptuous of any who could not match his abilities. He was not one of the Spence gang, in fact at times he was just as much their victim as was Simon. Forth had his wit to protect him, and that stayed with him all the time. Simon had come to rely on Daniel, but he was not always there.

"Now, when is the only time we should use a word?" asked Miss Day, and looked expectantly round the class. Many of the children were caught out by the fact that she had suddenly stopped talking, and that something was expected of them. Roused from their reverie, they glanced anxiously around. What was the question?

Cynthia Jackson raised her hand.

"Yes, Cynthia," said Miss Day.

"When we mean what we say, Miss," answered Cynthia.

"Good, Cynthia, but what about the words we use, when should we use them?"

Sidney Forth put up his hand. Miss Day nodded at him.

"When we know what the words mean, Miss," said Sidney Forth.

"That's right, Sidney, good boy," she beamed. "I'm glad that somebody was listening," she remarked tartly to rest of the class.

The rest of the class tried to look as if they had been listening all along, but had suffered a purely momentary lapse of memory.

"Please, Miss, do all the bad words have meanings?" asked Frank Hinds.

"Well, err.., yes they do," replied Miss Day, a little uncertainly, unsure of where this might lead. Inspiration came to her rescue. "But of course we don't need them because there are other perfectly good words that we can use instead of these awful words."

"What are they, Miss?" persisted Frank.

"Well, err.., we don't need to go into that right now," said Miss Day, glancing at her wristwatch hopefully. Almost playtime. Simon too hoped this lesson would end soon.

"Please Miss, what's a bastard?"

Simon went rigid, his pulse racing, every sense in his body suddenly at fever pitch. It had been Barry Spence's voice asking the question. Simon saw Spence and his cronies watching him.

Miss Day was taken aback by the question too. Another glance at the time. Surely the bell was late? I wish I had never started this discussion, she thought.

"Well, er... Barry, that's not er.. a nice word to use about anyone, is it?"

Simon felt now that everyone was looking at him. They all knew that he was the one they called bastard, and Simon was still unsure what it really meant.

Miss Day searched for a way out.

"It's when someone is illegitimate, Barry," she said relieved, hoping that would suffice. It didn't.

"Illy-what, Miss?" posed Barry Spence, putting his innocent looking expression to good use.

"It means, well, er.. I suppose that the person should never have been born, in a way." She paused for a moment's thought. "When someone......"

The bell rang shrilly in the corridor outside the classroom, and Miss Day stopped, relieved.

"Put your things away and go out to play," she said, and, picking up her handbag, hastened out to the staffroom, hoping the kettle was boiled ready for a cup of tea. Thank God that lesson was over. Never do that again.

In the classroom, Simon sat still, the devastating import of that casual sentence sinking in. Should never have been born. Should never have been born.

"Outside, bastard," leered Spence right in Simon's face, arousing him from his thoughts. Simon looked up, frightened by Spence. Did this mean he was a sort of outlaw, like Robin Hood, who could be got by anybody? Robin Hood had his Merry Men, Simon had ... Simon had Daniel. Daniel! Find Daniel and tell him, and also get away from Barry Spence. Simon quickly ran out into the yard, looking for Daniel.

Daniel was with some boys from his class on the other side of the yard. Simon ran over, his desperation conquering his usual nervousness of Daniel's fourth year friends.

"Hiya, Simon," said Daniel, "what's the matter?"

"I've got something to tell you," whispered Simon, urgently.

"Not now, on the way home," said Daniel, sensing his friend's mood.

The Spence gang were playing football and were taking little notice of Simon now as they followed the battered tennis ball round the school yard, a swarm each anxious to get a kick. But Simon remained near Daniel for the rest of playtime, puzzled and upset by what Miss Day had said and impatient for Daniel's opinion on the way home.

14. 1955/9 Two Talking

Unfortunately, Daniel was not of much help to Simon. As the two walked home that evening, they both pondered the significance of Miss Day's pronouncement.

"Does she know that's what some of the others call you?" asked Daniel.

Simon shook his head. "Dunno," he said.

"Why don't you go and ask her what it really means?" suggested Daniel.

Simon thought about this for a moment. What would she say? Then he realised the danger of such a move.

"Can't do that," he said, "coz then she will know that I'm one, and if I never should've been born, she might report me or something, and then I might get taken off to a camp or something."

Simon felt the old sadness grow inside him as he thought of this possibility, and the effect this would have on Mummy, never mind what might happen to him at a Camp. He had heard terrible stories about Concentration Camps, and he supposed that the same sort of things would apply in whatever Camp was reserved for people like him. At this prospect, tears started gently to flow down his cheek, and he wiped them with the sleeve of his coat.

Daniel too contemplated the idea of his friend being taken off, like in the films from Germany. It at once excited and frightened him. Simon was a continuing puzzle to Daniel, and he was aware of the faith that Simon placed in him. Daniel thought of Simon's slim, soft body that he now knew so well, and what might happen to it in one of those places. He felt his own body stir at the thought, and decided he would ask Simon to the den with him on the way home.

The two had continued to visit their secret den over the years since that first time, as well finding other opportunities, out on bike rides, sometimes in Daniel's room when the coast was clear. The pretence was maintained that Daniel was looking after Simon and keeping a check on him since the discovery of the Great Difference. Daniel by this time was aware that circumcision was not out of the ordinary having seen other boys at the swimming baths, and wondered if Simon really knew. Neither said anything though, and each wished to continue to have the excuse for their intimate sessions together. Daniel found his friend's willing compliance with his demands intensely exciting, and gained considerable satisfaction from the feeling of mastery it gave him. Simon too looked forward to their sessions. For him they were times of real happiness. He trusted Daniel totally and derived from their friendship the masculine love and protection he missed so much, and which Daddy did not provide. In his submission to Daniel, he too experienced excitement, and felt that in allowing Daniel intimate knowledge of his body, the bond between them was strengthened.

This evening though, as they walked home together, Simon's self-esteem as low as it could sink, his thoughts were more on the sensitive side of their friendship than the sensual.

"I'm glad I've got you," said Simon, again wiping his tears on his sleeve.

Daniel turned to look at Simon, and saw the distress he was in. His heart went out to his friend, and his thoughts of the den were put aside. Daniel knew that it was not the time. Instead he put the arm of solace across Simon's shoulders.

"You know I'll be your friend, Simon," he comforted, "we always have been, haven't we?"

Simon nodded and sniffed his agreement.

Daniel continued. "I'll not tell. Best not to say anything to Day. She'll probably not understand anyway."

"Promise you'll not tell, anyone, anyone ever?" pleaded Simon.

"'Course not," assured Daniel. "Look, neither of us has ever told anyone about our secrets, you know, the den and all that, have we?"

Simon shook his head. Daniel was not reassured by this however.

"You haven't, have you?" he demanded, worried.

"No," said Simon. He certainly had not, and moreover would not. The closeness of his friendship with Daniel was a precious secret to share between the two of them. He did not want anyone else to share it. Also he knew that if the adult world found out, there would be condemnation, Daddy would beat him unmercifully, but worse, far worse than all that, he would be stopped from ever seeing Daniel again. At that thought, tears flowed anew.

Daniel saw the renewal of crying, and was alarmed by this.

"What's the matter?" he asked anxiously. "You've not told anyone, have you? Honest?"

"No," said Simon, realising his friend's misinterpretation of his tears. "No, I couldn't ever do that. If people found out, we couldn't be friends anymore. I'd hate that."

"Me too," said Daniel, relieved. "I'd hate that too."

Each felt the love for one another that had become the value of their relationship, and each shrank from uttering the word. It wasn't done. Love was silly and soft, for girls. But each instinctively knew of the love of the other. They parted at the end of the street, with a wave and a casual "See ya!", and both went home, warmed within by the further sealing of their love for each other.

15. 1955/9 Daniel asks the Question

Daniel entered the house, dropping his bag in the hall.

"I'm home," he shouted to the house in general, cocking his ear for an answer. After a pause, his mother answered from the direction of the kitchen.

"Hello, love, come and get your hands washed, tea's almost ready."

Daniel went through to the kitchen, and quickly rinsed his hands under the cold tap.

"Dad home yet?" he asked.

"He's upstairs, getting changed. He's got to go back later. Don't forget your piano practice, will you?"

"No, Mum. I want to learn that new piece."

"Good boy. Here, put these on the table, will you," said his mother, handing Daniel jam and butter.

Daniel put them on the table, and turned to see his Dad enter the kitchen.

"Hello, son," his Dad said, roughing Daniel's hair with his hand. "Had a good day?"

"O.K.," replied Daniel, with his stock response to queries about the boredom of school. Then he remembered.

"Miss Day talked to Simon's class about swearing today," he said. "Simon got a bit upset, but Miss Day didn't notice."

"Poor Simon," said his mother, "that boy leads an awful life. Did you walk home with him?"

Daniel nodded.

"He's a funny little kid, though Daniel," said his Dad, "I don't know what you see in him, really."

Daniel felt the conversation was getting onto to dangerous ground.

"He's O.K. He's a good friend," Daniel fended, then, sensing the chance to earn credit, he continued, "Anyway, he hasn't many friends, so I like to keep an eye on him." Only as he said the words did Daniel realise just how appropriate they were.

"That's very thoughtful, Daniel," said his Mum, as she put the last items on the table. "I know you and he get on well. Always have done. Come on then, sit down."

She turned to the hall, and raised her voice. "Louise, tea's ready!"

From upstairs came the muffled reply from Daniel's fifteen year old sister. It seemed to satisfy Mum.

As they started to eat, Daniel thought about the events of the day, and aware that his sister was coming decided to capitalise on his earlier discussion of school immediately.

"Mum?" he opened.

"Yes, dear," said Mum," don't talk with your mouth full."

Pushing aside this irrelevance, Daniel swallowed his piece of scrambled egg.

"What's a bastard?"

"You are!" said Louise, pulling a face at her brother as she entered the large kitchen.

"Don't start, Louise," said Dad, sharply.

"Sorry," said Louise, without grace.

"Did Simon ask you?" queried Mum of Daniel.

"Sort of," replied Daniel, "he said that Miss Day was talking about swearing in his class, and Barry Spence asked what a bastard is."

"Now he is one," interjected Louise.

"Be quiet, Louise," said Mum. "Go on, Daniel."

"Well, Simon said that Miss Day said that it was someone who should never have been born, and Simon got upset about it coz that's what they all call him."

"Because", emphasised Dad.

"Mm?" Daniel frowned, puzzled at the interruption.

"Because, not coz, Daniel," said Dad, "I keep telling you to speak properly. It is important."

"Yes, Dad," said Daniel, "but I was talking about Simon."

"So talk about him using proper language then, please."

"O.K. Dad," said Daniel, who felt this opportunity of enlightenment slipping away. "What I mean is, when Simon asked me about it I wasn't really sure what to say to him." Daniel sensed the chance to earn credit, and added, "He was really upset and I wanted to try and help him."

"Saint Daniel!" mocked Louise.

Trust her to spoil it, thought Daniel. I wish she weren't here.

"That's very good of you, love," said Mum, approvingly, "but it's a difficult problem really."

Daniel looked expectantly at Mum, and Mum looked expectantly at Dad. Dad was suddenly engrossed in the difficulties of spreading butter carefully right into the corners of the bread. Mum sighed to herself and continued.

"All it means, Daniel," she said, "is that someone's mother and father are not married when they are born. I don't think Miss Day can have meant that he shouldn't have been born. That's a terrible thing to say about a child. And as far as I know, his parents are married. I know Kate, er, Simon's mother, reasonably well. Simon probably didn't hear properly."

"He's a bit dim, that kid," said Louise.

"Louise, if you can't think of anything helpful to say, then keep quiet," snapped Mum. "Can we just get on with our meal, please."

"Sorry I spoke," pouted Louise.

Daniel grinned at her discomfort, despite his annoyance at the curtailing of the conversation. He wanted the information to maintain his ascendancy over Simon.

"Don't crow over your minor victories, Daniel," said Dad, "they may be short-lived. I seem to remember it's your turn to help wash up tonight. And you've your piano practice to do."

It was Louise's turn to grin.

Later, as Daniel was putting the dishes away with his Mum, he broached the subject again.

"Is Simon one of those?" he asked her.

She regarded her son quizzically. "You are persistent, aren't you? Almost certainly not. His parents are married I'm sure. But they say his Dad was married before the war and they got divorced. Some people think that divorce is wrong and a later marriage doesn't count."

"So what about any children then?"

"Oh, I see what you mean. Look, Simon's parents got married before he was born so he is not illegitimate, neither is his sister – what's her name?"

"Frances," supplied Daniel, eager to maintain the momentum.

"Oh, yes," continued Mum, "but there are some silly people who can't accept that because his father was married before. At least, that's what people say. Maybe someone said something like that and that's how all this silly name calling started."

Daniel digested this for a moment. "Is he really his Dad?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure," said Mum, "they were married during the war. I shouldn't be saying this to you, Daniel. Don't you go repeating what I've said."

"No, Mum," said Daniel automatically, while he thought how to ask the next, vital question.

"Pass me the big plates," said Mum.

"Does it show?" asked Daniel, holding up the dinner plates.

"Show?" said Mum, puzzled. "What do you mean? Where's the salt and pepper?"

Daniel looked for the salt and pepper, and passed them over to Mum who put them in the kitchen cabinet.

"On you," said Daniel, searching for words, "I mean, can you tell from looking?"

Mum laughed. "Of course not. Simon doesn't look any different from any other boy, does he? He's just an ordinary little boy, like any other. Nobody can be blamed for who their parents are, Daniel. I think his father had a hard time in the war. People should try to be a bit more understanding. He got a medal, you know. His Mum seems very nice. Fetch me the teapot, please."

Breathing quickly with the tension of the situation, Daniel handed over the teapot. This was getting close, but maybe too close. What could he say?

"Oh Daniel," said Mum, "you forgot the teapot lid."

"Even undressed?" asked Daniel, as casually as he could.

Mum stopped rinsing the teapot out, and turned to Daniel. "What do you mean? How can it?"

Daniel suddenly had a brainwave. "You know before when we went to the baths coz Simon wanted me to teach him how to swim?"

"Because!" corrected Mum. "Yes, I remember. Not very successfully, as I recall."

"Well, when we were in the changing cubicle, I couldn't help noticing that the end" - Daniel sought the correct word for cock - "of his penis was different, and he thought, I mean I thought..."

Mum was laughing. "O dear, Daniel," she laughed. "You mean he's circumcised." She laughed again. "Lots of boys are. Sometimes their religion demands it, like the Jews, other times the foreskin is too tight and has to be removed. It's nothing to do with being illegitimate; that's the proper word for a bastard. You are funny."

Daniel did not think this was especially funny, as a new aspect struck him. "But they sent the Jews away to camps and gassed them, didn't they?"

Mum was still amused at Daniel's naivety, failed to catch the solemnity of her son's question.

"Yes dear, but that was because Hitler hated the Jews because they were Jews, not because they were circumcised. Now run along, there's a good boy. I want to hear that piece, note perfect."

Pleased with his new information, Daniel went into the back room, specially extended, where the large Bösendorfer grand piano stood, and started his practice. After a few scales, he started on his new piece, and soon was lost in the magical pattern of the notes, revelling in the way his hands running across the keyboard could stir this big machine into making wonderful music. In the kitchen, Mrs Gray, herself a skilled pianist, nodded approvingly.

16. 1955/10 Onward Christian Soldiers

The confrontation came at morning playtime, but it started earlier. In Assembly, Miss Harvey stopped the singing of "Onward Christian Soldiers" to complain about the singing.

Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war,

With the cross of Jesus going on before.

Christ, the royal Master, leads against the foe;

Forward into battle see His banners go!

Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war,

With the cross of Jesus going on before.

Just as the children were singing the chorus for the second time, Miss Harvey banged on the lectern that stood at the front of the hall during assemblies. Miss Smith, the young teacher who played the piano visibly startled, played one disharmonious chord and stopped, turning to Miss Harvey with a fearful expression on her face.

"Thank you, Miss Smith," said Miss Harvey, somehow managing to convey menace in that simple statement, also the fact that she did not feel thankful at all; it was a mere formality.

Miss Harvey turned her attention to the assembled school. The singing had tailed off and the children now stood in their lines, regarding the headmistress with some apprehension. The teachers, stood at each side of the hall, glared at the children.

"Marching!" declaimed Miss Harvey. "Marching!"

Simon saw one or two of the teachers exchange glances, but when he looked again, their faces were completely expressionless.

"Not Mar Chin!" continued Miss Harvey, "It has I-N-G on the end. MarchING! I don't want to hear anyone singing Mar Chin! Miss Smith!"

Miss Smith jumped again, and looked questioningly at Miss Harvey.

"Carry on, Miss Smith, please," commanded Miss Harvey.

"We'll start verse two again," said Miss Smith to the school, watching Miss Harvey out of the corner of her eye. Miss Harvey appeared content with that, so Miss Smith struck the note to give the children the key, paused and then the repeat of verse two got underway.

"Like a mighty army moves the church of God..." sang the children. As the verse ended, and the chorus began, Miss Harvey craned forward slightly, listening intently to the words.

"Onward Christian soldiers,

Marching as to war,"

Simon distinctly heard Barry Spence, standing just behind him say "MAR CHIN" with just enough clarity for it to be heard, yet not enough for the culprit to be obvious to those not as close as Simon.

"With the cross....."

Miss Harvey straightened, banged furiously on the lectern and brought the singing to a halt. She turned and glared straight at Simon. He felt himself redden, and despite his best efforts, he literally started to quake in his shoes. Simon knew he was looking guilty, and that knowledge only compounded the circumstances and led to further appearance of guilt.

"Simon Scott!" shouted Miss Harvey. "You deliberately disobeyed me."

Simon sensed that this was the command to confess his guilt in front of the whole school. But he could not do that. Simon knew who was responsible, but dared not look round at Barry Spence. Instead he looked at Miss Harvey and was aware of the younger classes who were stood in front, between Simon and Miss Harvey, turning round to view the object of Miss Harvey's accusation, the sea of silent faces making him even more confused and frightened.

"Miss, it wasn't me," said Simon.

"Do you deny it?" demanded Miss Harvey, angrily. "What is it that wasn't you?"

"Please Miss, it wasn't me that sang Mar Chin."

Miss Harvey lifted her head in triumph.

"I did not say in what way you had disobeyed me, boy. You have just admitted your guilt in front of the whole school, haven't you?"

Simon knew when he was beaten, and just stayed silent, head down, looking at the grey socks of the second year boy standing in front him, and finding time to notice the two green hoops around the tops, and the line of his thigh muscles as his legs disappeared into his grey school short trousers. Then Simon heard Miss Day's voice.

"It was someone here, Miss Harvey, but I'm not sure if it was Simon."

Simon's hopes rose as he heard Miss Day speak up for him, only for them to crash as he heard his enemy's scornful retort.

"Well, Miss Day, I have just heard the boy admit he knew what he had done. We all heard it, didn't we?" she demanded of the school en masse.

"Yes Miss," replied the school dutifully en masse.

Simon looked up to see Miss Harvey's triumphant face, and Miss Day's embarrassed face, downcast. Simon felt grateful for her intervention, but he knew that it was to no avail. For some reason, he knew that it was his role in life to take the blame, and nothing could stop the inevitability of that, not Day, not Daniel, not Mummy.

Miss Harvey picked up her cane, that was never far away and flexed it with both hands.

"Simon Scott, we will deal with you at the end of assembly. Thank you, Miss Smith, verse two again."

The singing started, and Simon noticed that Barry Spence sang MARCHING this time.

The assembly seemed to last an age to Simon. Each time he raised his eyes, Miss Harvey seemed to be watching him. Simon started to cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks in a slow procession.

At the end, after the prayers, in which Miss Harvey called upon the children to love each other for the sake of Lord Jesus, who loved each and every one of them, the dreaded moment arrived.

"Scott! Come out here!"

Simon willed his feet out of their place in the line facing the front of the hall and walked to the side of the hall and slowly down to the front, to stand in front of Miss Harvey. His head hung, looking sideways he could see the children looking at him.

Then Miss Harvey thought of a new way to extend Simon's torment.

"Mrs. Hastings, I think the infants should return to their classes before I administer the punishment."

Simon turned and for a moment his eyes met with those of Mrs. Hastings. Somehow, she managed to convey to him a message of warmth in that brief instant, before she turned and led the infants with their teachers out of the hall.

"Now then, junior school," said Miss Harvey, "it is my unpleasant duty to demonstrate that obedience is the first lesson that must be learnt. Watch and learn yourselves."

Like some spectre of death, the headmistress turned to Simon.

"What have go to say for yourself, boy?"

"Please Miss, it wasn't me," Simon replied, so quietly through his tears that only Miss Harvey could have heard him. Simon wondered as he said it how he got the courage to maintain his defence, despite the overwhelming evidence against him; or was it just desperation to avoid the pain to come? Simon knew she hated him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Certainly, Simon's temerity in maintaining his innocence fired her up now.

"How dare you!" she snapped. "Bend over!"

At the front of the hall, in front of all the juniors, Simon slowly leant forward, feeling the pressure of Miss Harvey's hand on his back until he reached an acceptable angle. He saw Barry Spence smirking and behind his own class, the fourth years, some of them laughing quietly. He sought Daniel's face in vain. If only he could find Daniel, it wouldn't be so bad. He was aware of himself on the stage, in front of the school, as though watching himself. He tried to pretend it was a film.

The first stroke smashed across Simon's bottom, and the pain seared through him. He winced and cried out. One of the little first year girls started to cry. Then Simon saw Daniel at the back, his face impassively rigid as he watched his friend's agony. Simon tried to meet his eyes, but Miss Harvey put paid to that.

"Face down boy!"

Simon turned his head down, shut his eyes and somehow survived the rest of his punishment. As the sixth and final blow fell, he felt dizzy and nearly toppled forward, just managing to stop himself. Slowly he stood up, tears streaming down his face, chest heaving and sobbing, his disgrace for all the junior school to see.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Simon Scott. I assure you that you will tire of your disobedience before I ever tire of trying to reform you. Return to your class."

Simon walked back to where his class were waiting, and then with them back to classroom. As they passed the door to Mr. West's room, he and Miss Day were in conversation.

"The woman's quite mad, you know," Mr. West was saying.

"As the proverbial Hatter," agreed Miss Day, "and as for reform, what a hope! She should try a bit of loving sympathy. She's always had it in for that boy."

Simon did not hear Mr. West's next comment, and he wondered vaguely who they were talking about, but his preoccupation with his pain and disgrace was not conducive to sustained thought on the matter. The conversation between the two teachers did have one effect which was only eventually to worsen matters for Simon. Whilst they were each venting their frustration at Miss Harvey's iron rule on each other, Simon arrived back in his classroom unsupervised, along with the rest of his class.

Cynthia came up to Simon, genuine concern on her face.

"Are you alright, Simon?" she asked.

Simon, touched by the sympathy, felt a further tear roll down his face.

"Softy!" shouted Barry Spence, hoping to provoke further distress in Simon, amid more catcalls from his followers.

Sidney Forth joined in at this point, swept along on the wave of victimisation of Simon.

"Proves he should never have been born, just like Miss Day said," yelled Forth to the class. A roar of approval greeted this announcement, and Forth grinned at his triumph.

Simon, unable to respond to the Spence gang, was suddenly overwhelmed by his anger and frustration. Forth he could respond to, Forth he could attack, and all Simon's fury was streaming up through his body, filling his consciousness, his mind aware only of Forth, and oblivious to all other inputs. He launched himself at Forth, whose idiotic grin of triumph transformed into alarm as he saw the projectile that was Simon coming at him, hatred all over his face.

Simon hit Forth with such force that both boys were carried across the top of Forth's desk, knocking it over, the lid opening as it toppled, smashing off as it hit the ground, ink from the inkwell trickling out onto Forth's strewn books. Simon landed on top of Forth and started hitting him about the face and head as hard as he could, uncaring of the pain caused to his own hands. Blood started to ooze from Forth's face as the boy tried to protect his head from the onslaught as best he could.

Something in Simon sensed that he had done enough, but the anger still needed a further outlet. He turned and saw Forth's books scattered about. His rage returning, Simon picked up an exercise book and ripped it in two, flinging the parts in opposite directions, and stamping and trampling as best he could on the rest of Forth's possessions.

One of the halves of the exercise book landed at the feet of Miss Day, who, hearing the commotion, had hurried from her talk with Mr. West to see what was going on.

"Simon!" she shouted, "what do you think you are doing?" Then she saw Forth's inert form on the floor.

"Sidney, are you all right? Let me look at you," said Miss Day, hurrying over and kneeling by Forth's side.

"I think so, Miss," said Forth, sitting, and then slowly standing up.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss Day, as she started to see the mess created by the fracas, "What has been going on?"

"Miss, he just attacked me," said Forth.

"That's right, Miss," said Spence, and the gang chorused agreement.

"Miss, they were calling Simon names and things," said Cynthia, and Susan and Pamela chimed in with similar comments. Suddenly there was commotion again as the children argued, putting their case.

The silence came quickly, children stopping in mid sentence, as they became aware of another presence in the room. Standing in the doorway, like the personification of evil, was Miss Harvey, still carrying the cane. She spoke with ominous quietness.

"Just what is going on in here, may I ask?"

Miss Day started to speak. "There seems to have been an accident ...."

"Simon Scott attacked Sidney Forth...", chimed in a voice.

Then there were others.

"..and just kept hitting him...made him bleed....they called him names, Miss...smashed the desk...ripped up the books...the others started it...poured ink on his things..."

"Quiet!" snapped Miss Harvey. There was quiet. "Simon Scott, are you responsible for this assault and the damage school property and to Sidney's books?"

Simon remained silent, not daring to say anything. It was all so unfair, so unjust. How is that Spence's lot can get away with anything, but I get caught straight away? She didn't come in when they were being nasty to me, did she?

"Your silence speaks more than your feeble lies and excuses ever could, boy," said Miss Harvey. "As you have just received punishment for disobedience, I shall not cane you again this morning. Instead, you will come to me at playtime this afternoon for punishment. Perhaps in the interim, you might reflect on your future in this school."

Miss Harvey turned and swept out of the room. Most of the class looked at Simon with awe, and fear for what he was due to suffer again so soon. Simon saw Spence looking at him in new way, that Simon could not interpret. Forth was glaring, indignant at his physical defeat, gloating at the prospect of his assailant's torture to come.

Miss Day again spoke. "Come on, now, boys. Pick up the desk. Girls, help Sidney to tidy up his things. Simon, come here please."

Simon went to Miss Day's desk, while the rest of the class busied themselves clearing the debris.

"What happened, Simon?" asked Miss Day, gently.

He knew that she was being sympathetic, sensed too that she disagreed with Miss Harvey in some way, but intuitively knew that she was powerless to help, and the effort of trying to justify his actions to her would change nothing, and was not worth the attempt. He shrugged, and remained silent.

Miss Day knew too that Simon was somehow aware of her impotence in the matter, and that he was ready to talk, if he ever would be. Poor boy, he really got dealt a raw deal in life.

"Go back to your place then Simon," she said, "and maybe we'll talk later." But she knew that they would not. There was no way across the abyss to reach that boy and offer help, even if she knew what help to give. And there was always Miss Harvey, who would never approve.

Simon went back to his seat, among the glances of his classmates, who were looking at him in a new light. Even Barry Spence regarded him with a slightly puzzled face. But Simon could not quell the anger within him. Somehow the outburst had failed to satisfy this new need to lash out, his soul remained unsatiated, the thirst of his frustration unquenched. All the years of insults, taunts and jibes flowed through his mind, fuelling the resentment he felt against Spence, Forth, Miss Harvey and even Miss Day for her inability to help. As the morning's lessons went on, Simon mechanically went through the motions of taking out books, putting books away and so on, but his mind was elsewhere, seething with emotion.

By midday, the desire to escape had become overwhelming. Fear of the caning to come at afternoon playtime drove his feelings upward. There was no hope here, no justice, no protection from persecution. The only way was out.

So Simon took his coat from the peg and instead of joining the dinner line, walked out into the yard and through the gate with the children going home for lunch. Mr. Ashby on the gate made as though to speak to him, but Simon was simply walking with the rest, and he decided that really he had no cause to question Simon. After all, the poor kid had probably had enough, and the last thing he wanted to do was to get him into further trouble with Miss Harvey.

Once in the street, Simon faced a decision. Where to go? Automatically, he headed towards home, and Mummy. But Daddy might be at home, and he would most likely hit Simon for leaving school. For some time, Simon wandered round the streets, past the time when he should have returned to school. No going back now!

17. 1955/10 Truancy and Theft

Simon found himself at a bombsite. Some had now been built on, but this one still had piles of bricks and wood, the remains of someone's home. He wondered if anybody had been killed. He sat for a while, trying to hide among the rubble, but there wasn't enough. Some had been removed. He wandered down to where there were bombed out houses. Some windows still had dirty glass in them. Simon picked up a half brick from the rubble and launched it at a window. The resulting smash was very satisfying and he spent a few minutes throwing stones and smashing in an orgy of broken glass, venting his frustration in the destruction until a man shouted at him. He ran off as fast as he could.

Simon realised that he was hungry. He wandered further and came to the shopping parade, which was fairly busy. Unfortunately, Simon didn't have any money. The newsagent and sweetshop was a natural target for a hungry boy, and Simon went in. Mr. Cole was serving behind the counter, but there were racks of sweets and chocolates on display. Lots of shops were doing that now, so you could choose what you wanted and then take it to the counter to pay for them, instead of having to queue and let Mr. Cole get you what you wanted, item by item. A lady was having some kind of argument with Mr. Cole, and then a man came in and waited impatiently. As the argument about a paper bill progressed, the man got more and more cross. At last he interrupted.

"Could I have a little service round here, please?" he said abruptly.

"Excuse me," said the lady, "but I was here first."

"The way you're going on, you'll be here when the bomb drops, too," replied the man.

"Wait a moment," said Mr. Cole, "there's no need to go off the deep end."

And suddenly the three of them were arguing like mad. Acting on instinct, Simon quickly scooped two Mars Bars and a packet of Refreshers and ran out of the shop back onto the parade. He broke into a run and turned the corner at the end. Heart pounding, he kept running, through the quiet streets, past the allotments. The den! Safety! He ran and lay panting on the soft grass of the den. The passing years had not diminished the importance of the den to Simon. It was not quite the secret place it had once been, because sometimes it was obvious that other people had been there, but Simon was now realistic enough to know that this was only to be expected. It did not reduce the significance it had as the place where he could relax with Daniel, and feel a whole person, accepted for what he was by the one person in the world (apart from Mummy) who he felt treated him with love and care.

Simon lay there elated. Then he started on a Mars Bar. It had been so easy! Just pick it up and run. Simon was sure that Mr. Cole didn't know who he was, and would probably never miss a few sweets from all those others anyway. As he ate, his hunger seemed to grow, and the second bar went the way of the first. Wait till Barry Spence finds out what I've done, thought Simon. That would make him think differently about me. But the impracticality of telling Spence, even if he were believed, tarnished that particular daydream.

Simon peered out from the den. Others may come here, but once in, one was hidden from view, yet had plenty of warning of anybody coming. Ideal place. There was nobody around, nobody in the allotments. Spurred on by his success, Simon climbed from the den and walked down to the allotments. There were one or two small sheds dotted about, mostly rather old and broken down. Simon looked in through the dirty windows at bags of unknown materials, gardening tools, old pairs of gloves and jars of unknown liquids. Coming upon a shed with an unlocked door (many had padlocks) Simon went in. There was the usual assortment of gardening apparatus, and a small bench. Curious, Simon pulled open the drawer set beneath this. Inside was a book about cabbages or something, all soiled from being handled, some cutters, but screwed up beside them was a brown ten shilling note. Ten shillings! Simon could not remember the last time he had held a ten bob note. He thought of what that could buy, and stuffed it into his pocket. Cautiously, he looked round the allotments before quickly leaving the shed and hurrying back to the den.

His heart thumping, Simon felt that same feeling of elation that he had felt earlier. Somehow, the fear itself was exciting, and justified by the success of the venture. The elation and excitement drove out the emotions of anger and frustration, and the success drove away the feelings of inadequacy and helplessness.

After a while, sucking on a Refresher and holding the ten shilling note in his hand he noticed some children on the road at the other side of the allotments. It must be home time. This brought Simon down to earth again. He would have to go home at some time. What would Mummy say about the sweet shop and the ten bob note? He knew of course that he could not tell her. She would not approve and he felt a little ashamed at the betrayal of trust to come. But if Daddy knew, Simon would be well beaten. He never needed much excuse to hit Simon, so with an excuse like stealing (and Simon knew what he had done) the severity of the beating would be limitless. Simon had had enough beating, and the thought reminded him of his own soreness. Looking out again, Simon's heart leapt. Joy of joys! Daniel was walking across the allotments straight towards the den. Simon watched his friend approach with pleasure and happiness driving out the anxiety he had felt as earlier elation and triumph had driven out anger and fear.

"Hiya," greeted Daniel as he clambered into the den, "Thought you'd probably be here. Harvey was steaming when you didn't turn up. When d'you walk out?"

"Dinner time," said Simon, as he tried to put aside thoughts of facing a steaming Miss Harvey. "Have a Refresher."

Daniel took the top one of the pastel coloured sweets from the packet.

"Where'd you get these?" asked Daniel, surprised. Simon rarely if ever had money.

"Parade," said Simon. "I took them, and two Mars bars. But I've eaten them. Dint have any dinner."

"You mean you pinched 'em?" asked an astounded Daniel.

Simon nodded. "And that's not all." Simon held out the ten shilling note.

"D'you pinch that from the shop an'all?" Daniel's jaw literally dropped at this.

"No," said Simon, "from a shed on the allotments. We could have a good time with this."

"I dunno, Simon," said Daniel frowning, "I didn't think you pinched things."

Anxiously, Simon asked, "Not done it before. Are you gonna tell? You wouldn't tell would you?"

"No, course not. Let's have another Refresher." Daniel sat and thought for a moment. "Simon?"

"What?"

"Please don't ever do that again."

"What?"

"Pinch things."

"OK," said Simon lightly.

"No, really. Promise. I mean it."

Simon looked at Daniel. His face was serious, concerned. It reminded him of Mummy's face when she was worried about him. His blue eyes seemed to search his soul, they could see right into him. He knew that this was really important to Daniel.

"OK, I promise," said Simon solemnly.

"Scout's honour?" Daniel had recently joined the scouts and as with everything he did, had thrown himself wholeheartedly into it.

"I'm not in the scouts," countered Simon.

Daniel suddenly seized Simon, glaring at him, angry in a way that Simon hadn't seen before. "That doesn't matter, and you will be when I take you," he shouted, right in Simon's face. "So promise, now! You will never ever pinch things again. Scout's honour!"

Simon was frightened by the strength of Daniel's feeling, by his evident anger, and yet felt the deep concern for him that had evoked it.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I promise. Scout's honour."

This seemed to satisfy Daniel and the mood lightened.

So the two boys sat together eating sweets, and talking about how to spend the huge sum of ten shillings. Daniel was slightly perturbed by this show of initiative on Simon's part, feeling a little insecure that his dominance over his friend might be slipping. He had no need to fear. As soon as he put his arm round Simon, he felt the other relax into the safe haven of his arms, and they lay in the den, as so often before, Daniel enjoying the power over his friend's body he achieved, Simon gladly submitting to his friend's closeness. This, after his triumphs, was true contentment.

18. 1955/10 Retribution at Home

"Good luck," said Daniel outside his house.

"Maybe they won't know," said Simon, optimistically. He waved to Daniel and set off round the corner to his house. With every step his optimism drained away and the fear grew. He opened the side gate as quietly as he could and trod lightly down the side of the house to the back door. He eased it open. He could hear the radio, the Light Programme by the sound of it so probably just Mummy. Relief. He went into the sitting room. Mummy was there.

"Simon! Where have you been?"

Simon said nothing.

"Well? Miss Harvey telephoned and said you had left school at lunchtime. She was worried. Where have you been?"

Simon took a moment to reflect on the idea of Miss Harvey being worried about him. Two faced cow!

"The woods."

"Simon, what on earth is going on? Miss Harvey said you attacked another boy and created havoc in the classroom."

"Well, they're always picking on me. I hate it."

"But Miss Harvey said she can't understand it. The boy you attacked was not like that."

Simon could hardly explain that he had attacked Sidney Forth because he was too scared to attack Barry Spence. He could see now that there was no logic in it, not one that grown ups would understand anyway, not even Mummy. So he turned onto the attack.

"Just shut up about Miss Harvey! I hate her!" And he stormed out of the sitting room and went up to his room, and threw himself on to the bed and buried his face in his hands. He heard a sound and Mummy was there.

"Tell me what happened, darling," said Mummy's worried voice. Simon said nothing, kept his face hidden, but moved his body slightly to show he had heard. He felt Mummy's hand on his shoulder.

"What's the matter?" pursued Mummy. Simon thought, how could he say it? How could he explain how he felt? He couldn't. It was something a grown up just wouldn’t understand.

"Please tell me. I want to help."

Help is what he wanted, but Mummy couldn’t give the kind of help he needed. Murdering Barry Spence would be a good start.

"I was worried about you," said Mummy. Simon felt a pang of guilt about that, but he stayed still.

"I'll have to tell Daddy." What! No! Simon turned round and sat up, revealing his tearstained face to Mummy.

"No, Mummy. Please," said Simon, desperation growing his voice.

"Well, tell me about it," said Mummy entirely reasonably, "and then I can explain to Daddy."

"You wouldn't understand," said Simon.

"Try me," said Mummy with encouragement. But Simon did not know where to begin, let alone end. He just shrugged.

Simon was in bed when Daddy came home late, as so often. He heard Mummy come into the hall.

"Harry, I need to have a word about Simon."

"Why? Now? I'm tired," said Daddy's voice. Daddy often was in a bad temper when he came home late, perhaps too much to drink, perhaps guilt, or a combination. There was a constant feeling in the house of treading on eggshells.

Whatever, it was a cocktail that Simon feared. He lay in bed, his room illuminated gently by light seeping up the stairs from the hall. Their voices disappeared into the sitting room and became muffled. Mummy's voice in a long explanation, rising to placatory tone as she stopped speaking.

"What!" shouted Daddy. That was quite clear. More muffled conversation, and them Daddy's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Go back to bed, Frances," he ordered. It was likely she was coming out to intervene, but Simon thought she would be sticking her nose out to watch the fun. Then Daddy came into his bedroom, turning on the light, making Simon screw his eyes up against the bright light. But he could see Daddy had the slipper in his hand.

"Is this true?" demanded Daddy loudly. Simon said nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing. But nothing was also the wrong thing.

"Well?" insisted Daddy. Simon kept quiet, squinting as his eyes got used to the light.

"Did you attack this other boy and ruin all his work and then run away from school?"

Simon felt he had to speak.

"Yes, but …"

"Never mind 'but'. Out of bed!" Simon knew what was coming and climbed out of bed, resigned to his fate. It seemed that this was somehow his fate and Simon must endure it.

"Bend!" Simon bent. The pain of the leather soled slipper through just his pyjama trousers was intense. Did Daddy know he had already been beaten at school? Would he care? He stepped out of his body and watched himself being hit. It was not him, it was a character in some story; his usual way of coping with unpleasant things. But he cried out in sheer pain, something he rarely did when Daddy beat him because he felt that by keeping quiet, he was in some way winning and denying Daddy his victory. But this was just too much. Daddy stopped, and Simon collapsed to the floor next to his bed, sobbing and heaving.

Daddy, as always failing completely to understand his son, said, "Yes, I should think you are ashamed of yourself. You need to think hard, my lad, about yourself. You'll never amount to anything if you go on like this."

The light went out and the door closed, leaving Simon alone in the dark. After a few moments he walked to the window and pushed the curtains aside to look out. The darkness of the allotments was ringed by lights from the houses, and the dark outline of the spinney could be seen against the night sky. He turned and looked at Daniel's house. His bedroom curtains were drawn but Simon could tell there was a light on. He had a vision of Daniel lying peacefully in his big bed, perhaps reading a book. He so wanted to be in that big bed with him so they could be close and feel Daniel's warmth.

Simon heard his bedroom being slowly opened. He turned, frightened because he was out of bed. But it was Frances, her face peering round the edge of the door. She saw Simon standing by the window and then came in.

"Are you all right?"

Simon realised he wasn't all right. "It hurts." he said and despite all his efforts not to cry in front of his sister, the tears flowed.

"Sssh!" hissed Frances. "What happened?"

"Miss Harvey hates me."

"She hates everybody," muttered Frances, who remembered Miss Harvey well from her time in the juniors.

"She picked on me again and caned me for something Barry Spence did and I got angry and went mad in the classroom" he took a breath "and then she came in and found it all and the others all told her it was me and so she said she was going to cane me again in the afternoon" another breath "and I was fed up and scared so I ran out at dinnertime but of course she phoned Mummy and told her and now she's told Daddy and now this." Simon stopped at last.

"You know Daddy," said Frances. "It's done now, he'll be better in the morning."

"It's all right for you," said Simon. "He never hits you."

"Let him bloody try!" said Frances vehemently.

"He calls you 'Princess'," said Simon.

"Well, it would be odd if he called you that," said Frances, brightly, hugging her little brother. Despite himself, Simon smiled at that.

"See you in the morning," said Frances. Simon nodded, as Frances tiptoed to the door and crept out along the landing to her small room. Simon returned to the window and looked again at Daniel's, trying to penetrate the curtains, imagining that room he knew well, thinking of Daniel. How long he stood there, thinking of his friend, he could not remember, but he realised Daniel's light was out and found himself falling asleep, so he crawled back into bed and back into his own private world. Simon had learnt quickly that life is hard and to retreat into a world of his own construction, using imagination to build a fantasy where he was safe and could express himself without fear of put down. In those days there were no ready made fantasy worlds available on-line or in an electronic box, children had only their imagination to fall back on with whatever tools or toys were to hand.

19. 1955/11 Daddy learns to drive

The Wolseley sadly had gone, although Simon had been a bit puzzled when he and Daniel were in the city with a group of Daniel's friends.

"Stop!" shouted Simon. "Look!" He was looking at a garage with cars for sale in the large windows.

"What's he want?" asked one of the group. They were happy for Simon to tag along, he was no trouble. Often it seemed as if it were a case of no Simon, no Daniel. So Simon came. Simon was pointing at the window.

"Is that the same one?" asked Daniel, suddenly understanding Simon's shout.

"Yes," said Simon. "Look at the number." There in the window was Grandpa Drummond's beautiful Wolseley, freshly polished and gleaming.

"It's his Grandpa's old car," Daniel said to the group in general, who nodded and moved on.

"I'll tell Mummy and maybe she can get it back," said Simon.

"I think she probably already knows," said Daniel. "I remember her saying ages back that it would have to be sold."

"Just seems unfair that somebody else should have it."

"But you've got another car now and your Dad's learning to drive."

"Yes," said Simon with feeling. "More arguments."

"Come on," said Daniel, "let's catch up."

With a last look at the Wolseley, Simon ran after Daniel to rejoin the group.

"Mummy, Mummy!" Simon ran into the house.

"What’s the matter?" said Mummy.

"I know where Grandpa's car is. The Wolseley. We can get it back!"

"What's he talking about?" said Daddy.

"He's seen the Wolseley in the garage I think," said Mummy. Simon nodded – and then thought.

"You already knew?"

"It had to be sold, son," said Daddy. "It was never really ours, and we couldn’t afford to keep it."

"That's right, love," said Mummy. "But we've got the Austin now."

"Good thing too," remarked Daddy, "that Wolseley was a big car to drive."

"You never drove it," said Mummy.

"It's hardly my fault that you could drive and I couldn't, is it," retorted Daddy crossly.

"Hardly my fault either, Harry," Mummy came back.

Simon and Frances exchanged looks. They both knew the warning signs. Simon went up to his bedroom to ride out the storm. It actually subsided more quickly than usual. But driving had become a sore point. Daddy was learning to drive. At first Mummy had tried to teach him but they had argued too much so Daddy had gone to get lessons. It didn't help when Daddy tried to reverse the Austin Somerset off the drive by himself, and had gone backwards straight across the road and through Mr Harrop's garden fence into his pond. The car had had to be fixed, as well as the fence and the pond. The new section of fence opposite the drive was a constant reminder. But Daddy still wanted Mummy to go out with him in the Austin so he could practise.

"I'm sorry, Kate," said Daddy. Simon and Frances peered over the landing banister rail, checking on the state of the quarrel. "Can we go out for a drive, I've another lesson tomorrow?"

"No. What about the children?" said Mummy.

"They'll be all right for half an hour. Frances can look after Simon."

"We'll be OK, Mummy," called Frances unexpectedly.

"There you are," said Daddy.

"Half an hour then," said Mummy. "Be good, children!"

"We will," chorused Frances and Simon. They went downstairs while Daddy tied on the red 'L' plates.

"Why do you always take these off?" said Daddy irritably to Mummy.

"I don't like them on when I'm driving," said Mummy. "and anyway, it's against the law."

"Other people do," said Daddy going to the back of the Austin to tie on the other one.

"I'm not other people," retorted Mummy quickly. At this point Frances nudged Simon, and nodded towards the other side of the road. Mr Harrop was watching the 'L' plates go on warily from over his fence. Frances put her hand up to quash her giggles. Simon tried to suppress his laughter.

"I'll reverse the car off the drive," said Mummy. Mr Harrop's sigh of relief was almost audible the other side of the road. Daddy made no objection and soon the Austin was on the road and Daddy was slowly and cautiously driving off, Mummy, as the law demanded, sitting beside him. Simon ran to the gate to see Daddy make the trafficator arm come out at the corner as he was turning right. He would go past Daniel's house.

"We won't get the Wolseley back, Simon," said Frances kindly.

"It was much bigger and nicer than the Austin."

"Yes, but we have a car now. Most people don't. Maybe if we'd never had Grandpa's car, Daddy would never have bought one."

"Yes, money doesn't grow on trees," said Simon, wearily, but smiling.

Laughing, brother and sister went back into the house.

20. 1956/2 Gramophone

"Jennifer's got a new radiogram."

Frances came in and deposited this news like a lead brick dropped into custard. Simon looked at Mummy, then Daddy, then Mummy again. Mummy wanted to play some records. She liked Frankie Vaughan, and had met him because of her job at the paper. She said he did lots of good for boys' clubs, although Simon wasn't quite sure what they were.

Daddy put down his paper.

"Waste of money," he announced. "Doesn't compare with going to concerts and getting the real sound of the orchestra."

"But you can get pop records to play as well," said Frances, refusing to let the thought of a radiogram out of her head.

"Pop records?" exclaimed Daddy. "Rubbish. Call that noise music?"

Frances realised her tactics had been wrong. "You can buy proper music records too, Daddy," she smiled at him.

Daddy smiled back. He called Frances his little princess.

"Yes, darling, but we already have a radio and there's the Third Programme. And of you want to hear that awful noise that you like, you can hear it on the Light programme." Daddy picked up his paper.

Simon thought it was time to help. "Daniel's got a new bike for passing his eleven plus. He's going to go to Henrys. If I pass, can we have a radiogram then, Daddy?"

"What Daniel gets is up to his parents. It's nothing to do with what goes on here," retorted Daddy sharply from behind the newspaper.

Frances glared at Simon for his unhelpful intervention. "Daddy. Please!" Frances tried again. The paper was lowered.

"No. We can't afford it. Money doesn't grow on trees."

How often had we heard that. Mummy wanted a new sofa, but money doesn't grow on trees. The sitting room needed a new carpet, but money doesn't grow on trees. The stair carpet actually had holes it – but money doesn't grow on trees.

"You always say that," said Frances crossly. Simon looked in awe, waiting for the explosion that would surely follow this backchat, as Daddy called it. But Frances could get away with it, she always did. There was no explosion. Daddy simply got up and left the room. Both Simon and Frances looked at Mummy. She had said nothing during this exchange.

"Don't worry, loves," she said, "I've an idea."

The idea matured a couple of weeks later. Daddy was going to be late, as usual, and Mummy came home with a large black box. She set it down on the table, and then produced another bag. The black box had a catch on the side and a lid. It also had a hole in the side with a square thing in it.

"What is it?" Frances asked. Mummy smiled, and undid the catch, and lifted the lid.

"A radiogram!" shouted Simon.

"Don't be silly," said Frances. "Radiograms are big. It's a gramophone."

It was undeniably a gramophone. There was a turntable and a needle arm and a big hole where the sound would come out. The function of the hole on the side now became clear. It was to wind it up.

Simon was jumping and down, excited. "Come on then, let's play it. How do you play it?"

"I thought you might ask that," said Mummy smiling even more at her children's happiness. She reached for the other bag and took out some records. There were some twelve inch records of Eine kleine Nachtmusik and a couple of ten inch records – Frankie Vaughan! Soon the music was basting out.

There's an old piano and they play it hot behind the green door!

Mummy grabbed Simon and Frances by the hands and they danced round the room, hand in hand in a small circle, filling the sitting room.

Soon Simon was swaggering round the room, mimicking Frankie Vaughan from the television,

Give Me The Moonlight Give Me The Girl, and leave rest, ho ho ho, to me.

Mummy and Frances were laughing at Simon's impersonation. Mummy, Frances and Simon, happy together, forgetting the outside world. Mummy was smiling, so Simon kept on clowning. They played Green Door again and Simon was kicking his legs up in imitation of Frankie Vaughan. Mummy was laughing now. Simon wanted to keep the moment going forever.

"I think we'd better pack it way now, darlings," said Mummy. "Daddy will be home soon," she added by way of explanation. No further explanation was needed. Simon knew that Daddy would think it was a waste of money, even though Mummy had bought it herself from her job with the newspaper and radio. But nobody wanted the confrontation that would ensue. So the gramophone was packed away.

Slowly the record collection built up, and Simon would listen to the records, sometimes alone, as long he remembered to change the needle every two records. They came in small tin boxes of a hundred. Simon even got to listen to the Mozart and grew to like it. Apart from the music Daniel played for him on the piano, it was his first introduction to classical music, a taste which lasted a lifetime. But Noël Coward (Señorita Nina, from Argentina) and Phil Harris (Dark Town Poker Club and Woodman Spare that Tree) were favourites.

There were a couple of close calls. One evening they were all four sitting watching the television. Suddenly Daddy said, "What's that?" He was looking at the worn carpet. Simon followed the direction of the look. There, catching the light, was a gramophone needle. Daddy started to get up, but quick as a flash, Frances jumped up and picked it up.

"It's mine," she said. "It's from my needlework set," she added, thinking quickly to forestall the inevitable question. Daddy sat down again and looked again at the television. Simon, Frances and Mummy exchanged glances. Mummy winked at Frances, Frances glared at Simon, who in her mind almost certainly had dropped the needle.

Daddy very often stayed out late, ostensibly late at work. Mummy used to cry sometimes and Simon hated it when Mummy cried. Frances got upset sometimes too and tried to comfort Mummy. Only later did Simon find out what they both already knew, that Daddy wasn't working late, but playing late, with a series of lady friends. He must have cut a dash, the minor war hero, good looking, a prestigious job. Any job with the BBC was prestigious but Simon gathered Daddy was some kind of boss. This of course, as he later found, was the cause of the diversion of so much of his ample salary, and of Mummy's developing drive for financial independence.

They were playing the gramophone one winter evening, it was only eight o'clock when suddenly Mummy lifted the needle.

"Sshh!" she commanded.

They listened, and heard the sound of the side gates being opened and the car engine running. Panic set in.

"Quick!" said Mummy. Hastily, they started packing up the records.

"Simon, the needle box! Frances, put the television on."

Simon grabbed the box and put it in its place under the lid. The television started to warm up. The car moved down the side of the house. Frances was packing up the records, Mummy closed the lid on the gramophone. She heaved it off the table and rushed to the cupboard where it hid behind mundane stuff. The back door opened. Frances pushed the records behind the settee. Would the television warm up in time? Please, hurry up! Daddy was in the hall, taking off his coat. The sound was now coming from the television, but the picture wasn't there yet. Footsteps, but going up the stairs. While they heard the toilet flush and the taps run, the picture came on. They sat back in their accustomed seats to watch it. Daddy came in.

"Hello, darling," said Mummy brightly. "Finished earlier than expected?"

"Yes," said Daddy. "McLaren has to go to London early in the morning to see the DG."

The DG came up occasionally in conversation, and was usually spoken about in reverent terms. Simon's DG was Daniel Gray of course, but he wasn't sure who this DG was, but Daddy knew and had met the DG, who he was sure was a Very Important Man. So this was obviously a good reason for the meeting to finish early.

Daddy sat down as Mummy got up.

"I'll get us some supper then," she said. The crisis had passed.

21. 1956/5 Daniel's new potency

It was a fine Spring Saturday afternoon, Daniel was back from swimming club and the two were out walking, going nowhere in particular, but heading for the Parade. Daniel jumped onto a wall and started to walk along the top in typical daredevil fashion, his feet now level with Simon's shoulders, who ever cautious had stayed safely on the ground.

"Careful. You'll fall off and break your neck," said Simon.

"Like Bert Trautmann. He played in the Cup Final with a broken neck."

"Only the last bit though, wasn't it?" said Simon, who didn't follow sports as closely as Daniel, mainly because he wasn't any good at sports, and Daniel was.

"That's enough though," said Daniel. "He was a paratrooper and you have to be brave to do that. Won medals."

"Yes, but that was for the Germans."

"So? Still got to be brave, haven't you?"

"S'pose so," admitted Simon, who thought Daniel was brave.

Daniel had now reached the end of the wall and contemplated how to get down. Simon stopped. "How're you going to get down?" he asked.

"Jump," said Daniel. And he did, landing next to Simon, laughing. They came to the Parade.

"Got any money?" asked Daniel. Simon shook his head. "I've got a bit, come on," Daniel continued, heading for the newsagent and sweetshop. Simon hung back.

"What if Cole's in there?"

"He probably will be, it's his shop," said Daniel. Then remembering why Simon was cautious, he went on, "It'll be OK. It was months ago. He won't even remember you, even if he noticed at the time."

Simon moved reluctantly forward.

"Come on, I'll be with you," urged Daniel. Reassured by that confirmation, Simon walked into Cole's shop behind Daniel. They looked at the sweet display, which brought back uncomfortable memories for Simon. He felt Mr Cole looking at him intently, although in fact Mr Cole was busy helping a man settle his paper bill. Only when that was done did Mr Cole turn to the boys; without a trace of recognition, he smiled at them.

"Well boys, what are you after?" he said in a friendly manner, which made Simon feel even more guilty about having stolen from him six months earlier.

"Refreshers or Spangles?" asked Daniel of Simon.

"Refreshers."

Daniel bought a packet of refreshers and they left the shop, to Simon's relief.

"See, it was OK. I bet he never noticed the stuff you pinched, or that it was you if he did."

"S'pose so," said Simon, "I've stayed out since."

"Well, now you can go in again. Come on, let's try the den. I've got something to tell you."

"What? Is it about school?" Simon knew that Daniel, being clever, had passed his eleven plus exam and in September would not be at the juniors with him but at the posh grammar school, King Henry VII Grammar School for Boys, but known locally as the Hooray Henrys, a nickname originally given by those who had failed to attend, but now adopted by the Henrys kids themselves. There was a technical grammar school in the city, but Hooray Henrys was the elite.

"No, I'll tell you in the den. It's that kind of thing," said Daniel mysteriously. The two boys made their way to the den, approaching carefully in case anybody else was around. They pushed their way in through the bushes to find the den empty. They sat down on the grass and looked out, nobody was around. Daniel carefully broke the Refresher packet in half and gave one part to Simon.

"Thanks," said Simon. "So, what is it then?"

"I can come," said Daniel, looking to gauge Simon's reaction.

"Where to?" said Simon.

"No," said Daniel, "I mean come off, get spunk."

"How do you know?" asked Simon, stupidly.

"How do you think, idiot?" But Daniel was smiling. Simon flushed at his silliness.

"When did it happen?"

"Thursday. I was going to tell you yesterday, but never got the chance at school and I was at Scouts last night."

"What's it like?" asked Simon, his curiosity about this new facet of Daniel's body enlivening him.

"Scouts? It's good," said Daniel.

"No, now you're the idiot. I mean what's it feel like?"

"It feels fantastic. It's like this great feeling goes right down your cock and round your body, and the spunk comes up."

Simon looked in awe at his friend, aware that at nearly twelve this was a new phase in Daniel's life.

Daniel put his arm round Simon. "I was thinking about you, and that made it come," he said.

"About me?" said Simon, surprised.

"Who else? I was thinking about us, what we do and that."

Simon felt pleased that he had been a part of Daniel's feat, and that, coupled with his present closeness, spurred him on. "Do you want to now?" he asked.

Daniel nodded, and checked their surroundings again. "All clear," he said, and they quickly took off their clothes.

As they started to feel each other's warm bodies, Simon noticed Daniel's arousal and took it in his hand.

"I love doing this with you, Simon," said Daniel.

"Me too," said Simon, thinking of the warmth and comfort it gave him, tempered now a bit by nervousness at this new development that Daniel had revealed.

Daniel responded in kind to Simon's touch, and they continued to caress and stimulate.

Then Daniel stopped stroking Simon but said, "Don't stop now, Simon."

Simon carried on, he could feel the mounting tension in Daniel, his hardness increasing until suddenly, with a sigh, the precious liquid was there, Daniel's moist blue eyes looking into Simon's. Daniel's tension subsided, Simon let go.

"It's better when you do it," said Daniel, using his hanky to wipe himself with.

"I'll do it again, if you like," said Simon.

"Not now," said Daniel. "It takes time to make some more. But you can next time."

"Why is it better?"

"Coz you're there, doing it, I s'pose," said Daniel. "It's like – " He tried to find the words – "like a fire, a fire down below that spreads all over."

Simon started to sing a sea shanty he knew from school.

"Fire! fire! fire down below;

Fetch a bucket of water, boys, There's fire down below! "

Daniel laughed, and joined in. The two stayed for a while, talking, lying close. Simon now aware of something new in Daniel's body, a new power that intrigued and fascinated him, for he knew that he too in time would undergo this transformation. But for the time being he revelled in the new potency of his friend and wondered what it might mean for their friendship.

They heard the voices of some kids in the spinney. To be on the safe side, they got dressed and left the den, walking back across the allotments.

"You won't tell anyone, will you," said Daniel.

"I never have."

"I mean about me, now. Spunk and that."

"Course not. They might ask how I know."

"Good. Come on then." Daniel burst into song, sheer exuberance and happiness radiating from him. Simon joined in, their singing loud and clear in the sunshine.

"Fire! fire! fire down below;

Fetch a bucket of water, boys, There's fire down below!

There's fire in the fore-top, fire in the main,

Fire in the windlass and fire in the chain

Fire! fire! fire down below;

Fetch a bucket of water, boys, There's fire down below! "

22. 1956/6 Church Parade 17/6/56

"Will you come? Please?" Daniel looked at Simon sitting on his big bed, hoping for the answer he wanted. Daniel had been going to Scouts on Friday nights for some time and often would talk to Simon at the weekend about it, as well as his triumphs – usually – at the swimming club on Saturday morning, also demonstrating his growing prowess at the piano. Simon had nothing similar about which to tell Daniel, but it didn't seem to matter. But now Daniel was asking him to go to Church the next day, because the scouts were having a church parade and he was carrying the Union Flag when they marched into church and when they marched out. Daniel wanted his best friend there.

"I'm carrying the Union Flag. It's an honour to be picked, you know." Since joining scouts, Daniel had never referred to the Union Jack and corrected Simon if he did. Simon was unsure.

"Well, make sure it's the right way up then," joked Simon. He had never thought about there being a right way and wrong way up for the flag until Daniel had pointed it out. Now, when out in the city or on their bikes, if they saw one flying upside down, they would go and point this out to the owners, who were often disbelieving.

"Course it will be. Well? My parents are going, maybe Louise. You can sit with them if yours aren't going."

The prospect of his parents going together to church struck Simon as odd. Mummy he knew didn't like the church because of something that had happened before he was born, Daddy just said he had seen enough in the war to know there was no God. Simon found that disturbing because he was sure deep down that God was real, and anyway Daniel said he was.

"OK then," said Simon, smiling. Daniel returned the smile and gave Simon a hug.

"Mummy, I'm going to church in the morning."

"Oh? What's brought this on?" asked Mummy.

"The Scouts are having a parade and Daniel is carrying the Union Flag."

Frances looked up from her tea. "For a moment I thought my little brother had found Jesus. But it's just Daniel after all."

Simon chose to ignore that. "Can I, Mummy?"

"I expect so, I'd better make sure you've got clean clothes. You don't want me to come with you, do you?" At this Frances looked up sharply.

But Simon recoiled from the idea. "No, it's OK, Mummy. Daniel's Mummy and Daddy are going, so I can sit with them I expect." Frances resumed her tea.

"Fine then, dear. You had better wear a shirt and tie."

Simon accepted this as the price of going, and anyway he wasn't sure what one wore at church, so he was prepared to be guided by Mummy on this one.

"Are you going to come with me? We've got to meet half an hour before, but you could watch," asked Daniel. Simon, spruced up, had gone round to Daniel's in good time.

"Do that if you want to, Simon," said Mrs Gray. "We'll come down a bit later."

"OK then," said Simon, whose eyes were firmly on Daniel, dressed in his scout uniform. Simon had seen Daniel in uniform before, but somehow today, freshly ironed, it seemed to invest him with a new authority, somehow emphasising Daniel's new potency.

"Super!" said Daniel, and went through to the hall mirror to make final adjustments to his uniform, making sure the neckerchief was even and positioning his beret correctly. He turned back to Simon. "How do I look?"

"Perfect," said Simon, wishing he too could look as good. But Daniel had a natural poise that meant he looked good in the scruffiest clothes. In his uniform to Simon the effect was stunning.

"I was supposed to get my hair cut, so I hope Skip isn't cross," said Daniel. In the heyday of short back and sides, Daniel had his hair a bit longer. It brushed his ears and just reached down to his collar, thick and dark. Simon thought Daniel's hair was good, and wished he could let his grow a bit more. Daniel took pains with his appearance, and Simon knew there was no way he would ever have a short back and sides.

The two walked down over the footbridge to the church. Simon felt a bit nervous because there were several other scouts there, all bigger boys, but they knew Daniel.

"Hiya Daniel. Who's this?" asked a bigger boy who had two white bars on his shirt pocket.

"Simon. He's my friend and he's going to join when he's old enough."

Daniel had said this before and Simon knew it was true. The day he was eleven, he would join and follow in Daniel's footsteps. So he just nodded.

"You'll be very welcome. We'll have you in Harriers if we can," said the boy moving off to talk to some others.

"That's Miles Evans, my Patrol Leader," said Daniel, proudly, "and Harriers is my patrol. He's at Henrys, where I'm going. Be good if we could be in the same patrol."

"Troop, fall in!" came a shouted command. Simon looked round to see more scouts now, and two men also in scout uniform. But the order had come from a big boy, who Simon noticed had three bars on his shirt pocket, the middle one went under his scout badge.

"That's John Riley, the troop leader. I'm going to be troop leader one day, just you wait. Watch me, won't you?" said Daniel as he left.

"Bearers, over here?" called the Troop Leader. Most of the scouts were getting into lines, each patrol together but Daniel and another boy went over to the Troop Leader and were given leather straps to wear over their shoulders with a little pocket hanging in front. Then the two flags were brought out, a large green flag with the scout badge and the name and number of the scout troop on it, and a large Union Flag. Daniel took the latter and raised it into the air and dropped the end of the pole into the leather pocket, the strap taking the weight. Daniel and the other flag bearer took up position in front of the whole scout troop. Simon, along with a crowd that had now gathered, watched bewitched by the sight of the boys all lined up, silent now, disciplined and waiting for instructions. Simon wished he were eleven already. The only sound was the fluttering of the two flags in the breeze, until they were startled by the church bells pealing out. But the boys all held ranks and then listened as final instructions were given out by one of the scoutmasters. The scouts all came to attention, then stood at ease again.

"Hello, Simon, shall we go in?" It was Mrs Gray, Mr Gray with her. Simon nodded and they went into the church. They found a seat a few rows back and waited. Simon was given a hymn book.

Then everybody stood and the cross entered followed by the choir and the vicar. But then came the Scouts, led by the two flag bearers, holding their flags up at matching angles as they moved between the pews. Daniel was looking straight ahead, head held high. He looked glorious. The flags were placed at the altar as the scouts filed into the pews reserved for them, and Daniel took his seat at the front. Only then did he permit himself to look round for his parents and Simon. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other, then Daniel turned back.

The service didn't mean a lot to Simon, the hymns weren't ones he knew from school, but he followed it, overawed by the sense of occasion and the majesty of the ceremony in this ancient building. There was a moment of embarrassment for Simon as the collection plate was passed round and he had no money, but Mrs Gray said it was all right.

There was a pause, and then the choir came out and knelt along the altar rail. The Vicar gave each one something, and Simon was close enough to hear the words. "The body of Christ keep you in eternal life". Another person followed with a silver cup, from which each one drank to the words, "The blood of Christ keep you in eternal life." It seemed magical to Simon. Then Daniel was on his feet and with the other flag bearer, leading the scouts to kneel at the altar rail. Simon strained to watch and listen. Daniel was not offered the bread or wine, but bowed his head. The vicar placed his hand on Daniel's dark hair, saying, "Daniel, The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

Simon heard Daniel say "Amen." The vicar knew Daniel's name! Daniel stood up and turned. He looked so serious, thought Simon. And so special. Simon looked at Mrs Gray next to him. She was smiling with pleasure and when she saw Simon looking at her, she smiled again. "He's done well, hasn't he?" she whispered. Simon just nodded, not trusting himself further.

But now the scouts were leaving the rail, one or two receiving the bread and wine, most having received a blessing, although few by name like Daniel. The organ was now playing and the rest of the people were now going out and it was their row's turn.

"Are you coming out with me, Simon?" said Mrs Gray. Simon's first reaction was to stay where he was, but something made him say yes. "Just keep your hands by your side when the priest gets to you," she advised.

They knelt at the altar rail, Simon next to Mrs Gray, Mr Gray beyond her. The priest came along the line, placing the wafer on the hands of each person, with the same words, "The body of Christ keep you in eternal life". It was Mrs Gray's turn and Simon tried to watch without turning his head, but also aware of Daniel sitting back in his front pew, not far behind him. He knew Daniel would be watching him and didn't want to let him down.

The vicar stood before Simon, hesitated slightly but Simon, copying Daniel, kept his head bowed and his hands by his side. He felt the vicar's hand on his head, as it had been on Daniel's.

"The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace," said the vicar, then raising his hand moved on. Simon felt a delicious tingle of warmth spread from his head down his body. He stayed still, drinking in the strange feeling of contentment that this had given him.

"The blood of Christ keep you in eternal life." Mrs Gray was sipping from the cup, so Simon kept his head bowed and the person passed by to the grown up next to him on the other side. After a moment, Mrs Gray gently nudged him, and they stood up to go back to their pew. There was Daniel, smiling at them. Simon smiled back, pleased.

After a further hymn, one Simon did know and which he sang out loud feeling happy inside, it was the end of the service. Solemnly, Daniel and the other flag bearer approached the altar and the flags were placed in their holders. The two scouts turned to face the congregation, and marched back through the church, the scouts falling in behind them as they passed the end of each scout filled pew. Then the choir and the vicar left and the people started going out, Simon among them. The scouts were outside in their silent ordered ranks, the two flag bearers in front. The Troop Leader shouted commands and the Scouts all turned left. Then they set off marching now two abreast round the church yard, led by the flags.

"Left. Left. Left right left," called John Riley rhythmically every so often to keep the whole troop in step. Simon watched, his eyes fixed on Daniel, the breeze whipping the flags out straight. The Scout flag bearer had a slight problem with the wind, but Daniel managed to keep the Union Flag rock steady, although Simon could see his right arm tensed with the effort. The troop moved away round the other side of the church.

"Where are they going?" he asked Mrs Gray.

"They always take the flags right round the church," she said. Simon didn't question why, ritual was a part of the whole occasion. He ran round the church the other way to meet them. There was the troop, marching in disciplined order towards him along the gravel path, the two flags at the head. Daniel looked very serious again, immersed in his duty to carry the Union Flag as best he could. Simon kept pace, along with some other kids, as the troop marched back to the starting point.

"Troop ….. Halt!" called the Troop Leader. All the scouts stopped, almost as one.

"Troop …..Right turn!" All the scouts turned right so that instead of being in two long columns, they were now in two rows, facing John Riley and the Scoutmasters.

"Troop, stand at …ease!" ordered the Troop Leader. The scouts stood legs astride, hands behind their backs, except Daniel and the other boy who had to keep hold of their flags. The scoutmaster spoke to them, saying how well they had done and that they were a credit to the troop, to scouting and to the country. After that he nodded to John Riley.

"Troop atten … SHUN!" The scouts came to attention.

"Troop, Dismiss!" The scouts turned right, paused and then scattered, each looking for his own family or friend. The two flag bearers took out the flags, furling them carefully and removed the leather belt. The scoutmaster took the flags and put them in the back of his estate car.

"Well done, you two," he said. "Very good, especially you Daniel, your first time."

"Thanks Skip," said Daniel. He then turned to his parents and Simon.

"Glad that went OK," he said. "I was scared stiff of dropping it or going the wrong way."

"Well, it didn't show," said Simon. He wanted to say more, but was aware of Daniel's parents.

"Well done Daniel, you really looked the part, I'm proud of you" said Mr Gray.

"Thanks Dad," said Daniel warmly.

They walked back home, but the two boys hung back to talk.

"What did you think, Simon?" asked Daniel. It occurred to Simon that it really mattered to Daniel what he thought. He need not worry.

"You were super. The best there. And I am going to join as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Simon," said Daniel with as much warmth as he had thanked his Dad a few minutes before. "And when you join, I'll promise to get Skip to put you in the same patrol as me."

Fourteen months later, Daniel kept that promise.

23. 1956/8 One way train ride

Simon ran round the corner to Daniel's. He was later than usual, so he had an idea. He had brought all his pocket money with him and a bar of chocolate.

"I'm sorry, Simon," said Mrs Gray at the back door, "Daniel's out. Some boys came for him about half an hour ago."

"Oh," said a crestfallen Simon. "Do you know where they've gone?"

"I don't, I'm afraid. They may have gone to the swimming baths, but I'll tell him you called."

"Thank you, Mrs Gray," said Simon politely. He turned away disconsolately. He had no desire to follow Daniel to the swimming baths. Daniel was a brilliant swimmer and won races and that, but Simon knew his own limitations. He walked slowly out onto the pavement again, wondering what to do now. He felt cross he had been late, really just through not getting a move on. And now Daniel had gone off with some other friends. Well, decided Simon, that would not stop him. He was going anyway. Simon was interested in trains and the latest thing was diesel trains. The new two carriage, DMUs, or Diesel Multiple Units were now running on local lines and Simon had wanted he and Daniel to try one out. He had even bought a new Ian Allan Railway book. So, Daniel would have to miss it.

With renewed determination, he set off down the hill to the main road. He crossed the road carefully to the bus stop. It was not long before a bus came and naturally he ran to get an upstairs seat. He often wondered why, with so many people upstairs, especially in the mornings going to school, and so few downstairs, the bus didn't topple over. Automatically he paid the conductor and stuffed the little square ticket into his pocket. He let the school bus stop pass and the bus carried on to the city centre. At the Railway station he got off.

The station was big and busy, but not strange to Simon. He wandered along the platforms, looking for a DMU train that would leaving soon. Coulton-in-the-Bottom. What a funny name for a place. It must be very strange to live in Coulton-in-the-Bottom. He imagined a conversation:

"And where to you live?"

"Coulton-in-the-Bottom."

"Oh dear, that must be very uncomfortable."

Simon was curious about Coulton-in-the-Bottom and there seemed to be a train leaving soon that would call there. He ran to the ticket office and asked how much it was to Coulton-in-the-Bottom. Luckily he just had enough. Clutching the precious little card in his hand, he went back to the platform and ran towards the waiting DMU.

"Hold on there, son!" Simon realised that meant him. He turned to where the ticket inspector was standing by the gate he had just run through. "Have you got a platform ticket? You need one to be train spotting."

"No," said Simon, pleased, "I've got a proper ticket." He held out the little piece of stiff card that was the valued ticket. The inspector took it and punched a funny shaped hole in it.

"Mind how you go, son," said the inspector, mollified.

Simon ran to the train, keen to get a seat up front. There were few people on the train. Perhaps nobody wanted to go to Coulton-in-the-Bottom thought Simon. But he got a seat right at the front and sat to the right. The driver would be sitting to the left in his cab in front, but Simon would have a clear view through the windows. He waited impatiently.

At last the driver came in and seemed to Simon to take an age to get ready. But then he started the engines. Simon could feel the power somewhere beneath his feet. With a hoot from its siren, the train started to move. Simon was thrilled. He could see everything the driver could see, the track ahead, the points and signals as the train navigated its way out of the station and on to its chosen track. Through the city it went. Simon wondered why cities always looked so ugly from the railway lines. They took care to make the roads into the city look nice, why not the view from the train?

Then out of the city and into the countryside, the train hurrying along, under bridges, the occasional level crossing, mostly with nobody waiting, but at one there was a long queue of cars and lorries. Simon felt exalted as he whisked past, they all waiting for his train. Simon watched fascinated as a station came into view and the train slowed. He had never seen a train coming into a station from the driver's view before. Suddenly there was the platform alongside and the train stopped. It was a village station and a few people got on, one or two got off. Then the stationmaster's whistle and they were off again, the green fields and woods rushing past. The village stop was repeated a couple of times before the train started to come into a larger town. This, Simon knew, was Coulton-in-the-Bottom. He watched as the train came into the station, waiting as long as he could before leaving his seat, so as not to get caught on the train when it continued its journey.

"On your own, son?" asked the ticket inspector at the barrier.

"Yes," said Simon, showing his ticket. Then he went out to experience the strangeness of Coulton-in-the-Bottom.

The thrill of anticipation waned as Simon walked around the town. It all seemed so ordinary. Ordinary buildings. Ordinary people doing ordinary things. A bit disappointed that Coulton-in-the-Bottom was not rather less ordinary, Simon sat on a seat in the Market Square that seemed to be the centre of Coulton-in-the-Bottom and ate his chocolate bar. He had intended to share it with Daniel, but as he wasn't there, he ate the whole bar himself.

At last, Simon had to admit to himself that Coulton-in-the-Bottom had lost whatever aura of mystery it may once have held. Time to go home.

At this, a sudden fear gripped Simon. He didn't have enough money! In his rush to get to Coulton-in-the-Bottom and delve into its secrets, he had completely overlooked the need to have enough fare for both ways. Panic started to set in and he felt lost and alone. What to do? He sat for a moment and then an idea came to him. Mummy always said that the policeman was his friend, that if ever he was in trouble, to find a policeman. Simon had a great respect for policemen, although the only one he knew personally was Daniel's Daddy. And that could be useful now, thought Simon.

He looked around. Not a policeman in sight. A lady walking a dog came past his seat.

"Excuse me," chimed Simon, "Please can you tell me where the police station is?"

"You see the church over there? Well, the police station is just round the corner. Are you all right, little boy?" said the lady. Simon resented the 'little boy' part, but remembered to be polite.

"I'm fine, thank you, and thank you for telling me the way." With renewed confidence, Simon set off in the direction indicated. Sure enough, there was the police station, a red brick building with stone steps and the usual blue lamp outside. He marched in.

Once at the counter inside, with a large policeman looking down at him, Simon's confidence started to ebb.

"Excuse me, but I haven't got enough money to get home." Under questioning from the sergeant, the story came out. The sergeant started laughing, and two other policemen came to join in, once they had been told the story.

"Well now, young lad," we'll have to see what to do with you."

"A night in the cells for being silly, do you think, Sarge?" said one of the policeman. Simon gulped, but then realised this was a tease. He plucked up courage to play his ace.

"I know a policeman at home," he said. "He's a high up one." Simon struggled to remember the rank. "He's a Chief something," he ended lamely.

"Chief Constable no doubt," said the sergeant, not very impressed with Simon's failed name dropping.

"Chief Super, maybe?" guessed the other policeman.

"Yes, that's it."

"And who might that be then?" asked the sergeant. It dawned on Simon he didn't know Daniel's Daddy's first name.

"Mr Gray," he said.

"Ah, Chief Superintendent Gray, city division," said the sergeant. Simon was satisfied that the connection had been made. "Come on then, young lad, I expect you're hungry." He lifted up part of the counter and took Simon through. "Better let your mother know where you are. You say you're on the phone at home?"

Simon nodded and gave the number. Ponderously, the sergeant dialled the operator and then asked for the city number that was Simon's. He heard Mummy's voice and felt really stupid while the sergeant explained what had happened. He was handed the phone.

"Simon? Are you all right?"

"Yes, Mummy. I'm at the police station but I've not been locked up or anything, but you always said if I was in trouble to go to the police so I did – "

"It's all right darling," Mummy said, "Now that I know you're safe."

"OK, Mummy. Here's the sergeant again." He gave the receiver back to the sergeant.

"Mrs Scott? … yes of course … We've a car coming to the city shortly, so it's no trouble … Good bye."

Simon was given a sandwich and a drink of orange squash. Soon it was time to go. A policeman he had not met yet, wearing a cap, not a helmet, gave him a box of papers to carry.

"Follow me, Simon," he said cheerily. "We're going for a ride." They went out of the back of the police station to a yard where a couple of police cars were parked. Simon put the box of papers on the back seat of one, as instructed, and the policeman put several more there. Then, Simon in the front next to the policeman, they set off.

"Can we make the bells ring?" asked Simon

"Only if we have to chase some robbers," said the policeman, so Simon started to look for robbers, until it occurred to him the policeman was joking. They chatted a bit as the car drove back to the city. Simon thought being in a police car was great fun. One or two people looked. Simon felt important.

"I think I'll take you home first," said the driver. "I expect your mother will be worrying about you."

As the car turned off the main road, Simon looked out for any boys he knew, anxious for his status to be recognised, best of all Daniel. But nobody was about.

"Here you are, Mrs Scott," said the policeman, "one errant child delivered."

"Thank you so much," said Mummy.

Once the policeman had gone, Mummy turned to Simon.

"What did you think you were doing, Simon?"

"I wanted to ride on one of the new diesel trains, and I wanted to go to Coulton-in-the-Bottom. Just to see what it's like."

"Well, now you know. I don't know what your father will say." Simon was gripped by fear.

"Please Mummy, don't tell Daddy. He'll be cross."

"I'll see what mood he's in when he comes home." Simon had to accept that.

"Can I go round to see if Daniel's in?"

"Oh yes, he called round about an hour ago. But don't be long. Tea will be ready soon."

Simon ran round and knocked on Daniel's back door. To his surprise, Mr Gray opened it. He was wearing his police uniform.

"Ah, the intrepid explorer," he said, smiling. "Come in. Daniel's upstairs I think."

Simon went to Daniel's bedroom. His friend was there.

"What happened?"

Simon explained the whole story, Daniel listened, chuckling. When Simon said he felt important in the police car, Daniel pointed out that people would probably think he was a bad boy who had been arrested.

"Simon, you're such an idiot," he said, and then gave him a hug. But Simon was happy.

24. 1956/9 School without Daniel

It was the last Saturday morning of the school summer holidays, September already, and it was raining. Simon was reading in his bedroom trying to take his mind off school next week. He would be fourth year so that meant he would be in one of the oldest classes, but Daniel would not be there anymore. The prospect of facing up to the Spence gang without Daniel, never mind Miss Harvey whose dislike of Simon remained tangible, was frightening. Daniel had of course passed his eleven plus exam, which meant he was going to the Hooray Henrys grammar school. Most of the other kids who didn't pass went to Victoria Road Secondary Modern School. As Simon was still struggling at school and getting extra help, especially with arithmetic, he was trying to face up to the fact that he would too, and despite Daniel's confidence that he would follow him to Hooray Henrys, Simon knew in his heart he would fail and have to go to Victoria Road, probably with all the Spence gang. Simon's stomach churned at the thought of his future schooling from this point on.

He was looking forward to the afternoon when Daniel would be back from his swimming club. So he carried on reading. One thing that had improved a lot was his reading, and he was devouring the 'Famous Five' books. They were derided by many, but Simon loved them. He so wanted to be like them, a group of friends and he also wanted a dog, like Timmy, but Daddy said No. They cost too much and would need too much looking after.

Simon suddenly felt the presence of somebody. He turned to look and for a moment could not take in what he saw. It was Daniel in his bedroom doorway, leaning against the side, looking somehow taller and elegant, one leg straight, the other crossing at the ankle with a natural grace, smiling at him. But it was what he was wearing that had the most effect. Daniel was wearing his brand new Hooray Henrys school uniform, the green blazer with the colourful embroidered coat of arms on the pocket, the white shirt with the school tie, and long, dark grey trousers. All crisp and new. And long school trousers! Suddenly Daniel looked so much older than the twelve years old he would be on Monday. Simon was awestruck.

"What do you think?" Daniel stood up and advanced into the bedroom, stopped and twirled around, facing Simon again.

"You look fantastic!" said Simon, admiring his friend.

Daniel smiled happily. "I had to beg Mum to let me come round with it on to show you. But you had to be the first to see."

Simon's feelings were mixed, pleasure that Daniel had thought of him when trying his new uniform ready for next week, sadness because it symbolised their parting at school forever. This must have shown because Daniel's face became one of concern.

"Simon, what's the matter? Don't you like it?"

"I think it's super. It's just that I'll never wear it and I'm back with Spence and them and Miss Harvey next week without you." At this vocalisation of his fears, a tear rolled out of Simon's eye. Daniel came and sat on the bed next to Simon, comforting him with a hug. Simon felt better for the warmth and strength of Daniel's touch, the scent of his body mingled with the crisp new smell of his clothes.

Daniel's heart went out to his sad friend with his uncontrollable emotions. "You'll be fine. You've got Peter thingummy you're friends with. You don't need me to stick up for you with Spence. I know you can do that. You've just got to be strong."

"Peter Holman," corrected Simon, "I can be when you're there, but not without you."

"Well, I will be there," said Daniel.

"How?" said Simon. "You'll be at Henrys."

Daniel tapped Simon's chest twice. "But I'll be in there, all the time. Whenever you need me, just think of me being there, and I will be."

"Really?" said Simon hopefully.

"Really. I sometimes think of you and it's like you're with me. I like to think of you when I'm in bed at night, specially if I'm having a wank. I always think of you then."

"Do you? Honest?", said Simon. To Daniel's nod, he continued, "I think of you too a lot, and specially in bed. I try to wank and make it come like you, but nothing happens."

"It will. I'm two years older than you, remember. But I like it that you think of me when you try," said Daniel, smiling. "Aren't I sort of there with you then?" Simon nodded. "So there you are then," said Daniel. "It'll be like that at school, I'll be there."

Simon smiled, trying hard to believe it. "But we'll never be at school together again. I won't be able to go to Henrys, I'll end up at Victoria Road."

"Why? You're going to pass the eleven plus. If I could, then you can."

"I'm stupid. I'm no good at school."

"Yes you are. You showed me your report, remember? It said your English was good. Sums a bit dodgy though. But we can work on that."

"We?"

"I'll help you. Don't want you going with the morons to Victoria Road."

"They're not all morons," said Simon indignantly.

"That's true. There are some Vicks at scouts, and they're OK. But there's a lot of morons too. And it's pretty rough."

"You'll really help me with arithmetic?"

"Of course. A scout has to help other people at all times, and be loyal. Who better to help and be loyal to than you?" said Daniel, tightening his hug, "We're best friends, aren't we."

Real hope started to fill Simon. If Daniel said it was possible, then it was possible.

"Thanks, Daniel."

"I'd better get back, or I'll be in trouble," said Daniel, releasing Simon and standing up. "I said I would just come and show you the uniform and then get straight back."

"I'm glad you did. How was swimming?"

"Good. There's this new kid, Layton. He's almost as fast as me, but he's older."

"So you're still the best then?"

"Of course. You coming back with me?"

"Yes," said Simon, leaping up off the bed. They went downstairs, Simon calling out to Mummy where he was going. They ran round the corner in the wet, Daniel anxious not to get his new uniform soaked. Simon was hoping that somehow they would be able to use Daniel's bedroom, as many times before, to be alone and intimate together. The two boys came in through the back door at top speed.

"Slow down," said Mrs Gray at the arrival of this whirlwind. "Hello Simon."

Mr Gray came into the kitchen at this point.

"Hello Mrs Gray, Mr Gray," said Simon politely.

"Daniel, I hope you've not got that uniform wet. Go and take it off," said Mr Gray.

"OK Dad," said Daniel. "Come on." This last to Simon, and they ran up the stairs.

"Very smart, bruvver," said Louise as they reached the landing. She was just going into her room.

"I look good, don't I?" said Daniel.

"You sure that cap will fit over your big head?" jibed Louise, closing her bedroom door.

Daniel threw the green cap with gold piping onto his bed, and closed the door. He stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie. Simon sat on the bed and watched. Daniel's pride in his King Henry VII Grammar School for Boys place and uniform was evident. Simon now had a glimmer of hope that he too might achieve this.

Daniel turned away from the mirror. "Better hang this lot up," he said, and started to undress, carefully hanging the blazer, trousers and shirt up in his wardrobe. "I've got a hard on now," he said unnecessarily, because Simon had already noticed the effect on Daniel's underpants. "That's coz you're here," he added looking at Simon, with a grin.

Simon looked at the closed bedroom door, which was not lost on Daniel.

"Better not," Daniel said. "Everybody's at home. Too risky."

"I don't mind," said Simon, feeling reckless.

"I do. It would spoil everything we've got, and we've managed lots of times in the holidays," replied Daniel, pulling on some denim jeans. Simon wanted some denim jeans like Daniel but Daddy said he was not old enough for long trousers. Daniel pulled on his favourite red socks he liked to wear when not at school. Simon wanted red socks but Daddy said they were too flashy.

"Come and listen to my new piece," said Daniel. He led the way downstairs to the back room. Daniel opened the keyboard of the piano, and stroked the keys lovingly, before setting up his music and then starting to play. Simon watched, spellbound, as Daniel's hands caressed the keys, bringing the piano alive with sound. Once or twice, Daniel frowned, hesitated and repeated a section when he made a mistake. Afterwards, he started again and played the whole piece through without error. Simon liked the music, but it was the sight of his friend, in command of this complex mechanism, his power and skill in converting the lines and dots on the page into sound, that he loved.

"Did you like it?" said Daniel.

"It was good," said Simon. He had asked Daddy and Mummy for a piano, just a little one, not a grand like this, would do. But nothing had happened.

"Beethoven. It's called Für Elise, but I'm going to call it For Simon, because I played it for you," said Daniel. "Let's play the note game."

The two had developed a game on the piano, one which intrigued Daniel. Simon had to turn his back on the piano and Daniel would play a single note. Then Simon had to press the same key on the keyboard. He nearly always got it right. When it was Daniel's turn, despite his musical talent, he often got the wrong note. At the succession of single notes, Mrs Gray came in, curious.

"What are you doing?" she inquired.

"We play this game, Mum," said Daniel. "Watch this." The game was demonstrated to Mrs Gray, herself a skilful pianist. Time and again Simon hit the right note.

"Fascinating," she said. "Simon, have you ever thought of music lessons?"

"I would like to learn how to play the piano, but I've asked."

"Simon can play some tunes by ear, and he can often repeat chords as well," said Daniel. "He plays tunes and puts in the chords, just triads, but they match. Play Greensleeves," he said, turning to Simon.

"I'm useless, it's not proper playing, like you," said Simon, embarrassed at playing the piano in front of Mrs Gray.

"I'd like to hear it, Simon, if you would," said Mrs Gray encouragingly. Daniel was nodding.

Nervously Simon sat at the keyboard of the big piano. He placed his fingers on the keys and started to play, watching the keys, his brain somehow telling him which notes to press next, a single line melody with the right hand and matching three note chords with the left. Once started he felt at ease, and completed the piece.

"Very good, Simon," said Mrs Gray. "Your fingering is pretty much correct, much better than I was expecting. You're a natural."

"He can tell straight away when I play a wrong note, just a semitone out," said Daniel.

"I'm not surprised," said Mrs Gray. "He obviously has a musical ear, and quite likely perfect pitch. Well, Simon, I hope you get the chance to learn sometime," said Mrs Gray. She sighed and left the pair to it.

So the two boys spent the wet afternoon playing on the piano, talking, playing with Daniel's toys and sharing his books.

The first day of school arrived. Simon left home to get the bus to the juniors, to find Daniel waiting at the corner, as usual, but now wearing his Henrys uniform. "I thought," he said, "We can still get the bus in the morning, just you get off before me now." Simon remembered that there had always been some Henrys boys on the bus.

"Good," said Simon, happy for the time being as they walked down the hill to the bus stop on the main road. "Aren't you scared? Starting at Hooray Henrys I mean."

"I suppose, a bit, but Evans said he'd meet me and look out for me."

"Who's that?"

"Miles Evans. You've met him, He's my Patrol Leader."

Simon remembered the big, kind boy who had spoken to him at the church parade a few months ago. "I'm still a bit scared of going back, but I'll try to remember what you said on Saturday." And he tapped his chest twice.

Daniel laughed. "You'll be OK as well. I bet it's a lot better once you get there than you think now."

It was hard getting off the bus without Daniel, and Simon watched it as it went on into the city along the busy main road. He walked alone up the street to the juniors.

"Hiya, Simon!" came a chirpy voice next to him. It was Peter Holman. Simon was glad to see him. They had sat together and were friends in school, but never met outside as they lived too far apart.

"Hiya Peter, you sound happy."

"So should you be, haven't you heard?"

"Bout what?"

"Harvey. She's not coming back," said Peter.

Simon stopped dead. "What!"

"She's ill or something, but anyway, she won't be there."

Simon could have hugged Peter Holman right there and then. He felt a weight lift from his body. But wait, perhaps Peter was wrong.

"You sure?"

"We'll find out, won't we," said the chirpy Peter. "Come on." The boys ran the rest of the way and into the juniors' yard. Many of the kids were talking about the rumours concerning Miss Harvey, but nobody seemed to know for certain.

Simon and Peter were confronted with Barry Spence plus hangers on, a triumphant smirk on his face as he looked hard at Simon. Simon thought how different his blue eyes were from Daniel's.

"Piss off, Holman," said Spence, without even looking at Peter. Peter nervously backed away. "So where's Gray then?" mocked Spence.

"You know where he is. Henrys," said Simon. By mentioning Daniel, Barry Spence had in fact helped Simon. He tapped his chest twice.

"Heart trouble?" scoffed Spence, and pushed Simon hard back against the wall. Forth was there, waiting for the fun. Simon reached out and pushed Spence back. The hangers on gasped. Nobody pushed Barry Spence!

"Fight!" the cry went up and the nearer kids started to gather to watch. Barry Spence came forward again, aiming a punch at Simon. But Simon dodged it, and his mind full of Daniel, he launched a straight punch with all his strength at Spence's unprepared face. Spence received the blow on his nose which started to bleed. He staggered and then fell over, and was lying on the ground, crying and holding his hands to his face. The crowd looked on, astonished, gone quiet.

"Any of you lot want the same?" Simon glared at the hangers on who were trying to melt back into the gathering crowds.

"What's going on?" The kids parted as Miss Day came through.

There was a chorus of responses. "Miss, Barry Spence started it … Hit Simon first … self defence, Miss." Simon noticed that some of these comments were coming from the Spence gang! Miss Day helped Barry Spence to his feet.

"I'll get you, Scott," he snarled.

"No you won't!" said Simon and Miss Day, almost in unison, which surprised both of them. "Come along, Simon," she ordered. Simon followed, wishing he was still in Miss Day's class, instead of Mr West's. Daniel said Mr West was good, so maybe it would be OK. But then the whistle went and the children lined up.

"I'll see you later instead, Simon," said Miss Day, "I've Barry to see to now."

So Simon joined his class line, the others making space for him, with a new respect.

"Well done, Simon," said Peter, who had rejoined him. "He's had that coming for a long time."

"My hero," said Cynthia Jackson.

Simon felt tall, but was still a bit worried about Miss Harvey. But it would be worth getting the cane to have beaten Spence.

"Hang your coats up and go straight into the hall," the teachers were saying.

The children filed into the hall, Simon's class now at the back, being the oldest. Where Daniel used to stand. Simon wondered how he was getting on at Henrys.

The door at the side of the stage opened and Miss Harvey – wait. It wasn't Miss Harvey! It was Mr West. The school went quiet, waiting. Mr West stood at the lectern.

"Before we start the new school year," Mr West began, "I have some sad news. Miss Harvey was taken seriously ill during the summer holiday with what's called a stroke. She was with a friend in France at the time I understand. She is back in England, and is being treated in hospital in the city. I am sure you hope that she will soon be well again." There was a murmur of assent. "However, what is certain is that she will never be well enough to return to work here. So we will need a new head teacher. But in the meantime, the Board of Managers and the Education Committee have asked me to take on the job." There was a buzz of excitement round the school hall. Mr West held up his hand, the noise died down. "This does mean that there are some changes to your classes." He went on to read out a list of classes and teachers. "And Junior 4W, that would have been my class this year, will now be Junior 4D, and will remain with Miss Day."

Simon heard that with amazement. Miss Day was taking them up. There was happy whispering along the line.

Then it was a normal assembly, except for a special prayer for Miss Harvey. At the end, Mr West picked up a piece of paper from the lectern.

"I want to see the following children immediately after assembly outside Miss .. outside the head teacher's room." He read out a list of about a dozen names, Barry Spence, some of his gang and Simon Scott among them.

The crowd gathered outside the head's room. Miss Brown was there to keep order while one by one the children went in to speak to Mr West.

"It's about the fight," one said as she came out

"That's enough, no talking," said Miss Brown. Simon liked Miss Brown, he went to her for extra help, but she seemed stern today. At last there was only Barry Spence and Simon left, waiting as far apart as they could.

"Barry Spence!" called Mr West's voice. Barry Spence went in and pushed the door behind him, but this time it didn't quite close. Parts of the conversation could be heard. Mr West sounded very cross. "Got away with far too much for far too long … the end of the line of you, young lad … better change your ways". Spence came out and managed a scowl at Simon, but said nothing.

"Simon Scott! And you can get back to your room now, Miss Brown, thank you."

Simon went into the hated office as Miss Brown left, giving Simon a smile. Simon stood in front of that desk, with Mr West sitting behind it now.

"Not a very good start to the new school year, Simon?"

"No, sir," said Simon, looking down but glancing round for the cane.

"Are you planning any more fights?"

Simon looked up, taken unawares by the unexpected question. "No, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. After that fracas last year with Sidney Forth, and your demolition job on Barry Spence this morning, don't you think you've done enough?"

"Yes, sir," said Simon, puzzled about how this was going. He still could not see the cane.

"I'll be straight with you, old chap," said Mr West, his tone softening. "I don't think you've always had a fair deal, so I want to draw a line under the past and start from scratch. Starting from now. The rest is up to you. Do you understand?"

Simon was not sure if he did, but he understood 'start from scratch'. "Yes, sir."

"Any problem at all with Barry Spence, tell Miss Day – she knows about this – or come and see me."

"Yes, sir." Simon's mind was in a whirl. He couldn’t grasp the change and what was happening, but he knew it was good.

"Good lad. Now we've a bargain, so don't let me down."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I mean …" Simon stopped, confused. "I won't, sir."

"That's the ticket! Fresh start, as from now. Off you go."

"Thank you, sir," said Simon, and he left the room, feeling light and happy. As he walked along the corridor he stopped as a thought came to him. Daniel's words echoed in his mind. 'I bet it's a lot better once you get there than you think now.' How did Daniel know? He is amazing. Simon tapped his chest twice and walking tall, crossed the hall and went into his classroom without a trace of fear.

Simon soon settled into fourth year. The pace was hard, with the eleven plus coming up after Christmas, but with renewed confidence, Simon worked hard and slowly made progress with arithmetic. His reading and writing had already come on to the point where Miss Brown stopped working on that and concentrated on sums. She gave him papers to do at home, and if he got stuck, Daniel patiently sat with him and they worked through it together.

Once or twice, Simon was the object of taunts, his detractors pointing out that Daniel Gray was not around any more. Simon would tap his chest twice and think, 'yes he is'. Simon grew closer to Peter Holman at school, but still looked forward to the evenings and weekends when he could be with Daniel, and Simon was happy.

One event that stood out for Simon was related to the church. Daniel was being confirmed, and he asked Simon to be there. Simon was not sure what that meant, but he knew it was important to Daniel, and it seemed important to him that Simon was there. So there he was, sitting once more with Mr and Mrs Gray who had come to see this special service. The vicar was there that Simon had seen before, but also, dressed in a gold embroidered cloak was the Bishop. Simon had seen his picture in the local newspaper a couple of times. Daniel was wearing his long, grey school trousers, neatly ironed, along with a white shirt. He looked so smart. There were some other people, not all kids, who were being confirmed as well, and they were wearing white, but Simon's eyes were fixed on Daniel as he knelt before the Bishop.

"Daniel, God has called you by name and made you his own."

The Bishop then placed his hands on Daniel's head saying, "Confirm, O Lord, your servant Daniel with your Holy Spirit."

"Amen," said Daniel clearly.

Simon felt so proud of his friend, addressed by name by the Bishop. Then Daniel, along with the other new communicants, took the bread and wine. Simon was again moved by the service and as the rest of the congregation took communion, he accompanied Mr and Mrs Gray to the rail as before, and received the same blessing, followed by the warm glow he had felt before.

Afterwards, he was asking Daniel about it.

"What's it mean now?"

"I can take communion now, and receive the bread and wine. It means I am a full member of the Church of England."

Simon wanted to be a full member of the Church of England too, but instead he asked, "What's the wine like?"

Daniel grinned. "It's good stuff. It's a shame they only let you have a little sip."

Daniel didn't go to church every Sunday, sometime he was involved in Scouts or swimming events. When he could, Simon went along to the latter to be with Daniel and offer him support, the true friend that he was.

25. 1956/10 Accident in the Spinney

That warm summer had gone, the nights had closed in and perforce Simon and Daniel could no longer play outdoors as much. The den was often wet so they would meet up and hang around the shopping parade. Sometimes they could still go to the wood beyond the allotments. The earth paths though the spinney had been compacted by the wheels of many children's bicycles for this was a regular circuit. The two friends would cycle down there and speed round the spinney, flying over roots and taking off from small bumps. Often there would be crowds of local children there, racing round without a care for their own safety, or anyone else's. It was fast, exhilarating and the elements of risk added to rather than detracted from the excitement. The risk was real.

One day in the half term holiday, Gavin Strong, who was Daniel's age and a Hooray Henry, was going very fast, took off over a makeshift ramp and lost control. His bike, with him on it, hit a tree. Gavin was hurt and bleeding as he lay on ground entangled in his bicycle, howling. Some of the children ran off and Simon was moving in this direction also.

"Where're you going?" asked Daniel with a note of surprise.

"Dunno, just away," said Simon, worried that he might somehow get the blame by association for Gavin's injuries. He wasn't sure what Mummy would say about him being in the woods, rough riding.

"We can't just leave him," said Daniel. "He needs some help."

The remaining kids hung back, watching, uncertain, content to let Daniel take charge. So there were just the two of them to help, and of course the howling Gavin, whose cries had subsided a little.

Daniel moved over to where Gavin lay, and Simon followed. Gavin looked up at the pair, pain on his face but also expectation, now that help was at hand.

"I can't get up, I'm stuck," said Gavin.

"Here, Simon, give me a hand," commanded Daniel, taking hold of the bicycle. Together they carefully lifted the bike, allowing Gavin to extract his legs that had somehow become locked in it.

"Hold the bike," said Daniel, so Simon held the bike, and Daniel went to the still prone Gavin.

"Where's it hurt?" asked Daniel.

"All over," replied Gavin.

"Do you think you've broken anything?" continued Daniel.

Gavin shook his head. He was a chubby lad, and Daniel put his arms around Gavin to help him up. Simon felt suddenly and stupidly jealous. Gavin was now standing, leaning on Daniel. His face was cut, his leg was bleeding and he looked very muddy.

"You wheel your bike and his," said Daniel to Simon, "I'll take mine."

Simon, quiet now, said nothing but wheeled Gavin's bike over to his own, lying on its side, and with one hand on the centre of each handlebar, stood with a bike either side of him. Daniel picked up his own bike and wheeled that, with his left hand, supporting Gavin on his right. They set off, Simon following behind.

"You'll be OK," said Daniel. "It's not far, is it?"

"No," said Gavin, "just round the block."

"Come on then," said Daniel, encouragingly.

"Thanks for the help, Daniel," said Gavin. "You're a mate."

"S'OK," said Daniel.

"Well, the others all ran off, but you stopped."

Hearing the two classmates chatting did nothing to calm Simon's feelings of insecurity. Of course he knew Daniel had other friends, lots actually, he was popular in a way that Simon could only dream of, and that made him all the more wonderful in Simon's eyes. It was illogical to doubt Daniel's loyalty to him, knowing all that Daniel did for him, especially with regard to arithmetic. But seeing and hearing Daniel and Gavin together, his sensibilities in this regard were heightened. But then Daniel replied.

"Simon stopped to help as well." Simon's heart leapt. Hearing Daniel talk about him to his friends was a real pick up.

"Yeah, thanks Simon," said Gavin, trying to turn his neck to look back, but failing and wincing with sudden pain. "Ow!" He turned back.

"Lives near you, doesn't he?" Gavin asked Daniel.

"Yes."

"You friends?"

"Yes," said Daniel, "he's my best friend. He'll be at Henrys next year."

Swiftly from suspicion to soaring the heights, Simon's mood took off, and he followed behind, happy once more, Daniel oblivious to the smile now on Simon's face. The small matter of first having to pass the eleven plus went unnoticed.

They entered Gavin's short driveway and limped round the side of the house to the back door.

"Mum!" shouted Gavin as they opened it. They leaned the bikes against the wall of the house and while Gavin stepped gingerly into the kitchen, Daniel and Simon stood outside, not entering uninvited. Mrs Strong appeared.

"Gavin, what happened to you?" she asked, worriedly.

"Came off me bike," explained Gavin. "These two helped me home."

"Hello, Daniel," said Mrs Strong. Simon wondered how well Daniel knew Gavin. His mother obviously knew him. But then he remembered what Daniel had said and felt better.

"And who's this other little hero?" asked Mrs Strong of Gavin, looking at Simon.

"That's Simon. He's Daniel's best friend."

Mrs Strong beamed at Simon, Simon beamed back, happy in the confirmation of his status from Gavin, as a representative of Daniel's peers.

She now had a wet flannel and was wiping Gavin's wounds with it. They looked a lot less serious with all the blood and muck removed.

"Come in, boys." he said, and Daniel went into the kitchen, Simon following. Gavin seemed a lot happier now, and smiled at the two.

"Thanks for helping," he said. Then to his mother, "The rest all ran off, only these helped."

"Where was this?" asked Mrs Strong.

"In the spinney," said Simon, feeling more confident.

"Gavin, what have I told you about riding your bike in there?" Mrs Strong said sharply. Gavin shot Simon a cross look. Daniel moved very slightly so as to be slightly more between Simon and Gavin and his mother. But both boys remained silent, Simon now feeling stupid.

Mrs Strong went on, "Still, it was very good of you both to help Gavin. I'll see what I can find." She finished applying a sticking plaster to Gavin's knee and then disappeared into the house.

"Simon didn't know you weren't supposed to be there," whispered Daniel to Gavin.

Gavin's look softened a bit. "Never mind," he said.

Mrs Strong returned with three boxes of jelly babies. "Here we are," she said brightly, handing each of them a box. "One for a brave boy and one for two good helpers each."

"Thank you," said Simon and Daniel in unison.

"We'd better go now," said Daniel.

The two set off, riding their bikes again now, weaving slowly along the street.

"Let's go to mine," said Daniel.

So they rode to Daniel's house. He let himself in. Daniel had his own key for the house.

"Where's your Mum and Dad?" asked Simon.

"Work." They dumped their coats and shoes and Daniel led the way to his bedroom. It was much bigger than Simon's, the house was bigger. It had a toilet downstairs as well as upstairs. Daniel had a double bed in his room, and Simon thought that was very special. The two usually played in Daniel's room rather Simon's because it was heated, a major reason in the winter. Simon sat on the bed and watched him tidy away some things on the floor. Daniel turned to Simon.

"You OK?" he asked. Simon nodded, his gaze fixed on his friend. Daniel came over and sat next to Simon.

"Did you mean that, what you said?" asked Simon, clumsily.

"What?"

"When you told Gavin I was your best friend."

"Of course. You are." Daniel put his arm round Simon's slim shoulders. "You know you are," he said, grinning, and he put his other hand on Simon's thigh. Simon responded by doing the same. He felt excited.

"We've got lots of time," said Daniel. "Let's undress."

Simon nodded, ready as always to comply, excited at the prospect without really knowing why, anxious to lay to rest the doubts he had felt earlier and to re-affirm his standing with Daniel. Daniel too had felt his friend's uncertainty and while he enjoyed the feeling of ascendancy he got when close to Simon, he began to feel it was more than that. He looked forward to their times alone together, to seeing and in a way possessing Simon's body, running his hands over his smooth flesh, revelling in that Simon allowed the most personal caressing, and even more so in the knowledge that Simon knew his own body so well and that he would respond in kind, bringing him to climax even though he could not yet achieve that himself. Daniel was aware now that this was sexual in a way that his younger friend was not yet. He was not sure how to handle this new dimension in his head, but felt he had to be careful and not upset Simon, whom he knew, looked up to him. He reflected on what he had said to Gavin, and it was true. Simon was his best friend, there was nobody he was closer to and he knew that Simon would never betray their secret.

In the glowing aftermath of his sexual release, he looked at Simon lying beside him, and he felt new emotion and hugged Simon tightly.

"What was that for?" said Simon, slightly surprised at this sudden squeeze.

"For you," said Daniel, happily.

The afternoon ended happily for Simon too as the two boys relaxed in their sensual intimacy and comfort of each other's touch, they lay on the big bed, eating jelly babies and talking about the huge American aircraft carrier that was the cutaway in the middle of Daniel's Eagle comic until it was time to get dressed.

Lying in bed that night with the wind rattling around outside, Simon felt safe and warm under the blankets and eiderdown, while the gales, like the troubles of his world, raged on, but for the time being could not get to him. He did not have to be concerned with lost roof slates and damaged fences so he snuggled down and listened to the tempest outside, content with his day. He knew that a few hundred yards away, Daniel would be doing the same, and felt the closeness again.

26. 1956/11 Long Division

Miss Brown had worked through it patiently with him, and he understood it then, or so he thought, but now on a cold November Saturday morning, it had all gone. Long division of money. Simon didn't know where to start. That feeling of cold panic and helplessness came over him as he thought of having to spend the next five years at Victoria Road with Barry Spence. It was true that Spence had kept his distance since being felled spectacularly in the school yard by a single punch from Simon, and he was shorn of most of his hangers on by constant pressure from Miss Day and Mr West, but Simon knew it wouldn't last. Spence had said as much. "Wait till you get to Vicks, Scott. I've got friends there who are going to beat you up every day." Simon had no reason to doubt the truth of this and was frightened.

Daniel was backing him, helping him with these 11 plus papers he was given for practice, and he knew that Daniel had turned down chances to go out with his other friends from Hooray Henrys in order to help him with his maths. But Daniel would not be there at the juniors when the exam had to be taken. Simon shook with fear and a tear came. Daniel had told him that in one place they were going to abolish the 11 plus. That had sounded a good idea to Simon until Daniel said that it meant all the children would go to one school. So that would not help his predicament, and anyway, Daniel was against it. All right for him, he was clever and had got to Hooray Henrys.

He folded up the test paper and went downstairs. The fire was lit in the sitting room and he went in to get warm. He sat on the settee, not the broken end, and looked again at the test paper. If only he could understand it. The numbers just seemed to dance in front of his eyes. He looked into the fire, seeing patterns in the red hot coals. He closed the test paper and picked up his book. He liked reading and was now one of the best readers in the class. And that had improved his spelling too. So he tried to shut his mind to the future and lose himself in the story about space ships and mining the asteroids.

Mummy put her head round the door. "Lunch is ready." Mummy always called it lunch, although everybody else he knew called it dinner. He sat at the dining table and started to eat.

"Frances, how do you do division of money?"

Frances thought for a moment. "Well, you start by dividing the pounds and transfer the remainder to the shillings, add it on and then divide that, and do the same for pennies," she said helpfully. Mummy and Daddy nodded approval. Simon was left none the wiser. But what did that mean?

"I'll teach you to use a slide rule when you're older," said Daddy.

"Thanks Daddy, "said Simon, wise enough not to add that it would not help him now when he needed it.

"Can I go round to Daniel's after dinner, Mummy," he requested.

"I expect so, darling," said Mummy, but with a glance at Daddy, who just shrugged.

Simon ate the rest of his dinner and as soon as he could, took the hated paper, put on his coat and went round the corner to Daniel's. Would he be back from swimming? Maybe he was going out with some Henrys. He knocked on the back door, which opened.

"Oh, come in, Simon, it's freezing out there."

Simon stepped into the warm kitchen. The Aga kept it warm. Mummy wanted an Aga, but Daddy said money doesn't grow on trees. Anyway, there was nowhere to put it.

"Is Daniel home please, Mrs Gray?" asked Simon.

"Yes, he's about somewhere," she answered. "Daniel!"

Daniel came in from the sitting room. He was wearing his denim jeans. Simon felt a bit silly in his short trousers.

"Hiya Simon. Let's go up."

Simon followed Daniel upstairs, hanging his coat in the hall on the way.

"How was swimming this morning?" asked Simon.

"Cold," said Daniel with feeling. "but it went OK. Coach said I was really good."

Simon thought that was obvious. "What about Layton?"

"He's OK. I like him, but I like beating him better."

"Did you?" asked Simon as they went into Daniel's bedroom.

"Yeah, in front crawl of course, and breaststroke, just. But he well beat me in backstroke and butterfly. What's that? Another eleven plus paper?"

Simon nodded. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked anxiously. He saw Daniel's green Henrys blazer and his long school trousers on a hanger on the edge of his wardrobe door. Simon wondered if he would ever have a Henrys uniform. It occurred to Simon he didn't even have his own wardrobe. Daniel had lots of clothes.

"No, of course not. 'Help other people at all times', remember? And 'Be Prepared'. You might not be a scout yet, but you're going to be as prepared for the eleven plus as you can be."

"Thanks, Daniel. You're tops."

"I want you at Henrys. I know you're clever enough, and I won't have you going to Vicks. I just won't," said Daniel vehemently.

Simon didn't know what to say to that. The two years in age between them sometimes seemed so much to Simon, although he was only one school year behind Daniel because of how their birthdays fell.

"Pull up the stool and let's have a look," said Daniel.

The two boys sat at the desk. Daniel looked at the test paper thoughtfully. Simon admired Daniel in many ways, not least because he was so clever. So now he looked at him and waited.

"Long division of money?" asked Daniel.

"Yes, I just can't do it."

"Won't have defeatist talk here," said Daniel crossly. Simon could be a bit nervous of Daniel when he was in this mood. "Come on, let's look at this one. Fifty eight pounds, six shillings and threepence divided by fifteen. Write it out." Daniel pushed pad and pencil to Simon, who copied the sum down.

"What do we do first?" Daniel demanded.

"Divide the pounds?"

"Good, what's fifty eight divided by fifteen?"

Simon stalled.

"How many fifteens are there in fifty eight?" tried Daniel.

"Dunno," said Simon glumly.

"What's two fifteens?"

"Thirty?"

"Good, now what's three fifteens?"

"Er, forty five?"

"OK, what's four fifteens?"

"Sixty. Oh, that's too much. So it goes three times, remainder … um …thirteen."

"Yes. You see, you can do it. Put down the three."

Simon wrote 3 under the pounds, and started to write the 13 under the shillings.

"Wait," said Daniel. "That thirteen remainder. Thirteen what?"

Simon looked puzzled.

"Well, what did we just divide?"

"Oh, pounds. Thirteen pounds," said Simon.

"Good. But you can't put thirteen pounds just like that in the shillings. It's not thirteen shillings, is it?"

"No," said Simon, understanding starting to form. "You've got to change the thirteen pounds into shillings first."

"You mean you have," said Daniel. "How do you do that?"

"Twenty shillings in a pound, so times by twenty?"

"That's right. So what's thirteen times twenty?"

Simon scribbled at the side of the sheet. "Two hundred and sixty?"

"Good. What next?"

"Carry it to the shillings column and add it to the six shillings there. Two hundred and sixty six."

"OK, so now we have two hundred and sixty six shillings to divide by fifteen. Ordinary long division I think, a bit high to keep adding fifteens like we did for the pounds."

Daniel watched as Simon did the division of 266 by 15 at the side.

"Seventeen remainder eleven," announced Simon.

"That's what I get too," said Daniel, pleased. "So far we've got the answer three pounds and seventeen shillings, now to divide the pennies. What's your remainder from the shillings?"

"Eleven. But that's eleven shillings, it's got to be changed into pennies," said Simon, as the darkness lifted to reveal understanding at last of how this worked.

"You're getting it," said Daniel, smiling. "So, twelve pennies make a shilling; what's eleven shillings in pennies. Twelve times table."

Simon thought for a moment. He had been working hard on learning his tables. "One hundred and thirty two."

"Right. So carry that to the pennies column."

"Add that to the thrupence, is one hundred and thirty five." said Simon.

"OK, so now divide that by fifteen."

Once again, Simon did the long division sum at the side. "Nine, and no remainder."

"Good. So put the nine in the pennies column, and that's it."

"That's it?" repeated Simon. "You mean I've done it?"

"You have, Simon. What is fifty eight pounds, six shillings and thrupence divided by fifteen?" grinned Daniel.

Simon looked at the sum. "Three pounds, seventeen shillings and ninepence. Yes! It's the changing the remainders I didn't understand, but I do now. Thanks to you."

"You did it," Daniel reminded him. "I didn't do a single calculation for you in all that."

"You're the best friend anybody could have," said Simon.

"So are you," said Daniel. "And I mean that."

Under Daniel's watchful eye, Simon worked through more examples until Daniel was sure Simon really had grasped it. Some involved ha'pennies and farthings, but now Simon had the concept in his head, he coped with those too. Daniel watched with pleasure at Simon's happiness as he gained confidence.

Daniel spent many such sessions with Simon that autumn and winter. He knew his emotional and vulnerable friend would go under if he had to go to Vicks, and he was determined that would not happen.

27. 1957/1 Sledging Accident

Simon lay on his bed, wrapped in his pyjamas and dressing gown. It had been a good day and he had even been able to forget the approaching eleven plus for a few hours. All the local kids had been on the hill with their sledges, careering down, getting faster and faster as the snow became more compacted from their passage, as well as the very occasional car that moved cautiously along. As soon as it was gone, the hordes returned, vying for the best run. Simon's sledge was sought after as it was long enough for two, three with a squeeze, and some of the kids, boys and girls, who hadn't got their own sledges would ask for, and get a ride down with Simon. But best of all of course was when he and Daniel would go flying down together at top speed, often falling off in a heap together at the bottom of the hill, and then trudging back up again hauling the sledge, dodging the others as they came flying down.

Only encroaching cold darkness in the late afternoon had called a halt and slowly the children had drifted away homewards for tea. Simon and Daniel had parted at the corner with a quick "See ya!", each off to their own home. Simon lay, happily savouring the fun of the day just gone, reliving it in his mind. He should really be in bed, asleep, but excitement had kept him up.

He was aware of the sound of the car engine running and side gates opening. Then Daddy opening the garage doors. Suddenly there was a stream of swearing and Simon knew with abrupt certainty what the cause was. He had forgotten to put the sledge away and it was left outside the back door, in the way of the car. Quietly, Simon got up and looked out of his bedroom window, peering down to see the open garage doors, and Daddy, lifting up the sledge high over his head (and it was a heavy sledge) and hurling it across the small patio area, it crashing into the side of the coalhouse, smashing into pieces as it did so. Simon watched shocked and helpless, tears coming to his eyes as the device of so much joy that day was quickly and ruthlessly destroyed. He watched unseen as Daddy stood a moment looking at what was now a broken mess of wood and metal runners, and then turned away. The headlights came on illuminating the garage and the car passed slowly into view as it came down the side of the house and then out of view as it went into the garage. Simon looked down at his ruined sledge. He could see that repair would be difficult, if not impossible. He got into bed and cried, half fearing his father's wrath and more for failing to put the sledge away. But Daddy never came and he fell asleep, his happy memories now expunged by the loss of his sledge.

The next morning, Simon was wary indeed. He looked out of his bedroom window. It had not snowed again, but yesterday's was still lying. No good now. The wreckage of the sledge had been moved from by the coalhouse to near the garage, footprints across the patio. He could see now by the white, winter morning light that the damage was considerable. He could hear the Home Service from the radio downstairs.

Mummy's voice called up. "Frances! Simon! 'Lift up your hearts'!"

Simon heard Frances reply and shouted and OK from him too. This was a reminder of the time, as 'Lift up your hearts' was on the wireless at ten to eight each morning. He finished dressing and went downstairs to the dining room, warmed by the electric fire.

"You left your sledge out last night, Simon," said Daddy, stating a fact. Simon felt it best to say nothing, wondering which way this would go. He sat down and picked up a piece of toast.

Daddy continued, in mollifying tones, "I'm sorry, son, but when I put the car away, I didn't see it and the car hit it. It's broken I'm afraid." Daddy looked at Simon, smiling, wholly unaware that this deception, this attempted softening of the blow, had already been scooped by Simon's own witness. Simon felt empty inside, astonished at this version of what he had seen. He wanted to shout out that he had seen what had happened, he knew that it wasn't true! But at ten years and four months he dare not, in case his challenge of the new orthodoxy would lead to a further release of temper and retribution. Feeling cold inside like the snow outside, Simon simply nodded and bit his toast. As Daddy got up to leave for work, he patted Simon on the head as he went past.

"I'm getting the bus into the studio today," he said. "I'm trying to get some extra petrol coupons though. Bloody Nasser."

"Maybe it won't last long," said Mummy. "We're out of Egypt and perhaps Macmillan will sort something out."

"I doubt it, Kate. Bye love," he was saying to Mummy in the hall. "I may be late tonight," he added.

"So what's new?" muttered Frances more to herself than Simon, as the front door closed.

"I saw it," said Simon, now tearful.

"What?" said Frances, puzzled by her little brother's upset. "It'll be OK, it's only a sledge."

"It's not that," said Simon, "Daddy smashed it on purpose."

"What for?" asked Frances. "You mean he drove into it on purpose."

"He didn't drive into it," explained Simon. "I saw from my bedroom. It was in the way so he picked it up and threw it against the coalhouse. That's when it smashed."

"I thought I heard something," said Mummy, who had come in from the kitchen and caught the tail end of this. Simon turned, he had been oblivious to Mummy's return. "I thought it was from next door," Mummy continued. "I'm sure Daddy didn't mean it," she added hopefully.

"Mummy!" shouted Frances indignant, who then got up and stormed out.

Mummy looked at Simon, knowing that her attempt to gloss over the issue had been fruitless.

"Never mind, darling," she said. "We'll see what we can do."

Simon dawdled round the corner to Daniel's, disconsolate, wondering what to say to his friend. And there he was, smiling, wrapped in his dark blue duffel coat, the dear face peering out from the hood.

"I was just coming for you," he said. Then, seeing Simon's downcast mood, "What's the matter?"

Simon recounted the whole episode. Daniel listened saying nothing, allowing Simon to relate the whole thing.

"Sorry, Simon," he said, with the comforting arm round his shoulders. He knew what Simon's Daddy was like. Then an idea!

"Come on, Simon!" Daniel led the way to his house and round into the garden. There was a large, slightly dilapidated shed into which Daniel disappeared.

"Help me shift this lot," he said, indicating piles of miscellaneous stuff that meant little to Simon. But when they had moved stuff, there was revealed – a sledge! Simon looked at Daniel, eyes hopeful.

Daniel laughed at Simon's expression. "It's my sister's old one," he said dragging it out. It looked old, too. the runners were rusty and a lot of paint was missing. But it was a sledge. The two boys dragged it out where it stuck in the snow. They dragged the unwilling sledge to the back door, leaving long brown, rusty marks in the snow.

"Mummy," called Daniel, only to be stopped by a poke from Simon.

"Don't tell, please," implored Simon quietly.

"Course not, silly." Then again, "Mummy!"

"Yes, Daniel?" said Mrs Gray, coming into the kitchen. "Oh, hello Simon. Shut the door, you're letting the heat out."

The two boys stepped in and closed the door. Daniel's kitchen was much bigger than Simon's, and there was a table where they had breakfast. There was the Aga too that kept the house warm.

"Mummy, Simon's sledge got broken. Can he have Louise's old one?"

"Heavens, have we still got that?"

"It was in the shed," supplied Daniel.

"I expect so," said Mrs Gray. "I doubt if Louise will want it again. Certainly he can use it in the meantime."

"Thank you, Mrs Gray," said Simon happily.

The two boys took the rusty sledge to the hill where some others had already gathered. After a few slow runs, held back by the rust, the sledge started to pick up speed, and now side by side, Daniel and Simon would race the others down the hill. By the end of the morning, the runners were shiny and polished, and the sledge as fast as any other. Simon was content. He looked at Daniel.

"Thanks for getting me the sledge," he said to his rescuer.

"S'OK," said Daniel. "Race yer!" And off down the hill again.

28. 1957/1 Eleven Plus

Miss Day and Miss Brown could not help him now. Not even Daniel could help him now. It was January and the last eleven plus day. Arithmetic day. Simon and Daniel sat together on the bus that morning as usual. Simon was actually shaking with fear, which Daniel noticed, and surreptitiously held his hand to calm him. Simon felt his friend's strength, and yet the green Henrys blazer under Daniel's gabardine mac only served to taunt him. The Vicks kids on the bus were as rowdy as ever.

"You'll be fine. You said the English and Reasoning went OK," said Daniel.

"Yes, but I'm going to fail the arithmetic, and you have to pass them all," said Simon, close to tears.

"You will pass, I know it. Look at all the work you've done."

"We've done," said Simon, gloomily.

"I've only helped as much as I could. You've got to pass, for me," said Daniel. "And anyway, you're young in your year. They add marks on if you're young, so that will help."

"What about you then? You didn't get any marks added on, then."

"No, but I'm brainy. And so are you. You will be at Henrys. I know it."

"Here's my stop," said Simon, "See you tonight." Daniel moved to let Simon away from the window seat, and Simon, his legs feeling so heavy, got up into the aisle.

"Simon," called Daniel after him, as he moved to the top of stairs. Simon looked back and Daniel tapped his chest twice. Simon nodded and went down the stairs. Daniel slid back to the window and wiping the condensation off the window, looked down to try to see Simon. There were crowds of junior kids about and he couldn't pick him out soon enough before the bus moved off into the city centre. Daniel sat and thought about Simon's stress these past few months. Seeing his young friend's torment had been an eye opener for Daniel. He had not found the eleven plus that hard, and had been confident of a pass, and not just a place at the grammar tech, but a high pass, getting a coveted place at King Henrys. Seeing what it cost Simon, and presumably so many other kids, was changing Daniel's mind about the whole process. There had to be a better way, it was so unfair on kids like Simon. All he could do now was cross his fingers and hope. Even a tech grammar place would be better than Victoria Road.

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.

29. 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.

Lying together on the groundsheet in the long grass, they let the heat of the summer sun warm their bare skin as they enjoyed each other's companionship, nudity and sensual pleasure. After Simon had brought Daniel off, they lay close in the summer sun.

"I wish I could do it for you," said Daniel. "You get so close sometimes, I think."

"It's OK," said Simon. "I like it when you come off."

"No," said Daniel firmly. "Sex is about giving, and I feel as if I'm doing all the taking."

"You wait," smiled Simon, "I'll make up for it, and then you can pay me back."

"You're on," said Daniel, laughing.

They wrestled with each other on the groundsheet, perspiring with the effort until either they both gave up with the exertion or Daniel had Simon pinned down, bringing the bout to an end.

As they lay, a familiar but wonderful sound filled the air. Both boys recognised the distinctive song of a Merlin engine immediately and looked at each other, eyes full of anticipation and wonderment before searching the sky. And there it was, its gull wings clear against the sky – a Spitfire! It came over the hill and flew low across the airfield below them before climbing away again and heading off into the distance. It capped a perfect afternoon for the two boys.

On one occasion, they were lying together in the sun on the groundsheet, when Daniel gripped Simon tightly. "Don't move, Simon" he said. There was fear in Daniel's voice.

"What's the matter? Someone coming?"

"No," whispered Daniel. "A snake, right behind you. An adder." Daniel watched as the snake, its zigzag markings identifying it as England's only poisonous snake, moved slowly from the long grass onto the edge of the groundsheet.

"Where is it?" asked Simon in a whisper, lying frozen on his side facing Daniel.

Daniel, looking over Simon's shoulder, could see the reptile. "About four inches from your bum. Keep still." Terrified, Simon lay still in Daniel's grasp. "It's going," said Daniel again, as the snake slid back into the long grass and disappeared. "Gone," said Daniel, relieved.

"Isn't it safe here?" asked Simon.

"Course it is," said Daniel. "They're quite rare, and it's only coz we were lying still it came, I'm sure. Probably was as surprised to see us as we were to see it."

"I'm glad it didn't bite me."

"Would've been a job explaining how a snake bit your bare bum," said Daniel, and they both laughed, tension gone.

30. 1957/8 Salcombe

As every summer, the two friends were parted and there was a gap in their times together when their families went off on their annual holiday. The middle two weeks of August were favoured by both families, but when they did not coincide exactly, both boys felt at a loose end waiting for the other to return. There was always one week away in common so the most one would be at home without the other would be a week. They usually went in opposite directions with both households now having cars, the Grays often heading for Scotland, while the Scotts retained their affiliation with Devon. Not to Westward Ho anymore but to Salcombe, in the far south of that county.

For Simon, the adventure started before that, as he had become the family's navigator. Bitter experience had taught the family to avoid the Exeter by-pass where traffic came to a halt on holiday Saturdays with miles of queuing cars funnelling into the county from far and wide. Simon would study the maps and find new ways to reach Salcombe without hitting the jams. From a predawn start, his route took them down the Fosseway through Moreton-in-Marsh, Stow-on-the-Wold, Bourton-on-the-Water and then across country via Shepton Mallet towards Honiton, but then no further, as often the queues from the Exeter By pass could stretch that far. Simon would navigate across country, keeping the car moving through leafy Devon lanes with their high hedges past Crediton, Tedburn St Mary and eventually to Totnes and then south to Salcombe. There was always a competition for who would be the first to see the sea.

The hotel was just south of the town, with gardens reaching down to the shore and its own moorings in the shelter of the large inlet known as the estuary. It was these moorings that were the source of Simon's delight at being in Salcombe. The hotel had its own little open motor boat, Invention, which was hired for him for the two weeks each year. Despite remaining a total non swimmer, Simon became adept at boat handling and found a role as a ferryman for his family and the others with whom they met up each year. Simon would ferry people across to the beaches and up to the town jetty by the Ferry Inn. He had a chart of the estuary and his boat was often seen exploring the creeks, and when the tide was right, as far as Kingsbridge.

Simon developed a technique of running the boat's bow onto the beach and digging the boathook into the sand to stop Invention being pushed broadside on to the beach, which would have stranded it, possibly damaging the propeller and it would have been a disaster. This worked well at the relatively sheltered Mill Bay and Telegraph Bay which were favourites, but Sunny Cove had much rougher waves as a rule and Simon could only hold the boat for so long, so people had to be quick on and off. He would then push the lever for full astern and as Invention backed off the sand, grab the boathook in one deft movement. If he was staying on the beach, he took Invention out into three or four feet of water, tested by the boathook, anchored it securely and then dropped over the side and waded ashore. He kept a check on the state of the tide and would periodically move the boat, away if the tide was going out, closer if it were coming in, so that he could always wade out and haul himself aboard again.

So for two weeks each August, Simon was on top of the world. They met up with the same families each year and together formed a friendly group, Simon friends with boys around his own age whom he would ride around with in the motor boat. Mum and Dad didn't argue, Frances made friends with some older boys who had their own sailing boat, a National 12 foot, in which they competed in the annual regatta. Simon too learned to sail and developed a love of being on the water, if not in it.

A particular friend was Jack Griffin, who was from London and whom they met up with each year. He was a few months younger than Simon, blond, blue eyed. He was keen on sailing and would help crew his parents' Enterprise dinghy. Over the years a regular routine developed whereby the two boys would get up early and meet at the moorings, row the pram dinghy out to Invention's mooring buoy and set off up the estuary to pick up a can of fuel from a boatyard which opened up at seven o'clock near the Ferry Inn. Often the boys were there waiting for it to be opened. Invention was known of course and the fuel was charged to the hotel's account.

There was the time on this early morning run that they got into trouble. Carefree and happy together, as Invention chugged up the estuary, they burst into song.

"Volare, oh oh

E contare, oh oh oh oh

Nel blu, dipinto di blu

Felice di stare lassu …"

In the quiet of the early morning when only hotel staff were up preparing the many breakfasts to be served in Salcombe that morning, two young voices echoing across the town and up the sides of the estuary raised a barrage of complaints which of course came straight back to the hotel, as the boat's ownership was recognised. But they managed to retain the use of the boat, sworn to early morning silence. They remained friends and when it came to depart, it was always,

"See you next year, Jack?"

"Yes, see you then, Simon."

The two weeks seemed to last for ever to Simon while he was in Salcombe, but when it came to an end, it seemed to have lasted no time at all. The journey home was always more subdued, Simon with very mixed feelings, worried each time about the new school year, knowing that once away from the magical world away from the world that was Salcombe each year, everything at home would be back the way it was; yet keen to see Daniel, hoping that all would be well and that in the fortnight away from him, somehow things hadn't changed. One of Simon's first tasks he set himself when he got back home was to construct a calendar on which he could count down the days until the family would be setting off again to their escape from reality. That hope and his friendship with Daniel were his anchors in his troubled life.

With regard to Daniel, he need never have worried. As soon as the two were back together, recounting their various holiday adventures, it was as though they had never been apart, and they resumed their routine.

On one of their visits to the aerodrome hill as the summer holiday drew to an end, Simon voiced a worry he had about Hooray Henrys to Daniel. One aspect that worried Simon was the ritual that the new boys, called fags, would be chased by groups of older boys and their trousers and pants pulled down, known as debagging.

"All the fags get it done to them," said Daniel.

"Even you?"

"Yes, you know. I told you last year."

The thought of his dear friend being set upon, overpowered and humiliated upset Simon.

"It's OK," said Daniel, noticing. "It happens to everyone and then it's done."

"I thought that friend of yours from Scouts …"

"Evans?"

"Yes, Evans. I thought he was going to look after you. Couldn't he stop them?"

"Yes, he could have I suppose, but that would have been the worst thing he could've done. It's like a way of showing that you can take it, and if you can't, nobody will be your friend. They'll think you're soft."

"So what do you do?"

"When the second years catch you, it's best to put up a bit of a fight to show you can, but they're bound to get you coz there'll be so many. Main thing is not to cry, whatever you do. It's quite quick really."

"Do they do anything else? I mean, like this, us?"

"Oh no. As soon as they've pulled 'em down and seen your cock, they're off to get the next fag. And that reminds me, whatever you do, don't get a hard on. A kid in my class did that and they call him a queer now."

"How do you stop yourself if it wants to?"

"Do what I did. I was saying my times tables to myself in my head."

"Don't the teachers stop it?"

"Teachers never come out on the field, which is where it happens, they leave it to the prefects and they all had it done when they were fags and did to the new fags when they were second years."

"You'll be a second year when I start."

Daniel grinned. "That's true."

"So just stay off the field then?"

"No. They'll know you're hiding and then it's worse. A kid in my year tried and some got him in the toilets, stripped him completely and shoved his head down the toilet. I heard they pissed on him. He's never been the same since. Mind you, I don't know what he was like before. He's not in my class. Best just go down to the field and get it over with. Make sure you've got clean underpants on too. You'll be OK, I promise. Scout's honour."

Simon knew that when Daniel said that, he really meant it, and felt a little reassured.

31. 1957/9 Off to Hooray Henrys

That summer was Simon's last with his few friends from his neighbourhood. He was the only one to go to Henrys, a couple of other boys went to the Grammar Tech, most went to Vicks. Their lives gradually separated, drawing him even closer to Daniel if that were possible.

But that first day came, and as arranged, they met at the corner as usual, Simon now proudly wearing the coveted green blazer and long grey trousers like Daniel but at just eleven years old, anxious about what lay ahead. On the bus there were some other new Henrys kids and a lot of scared looking young kids in new Victoria Road uniforms.

"Remember what I said, you have to let them get you in the end, don't cry, and say your tables in your head," smiled Daniel. "Don't want any unexpected standing to attention."

Simon had to smile despite his nerves. He watched as the junior kids got off, one or two saying hello to Simon and Daniel, and the bus continued its journey.

Off the bus, they walked towards the gates of King Henry VII Grammar School for Boys. Just inside the gates, there was a large group of green blazers, all looking very new, fags gathered together like fish in a shoal, seeking protection from sharks.

"When will it happen?"

"Maybe now, but most probably morning break or dinner time. Look, I have to go. I can't stay with you, it's not done. See that group of trees over there?" Daniel pointed across the school field.

"Yes," said Simon.

"At morning break, get down there as quickly as you can and stay there."

"Why?"

"You'll see," said Daniel, and left, pushing Simon toward the shoal.

Simon went over to the sea of strange faces, most looking as scared as he felt.

"Hey, Simon!" came a familiar cheery voice. Peter. Never was Simon so glad to see Peter Holman.

"Hiya Peter."

Peter came close. "Is it true they pull your pants down?"

Simon nodded. "Whatever you do don't cry, and don't get a hard on."

Peter looked surprised at this, but nodded. "OK. I'll remember. You're a pal, Simon."

At the top of the drive, another group of boys was standing, watching the shoal. Simon knew that they were the predators. He thought for a moment of leaving the shoal and inviting the ordeal, getting it over with, but he didn't want to be the first and he remembered what Daniel had said about the trees at morning break. With a start he saw Daniel, in among the predators, laughing and joking, watching the shoal like the rest.

But a teacher came and led all the fags into the school hall, a large impressive place, with high beams, dark panelling, old paintings in heavy gilt frames. They were divided into their first year classes. Simon and Peter were in the same class, and they managed to sit together.

"Like the juniors," said Peter, happily. Books were given out, a timetable to be copied down. Their form tutor, Mr Andrews, seemed nice, but of course he would not be teaching them all the time. His subject was French.

Then it was break. Daniel had warned him never to call it playtime like at the juniors.

"Come with me, Peter," said Simon, urgently. He led the way quickly down the field to the trees. He saw some fags being taken unawares and dropped to the grass by groups of second years. Peter watched and gulped. "So it's true then," he said.

They stood by the trees, Simon wondering about the meaning behind Daniel's instruction. Was this a sanctuary? They watched as chases developed across the field, all with the inevitable result. At the top of a grassy bank, two much older boys were watching and laughing, with cups of tea in their hands, their green blazers edged in gold. Sixth form prefects.

"There's two more!" came the shout. A group of perhaps twenty predators was fast coming towards them.

"Remember what I said," urged Simon to Peter. "Run!" They ran, splitting up to divide the approaching sharks. Simon ran as fast as he could, outrunning the pack.

He heard them shouting behind him. "You get that one, we'll get this one." Daniel's voice! Now understanding Daniel’s intention, he slowed and swerved back towards the trees, a move deliberately designed to look like he was still avoiding but in fact to allow capture by Daniel's group. Then they were all around him. He couldn't see Peter. He was pushed to the ground, his arms and legs pinned.

"I know this one, he was at my juniors. My turn." Daniel getting in quickly, speaking with authority.

"Go on then, Gray, debag 'im."

Daniel knelt down beside Simon in the circle of boys and quickly undid Simon's long school trousers, pulling them down to his knees, and then his pants.

"His shirt, Gray," shouted one of the boys. Daniel lifted up Simon's shirt front to complete the exposure. Simon was trying to say his twelve times table, but all he could think of was Daniel and all these boys. Oh no, please no! But then one said, "He's OK, he'll do," and the predators were leaving for their next victim.

Daniel dropped Simon's shirt down again. "That was OK," he said.

"Thanks, Daniel," said Simon. "I'm glad it was you."

"That was the plan," said Daniel, with a grin. "Nobody else was gonna do that to you. If it had to be done, it was going to be me. Give me your hand." Daniel was scrawling 'DG 2A' on the back of Simon's hand. "Shows you've been done and who by. You won't get done again. Get dressed quick, you’ve got a hard on now. That's why I did it as quick as I could, I know you. Gotta go, see you tonight." And he was gone.

Simon recovered himself and pulled up his pants and trousers. He saw Peter coming towards him, shirt hanging out, obviously upset.

"Don't cry, Peter, for Christ's sake, don't cry."

"I'll be OK," said Peter, but he was close to tears.

"They got you?" asked Simon. "But you didn't cry then, did you?"

"No," said Peter, "but remember what you said about a, you know, a hard on? I felt it was going to happen to me. I was scared."

"Did they say anything?"

"They said 'He's passed muster'. What does that mean?"

"It means you're OK. You passed the test, Peter," said Simon relieved. He saw 'TH 2B' on Peter's hand.

"Oh good," said Peter. "Did you get done?"

"Yes, Daniel Gray did me." He showed Peter his hand with Daniel's mark on it.

"Daniel Gray? Yes, he's here, isn't he. I'm surprised, I thought he used to be your friend."

"He still is," said Simon. "That’s why he did it to me instead of letting anybody else."

"I get it," said Peter, understanding dawning. "I'm glad I didn't actually get that hard on."

"Me too," said Simon, omitting that it was touch and go because it had been Daniel, his protective predator on that day, that had almost given rise to it and that he had succumbed when Daniel was talking to him afterwards.

Simon gradually settled in at Henrys, absorbing the ethos of the place, its traditions and rituals, aping the great British public schools. A lot of famous people were 'old boys' and the school's foundation dated back to Henry VII – it was made clear a lot was expected. But Daniel was there and although there was less opportunity for them to be together at school – friendships outside one's own year group were discouraged – Simon felt better knowing that contact could be made if needed, usually in the school's own tuck shop at dinner break.

32. 1957/9 Simon catches up

Much changed for Simon in that September. Fitting in at Hooray Henrys as best he could, coping with the demands of a new range of subjects to study, finding maths hard once again, doing well in English, French and History, less certain with Latin, physics, chemistry (especially) and biology.

On the sporting front, Simon quickly found that he hated rugby football. This was the winter game at Henrys, and Simon knew that Daniel liked it, sporty as always. Daddy also was a great follower of rugby, rugger as he called it. Daddy had taken him to one or two games where the city team, one of the top ones in the country, had usually won. Daddy had played rugger as fly half at school and for his county down south, and was sure Simon would be a great rugger player. But Simon found there was a great difference between watching from the stands and being down in the mud, which is where he inevitably finished up. It always seemed to rain on games day. Lots of the boys had played rugger already at their prep schools, and Simon was taken unaware by the violence of the game. Already his speed was recognised, and they tried him on the wing, but he lacked the ball handing ability required.

After a particularly brutal game, he came home dirty, bruised and battered and then recounted what had happened and his feelings about rugger at tea, unhappily when Daddy was there. The disappointment in Daddy's face was obvious. Simon knew he had failed again in his father's eyes, but by now was getting used to it. Daddy just got up and left the table. Simon found he didn't care.

But Mr Atherstone, the school athletics coach, had noticed this speedy eleven year old with his quick acceleration, and pulled him to one side.

"What's your name, son?"

"Scott, sir."

"Not very keen on rugby football, are you?"

"It's OK, sir," said Simon, warily.

"Don't try to kid me, Scott. You detest it, that's obvious."

Simon nodded, fearing he was in trouble for not liking rugger, for being no good at rugger.

"I thought as much," said Mr Atherstone. "How would you like to run instead?"

"Run, sir?"

"Yes, on the track. You look to have makings of a sprinter. Depends on your stamina."

"Did you say 'instead', sir?"

Mr Atherstone smiled. "Yes, Scott, I did. I assume that means you would like to try? I understand, even if perhaps some other people don't, that rugby is not every boy's cup of tea."

"Yes, please, sir," said Simon with enthusiasm, smiling now.

"It will be hard work, make no mistake," said Mr Atherstone. "A lot of training and fitness work, as well as technique. I'll talk to Mr Russell. Next games lesson, report to me in the gym. Standard PE kit."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

So began a new interest for Simon. He had always been a fast runner, even Daniel had said that more than once, so perhaps this was something he could be good at. Maybe Daddy would approve after all. And he was spared the ignominy of the ritual of team picking where he was left last, publicly unwanted, pushed into the team with last pick unwillingly and unwelcome. Unlike some, at least he had a way out, his speed.

It was hard work, a lot of gym training and hours running round the track, but at least from there he could see his classmates getting muddy and bashed about on the rugby pitch. He also liked the other boys Mr Atherstone had recruited too. And then Peter Holman came along as well.

"I didn't really like rugger," said Peter. This was an understatement. Peter had always been a bit smaller than Simon, and he had got crushed a few times playing rugger, but that understatement was typical of Peter's positive way of saying things. "Mr Atherstone thinks I might be able to do distance running."

So Simon had a companion in his training and running. Gradually his body grew fitter and stronger and filled out, a fact not lost on Daniel in the coming months.

Also that September, Daniel took Simon to scouts. Not quite on the day he was eleven therefore, but not long afterwards.

"It'll be OK," said Daniel. "I've talked to Evans and he says he's spoken to Skip. I think you'll be in my patrol". This use of the possessive was partly justified for Daniel's shirt now sported a single white bar. He was Second in the Harriers patrol. Daniel had explained his promotion over other scouts by pointing out that he was the best one for the job. "The other kids are OK, but not the brightest." Simon wondered how he would fit into this hierarchy that Daniel described. But his prediction came true.

"Welcome to Harriers Patrol, Simon," said Evans. "Daniel has told me all about you."

Simon had a moment of worry at that, but realised that Daniel would not have divulged their secret. Simon developed a keen interest in Scouts, he loved the ethos, the competitive yet friendly and supportive company of the other boys. He soon made his mark as a promising scout, and worked hard for his tenderfoot. Mum was always finding bits of rope tied to the backs of the dining chairs as knots were practised. He was to achieve his tenderfoot in only a few sessions, took the oath of the Scout Promise and could then sew the scout badge to the centre of his shirt pocket, and was a proper scout.

In term time it was harder for them to be alone together as Daniel's mother was at home at weekends, and if she went out and his Dad was at work, Louise might be around. There was the den of course, but if they could they preferred the even greater security and seclusion of the hilltop near the airfield. It took almost an hour of cycling to get there, but the aircraft provided a valid reason to go, and as the summer's fine weather by and large extended into September, they would go as they had earlier that summer.

Lying together in the cooler early autumn sunshine on a Saturday afternoon, feeling the gentle breeze play across their skin, they enjoyed again the touch and warmth of each other. On the groundsheet in the long grass, they were close, naked and both aroused. Daniel came, sighing with the release but Simon was still aroused. Daniel noticed this and perhaps recognising something in Simon, drew him close, putting his left arm round his shoulders, drawing his head to his shoulder, his right hand working on Simon. Simon started to experience a new feeling, beyond arousal. His body trembled as he felt the mounting exquisite tension.

"You're ready, Simon, I know it," said Daniel. "Come on."

Simon simply nodded, his whole body tensing like a huge spring within. He was rigid as his muscles tightened.

"It's OK, Simon, just relax, let it come."

Simon did. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before. His body was wrapped in warm fire, shooting down through his groin, from his buttocks up his back and round his body, licking his neck and throat, at the same time enveloping his thighs, wrapping round above his knees sending tingles right down to his toes. Each ejaculatory pulse from his groin sent a further wave of fiery pleasure shuddering through his young body while Daniel continued to extract the last ounce of orgasmic ecstasy for him. Simon let out a deep, panting sigh. He looked up at Daniel's smiling face as the waves subsided, feeling the sensual warmth of Daniel's body close to his.

"Fire down below?" said Daniel, grinning now at his friend's reaction to his first full orgasm.

"Wow. Fire all over, I think," said Simon, now shaking with emotion, and tears started to come. Daniel wiped him, pulled him onto his side, facing him and continued to stroke him, down his back, his buttocks, running his fingers lightly over his tummy. Simon's body trembled still under his touch.

"Idiot, why're you crying?" Daniel asked gently.

"I don't know," said Simon. He wanted to say so much to Daniel, how much he felt towards him, but could not find the words. Daniel just held him close, making no demands.

After a while, as Simon recovered both physically and mentally from this fundamental change in himself, he started to sing, "Fire in the foretop, fire in the main, it's fetch a bucket of water boys, there's fire down below." And Daniel joined in.

Autumn turned to winter amid the excitement of the Sputnik and there were as usual fewer opportunities for sex as it became too wet and cold to visit the den, and as the darker nights closed in, bike rides ceased. But at half term, again in some of the Christmas holidays and in the miserable half term in winter, they made use of Daniel's room whenever they could. Otherwise they would just enjoy being together, knowing each other so well, doing homework in Daniel's room straight after school most nights ("Get's it over with," said Daniel. Simon agreed.) and playing on the piano. Simon's ability to pick out tunes by ear improved, but of course this was nothing compared to Daniel's increasing mastery of that great machine. He had passed all his piano exams so far with flying colours.

"Can you come to church this Sunday?" Daniel's eyes begged for a yes.

"It's not a Church Parade is it?" asked Simon, puzzled.

"No, but I'm going to be Altar Boy. It's a great honour and I want you to see me."

Simon had seen these robed priest's helpers on his visits to church before, but now Daniel was going to be one!

"Course I will. Wouldn't miss it for anything. Don't drop the wine though," he smiled. "Or have a sly swig."

Daniel's reply was a sharp dig in the ribs. "My parents will be there so you can sit with them again if you want."

On that Sunday, Simon, dressed in school long grey trousers and white shirt, watched entranced as Daniel who was wearing a long white robe – Daniel said it was called an alb – prepared the communion and the altar. During the service Simon kept looking at his friend, sitting at one side behind the altar rail on that sacred ground, imbued in his mind with the reflected majesty of the priesthood and of the Eucharist.

After the communion prayers Daniel received the bread and wine directly from the Vicar even before the choir. Then with the congregation, Simon went up to the rail and knelt for the Vicar's blessing. He saw that Daniel was taking the wine, which the altar boy sometimes did. He was aware of Daniel's closeness as he followed the Vicar along the rail with the chalice. The vicar reached Simon, and placing his hand on Simon's bowed head, said "The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace" and then moved on. Simon felt that warm glow of peace he always did. He saw Daniel's white robe stop in front of him and looked up into Daniel's eyes.

"The blood of Christ keep you in eternal life," said Daniel, pleading on his face and offering Simon the chalice. By this time the Vicar was about four people further along. Simon put his lips to the rim of the silver chalice and sipped the wine. It was strong and dark tasting, and sent a warm glow through him. Daniel smiled, wiped the edge of the chalice with his cloth and moved on. Simon stayed at the rail, savouring the moment, his friend's closeness and new status. Mrs Gray nudged Simon so he had to leave. Back in the pew he watched Daniel as he continued to follow the Vicar offering the wine.

"Daniel shouldn't really have offered you the wine," whispered Mrs Gray. "It's not like him to forget that."

Simon knew perfectly well that it had been no error on Daniel's part.

After the service, he waited for Daniel, who had to clear the altar and put things away.

"Why did you do that?" asked Simon as they walked home.

"The wine?"

"Yes. Your Mum said you weren't supposed to because I'm not confirmed."

"I know, but I so wanted to give you the wine. I told the Vicar I had got muddled because it was my first time."

"Were you in trouble?"

"Not really, he just said I should be more observant next time."

"I'm glad there'll be a next time, then. You've not been banned?"

"No, it's OK. I won't be able to get away with it again though."

"I'm glad you did this time. It felt so special to me with it being you holding the cup."

"That was the plan," laughed Daniel. "I knew you'd like it. I wanted to say the words to you."

"I wish it had been you giving me the blessing," joked Simon.

"Kneel down," said Daniel. They were in the grassy area near the footbridge over the stream. Simon knelt on the grass.

Placing his hand on Simon's head, Daniel said solemnly, "Simon, The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

"Amen," replied Simon, tears of overwhelming emotion in his eyes, and looked at Daniel's face.

Daniel smiled. "Come on, idiot," he said as Simon stood up. "I can see that meant a lot to you."

Simon could only nod his head.

"To me too, Simon," said Daniel, risking a quick hug as they walked on.

Over forty years later when Simon was offered the chance to perform the same function at church, to be a server, he jumped at the chance.

33. 1958/4 Fielding

Simon covered his ears. He could not bear the shouting. Mum and Dad were arguing again, and Frances with all the righteousness of her sixteen years, was joining in. Simon didn't know what the argument was about this time, and it didn't really matter. It was always the same. He stayed in his room, wondering if he could get out of the house without being spotted and possibly drawn in.

The shouting subsided and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Simon was suddenly fearful that it would be Dad, but when his bedroom door opened, it was Frances.

"Are you all right?" she asked. She looked kindly at her little brother. He seemed younger than his eleven years and she could see he was upset.

"Yes, I suppose so," said Simon. "Is it safe to go down yet?"

"I would just stay here, if I were you," said Frances.

"Not doing that," said Simon, "I just want to get out."

"I'll come down with you, then."

Brother and sister went out on to the landing. Frances peered over the banister. The noise had subsided. Frances led the way down the stairs. Just as they got to the bottom, Dad came out of the dining room, red faced and angry looking.

"What have you two been up to," he snapped.

"Just talking," said Frances, defensively, a nuance that did not escape Dad.

"Talking? Talking about what?" Dad demanded irritably.

"Just things," said Simon, wanting to support his sister.

"Answer me properly, Simon," barked Dad, grabbing Simon by the arm. "What kind of things?"

Simon turned to Frances for support. He thought this was the prelude to a beating.

"Dad, it's nothing," she said

"I'll decide whether it's nothing or something."

"Harry, what's going on?" came Mum's voice as she entered the hallway.

"This boy's being cheeky again, answering back," said Dad, and shook Simon who put up his hand to defend a possible blow.

"What!" shouted Dad. "You would try to strike me?" He roughly pulled Simon round the better to aim a retaliation against the strike that never was.

"Harry! Stop it!" snapped Mum.

"It really isn't fair, Dad," said Frances. "He's not done anything."

Faced with this from his wife and teenage daughter, not to mention Simon's growing size and strength, Dad released his grip on Simon.

"You had better be very careful, my lad," said Dad, and he turned back into the dining room.

"You all right, love?" said Mum.

Simon nodded, shaken, and breathing quickly with subsiding fear.

"I'm going out," he said. He grabbed his jacket off the hall pegs and went back through the kitchen and out of the back door. He wasn't sure where he was going. He thought of getting his bike out but decided on a quick getaway. Unthinkingly, he walked round the corner to Daniel's house, his refuge in times of trouble. Daniel knew about the rows at home. There had been one occasion with huge embarrassment when Daniel on one of his rare visits to Simon's home witnessed a family row. Simon was so ashamed that Daniel saw it and he rushed off to escape. Daniel followed and was so understanding.

As he walked along beside the privet hedge, he heard Daniel's voice. But when he reached the gates, he saw Daniel on his driveway talking to two other boys, Fielding and Richardson, who were standing astride their bicycles. Simon hated them. They were both at Victoria Road, and they hated Hooray Henrys. Fielding especially was a bully, and Richardson was his sidekick. But Daniel knew them, they were a bit older than him. Simon stood for a moment at the gate, wondering why Daniel was talking to them and hesitating now to go in. The three became conscious of his presence.

"Fuck off, you," said Fielding.

Before anything else could be said, Simon turned and walked on, past Daniel's house. He went into the allotments. There was nobody about. He was at a loose end now, he had wanted to be with Daniel to find some feeling of comfort after the row at home, but Fielding had put paid to that. He sat for a few moments, wondering where he might go. The Parade? But he had no money. For want of anything better, he got up and started down the allotments towards the den.

"Simple Simon!" came the catcall. Simon turned to see Fielding and Richardson coming up on their bikes along the allotment path. Before Simon could think of evasive action, they were there.

"What do you want?" said Simon. Fielding thrust his face towards Simon. His face always seemed dirty, thought Simon. He had a scar on his left cheek which Simon supposed was from a fight. The two had dropped their bikes.

"This!" said Fielding, as he suddenly punched Simon in the gut, catching him unawares.

"Ah! What was that for?"

"We're going to beat you up," said Fielding.

"What for?" groaned Simon, still partly doubled up.

"Because we can," gloated Richardson.

"I don't like kids who listen to my conversations," said Fielding.

"I wasn't listening," Simon tried to explain.

"Fibbing as well. I'm going to knock your block off," said Fielding. Then the two were punching Simon, raining blows on his body. He tried to move out of the way, but to no effect. Simon's face exploded with pain as his nose took a hard punch from Fielding and there was blood streaming down his face, onto his jacket. Suddenly Fielding jerked backwards and was spun round. Daniel stood facing Fielding, his stance displaying complete readiness to take him on, even though Fielding was perhaps a good inch or more taller.

"Leave him alone, Fielding," said Daniel resolutely. But Daniel had that inner steadfastness that Simon admired so much and that Fielding and Richardson, like all bullies, feared. Fielding knew that if he took on Daniel, he and Richardson against Daniel and Simon, they might well win, but the cost would be too great.

"Yeah, well. He's had his lesson now," said Fielding, unconsciously but revealingly taking a step back.

"Just go then," said Daniel, unmoving.

"Just coz your Dad's a copper," said Fielding. "Come on, let's go," he added to Richardson.

"That's nothing to do with it," said Daniel, "and you know it!"

The two bullies moved off as Daniel came to where Simon was now sitting on the grass next to the path.

"Look after your little friend!" called Fielding sarcastically from a safer distance.

"What does he mean by that?" asked Simon, worried that their precious secret might be out.

Daniel of course understood. "Nothing like that," he said reassuringly. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"No," said Simon. "They've been shouting and arguing again."

"OK," said Daniel, "I'll take you to mine."

The two friends moved off back along the path having first made sure that Fielding and Richardson were gone.

"Why were they beating you up?" asked Daniel.

"Does Fielding need a reason?" replied Simon bitterly. "They said I had been listening to you talking to them."

"That's rubbish," said Daniel.

"Why were you talking to them anyway?" asked Simon. "They're not your friends are they?"

"No. It's sort of complicated."

When they got back to Daniel's house, they went to the kitchen.

"Sit down," said Daniel, as he turned on the tap. He went to the cupboard and came back with cotton wool. Simon's nose was still bleeding a bit and his face and front were blood streaked.

"What happened to you?" said Louise, Daniel's sister, coming into the kitchen and seeing Simon.

"Fielding," explained Daniel, gently wiping Simon's face with damp cotton wool.

"That oik," said Louise, "Really Daniel, I don't know why you bother helping him. Can you manage?"

"Yes," said Daniel, "Basic first aid."

"Regular Boy Scout," said Louise as she left the kitchen. Daniel finished cleaning Simon's face.

"There, all looks normal again," said Daniel, smiling. Simon didn't think it felt normal, His nose still hurt.

"Is my nose swollen?" he asked. Daniel looked and considered for a moment.

"No," he said, laughing, "you're just as ugly as usual."

Simon grinned back. Daniel cupped Simon's jaw in his hands and moved close so his forehead rested against Simon's. For a few seconds, the two remained still, in unspoken communion. Daniel stood back.

"How are you helping Fielding?" asked Simon, baffled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to him. "You're not… It's not like with him, like with us, is it?"

"Bloody hell! Definitely not!" said Daniel, pulling a face of disgust. "That's just you and me," he continued, "nobody else."

"Me too," said Simon quickly. "So what is it with Fielding then?"

"Tell you later," said Daniel.

But the moment passed, and he never did.

34. 1958/5 First Kiss

As Spring moved toward summer, the boys' horizons widened. Scout activities moved more outdoors, the athletics could get back out on the track in earnest and the bike rides began again. They would return to the vantage point overlooking the aerodrome, with sandwiches, drinks and the groundsheet. Since Simon's first climax, the boys' relationship in that sense had become reciprocal, and both enjoyed it more.

Relaxing on the groundsheet after their mutual release, they were allowing the sun to bathe their bodies once more.

"I like it much better now that you come as well," said Daniel.

"How?" said Simon, looking up at the fluffy clouds dotted across the blue early summer sky.

"Because we're more equal. I always thought it was unfair before, and I didn't like that. It's much better now."

"I like it better, too," said Simon.

Daniel laughed. "Well, obviously. You're such an idiot."

Simon knew that this was just an expression Daniel used, and was not at all upset by it. Feeling Daniel's hand stroke his body, he lay back and closed his eyes. He could hear the noise of the countryside, some insects, birds, a tractor in the distance. He could feel Daniel next to him, hear his breathing. He sensed Daniel's face close to his. He felt the touch, Daniel's lips against his. Surprised, he opened his eyes, Daniel drew back, and was looking down at him, framed against the blue sky, uncertainty on his face, the question ready to be spoken.

"I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't mean to .. I mean … " Daniel stopped, wondering what Simon would say to his clumsy attempt to kiss him. What if it was a step too far? Sometimes that two year gap was too much.

Simon looked up at his friend. He had been surprised, the feel of another person's lips against his own was new to him. But now, seeing the anxiety on Daniel's face, he saw the moist tenderness of Daniel's lips afresh. He wanted to feel it again. Without speaking, he reached up and drew Daniel to him again, and they kissed, lips exploring lips, tongues touching, the effects reaching through each boy's body to fresh arousal. This was new to both of them, neither had realised the erogenous consequence of such kissing. They drew apart.

"Was that OK?" asked Simon.

"Super. Fantastic. I'm so glad you liked it. I was worried you might not've and that I'd spoiled things."

"You could never spoil things. I liked it too. Really did. You've done it before, though."

"I haven't, Simon. You're the first. Who with?"

"Everybody knows you kissed Cynthia Jackson at the juniors."

"You can't count that," said Daniel, indignant. "It was just – " and he leaned over and briefly touched his closed lips against Simon's " – like that. Not a proper kiss."

"So was that a proper kiss then, what we just did?"

"You bet." And Daniel kissed Simon again, as they embraced, rolling on the groundsheet, their bare skin warm in the sun and against each other.

Simon had always thought of Daniel's hair as black, but now, running his hands through it, stroking it in the sunlight, he could see a host of colours, shades of deep, dark brown as well as black. This variation seemed to reflect the complexity of his lover's nature. Somehow, the closer he got to Daniel, the more there was to know. It was an adventure that would go on forever.

The following week when they arrived together at Scouts, their Patrol Leader, Miles Evans, met them.

"Daniel, Simon, I've got some news for you. I'm leaving scouts. In fact, I'm leaving altogether. My Dad's got a new job and we're moving to London."

"I'm sorry about that, Miles," said Daniel. "When are you going?"

"Next week. All a bit sudden I'm afraid. Leaving Henrys too. Bit of a blow. My Dad's hoping I can get a place at Westminster."

"Top notch," said Daniel. Simon wasn't sure what that meant, so he just waited.

"Might not happen," said Miles Evans. "But in the meantime, Harriers will get a new Patrol Leader. I know Skip was thinking of Colley, but I put in a good case for you Daniel. You've been a very good second."

"When will we find out?" asked Simon.

"That's up to Skip, Simon. Don't build your hopes up Daniel, Colley may not have been Second of Falcons as long as you've been my Second, but you’re still thirteen and he is older than you."

Both Simon and Daniel knew Nigel Colley as a keen scout, very good at the practical aspects of scouting. He was at the Grammar Tech. Daniel knew that this was perhaps his best chance at being a Patrol Leader, but Colley was a serious rival.

"I know I'd be good, Miles, and the patrol know me," said Daniel. Simon nodded encouragingly.

"As I say, I did my best for you, Daniel. You deserve it, but then so does Nigel. But I think you have more of something than Colley, and I put that case to Skip and Jeremy."

Jeremy was the assistant Scoutmaster, and his view was very important also.

"What's that? First Class badge?" asked Daniel.

Evans grinned. "No, but that does give you a big advantage. Colley's not quite there yet. I'll tell you what I meant if you get it."

As the troop paraded for the start of the session, Skip made the announcement that Miles Evans was leaving. He said what a valuable contribution he had made to the troop and to his patrol. Miles Evans would be missed, but all the scouts wished him well. Skip said that in the appointment of a new Patrol Leader for Harriers, he had looked carefully at all the patrols' Seconds. He had to take account of who already had their First Class, strongly recommended in P.O.R. for PL status, also the needs of the troop. He had discussed this with John Riley the Troop Leader and the Patrol Leaders in the Court of Honour and they had reached a decision on who would be the next Patrol Leader of Harriers. Daniel Gray.

Daniel flushed with pleasure and pride, while the Harriers made their approval known in whispers.

"Quiet, Harriers," said Miles Evans.

"We also listened carefully to what others had to say, especially Miles, on the question of who would replace Daniel as Second of the Harriers," continued Skip. "The chosen Scout has proved his worth, has already achieved Second Class badge and we know he is respected by the scouts of Harriers Patrol. Simon Scott."

For a moment, Simon couldn't take it in. There were other kids who had been in scouts a lot longer, and some had their second class badge too. But Daniel was now grinning twice as broadly. It was true. Daniel would get his second bar as PL and he, Simon, would get his single bar as his Second. Simon looked across to where Falcons patrol stood in line. Nigel Colley's face was expressionless. He felt sorry for him for a moment, but his happiness at his and Daniel's promotion swept that away.

Later, they discussed this with Miles Evans.

"You said you would tell me something if I got it," said Daniel.

"I did, yes. In fact you've both got it, although perhaps you don't realise it. I thought you were in with a good chance, Daniel. I was less sure about you Simon because of your age, although I hoped so."

"Yes, but what is it?" repeated Daniel, agitated.

"Leadership. Pure and simple. And John Riley agreed with me and backed you both in the Court of Honour."

Both Daniel and Simon weren't sure what to make of this, although Simon already knew that Daniel had it in abundance. But him?

"I felt sorry for Colley though," said Simon. "What about him? He deserved it as well."

"See what I mean?" joked Evans to Daniel. "That's the sort of thing I meant. Don't worry about Colley. Tim Perrett is leaving for Ventures soon, so that will mean a vacancy as Falcons PL. Not a word, but the job's his. So it all works out rather nicely."

Daniel and Simon, sworn to secrecy, just had to agree.

35. 1958/6 Clothing

"Got much homework?" asked Daniel. They were walking up the hill from the bus stop, hot under their Henrys blazers in the June heat, school satchels full of books.

"French, Latin and maths," said Simon.

"Bring it round mine," said Daniel decisively. And with a knowing look at Simon, said, "I think I'm in on my own tonight. I know Dad and Mum are out till late.

"Where are they going?"

"Some police do. They usually get back about midnight from those."

Simon felt a thrill of anticipation, but said, "What about Louise?"

"I think she's going out. Mum asked this morning if I would be OK on my own. 'Course I am old enough and can look after myself. I said you'd be coming round to do homework."

"I'll ask. It'll be OK." By this time they were at the corner.

"See you after tea then," said Daniel.

"See ya!"

Daniel went in though the back door into the kitchen. "I'm home!" he called.

"In here, love," came his mother's voice from the sitting room. Daniel went in and gave his Mum a hug. "Much homework?"

"Algebra, Geography and science," said Daniel. "Is it OK if Simon comes round with his. We can do it together."

"Yes love, of course. He often does anyway. Be company for you, while we're out."

"What time will you be back?"

"Late I expect. Eleven at the earliest, probably a bit later. I don't know what time Louise will be back."

"Where's she going?"

"She's already gone out with Graham. I don't know where he's taking her. She said don't wait up." Graham was Louise's nineteen year old boyfriend. Daniel quite liked him, but he treated Daniel like a kid sometimes. Daniel felt excited at the prospect of he and Simon having the house to themselves. This happened a lot in the school holidays now when both his Dad and Mum were at work, and Louise was at her holiday job at the insurance office. They had taken full advantage of it. But in term time it was more difficult.

"Go and get changed, I'll make you some tea. Dad and I are eating out of course."

Daniel went upstairs and hung up his Henry's uniform. In the bathroom he washed himself down as he felt sweaty and wanted to be clean for Simon. He chose a T shirt and put on his red socks and blue denim jeans. Feeling cleaner and cooler, he went downstairs to eat his tea. His Dad had arrived home.

"Hello son," he said, patting Daniel's shoulder. "How was school?"

"Good," said Daniel, munching. "Simon's coming round later with his homework."

"Well, don't spend all your time helping Simon at the expense of your own work, will you?"

"No, Dad. Anyway, Simon can do his homework OK."

His Dad nodded and went to take his own uniform off. Taking his tea things from the kitchen table to the sink, Daniel rinsed them off, dried them and put them away, while his parents struggled with evening dress and dinner jacket.

Simon was late. Daniel went upstairs and cleaned his teeth. He would normally wait until bedtime, but after his tea, he wanted to be fresh when Simon came. Since he had taken the risk of kissing Simon a few weeks earlier, they had both willingly explored this new aspect of their friendship. He brushed his hair and decided to make a start on his homework, tackling the algebra first. He worked steadily on at his desk, engrossed in the magical way the equations would resolve themselves.

"Simon's here!" called his mother, "and we're off now. Don't stay up too late. Lock up when you go to bed but leave the bolt off, and make sure the television's unplugged. Oh, and don't forget the Aga."

"Yes, OK. Bye!," called back Daniel. "Send him up, and have a good time."

Simon came into the room, dressed now like Daniel in jeans, but retaining his white Henrys shirt. Daniel knew immediately that all was not well. Simon put down his satchel and sat on the bed, looking unhappy.

"What's the matter?"

"They were arguing again. I hate it when my Dad's at home at teatime."

"What about?"

"Dunno. But they were shouting and Frances tried to stop them, so I did. But then Dad started on me, so I did what you showed me ages ago and tapped my chest twice for you, and I told him to stop shouting at me coz I'd done nothing wrong. But he got madder and said he was going to slipper me, so I just said I was coming here to do my homework and walked out. Here I am."

"Does he still slipper you?"

"No. Well, he hasn't for ages now, but he sometimes says he will."

Daniel left his desk and sat next to Simon, putting his arm round his troubled friend.

"I'm sorry, Simon," he said. To Daniel, his own Dad was someone he was proud of. He didn't have a high up medal like Simon's Dad, he had spent the war in the military police, but he was high up in the ordinary police now and Daniel loved him.

"It's OK," said Simon, "I'm used to it. And I've got you."

"You've always got me," said Daniel, and leaned toward Simon's face, who responded by meeting his lips.

"Now?" said Simon, "While everybody's out?"

"That's just to keep you going," said Daniel happily. "I’ve just had a pee, and you know it takes time after that. We've got all evening, and anyway, homework first."

"OK," said Simon, accepting Daniel's lead. "But I mustn't be too late back."

Daniel shifted his things along his desk to make room for Simon to work on the end, sitting on a stool. The two boys worked on, in unspoken unity, Daniel with his geography and science, Simon with Latin and French translation and maths.

"Can I borrow your French dictionary?"

"What word?" said Daniel.

"That one," Simon pointed.

Daniel looked across. "Jusqu'à. It means 'up to' or 'until'." Daniel read the French sentence. "Best there would be, 'as far as'."

They worked on. Daniel finished to see Simon working on his maths. But he was stopped, looking blankly at the page.

"You stuck?"

Simon nodded. "Can you help me?" Daniel knew that Simon found mathematics hard, ever since he had helped him get ready for the eleven plus. Patiently he sat and talked Simon through the problems, trying to show him the reasoning, not just do it for him. It was done, and with relief, Simon put his books in his satchel.

"Thanks, Daniel. I'd be lost without you."

"Me too, without you. That's school, now it's our time,"

They lay on the bed, holding and kissing, feeling each other.

"You're ready, aren't you," said Daniel, smiling.

"So are you," replied Simon, starting to undo Daniel's jeans.

"Wait," said Daniel, and gently moved Simon onto his back, lying face up. Slowly, Daniel unbuttoned Simons' white shirt, and pulling it out of his jeans, pushed it aside, and stroked Simon's chest and tummy. Simon sighed at the touch.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Simon.

"Nothing. I've been thinking about undressing you like this for ages, ever since your first day at Henrys when I was the one to debag you. Just lie still."

Simon lay still, content to hand over control and responsibility to Daniel. Daniel removed Simon's socks and then ran his hands up Simon's jeans, teasing his hardness, but carrying on to Simon's shoulders, kissing him again. He then eased Simon's arms out of his shirt, and lifting Simon slightly, pulled the shirt away. Daniel smiled at Simon's erotic response to this caressing. He moved his hand down Simon's tummy, sliding under the jeans to the warmth of Simon's groin. Simon stirred, his eyes meeting Daniel's in mutual sensuality. Daniel undid the jeans and slid them and his pants past Simon's bottom, Simon's eyes closed in ecstasy as Daniel's hands guided his clothes over his buttocks and down his thighs, legs and off his feet.

Daniel, still fully dressed, stood up and looked at his friend, lying nude on the bed and now very aroused. Daniel again felt that satisfaction he gained when Simon surrendered control to him. A sense of power certainly, but also a strong feeling toward Simon. He wanted to protect Simon, look after him, make everything right for him. He felt Simon's unhappiness and it made him unhappy. Conversely, when Simon was happy - and Daniel knew he was a major source of happiness to Simon – then he was happy too.

Simon looked up from the bed at Daniel, standing, smiling down at him. Simon as always felt overawed by Daniel's physical presence and yet in no way intimidated. As he had for many years now, he trusted Daniel implicitly and was ready, wanting, to please him; in this, at scouts, at school, on the running track.

"Your body is just super," said Daniel.

"Mine? What about yours? It's fabulous."

"It's all that running, you're really fit now."

"Then it's all that swimming. But you've always been super fit."

"That's true," said Daniel in a matter of fact way. "You feeling better now, after the shouting and all that?"

Simon nodded. "I feel really good now."

Daniel quickly undressed and lay next to Simon. "Did you like that, me undressing you?"

"I loved it."

"So I can do it again?"

"Yes. Every time." Simon thrust his hand down to Daniel's groin, stroking his scrotum, aware of the potency within. He knew Daniel liked that.

Daniel squeezed Simon tightly. "Let's get in." They climbed into the bed, already warmed by their body heat. They kissed and hugged, enjoying each other, admiring the other's body, but the older, bigger Daniel dominant. Then Simon was lying on his front, Daniel running his hands up and down him. Simon felt Daniel lie on top, felt the shaft of his arousal, hard and male, pushing down between his thighs. Simon didn't move, wondering what Daniel was going to do. Daniel was moving himself against Simon's groin, holding his shoulders, kissing his neck.

Then Daniel stopped. "This doesn't feel right," he said.

"Are you going to stick it in?" asked Simon, nervously.

"You mean fuck you?" said Daniel, surprise in his voice. Simon, still on his front with Daniel poised above him, nodded. Daniel pulled Simon over onto his back, now facing Daniel. His face was serious.

"Simon, I wasn't going do that to you. You’re my best friend. Why did you think that I would? You trust me don't you?"

Simon was relieved but felt a bit ashamed that he had misjudged Daniel, after all these years. He felt tears coming, but fought them back.

"Course I do. More than anybody, ever. It's just that when you said it didn't feel right, I thought you wanted more."

"Would you have let me?"

"I think so, I think I want you to. It’s just I’m not sure."

"Oh, you are an idiot. Did you like it when I was between your legs?"

"Yes, that was good. It's like you were sort of extra close to me."

"Well, when I said it doesn't feel right, I meant that that it was wrong for you. It was all me. I felt like you were being used and that made me feel horrible inside."

"It's OK," said Simon.

"No it's not," said Daniel firmly. "You are a wonderful kid, with a super body too. You're the best friend I've ever had and ever will have. I know I'm two years older than you but that just means I have look after you, not be a bully."

"Daniel, you could never be a bully. You stand up to bullies, like Fielding. I wish I could."

"You can. Remember Barry Spence?"

"Oh yes," said Simon, pleased. He tapped his chest twice. "Coz you were there."

Daniel smiled. "You’ve had no real problems like that at Henrys, have you?"

"No," conceded Simon.

"So there you are." Daniel gave Simon a squeeze. Both boys' arousal had faded during this discussion, but quickly returned.

"Try again if you want, but this way," said Simon. "I did like the closeness. And if you want to put it in, you can."

"Maybe later, when you're ready and feel absolutely sure." Daniel put his arms round Simon, lying beneath him. Simon felt enveloped by the male power and strength of Daniel, yet safe as always, his desperate inner insecurity assuaged by Daniel's strong, warm, masculine presence. They kissed again as Daniel placed himself between Simon's thighs.

"No, keep your legs together," Daniel said, as he moved up and down, the two now holding each other, pulling closer. Simon knew Daniel well enough to know when he was getting close and squeezed his legs more and moved his body to help, which served to bring him close too. Then Daniel buried his head on Simon's shoulder, his body shuddering and arching as Simon felt against his groin the thrusting pulses of Daniel's climax, instantly transporting Simon to the same heights of orgasm.

For a moment they just lay, recovering. Daniel lifted his head and kissed Simon gently. "We came off together. Brilliant.

“Fire! fire! fire down below;

Fetch a bucket of water, boys, There's fire down below! "

Daniel pushed the bedclothes back and rolled off Simon, reaching down for a box of Kleenex for Men next to the bed.

"Here, let me clean you up," said Daniel. "You've got mine as well as yours. 'Stays strong when wet', they say. I bet this is what they really mean."

Simon let Daniel wipe him clean with the tissues, his tummy and between his legs.

"Some of mine's on the sheet. Wait a minute." Daniel got up with the tissues he had used and went into the bathroom, flushing the tissues away. He came back with a towel which he put on the sheet and the two lay on that.

"We'll use a towel or something next time," said Daniel, pulling the bedcovers over them. Simon snuggled up to Daniel, resting his head on Daniel's shoulder.

"What about your Mum?" asked Simon. "The extra towel, I mean."

"Oh, she's always saying I don't change my towel often enough. That'll be OK."

They lay together in silence for a few moments.

Then Simon spoke. "Is it wrong?"

"What?"

"Us. Like this. Sex."

"Does it feel wrong to you?"

"No. The opposite. Sex with you feels so right. It's fantastic. But just coz it feels right – does it mean it is right?"

"Oh, we both know that lots of people anyway would think it's wrong, but I don't care about them. I care about us."

"Doesn't it say in the Bible it's wrong?" persisted Simon.

"It says lots of things in the Bible, some of it's well out of date. Look, God gave us our bodies. He gave us sex. So it can't be wrong to enjoy it."

"But sex is supposed to be for having children. We can't have children."

"Speak for yourself. I will when I'm grown up. I bet you do. I'm going to have two boys and two girls. And I bet God doesn't want us to be having kids at our age, but we've still got sex. So let's enjoy it while we're young. Having kids is for later, if we're all still here, so we'll still be doing what God wants."

"I suppose you're right."

"Course I am," said Daniel. He leaned over and kissed Simon. Simon felt Daniel's lips against his and all doubt was swept away.

"We're only young once," said Simon, "and the bomb might drop tomorrow." He turned and pulled Daniel down onto him and kissed him again, his hands in Daniel's hair, sliding over Daniel's back, following the smooth contours of his fit body. It had been a marvellous evening after all. That night Simon dreamt of Daniel as he had seen him, playing cricket at school, the sunlight on his cricket whites making him seem like a vision from heaven.

36. 1958/7 Defining the roles

Both boys were now involved in and supporting each other in their sporting activity, Daniel of course mainly for swimming and for Simon, running. Whether it was the physical training or natural maturation and growth, or more likely a combination, each noted and took delight in the way each other became more muscular, filled out and of course the growth of underarm and pubic hair. This transition towards manhood was a journey they made together, inevitably with Daniel some two years ahead with Simon approaching twelve and Daniel towards fourteen, but this also helped Simon become aware of his own progress, by watching and learning from Daniel's experience.

Simon grew in confidence, boosted by Daniel's regard for him, and the success he gained as a runner added to this. His talent was recognised as a short sprinter, the ability to accelerate quickly and maintain high speed over short distance gave him success, especially at 100 yards events, where he first represented his house year at school, and then Hooray Henrys in local interschool events. Longer distance, and especially cross country running, a favourite at Henrys, was anathema to him. The smaller and lighter Peter Holman did well at this, and would encourage Simon when his body wanted to stop on the compulsory cross country runs, which sometimes included the local sewage works, often at the expense of Peter's own placing.

Such was the boys' increasing fitness and growth that the once hour-long bike ride to the aerodrome hill was now accomplished in forty minutes or so. Having found a place where they felt safe, adders apart (and they never saw another one), they stayed with it, and the aircraft provided both a reason and some entertainment from their vantage point.

Lying in the long grass on a warm, sunny July day, they were relaxing in the familiar comfort of each other. As arousal took hold of both of them, Daniel surprised Simon.

"Simon, why don't you go on top?"

"Don't you mind? You sure?" asked Simon, uncertainly.

"Yeah, come on. Try it," replied Daniel, turning face up and drawing Simon to him. So Simon did. Pushing himself in to the warmth of Daniel's loins, he found it arousing but within he was in some way uncomfortable. He found the same when they kissed, with Daniel beneath him, and also the friction was starting to hurt him, so after a while he just stopped.

"What the matter?" asked Daniel gently, holding him.

"It's not right," Simon said, easing himself off, lying next to Daniel. His insecurity returned and he felt unsettled. Daniel moved so they were on their sides, facing each other, a more familiar situation for Simon.

"Why not? There's no rule that says it has to be me on top," said Daniel, stroking Simon's short hair.

"Well, you’re older than me."

"So what? We're friends, aren't we? It doesn't matter who's older or younger."

"It just didn't feel right, me on you. I mean, you've always been ahead of me. At school, scouts as well as this."

"Now you're being an idiot. That's only coz I'm older. You're just as good as me. You're as fit as me. Look at you." With that, Daniel pushed Simon slowly onto his back and ran his hands over his friend. "No, I mean I want you to look at your body."

Simon lifted his head and looked, following Daniel's hand as it brushed over his skin in a light, sensuous touch.

"I think your body is beautiful," said Daniel, "you're fit as hell, easily as fit as me now, your cock's as big as mine already, so you've nothing to be ashamed of."

Simon felt better in the warmth of Daniel's praise. "But anyway, it was starting to hurt a bit, the rubbing I mean," he said.

Daniel thought for a moment. "I think that's because you're circumcised, so it rubs straight onto my skin."

"Doesn't it for you?"

"No. I think because I'm not circumcised that I can make it rub mostly inside, in my foreskin, so it doesn't hurt. The very opposite!" Daniel smiled.

"I wish I wasn't circumcised," said Simon. "I hate it. I know you've got more feeling there than I have."

"Doesn't stop you coming, though," said Daniel. "Don't worry so much. You're super."

"How d'you mean?" said Simon, still wanting reassurance.

"You're clever, funny."

"Funny?"

"Yeah, I don't mean silly funny. Clever funny, witty and that."

"Telling jokes?"

"Not just that. It's the way you see things. You come out with some really witty things at times, from nowhere. It makes me laugh, you know it does. You just seem to see things from a different angle to most other kids. Ones I know, anyway."

"You're clever too."

"I know. But your cleverness is one of the things I like about you. I can talk to you better than other kid I know, ones in my own year too. And I know you’re a real friend. Never let me down."

"I would never do that, Daniel. You've never let me down. Ever. Just think about eleven plus, never mind scouts and everything."

"I'm just a kid, you know, like you. A bit older, that's all. I love you being my friend, Simon. You make me feel good. It's sort of … where I get my strength from."

"From me?" exclaimed an astonished Simon.

"Don't sound so surprised. Of course from you. There's nobody else like you. So don't worry about not liking being on top. You're such an emotional kid, more than any I know. But if it's not fun for both of us, what's the point? Be honest, d'you like it when I'm on top?"

"Yes, you know I do. It feels right to me. I just feel … sort of … safe. And you know that when I know you're coming, it usually makes me too."

"Good. I like that. And you are. Safe, I mean. We don't have to do it that way every time anyway."

"But we can now, if you want," said Simon. Daniel's actions were his answer.

Satisfied, lying together in the sunshine, Simon felt content. He knew that Daniel would never demand of him anything he didn't want to give, and in return he was happy to give Daniel all he wanted. He thought about what Daniel had said about how he made him feel good. His feeling of self worth returned. It was true what Daniel had said about his emotions. They were volatile and Simon sometimes could not control how he felt, especially where Daniel was concerned. But Daniel's confirmation of his value, his fitness, his friendship meant more than anything else because Daniel really knew him. There was no pretence, no false front, no attempt to impress, just Simon, his body and soul open to Daniel who knew and saw all, and yet still was his best friend. They lay together, testing each other from Daniel's Flags of the World book.

Simon followed Daniel in another respect too. He was chosen to carry the flag at church parade. What surprised Simon was that Mum and Dad came as well. To see him carry the Union Flag. Simon was glad it was the Union Flag he was given because that was the one Daniel had carried. George Morrison, PL of Eagles, was carrying the Scout Flag. The two stood outside with the troop lined up behind them, flags in their holders, fluttering in the breeze. Simon felt Daniel's gaze behind him. He had to do this well. He had of course been to most of the church parades so he knew the routine, unchanged since that first time he had come along to watch Daniel.

John Riley, the Troop Leader, gave the commands and they marched off, Simon concentrating hard on keeping in step, back erect, holding the flag high. It was heavy and the breeze kept wanting it to sway it to one side and then the other. When it was time to enter the church, he dipped the flag as it went through the porch, being careful it did not touch the stone flagged floor. He controlled his nervousness as he saw how full the church was. He noticed Mum and Dad, there to support him, but deliberately avoided eye contact. He must keep focused; Daniel had stressed how important that was. Holding their flags high, with George on his left, arms level, right elbows out at shoulder height as trained, they walked down the nave of the church toward the altar, the congregation watching the regular ritual. Suddenly with a loud crack, Simon's right elbow caught a wooden staff with a small cross on top slotted in on the end of a pew. It twanged back and forth noisily like a ruler flipped on a desk edge. Simon felt himself flush with embarrassment but kept his steady step alongside George and reached the altar rail. The flags were taken and laid by the altar and Simon and George went to their position in the front pew. The rest of the troop filed into their places. Luckily the post wasn't broken and was now still again, but Simon's elbow was sore.

The service was now more familiar to Simon, and he followed it. From his front pew he was able to watch as the sacraments were prepared, and at the time of communion as the vicar took the bread and wine followed by the choir; then it was Simon's turn. As before, Simon knelt at the rail and kept his head bowed and hands by his side. He felt the priest's hand on his head.

"The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

Simon felt that same warm tingling suffuse his body as he had the first time and every time since. He felt at ease in some way he could not explain.

"The body of Christ keep you in eternal life."

Simon realised that George was taking Communion. He risked a sidelong glance, and saw him take the wafer, and then sip the wine. Simon waited until he had done that and then moved back to his seat, past the line of waiting scouts. Daniel gave him a quiet dig in the side as he passed.

Back in his seat, Simon watched as Daniel knelt among the scouts at the rail and received the wafer – "The body of Christ keep you in eternal life " – and then sipping from the silver chalice - "The blood of Christ keep you in eternal life" – and remained kneeling while other scouts received either the sacraments or a blessing as Simon had. Since his confirmation, Simon had seen Daniel take communion at Church Parades before, and he wondered if he ever would. If Daniel was going to get eternal life, Simon wanted to be there too with him. He turned round to see Mum and Dad sitting further back. He caught their eye and smiled.

At the end it was time to take the flag out again, Simon this time careful where his elbow was. He and George led the troop, under the orders of the Troop Leader, for the parade round the church, watched by many of the congregation. Many of course were family of the scouts, but many were not.

The double column came to halt and turned to form two rows as usual. After dismiss, Simon and George took the flags to Skip's estate car. Simon was nervous about what might be said about the wooden staff. He decided to speak first.

"Skip, I'm sorry about hitting that pole thing."

"Made me jump out of my skin," commented George.

"It's called a churchwarden's wand, Simon. You both did very well," said Skip. "And Simon, forget about hitting the wand. You did extremely well not to panic, you kept your head and simply carried on without missing a step. Excellent. Both of you did us proud today. Is your elbow all right, Simon?"

"Yes, it's OK, Skip."

"Good. Off you go then."

Simon saw Mum and Dad waiting for him. He looked round for Daniel, and saw him with his parents.

"Is your arm hurting, Simon?" asked Mum.

"No, it's fine."

"You hit that pole with an awful clatter," said Dad. "But you just carried on as though nothing had happened. Great presence of mind, Simon. Well done."

Simon smiled at this praise from Dad.

"What do you have to do now?" asked Mum. "Only I should go and get the lunch ready or it will be teatime by the time we get it."

"No, we're finished now," said Simon. They walked from the churchyard, over the footbridge and up the hill. Daniel with his parents was several yards in front of them.

"Daniel!" shouted Simon.

Daniel stopped and waited, Simon ran ahead, and they walked up together, between the parents.

"What happened with that post thingy? It made a hell of a racket," asked Daniel.

"I just clipped it with my elbow, made it twang. It's called a wand."

"I thought it was never going to stop. Didn't you see it?"

"I suppose so, just didn't realise it was so close."

Daniel punched Simon playfully and shook his head. "Simon, you're such an idiot. But you did really well not to drop the flag or something. Super Second."

"Perfect PL," responded Simon, happy with this praise from his Patrol Leader and best friend.

Through that Summer, the boys made a real effort to improve their fitness. They devised a programme of exercises; sit ups, lifting using various household objects, and Daniel's bedroom became a makeshift fitness room. His mother had to keep retrieving the 2lb bags of sugar from the bedroom. They went out running, the bike rides continued and of course Daniel's swimming club kept his body perfectly toned.

But it wasn't just the physical that improved. Daniel had watched Simon get narrowly beaten in the 100 yards at school, and he knew why.

"It's like swimming, Simon. You've not just got to be fast, you have to concentrate. He beat you because he got a better start."

Simon nodded, the memory of the defeat still vexed him. "I went as soon as I heard the gun."

"You didn't. I was watching. You went when the others went."

"That's the same thing, isn't it?

"No. If you wait to see them move there's a split second delay that puts you behind."

"But I don't want to be disqualified."

"Thought so. Forget the others. Look, I was the same when I started racing at swimming. You're scared of going too soon so you wait too long. When I'm waiting for a race, I don't think about anything else. You have to really focus your mind on the gun, or when the swimmer touches if it’s a relay. Nothing else matters in the world. When I'm like that, the bomb could drop and it wouldn't make a difference."

Simon knew what Daniel meant, he knew that ability of Daniel's for fierce concentration, not just at swimming galas, but in his piano playing, his work. Everything. Simon wished he had it. "Yes, you're good at that," he said.

"So can you be. You've got to want to win so much you don't care about anything else at that time. I'm going to teach you to get a good start."

In Daniel's garden, in the street, Simon did start after start, Daniel acting as starter, using two wooden blocks he had found to simulate the crack of the starting pistol. Simon learned to train his mind to exclude all else, his whole being concentrated on the starter's orders, and the loud crack that meant 'Go!'

Daniel cheered at the next house races, when Simon made a perfect start and won the 100 yards by several yards, beating a boy from Daniel's house. Daniel got some comments about cheering a boy from another house, but he didn't care. He could see the change in Simon's start. He knew he had helped and felt proud of that. For Daniel, it was a success by proxy, and Simon's happiness made him happy too.

37. 1959/3 Nearly caught

Simon decided to wait for the next bus. He was at the main road, waiting to meet Daniel back from his Saturday morning swimming club, and he had not arrived on the expected bus. It was a chilly March day, but Simon was wearing a warm coat with scarf and hat. He stomped up and down by the bus stop, stepping back when a bus arrived to indicate he did not want to get on, even though it was not a request stop. At last another bus that might be carrying Daniel arrived, and there was his friend, getting off the bus. But he didn't look especially pleased to see Simon.

"Hiya, Daniel," said Simon hesitantly, catching his friend's mood.

"Hiya," said Daniel curtly.

"What's the matter?"

"Layton, that's what's the matter, if you want to know," came Daniel's gruff response. "Come on, let's go."

As the two walked up the hill, Simon wondered what had happened to upset Daniel. He could guess, because Daniel had talked of Layton before, and indeed when Simon had gone to watch and cheer Daniel on at swimming galas, he had seen the boy in question, undoubtedly a big and strong swimmer.

"He is older than you, though, isn't he?" offered Simon in consolation.

"Not the point, I'm better than him." Daniel hated not being first.

"But it was just a practice, though?"

"Again, not the point. And it is for the county team."

They walked on in silence until they got to the corner.

"See you later?" said Simon cautiously.

Daniel stopped. "I'm sorry, Simon, it's not your fault. You were waiting for me and all I've done is be bad tempered with you. Come in with me. Please?"

"'Course I will," said Simon, gratified. So they went to Daniel's house and entered through the back door into the kitchen. Mrs Gray was there, putting things in her handbag.

"Hello, darling, how did you get on?"

"Don't ask," said Daniel, dropping his bag and taking off his coat. Mrs Gray looked questioningly at Simon.

"That Layton again, I think, Mrs Gray," said Simon.

"Oh darling, what happened?" she said to her morose fourteen year old son.

"I came second in backstroke AND butterfly," grumbled Daniel.

"Front crawl?"

"Oh I won that of course, by miles. But I wanted to beat Layton in backstroke especially."

"Well, you can't win everything, Daniel. What about the county? You are in the team?"

"Yes," said Daniel, "first two go through."

"You mean you're on the team for all three strokes?" said Simon, wondering why in that case Daniel was so upset.

"Yes," said Daniel, a bit defensively now. "It's just that I really wanted to beat Layton in something other than crawl. And the county gala is in two weeks. Easter Saturday."

"Well," said Mrs Gray, "nobody can question that you're the best when it comes to the crawl, and you're in the team for the others as well. You've done very well."

"Oh, I suppose so. I took it out on Simon a bit too," he admitted, mellowing somewhat now.

"It's OK," said Simon. "You stink of chlorine, anyway." And it was true. The chlorine of the swimming pool was now evident in the warm kitchen.

"Oh," said Daniel, "yes, there was a lot in the water today."

"Well, anyway boys," said Mrs Gray, "I'm going into town for a couple of hours, will you try not to burn the house down?"

"Where's Dad and Louise?" asked Daniel quickly.

"Dad won't be home until this evening, Louise probably won't be back until late. She went out with Sarah and that lot. I think she's seeing Graham later. You'd better do something about that chlorine." With that, Mrs Gray took up her handbag, put on her coat and left to get the bus.

"Better take your coat off," said Daniel to Simon once the two were alone. Simon did so.

"Back room," Daniel commanded. Simon knew what was coming. When Daniel felt frustrated, he would play the piano, venting his frustration into the music.

"Rachmaninoff, I think," said Daniel, rummaging among the music books. "Sit," he ordered Simon, patting the piano stool. Simon sat next to Daniel. To him, the mass of tightly packed notes meant nothing, except that the tune went higher when the notes went up. But when Daniel said "Turn", Simon's job was to turn the page.

Daniel paused, and then with a burst of sound began to play. The three dark opening chords matching his mood. Simon loved the Russian music, its emotion, its soaring drive and rhythms, its complexity, but especially he loved it because Daniel loved it and played it. He watched Daniel's hands, those large, strong but somehow delicate hands, sweeping across the keys, his legs as he pedalled, raising and lowering allowing the sound to crescendo, killing it when he wanted. His passion and feeling, even anger, going into the poignant chords as the piece reached its climax, and then subsiding, its work done. Simon watched with a mixture of admiration and envy, turning the pages on command. Daniel's face expressing the feeling in the music. The piece ended. Daniel stopped, panting slightly.

"That's better," he said. "Did you like it? I played that for you."

"Of course I did."

"Good. The prelude in C sharp minor, Opus 3, number 2.

"I do recognise the prelude," Simon said. "Quite apart from it saying at the top of the page. Why do you like Rachmaninoff so much?"

"It matches my mood. He's an amazing composer, especially for piano. And it's very challenging, hard to play. When I was younger my hands were too small but Mum adapted his music for me, but my hands are bigger now. So I like to master it. There's a part of that where there is so much fingering, he used double staves to fit all the notes in. That took me ages to learn. But listen to this one," he said, thumbing the music book, "It's a bit more cheerful, now I'm feeling better."

The next piece was different in tone, but Simon could see that it was a hard piece, Prelude Op. 23 No. 5, according to the book. The music danced, Simon almost felt like clapping along with it, and this time Daniel was smiling slightly as he played it, glancing at Simon to see his reaction. Simon knew this was being played for him too.

"Do you like that one?" asked Daniel as he finished.

"Yes, it's a bit more cheerful than the C sharp one."

"C sharp minor," corrected Daniel. "I have to work on that last one, I made a couple of mistakes. Can you still smell the chlorine?"

"I didn't notice any mistakes," said Simon, but he knew how Daniel always strove for perfection. "And you do reek a bit."

Daniel sniffed. "Suppose I do a bit." He went into the kitchen and checked the Aga. "I'll have a bath." Turning to Simon, he added mischievously, "Want to come and wash my back?"

Simon smiled and nodded, followed Daniel upstairs, where he started to run the bath. Simon sat on Daniel's big bed and watched as his friend undressed, completely unselfconscious with Simon. In Simon's eyes, he was the most beautiful creature walking on God's Earth. In the bathroom, Daniel tested the water and then climbed in and sat down.

"That's good," he said, and lay back, allowing the hot water to swirl around him and over his chest. Simon perched on the side of the bath. Daniel lay further back and submerged his head, his hair floating out, momentarily reminding Simon of the lido when they were younger. Daniel blew bubbles up at Simon and then surfaced, pushing his now wet hair back, and lay back again.

"I can't do your back with you lying on it," Simon pointed out.

"You get in," said Daniel.

"There's not room."

"I'll make room. Come on. They're all out. Let's have a bath together."

At that, Simon quickly undressed, watched by Daniel, both boys now becoming aroused with the anticipation of this novel arena. Daniel sat up and Simon got in, facing Daniel, their legs overlapping each other.

"Ah!" exclaimed Simon as the cold tap touched his back. "I've got the tap end. It's cold."

"Well, don't lean on it then, idiot," said Daniel, with that wide grin on his face for the first time since getting off the bus. He reached forward and pulled Simon close, their hands exploring each other. Simon reached round and started to rub Daniel's back.

"Simon, what are you doing?"

"Washing your back. Or trying to. It's a bit awkward. Turn round."

With some splashing and difficulty in the confines of the bathtub, Daniel turned and sat, knees drawn up, with Simon behind him, his legs either side of Daniel. But Simon was pushed back against the cold tap again.

"This is too awkward," he complained.

"They manage in the films," said Daniel.

"Have you seen the size of the baths they have, though?" countered Simon. He kissed the wet nape of Daniel's neck, who responded by running his hand up the inside of Simon's thigh.

"You're right," said Daniel, "I think the chlorine will have washed off now anyway. Let's get dried off."

They both climbed out, and stood together, dripping. Daniel took up a bath towel and started to dry himself down.

"What towel can I use?" asked Simon.

"Better share this one. Too many wet towels might look odd."

So they dried themselves and each other, using the ends of the large towel. Daniel hung it on the towel rail. "Come on, bring your clothes." Daniel led the way into his bedroom, closing the door. Simon dumped his clothes by Daniel's heap on the floor. Daniel lay on the bed and beckoned him.

"Come on, then. After this morning, I need this."

Simon joined Daniel and they lay arms round each other.

"Let's get in," said Daniel. They both climbed under the sheet and blankets. It was warmer and Simon always loved being in Daniel's big bed with him. It was warm, safe and like a loving cocoon.

Daniel propped up on one elbow, looked down at Simon's head on the pillow, put his arm round the back of Simon's neck and leaning down, kissed him, their lips exploring each other, Simon's hands in Daniel's now almost dry hair, arousal heightening, Daniel running his hand down Simon's back to his thighs, Simon responding.

They used their bodies to pleasure the other, the joy each found in the other's body ending with mutual climax, each drinking the fruit of the other's loins. And as so often, they sang the chorus of what they had come to think of as their private song, certainly in this sense, in celebration of their shared joy.

Fire! fire! fire down below;

Fetch a bucket of water, boys, There's fire down below!

As they lay together afterwards, Daniel said, "You always make me feel better. I know I get too tense sometimes. You're good for me."

"And you for me," said Simon.

"You do like doing this?"

"Yes, you know I do. Why are you asking about that again?"

"I feel a bit guilty I suppose."

"Guilty? What about?" asked Simon, puzzled.

"Ages ago, when we first started, going to the den and that, one reason why I liked it was because …" Daniel stopped.

"What?"

"I was the boss, telling you what to do, it made me feel kind of powerful."

"That's all right."

"No, Simon, it's not. It's almost like I was using you, and I'm really sorry. You're worth more than that."

"Honest Daniel, it's OK. I never felt used. Just safe and looked after. Maybe I was using you in my own way. You've always been there for me and you've never let me down, ever. No apology required."

"If you ever do feel like that, used I mean, tell me, won't you?"

"OK, but I know you never would. You're just not like that, and this proves it."

"Well, I was a bit worried about it," continued Daniel, "especially now I am sometimes going into you. If you're not happy about it, I would feel as though I was using you."

"No," reiterated Simon. "It's super. It feels right and you know I sometimes come just from the way you are in me. I like it when you come there as well. I know I've got you for longer in a kind of way." Simon had never heard of the prostate but was very aware of its highly erogenous effect when stimulated! He turned and kissed Daniel. "No more apologies, right?"

"Right. Thank you, Simon. You're an amazing friend to have. Do I still smell of chlorine?"

Simon moved closer and drew in breath on Daniel's shoulder. There was no chlorine, all Simon could smell was the masculine scent of him that he found so exciting. But all he said was, "No. You smell normal now."

"Good," said Daniel, "so do you."

"I didn't smell of chlorine in the first place."

"So? You still smell normal."

Simon laughed, but it was cut short by a shout from downstairs.

"Daniel? Are you in?"

"It's Louise, shhh," said Daniel. They heard Louise coming up the stairs. Simon instinctively clung closer to Daniel's warm body. Louise seemed to stop outside the door.

"I didn't lock the door," whispered Daniel anxiously, fearful that his eighteen year old sister would just come in.

"Daniel, are you in there?" came from the other side of the door. Daniel knew he would have to answer.

"Yes. Got back from swimming."

"D'you make the team? Silly question."

"Yes, three events."

"Three? Good," Louise said. "Simon in there with you?"

For a moment Daniel wondered what to say, just in time remembering Simon's coat on the chair in the kitchen.

"Yeah. We're OK," he called back from the bed, praying Louise would not open the door.

"I'm sure you are," answered Louise. "I've just come back for some things. I'm off out again. Mum in town?"

"Yes," said Daniel, he and Simon still locked in unmoving embrace.

"OK bruvver." They heard Louise go to her room. A few minutes of movement during the which the two boys didn't stir, and then footsteps on the landing outside the door.

"I'm off then. See you later."

"Bye!" called Daniel.

"Bye!" Louise paused. "Bye Simon!"

Daniel nudged Simon, nodding.

"Bye!" shouted Simon, hoping the nervousness in his voice wouldn't show. They heard Louise going downstairs and a few moments later, the front door closing. Both boys exhaled and relaxed their grip on each other.

"That was close," said Simon.

"You can say that again!"

"That was close," said Simon, smiling now, and then getting poked by Daniel for deliberately taking him literally. The two remained in that warm cocoon for an hour longer, relaxing in their closeness and talking, of the county swimming gala - "Of course I'll be there!" said Simon – of Simon's athletics – "I bet you win the 100 yards again," said Daniel. "I will if you're watching," said Simon. "Try and stop me," said Daniel – of school and plans for the coming Easter holiday, including more time like this. Holidays, when both Daniel's parents were at work, presented the best chance for the two to use Daniel's bed. When Daniel said his mother might be back soon, they reluctantly relinquished their warm nest and got dressed.

Simon watched Daniel with Mr and Mrs Gray and Louise from the spectator seats as he sped through the water to win the county front crawl well in front of the next boy, Daniel waving up at them as he climbed out of the pool. He came second again in the backstroke and butterfly heats, losing the final place to Layton, but he went on to star in the four length relay. His team were in third place after three lengths, and Daniel was to swim the final part. Simon watched as Daniel, face set in determination and concentration, was poised on the edge, waiting for his teammate to touch, risking disqualification if he dived too early. As soon as the boy touched, Daniel dived over the boy's head, but well behind the leader who was already powering away. Simon looked on agitated with excitement and anxiety, as Daniel's powerful, lithe body cut through the water leaving barely a ripple, the muscles on his back, arms and legs working hard to make up the deficit, his skin glistening as the water coursed across it. Simon couldn't see Daniel's face as his breathing side was away from him, but he could visualise the look of resolve he knew so well. By half the length Daniel had pulled almost level, the leader seeing this redoubling his efforts, but it was neck and neck as they neared the end. Everybody was now on their feet yelling. Simon was shouting "Come on Daniel!" at the top of his voice. In the last yards, Daniel eased in front to touch an arm's length ahead. The crowd roared at the excitement of the race and the home club's victory. After a pause in the water while other swimmers finished, Daniel leapt out of the water and stood on the pool edge. He waved at his family and Simon, exhilarated. He hadn't won all his races, but he had helped his team win the county gala overall. Daniel was pleased, and so was Simon.

38. 1959/6 Scouts

That Spring there were further changes at Scouts. The Troop Leader John Riley was now old enough for Venture Scouts and moved on. Daniel was convinced that either Nigel Colley, Patrol Leader of the Falcons or Christopher Gerrard of the Kestrels would be promoted. It turned out that Christopher Gerrard was only four months away from leaving for Ventures anyway, but still Colley was a bit older than Daniel but had not been a PL for as long. Daniel said that Gerrard had been offered it for the four months, but had said it would be added disruption for the troop to have another change so quickly and he wanted to spend those months with his beloved Kestrels. As with promotion to Patrol Leader, Daniel again beat Nigel Colley to the prize, his prophesy of three years earlier that he would be Troop Leader one day coming true.

Simon sat with Daniel in his bedroom while he unpicked the scout badge from his uniform shirt pocket so that he could sew on the third white stripe in the centre. The badge was then sewn on again over the top so that the stripe went underneath it.

"I told you I'd be Troop Leader one day," said a confident Daniel. "Remember? That first time I carried the flag and you came along to watch?"

"Yes," said Simon. "What about Colley though? He's older than you but now you outrank him."

"He'll be OK. He's a good scout. I can manage that OK as well."

"I expect you will," said Simon, poking Daniel. "I feel sorry for him though, with all those spots." Nigel Colley was cursed by acne. One or two of the scouts were suffering this teenage pain, but Colley was the worst afflicted.

"Must be rotten," said Daniel. "I've never said anything and I don't think anyone else has. I expect he's very self conscious about it."

"I'm glad we haven't got spots. I'd hate to be all spotty."

"Some kids get them like Colley, others get hardly any. My Dad says it runs in families, but he didn't have it so maybe that's why I don't."

"You've got really nice skin," said Simon. "I'll have to ask my Dad if he had them."

"So have you. Some kids in my year need a shave already," said Daniel, rubbing his still smooth chin. "I suppose that will happen one day."

"Me too, I suppose. Does Colley shave? It must be dead awkward with spots."

"I hope not for his sake. Anyway, I've got other things to think about now. My next job now I'm Troop Leader is to get you made PL of Harriers."

Simon, as Second of Harriers was now acting Patrol Leader after Daniel's promotion. "How can you do that? It's up to Skip, isn't it?"

"Yes, but the Court of Honour has a big say, and I'm in charge of it now."

"But I'm in that now," said Simon. The Court of Honour was a meeting of the Troop Leader and Patrol Leaders which formed a governing committee of the troop under the guidance of the Scoutmasters.

"Yes, as acting PL. And when it gets discussed, you would have to leave."

A few weeks later, the Court of Honour was meeting.

"The first item on the agenda is the permanent appointment of a new PL for Harriers," said Daniel, now comfortable in his authority as TL. "I'm sorry, Simon, but you have to leave the meeting for this section."

Skip nodded. Simon, as ordered, got up and left the meeting.

"Before I say anything, I would like to hear what ideas the Patrol Leaders have about this?" said Daniel.

The other PLs spoke, two, including Nigel Colley, making a case for their own Seconds to get promoted, but two, whose Seconds were relatively new, spoke in favour of Simon. Faced with this result, Daniel said he felt Simon should be promoted.

"Patrol Leaders should really have their First Class," said Skip.

"He's done a good job though as Second, and acting PL," said Daniel. "Who else is there?"

"That's a problem," said Skip. "None of the other Seconds have First Class either, but some are older than Simon, who is what, twelve and a half, Daniel? Jeremy?"

Jeremy, assistant Scoutmaster, thought for a moment. "It's hard. We can't leave Harriers without a proper Patrol Leader much longer, and it would be difficult to put someone in over Simon now he's been acting PL. And I tend to think he's probably the best one for it, despite the fact he's young. He would be the youngest PL, am I right? And then younger than some of the Seconds, not to mention other scouts?"

"Yes," said Skip. "How far towards First Class is he, Daniel?"

"He's doing well, Skip. He's much closer than any other Second."

"Are you sure your judgement is not clouded by the fact that he's your friend, Daniel?" posed Jeremy. Nigel Colley smiled to himself at this.

"It's true we're good friends, have been for years. But that's why I know he'd be good for the job. He was a really good second for me when I was Harriers' PL, and I think he's doing a good job leading Harriers now, as acting PL instead of PL."

"How will he cope with any problems from some of the older Seconds. They might feel they've been unfairly passed over?" asked Colley.

Daniel considered this. "I don't think there would be a problem, and if there was, Simon would deal with it OK. There's only Tim Lawson anything like ready for PL apart Simon, and Tim's only just got his Second Class. He was made Second before he'd got it, so there's a .. you know, when it's been done before."

"Precedent?" said Skip.

"Yes, that's the word I was looking for. And Gareth's doing OK as acting Second of Harriers as well. I think that .."

Skip held up his hand to stop Daniel. "A moment please Daniel. Let me think." Skip closed his eyes and covered his face with hands in thought for a few moments. "Jeremy, I am inclined to go along with what Daniel and the majority of the Court says. Make them both up. Simon to substantive Patrol Leader and Gareth to Second. Unless you feel differently?"

"I agree," said Jeremy. "It's a risk, but Simon's a bright lad. And it is the decision of the Court of Honour. Yes, I'm in favour."

"OK, that's it then," pronounced Skip. "Daniel, all I can say is you're very persuasive. But as Troop Leader, it's up to you make it work. And Simon's got to go flat out for First Class."

"I guarantee it, Skip," said Daniel.

"Better call Simon back in then."

Daniel opened the door and saw Simon in Harriers' patrol corner. Simon looked up at Daniel at the top of the wooden steps.

"Come back now, please, Simon," called Daniel.

Simon walked back and up the steps. He looked at Daniel for some clue, but Daniel did not make eye contact and said nothing. Tim Lawson then, thought Simon. He took his seat at the table, Daniel resumed his at the head.

"The Court of Honour has reached a decision on the new Patrol Leader for Harriers," said Daniel impassively. And then he pushed a strip of white tape across the table to Simon, and smiled that wonderful smile.

"Congratulations, Simon," said Nigel Colley, the first to say so. The others joined in and there was general chatter. Daniel rapped his knuckles on the table. Silence fell immediately.

"The Court of Honour also thinks Gareth should be promoted to be your Second, but we would like to hear your views before making a final decision," said Daniel.

Skip and Jeremy glanced at each other, slight smiles on their lips.

Still recovering, and fingering the second white stripe that would soon adorn his shirt pocket to balance the single Second's stripe, Simon thought. "Yes, he's good and learning fast. I agree with the Court, I mean the rest of the Court."

"That's it then," smiled Daniel. "Gareth Smart to be full Second of Harriers."

Later that night in Daniel's bed taking advantage of an empty house, something occurred to Simon. "Colley was the first to say congratulations. That was good."

"I told you he's a good Scout. He didn't vote for you, but he accepts the Court's decision. He's OK."

"I'm glad the Court decided to have me."

Daniel laughed, and shook his head. "Idiot, I knew it would."

"How?"

"I knew that Colley for one wouldn't back you, so I had a word with Tom Rawlinson and Ladislas Balázs coz their Seconds just weren't in it. I got them to back you. I am Troop Leader you know."

"What did Colley say about that?"

"No, idiot, before the meeting I mean. A quiet word, you know? My Dad says that all important decisions are really made before the actual meeting."

"But you looked so serious and wouldn’t look at me when I went back in. I thought it was Lawson."

"I know. Rotten, aren't I?" laughed Daniel. He leaned over and kissed Simon, stifling any reply.

"Again?" said Simon when he could, so anxious to feel Daniel within him once more, to receive him. Daniel smiled and reached down for the Vaseline.

The whole troop, or most of them anyway, went away on an annual week long camp to a large scout camp; everything, including the scouts, carried on the back of a large lorry for the two hour drive. Each patrol had its own tent, and the leaders had theirs. Previously Simon and Daniel had been in the same tent with the Harriers as Patrol Leader and Second, but Riley had slept in the tent with the Scoutmasters. They were worried that they would be separated this time, but need not have.

"Daniel, do you want to come in with Jeremy and me?" offered Skip.

"I'd like to kip in with my old patrol, Harriers, if that's OK," said Daniel.

"Of course, catch up on old times. But it's Simon's call. If he says no, which I doubt, come back."

"Yes Skip," Daniel replied, knowing full well that Simon had not only agreed, but had asked Daniel to share the Harriers' tent in the first place.

So it was that the two boys spent the week together at camp, lucky with the weather, by day each carrying out the roles of their ranks; by night, lying in their sleeping bags next to each other, falling asleep with the other's face the last thing seen, each waking in the morning, the first thing seen was again the face of his friend. This was real happiness.

39. 1959/9 Head Injury

It was a warm September Friday evening, and being a Friday, Scout night. As normal, Simon and Daniel walked together, over the footbridge, past the stream and the church and along the lane to the Church Hall, behind which was the Scout hut.

"You don't mind coming early?" asked Daniel. As Troop Leader he had to arrive before the rest of the Scouts to help Skip prepare the evening.

"No," said Simon. "I would rather be with you and anyway, I find out what's happening before the other Patrol Leaders, so my lot get a head start."

Daniel laughed. "I bet that's not in P.O.R. Got to keep the Harriers ahead, haven't we?"

"You're not supposed to take sides now," said Simon.

"Moi? Take sides? Favour my old patrol over the others? Of course not. Anyway, I don't need to. They've got the best Patrol Leader."

"But I'm the youngest PL, and Nigel Colley never lets me forget it," said Simon ruefully.

"That's because he mistakenly thinks the Falcons are the best patrol, and he thinks he should have been Troop Leader."

"He wouldn’t be half as good as you. Does he hate you for it?"

"No, we get on fine. I only know that because he told me to my face, and then shook hands. I respect him for that. He's a good Scout, you know that. And I know he really thinks you're a good PL too."

There came a shout from behind them. "Off to tie your little knots?"

Simon and Daniel turned to see Fielding's little brother, as nasty as his older sibling, catcalling from a safe distance. Dressed in their full Scout uniforms, the two were conspicuous. Simon tried to think of a stinging reply, but Daniel forestalled him.

"You should come along," Daniel called back. "You would learn a lot."

Nonplussed by this placatory answer, Fielding Jnr. just stuck two fingers up and turned away.

"Like where his brains are," added Daniel quietly, and they both laughed. They arrived at the Scout hut and went in. Colley was there already rummaging through his Patrol Box.

"Hiya Daniel, hiya Simon, he said.

"Hiya, Nigel," they both said back, and Daniel nudged Simon and nodded, as if to say, I told you.

"See you soon," said Daniel to Simon, and went up the wooden stairs to the office. He knocked and went in. Simon heard Skip's voice say, "Oh, hello Daniel" as the door closed.

Simon set about checking his Patrol box, making sure the subs book was there. He had a new Scout still doing Tenderfoot so he made a note to go over the Scout Law with him, and he still couldn't tie a sheepshank. Other scouts started to arrive and were milling around outside, although there was some time before the meeting was due to start.

"Shall we sort that lot out?" said Simon to Nigel Colley, heartened by what Daniel had told him.

"Yeah, set 'em up with something," said Colley, "I'll be out in a minute."

Simon went outside, and seeing a Patrol Leader, the scouts gathered round, waiting for instructions. Simon quickly set up a small wide game based round the Scout hut and Church hall grounds. The Scouts scattered to take part. It soon became a chase, with the boys running around at full speed, Simon included. He noticed his new boy and to make him feel included, gave chase. The Scout took the hint and set off with Simon in full pursuit. With Simon's speed he was soon catching him up, but at the front of the church hall, the eleven year old boy leapt the small wall that formed the boundary with the pavement, and Simon followed. But he missed his footing, his feet slid back, but his momentum carried him onward, he was falling uncontrollably forward, too late to put his hands out he saw the pavement coming up to meet him, there was an explosion of white light in his head and -.

Daniel had come down from the office and gone out to join in the fun when several scouts came running up to him, all talking at once.

"Daniel, it's Simon … Dead … fallen over .. not breathing .. over the wall."

Daniel felt his heart go cold with fear. Not Simon. Please, no. But he must function.

"Michael, go and get Skip. Now! Right you lot, show me, quickly." He ran round after the scouts to the front of the church hall. A couple of scouts were standing there, including the new kid from Simon's patrol, he noted. But what he saw froze his heart. Simon was lying face on the ground and head down over the wall, his legs still sticking up in the air against the wall, arms crashed out at his side. There was blood pulsing from his forehead. At least that means his heart is beating, Daniel thought. He took command, as his three Troop Leader bars required.

"You and you, help me lift him. You take his legs, you, his body," he ordered. Daniel took Simon's shoulders and head himself and the three scouts, watched now by a gathering crowd, lifted Simon, turning him. "Lean him against the wall. Gently." Simon was carefully propped up against the wall, legs in front of him. Daniel used his hanky to wipe the blood away, and then kept pressure on the cut.

"Here, keep that pressed on firmly," he said to the new scout, whose uniform shirt pocket was still bereft of the coveted Tenderfoot badge.

"He's my PL," said the boy. Daniel didn't answer, he was too busy checking to see if Simon was breathing. With relief he felt Simon's breath. He looked under Simon's eyelids. His eyes were looking up and unseeing. Daniel felt a pang of strong emotion, grief, anxiety.

"Is he going to be all right?" asked a scout.

"Yes, of course he is," replied Daniel. "We'll sort him out OK."

When Daniel said something could be done, all the boys believed it. Simon of course knew that already and that was why he was Troop Leader.

Then Skip was there, next to Daniel. Discipline and training took over.

"Skip, there's a cut on the forehead that this scout is compressing, he's breathing and he's unconscious, his eyes are turned up a bit. He was upside down when I got here, but we sat him up."

"Any sign of him being sick?"

"No, Skip."

"Well done, Daniel. I think we should move him as little as possible." Skip carefully felt Simon's legs and arms. "Nothing seems broken, he's breathing OK. Will you stay with him? I need to phone an ambulance. Shout if anything changes, even the smallest thing. Any sign of retching, turn him."

"Yes Skip."

Skip left, leaving Daniel and the Scouts.

"I need a couple of you to wait with me, in case I need messengers," said Daniel.

"We'll wait," said a few voices, but all the Scouts stayed. Daniel now noticed that all the Harriers were there, with worried looks on their faces as they saw their unconscious Patrol Leader. They started to talk, later arrivals being updated by the others. Daniel sat next to Simon on the pavement, carefully putting his arm round him and putting his own head close to Simon's so he could detect his breathing by the slight movement of his chest. Daniel felt a pang of pain at the feel of Simon's completely inert body, almost dead instead of the fit, healthy boy he knew so well. The new boy was still holding the handkerchief.

"Here, let me," said Daniel, placing his hand on the hanky and carefully removing the pressure. The hanky was red with Simon's precious blood, but Daniel noticed that the bleeding was now just oozing lightly. He remembered his role.

"Well done," he said to the new scout. "You controlled the bleeding. What's your name again?"

"Arthur, sir .. I mean TL, er Daniel." He stuttered to a stop, pleasure at the compliment from his Troop Leader mixed with confusion as to how he should address such an important personage directly. One or two of the scouts laughed, but kindly.

"Carry on then, Arthur. Gentle but firm pressure. Find a clean part though."

Arthur refolded the hanky and carefully put it back on the cut. Daniel turned back to Simon's motionless body. He fought back tears. No way could he possibly allow tears in front of the Scouts. But the emotion must have shown.

"You OK, Daniel?" Daniel looked up. It was Colley. Daniel just nodded, not risking speech until he had control of his emotions.

"They're best friends out of Scouts," one of the Scouts was saying. And in Scouts too, thought Daniel. He looked, it was Neil Smith, Second of Kestrel Patrol. He lived at the end of Daniel's road. Daniel turned his attention back to Simon, holding his friend close, tenderly, probing with his finger past Simon's lips. Tongue still flat, airway clear.

Soon Skip came back. "Any change?"

"No Skip. Breathing and pulse still OK. No sign of consciousness though. No retching, mouth still clear."

"Good. An ambulance is coming, and I managed to get his mother on the phone. Good job they've got a phone."

Daniel nodded. "Have to send runners otherwise," he said, and then remembered Arthur. "Arthur's doing a grand job here, Skip. He'll do OK I think."

Arthur beamed with pleasure.

"Good lad, Arthur," said Skip.

"He's my PL, Skip," said Arthur, now emboldened.

"I know that," said Skip. "So now you can help look after him as he looks after you." Arthur nodded and focused on the hanky.

A clanging bell could be heard in the distance. It was coming closer. The ambulance swung round the corner and came to a halt by the group of Scouts, the bell stopped. The two crew got out. One came for Simon, the scouts parting to make way, falling back to allow room, the other went to the back of the ambulance, and started to pull out a stretcher. A couple of the scouts went to help.

"Simon!" There was an anguished shout. Looking up, Daniel saw that the Scotts' Austin Cambridge was now parked behind the ambulance. Again the scouts parted for Simon's mother.

"What happened?" she asked.

Skip answered. "It seems he missed his footing jumping over the wall and fell head first onto the path."

At that point Daniel felt Simon move.

"He's waking up, I think," Daniel announced, turning back to examine Simon's face. The ambulance man was crouching down, looking at Simon, Mrs Scott standing just behind.

"Daniel? Mum?" Simon's eyes slowly opened and focused. Relief swept through Daniel's body. He gently squeezed Simon.

"Are you all right, darling," said Mum.

"My head hurts," said Simon.

"What' your name, son?" asked the ambulance man.

"Simon, Simon Scott."

"Can you hear me OK? Both ears?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Where are you?"

"Scouts. We were playing a game and Arthur was in front of me and…" Simon became aware of Arthur, pressing the hanky onto his head. "Arthur, not so hard. It hurts. Is it bleeding?"

"A bit," said Daniel. Simon managed to look at Daniel without causing Arthur a problem. Daniel was there, cradling him, as always. And Mum was there. But the ambulance man was still speaking.

"What's the day?"

"Friday," said Simon, and then gathering that these questions were to test if his brain was still working, added "September 11th, 1959."

"Thank God," said Mum.

"Any bleeding from the nose or ears?" asked the ambulance man. He looked at Skip. Skip looked at Daniel.

"No, none," said Daniel decisively.

"Good. Can you stand up, Simon," asked the ambulance man.

"I think so," said Simon. Carefully, helped by Daniel and Skip, he stood up. Slowly he was walked round to the back of the ambulance, bypassing the maroon stretcher laid out on the pavement, with Arthur managing to keep station. Simon now too remembered his two Patrol Leader bars.

"Thanks Arthur. We'll have to do the sheepshank next week, I think."

Arthur grinned happily that his PL recognised his efforts and where he was up to with his Tenderfoot badge, and with relief that his PL was OK. He relinquished his first aid job to a lint pad provided by the ambulance man. Simon sat in the back while his forehead was dressed, Mum on one side, holding his hand, Daniel close by on the other.

"I think we need to take him to get checked over by the Casualty doctor," said the ambulance man to Mum. "Do you want to ride with him?" Mum hesitated for a second.

"I will, Mrs Scott, if you want to follow in the car," offered Daniel, sensing the reason for her hesitation. "If you will give us both a lift home later," he added with a grin. "That OK Skip?"

"Yes, fine, Daniel. I expect we'll manage without you," he said, tongue in cheek.

So the ambulance set off for casualty, Simon, Daniel and one of the crew in the back.

Simon called through to the driver, "What no bells?"

The crewman chuckled. "Not much wrong with you, son."

"Is there blood on my uniform?" asked Simon worried.

"Not a drop," said Daniel. "Blame Arthur."

Simon was taken down for X-ray and then there was a long wait before the doctor announced that Simon's skull was very thick and was not fractured. But because he had been unconscious for quite a long time, he was to be kept in, "for observation". Mum agreed.

"Always said you had a thick skull," said Daniel as they parted from Simon in his hospital borrowed pyjamas.

"You'll be OK. Don't be nuisance for the nurses, and I'll see you in the morning," said Mum, giving him a kiss on the unbandaged portion of his forehead.

"How will Daniel get home?" asked Simon.

"I'll take him in the car. He phoned home while you were in X-ray."

And they left with a wave. Simon spent the night in hospital, making friends with the other patients. Every so often a nurse would come and tap him to get a reflex reaction. They seemed happy. He was discharged the next day, and went home, but Mum made him stay in bed all weekend. Unfair! It would be the weekend. But Daniel came round and sat with him on Saturday after his swimming club, again on Sunday, and the two friends talked, Daniel making a rare visit to his friend's home. Simon went through everything that had happened, right up to when he hit the concrete.

"It felt like straight away when you and Mum were there, though," he said.

"It was a lot longer than that," said Daniel. "I was scared stiff you were going to die."

"Mum said Skip said you were fabulous. Did everything right."

"Did Skip say that? Cor!"

"I think I'll stay away from that wall in future," said Simon with feeling.

Daniel hugged Simon. "I would if I were you. You're such an idiot." They both laughed. Simon was happy.

40. 1959/11 A bogie wagon

When Simon was thirteen, he went one winter evening with his parents to a village near the city to visit friends. This was an ex RAF wartime friend of his father's, Wing Commander Bob O'Hanlon. He was still in the RAF. While the grown ups talked, Simon went with the four O'Hanlon sons, Matthew, Martin, Michael and Melvin - Simon was about the same age as their second son - across to a railway yard next to the station over the road from the house. There were heaps of coal and sidings with some trucks on them. This was a regular haunt for the O'Hanlon boys. As it got dark, they played in the railway yard with their torches lighting their way.

"Over here!" shouted Michael. He had found a flat top bogie wagon, the type one can make go using levers.

"Come on, lets have a ride," urged Martin. So the five boys jumped on board. It was heavy but together they had enough muscle power to get it moving. They played with this up and down the track a few times, but as they tired, they lost control of it. The siding was slightly higher than the main line that ran past and through the station. The bogie got past the tipping point and started to move downhill.

"Harder!" shouted Matthew, as the heavy wagon slipped out of their control. The boys all strained to control the wagon, but despite their efforts, it trundled down where it stopped as the points on the main line were set against it. There it remained, half overhanging the main Central line. They heard a bell from the signal box at the far end of the yard.

"Let's push it, " suggested Melvin, but it was a hopeless task. It was simply too heavy.

"What are we going to do?" asked Simon.

"You can do what you want, but we're not staying here," said Matthew. "Come on, we're off."

The brothers ran off, realising that this meant trouble, and Simon followed but then slowed. He could see that if a train hit the bogie in the dark, there would be a crash, possibly a high speed derailment (most trains sped straight through the village station) and injury or worse. Simon had the image of the giant steam locomotive, off the tracks hurtling into the trucks, pulling its coaches of people behind. Simon knew in his soul what he must do. Torn between fear of retribution and fear of disaster, he stood unmoving, unable to leave yet unable to do what had to be done. He needed courage. Then he tapped himself on the chest twice, and filled with sudden resolve, he ran along the yard to the signal box. He knew there would be a reckoning, but as often at such times, he felt himself simply to be an actor in his own life, watching from without.

He climbed the steps and could see through the door windows into the lit interior of the box where the signalman was drinking from an enamel mug, tea Simon assumed, and looking at a newspaper. Simon's courage started to fail him, so he tapped his chest twice and then the door twice. The signalman looked up, and seeing a teenage kid at the door, waved him away. Simon knocked again, harder. He was committed now. The signal man got up and opened the door.

"Go away, son," said the signalman. "You shouldn’t be here."

"There's going to be an accident," said Simon. Something about his determined tenor and confident steadfastness struck a chord with the signalman.

"Come in, and tell me what it's about."

Simon went in and, heart in his mouth, told the signalman what had happened.

"Christ Almighty!" said the signalman. "The express!" He leapt across to the long row of levers and threw several of them, some points, some signals. Then he was on the phone, winding the handle and talking to someone. Bells were clanging in the signal box, and the signalman made some more ring. It was all pretty meaningless to Simon but the storm of frantic activity from the previous calm made him feel that he had done the right thing, whatever the consequences. At least there would be no train crash.

"You're a lucky lad," said the signalman after the storm subsided. "A few more minutes and there could have been a disaster. Now show me."

They walked quickly back along the yard to where the bogie wagon was stuck.

"Bloody kids! What the hell did you think you were playing at? This isn't a bloody playground."

Simon said nothing. What could he say?

"Come on, back to the box. You're staying with me."

Simon followed him back to the signal box. As they did a police car came into the yard, and his heart sank.

Of course the police came to the house too and the four boys got a beating from their father. Simon was terrified that he would too, but instead, all he got was a severe telling off. Looking back, perhaps there was a little parental pride that Simon had gone to the signal box and had averted a possible tragedy.

41. 1960/3 New decade

The first Spring of a new decade went well for Simon. He was doing well in the top stream at Hooray Henrys, but never matching Daniel's record, who was never lower than third and very often top in his class. It was, as ever, his Maths that held him back.

Then there was King Henry's attempt at sex education. Daniel had warned Simon about this, saying it was pretty useless, and saying that perhaps he and Simon should run the class. To Simon's shocked look, he added hastily he was only joking.

The sessions were taken by the Divinity teacher, nicknamed 'God's Partner' probably from his surname Pardiner, and seemed centred round establishing marriage as the one and only situation where sex could legitimately take place. Mr Pardiner stumbled along until one day when he was talking incomprehensibly to the class of boys about God's purpose for seed, abuse of the body and the sin of wastage. The class of boys looked at each other, puzzled, the unspoken question, "What's he on about?"

Then Thomas English from the back of the class saw the light.

"Oh, sir. You mean wanking!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Laughter and uproar ensued, bringing the lesson, and the only formal sex education Simon was ever to receive, to an abrupt end. Mr Pardiner stuck to Divinity after that. Thomas English became a hero for a while, and when he was told about it Daniel thought it was hilarious. He said it just showed how little they really understood their teenage pupils.

Simon's self esteem was boosted by the regard his own scout patrol seemed to have for him. He would spent summer weekends and holidays off on day hikes with them in the Midlands shire countryside, cooking over an open fire. Simon had developed a method of cooking the sausages by setting fire to the fat in the billy can! They cooked quickly and evenly! They made 'dampers' and 'twisters', flour and water baked in front of the campfire, and simply had fun. The other scouts were always wanting to go again. Arthur now regarded Simon as a firm friend, he had completed his tenderfoot and was working hard for the second class badge. And he had done the first aid badge! Sometimes, but not always, Daniel would also come along on these hikes. Daniel did not want to upstage Simon, such as one day when Simon asked Daniel to come on a Harriers Patrol hike.

"I'm going to see my Grandma," said Daniel. "And anyway, I shouldn't come really. I'm not Harriers' PL anymore."

"But you're Troop Leader."

"Which means I can't favour one patrol, even my old one. And they have to see you as Patrol Leader, capable of commanding them without me there."

"They do, I'm sure of it. They think I'm good for persuading you to come along. But you know I've taken them out lots of times without you."

"And that's good, but me being there should be the exception."

"When they call round, whose house do they come to now? They don't call at yours anymore, they come to mine."

"Which proves what I said. They look to you now, and I don't want to spoil that for you. It's your hike, and if I'm there, there just might be doubt in their minds about who is in charge. I do outrank you, remember," he ended, smiling at Simon to draw any sting from that last part. Not that it was needed, their mutual trust and closeness ensured it was simply a statement of fact to help the argument.

"Don't you like coming along, then?" persisted Simon.

"Of course I do. I love it, but yours are the only ones I've been on, and if I keep coming on Harriers' hikes, I'll have to go with other patrols as well, and there's not the time."

"Other patrols don't do their own hikes at weekends," said Simon.

"Maybe not. Well, Eagles did last year but they got washed out. But suppose they did? You'll find out what it's like when you're Troop Leader."

"Me?"

"Of course. You'll be Troop Leader after me. And then you'll have to take all the patrols on hikes," laughed Daniel.

"OK, I give in," said Simon, and then grabbed Daniel and wrestled him to the ground, the fun fight resolving any tension from their discussion. Daniel won of course, as usual. Simon liked it that Daniel played it straight and never let him win on purpose. He knew that Daniel recognised that it would be demeaning for Simon to be allowed a victory and it would render meaningless those times when Simon did actually manage to better Daniel.

A wet weekday summer afternoon, and the boys retired to Daniel's bedroom to quench their needs together. Daniel tenderly running his hands across Simon's willing body, kissing and stimulating, gently entering. Simon welcoming Daniel, his arousal rising rapidly with Daniel's action. Simon was then unaware of the erogenous nature of the prostate but was highly responsive to its effects as together they reached climax, holding close, the fire sweeping through their young bodies, uniting them in unspoken love.

Their lovemaking completed, they lay as one on the bed talking. The conversation covered scouts, school and Francis Chichester's solo Atlantic crossing among other things.

Then Simon asked, "Do you ever think about girls?"

"Yes, sometimes, do you?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"Any girl in particular?" asked Daniel, curious about what had prompted this at this moment as they cuddled naked on the bed.

"No, it's just a sort of general feeling. What about you?"

"Same really. Well, there is one girl, Janice, at the swimming club. She's nice and I talk to her sometimes."

"Is she good looking?"

"I suppose so. She's got short brown hair and brown eyes, and she's really fit. One thing about swimming is you can get a better idea of a girl's figure."

Simon grinned. "So you fancy her, then?"

"Sort of," said Daniel, uneasy about being put on the spot. "But I've got my GCEs to think about this next year and I'm going to get all A grades, so I can't afford to start thinking more about that. And anyway, I've got you."

That raised a spectre in Simon's mind. "But after that? I mean if you start going out with her later on, what about us?"

Simon's apprehensive tone registered with Daniel. "Simon, nothing could affect us, I promise. You're such an idiot."

"You always say that. Do you really think I'm an idiot?"

Daniel looked shocked. "No, absolutely not. If you really were an idiot, I would never hurt you by saying it. I mean, look at some of the scouts. Not all the brightest penny in the shilling, but they are all scouts, they try their best. I try to help them, not show them up."

"Yes, you're good at that. No wonder they all think you're fantastic. I do too. So you like being my friend?"

"Of course I do, Simon, more than anything. Remember something else, too. I know the patrol think you're fantastic. You're a better PL than I was, you do loads more for them. I'm proud to be your friend. You're my best friend."

"I sometimes think I'm not as good as you."

"Why d'you say that? Course you are. They think you are. Remember, you are what other kids say you are. You're fun to be with, you make me laugh more than anyone I know, you're clever – "

"Not as clever as you."

"Oh stop it. I bet you are, just a couple of years younger, that's all. I wish I had your way with words, you're brilliant there. I once told you that you gave me my strength, remember? That's still true. You're so good for me. And you would never let me down, I know that. It's really good having a friend like you, that I know would stand by me whatever."

"Well, you would me, I know that, too."

"That's coz we're friends. And we know each other so well, in every way," Daniel smiled, taking intimate hold of Simon to make the point. "I know I can talk to you about anything, anything at all," he continued. "You know me better than anyone else, even Dad and Mum. I love that about you."

"I love that about you, too. It's not just sex," said Simon.

"Of course not. Although that's really good too. Having a friend I can trust enough to have sex with and be completely relaxed with is just super. I love it that you know me in every possible way. Don't you?"

"Yes, you're right," said Simon. "I feel just like that too."

"So don't ask if I like being your friend again. Idiot!" he laughed, punching Simon playfully. Simon punched back and their fun fight on the bed released the tension and emotion of their talk, reawakening their arousal.

The summer passed with the friends spending much time together. Daniel did accompany Harriers Patrol on one hike, but Simon led the remainder himself. They were apart as always for the middle two weeks of August, with the Scott family making the annual trip to Salcombe. Simon renewed his friendship with Jack Griffin and his role as ferryman for the group of families using the inboard motor boat Invention. Once more, away from the pressures and possibly temptations at home, Simon's parents did not argue and one could perhaps see why they had got married in 1940. Frances was involved with sailing and spent time with her friends who again were racing the National 12 foot. Simon was happy, his role with Invention providing him with a pivotal role in the group's affairs. He and Jack spent time together, but Simon sometimes missed Daniel, perhaps this year more than before. Jack was a great pal, but just that; there was not the closeness there was with Daniel. But this did not spoil Simon's happiness, and he knew that he would see Daniel again soon.

As always, once back in the tempest that often was his home life, Simon made the countdown calendar to mark off the three hundred and fifty days until the next holiday to Salcombe. And he and Daniel would pick up where they left off, talking about their holidays.

In the new term it was Simon's turn to be a hero. He had been selected to represent the school's athletics club in the 100 yards at the Midland Counties meeting in September. This really marked the climax of the season. Daniel had Simon running and working out in their homemade fitness room, in other words Daniel's room, as well as working on the all important start. The benefits from this training were already evident in his selection, but Simon was determined to make the most of this opportunity and he was strengthened by Daniel's unwavering support.

"Thanks for helping me, Daniel," said Simon, as he sat on the floor after doing press ups.

"You support me at swimming," countered Daniel.

"But you come running with me, and I don't go swimming with you."

Daniel smiled. "I seem to remember we tried that once before. I think you're better on dry land."

Simon grinned ruefully back, remembering that day at the lido. "OK. But I must do my best ever time for this. All the top kids will be there. And some of them will be almost a year older than me. I hate being young in my year."

"You're as good as any of them," said Daniel, encouragingly.

"There's a kid my age group in Sussex who's done a hundred yards in ten and a half seconds. Must have very long legs."

"Well, let's hope he and his long legs stay in Sussex then. Right! I want to see those stomach muscles working. Sit ups!"

Simon obediently commenced sit ups.

On the Saturday of the meeting, they travelled in Mum's old little Ford she had bought to help her travel for work. Mum was driving, but Simon chose to sit in the back next to Daniel, rather than be separate. He felt nervous and wanted the support that Daniel's proximity gave him. On arrival, he had to find the others of his team and Mr Atherstone.

"Don't look for us, we'll be watching, remember, concentrate!" urged Daniel.

Mum gave Simon a hug. "Good luck, son. Just do your best."

Simon left to find his team and then the long wait until his event, under fifteens 100 yards. Check kit, get changed. Luckily the weather was fine but not too hot, especially as there was little wind.

When it came time to go out and line up for his heat he looked into the crowd but could not find Mum or Daniel. So stop looking and concentrate. He looked at his competitors. They all looked so confident and fit. One or two familiar faces from previous meetings, but nobody he really knew. He nodded to them, they nodded back, each boy concentrating on the inner person. Simon saw a tall fair boy in the colours of a club unknown to him watching him. He looked familiar, perhaps from a previous meeting. Loosening up, moving around. Keep loose. Not the time to talk.

Line up. Lane but one furthest from the crowd. Good. He glanced sideways. The tall fair boy in the next but one lane was still looking at him. Simon felt uneasy. The boy smirked at Simon. Barry Spence! Christ! Simon looked away quickly. Stay focused. His heart was racing with the shock. Simon looked down the lane at the finish exactly a hundred yards away. Focus on that.

"Set!"

Simons hands lay exactly along the line. All else blotted out now, waiting for the gun.

Crack! And Simon went. He knew immediately it was an excellent start. His heart pounding, his legs driving him forward, Simon felt on top form, no sign of running out, aware of a boy on his left, but just behind. The crowd cheering something. Simon crossed the line first! He had won his heat and would be in the final later. Now he looked for Mum and Daniel, and still could not see them, but he knew they would have been cheering. They had been cheering his race of course. Simon noticed with satisfaction that Barry Spence had not qualified, and now he could not see him. Good.

"Well done, Scott. Brilliant run," said Mr Atherstone. "Get a drink, but not too much. Do you know that was equal to your previous best?"

Simon drank some Lucozade. "No sir. That's good though isn't it. I'd love to crack that eleven second barrier though. So near, again."

"Don't worry too much about times, it's the race that's important. Now Scott, next time you are up against the very best, King Henrys is relying on you to produce your best, and I know you can. So now rest a bit, but do your stretches and keep loose."

Again Simon had to wait.

"Good run, Scott," said some of the other boys. One asked, "Tell me where you get the invisible wings from. You were flying!"

Time for the 100 yards under fifteens final. Simon felt confident. He could do this. He had flown in his heat, his body had recovered, he was ready! No Spence this time. Up to the line, under starter's orders. He glanced into the crowd, straight into Daniel's face. There he was. Simon felt his already buoyant confidence soar. But now focus.

"Set!"

Simon was totally focused on the gun. So much so that when the line moved for a false start before the gun had even gone off, he was the only one that didn't move, so much had he cut out the others. He didn't know or care who had moved first. They moved about to reduce the tension. Daniel was still there. Now he saw Mum too. Then they lined up again.

"Set!"

Simon was calm, confident.

Crack! Simon again knew at once he had made the perfect start. He was flying and he knew it. Oblivious to the crowd's noise he put all his might, all his effort, all that training into running the race of his young life. He felt as if he could keep running forever but it was he who burst the tape to win the final. He had done it! He slowed and felt the others come in behind him, some patting his shoulder and saying words of congratulations between their panting. Simon could not find the breath to reply as he sucked in the oxygen.

He heard the Tannoy announcing the results. "The winner of the under fifteen one hundred yards is Simon Scott of King Henry VII Grammar School Athletics Club in 10.9 seconds, a new under fifteens county record!"

Simon gasped. He had done it. He had broken the eleven second barrier. Sussex watch out! People were suddenly round him congratulating him. He was King of the World!

"Scott, that was fantastic!" said Mr Atherstone. "Henrys will be very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir."

"No more for you today, go and shower and change. I've still got Tomkinson in the 800 to see to yet. Well done."

Mum and Daniel were by the changing rooms. "Well done, Simon," said Mum, hugging him, against Simon's will as there were other kids about.

"You were simply super," said Daniel. Simon just grinned back. He was on top of the world, as he was later at the presentations which closed the meeting.

On the way home in the back of the car, the boys talked.

"You saw him, didn't you?" said Daniel.

"Spence?"

"Yeah. I saw him watching you for a while before you noticed him. It took me a time to remember who it was, then it came to me. I was hoping you wouldn’t recognise him."

"Nearly didn't," said Simon. "I only realised who it was when he gave me that evil, cocky grin of his. Upset me a bit."

"Who's Spence?" asked Mum from the driving seat.

"Just a stupid kid we knew at the juniors," said Simon.

"Well, it didn't show, you upset, I mean," said Daniel. "Anyway you left him standing. Serves him right. And I thought it was brilliant when you were the only one who didn't move on the false start."

King Henrys always made a fuss about sports, and rewarded successful sportsmen with a ritual standing ovation in assembly. Daniel had received it once for swimming, mainly because he had chosen to stay with his swimming club rather than compete all the time for Hooray Henrys. And of course he played the piano in school concerts, Rachmaninoff a favourite. Simon had never dreamt that he, the clumsy kid who couldn’t catch a ball, would ever be on the stage in the great panelled hall receiving the plaudits of the entire school, from the new fags up to the Prefects, and teachers. It felt wonderful!

The two continued to do their homework together, usually straight after school at Daniel's house. Now that Louise was working and at college, and Simon's mother was, and Frances now working, both boys were 'latch key kids', coming back to empty houses. But they both went to Daniel's, which they both preferred. Daniel rarely visited Simon's house. They both knew why, but neither said it. It had always been so. Knowing they had perhaps an hour and a half before they would be interrupted, they would release the stress of the day in the big bed. Pressed close against each other, stroking, kissing, legs entwined, hands caressing the other's admired body, often just that closeness and sensuality would be enough for one to reach orgasm, causing the other to follow rapidly, sometimes achieving this together, their teenage bodies pulsing with desire. Sometimes they would slake their passion for each other in the union of their bodies, Simon happy in his role as catamite to Daniel, Ganymedes to his Zeus, and then they would relax in each other's arms, talking before getting dressed again. The hungry teenage boys would often then descend to the kitchen where Daniel would make bacon sandwiches.

"Do you want me to help?" offered Simon.

"Not likely!" said Daniel. "You set the whole pan on fire."

"That's for sausages and out of doors," argued Simon, knowing full well that Daniel knew that too. So he would watch while Daniel flipped the bacon over with the casual competence about him that Simon envied. Then back to the room for food and homework. In the run up to GCEs, Daniel worked with a fierce intensity that Simon could only wonder at, the piano being his counterbalancing outlet, the Rachmaninoff Prelude in C Sharp Minor Opus 3 No.2 a favourite for permitting his pent up energy to be spent, especially when his mood matched it. And yet he never refused to help Simon if he needed it, especially with Mathematics.

Simon glanced over to Daniel's work, curious about the equations he was working on.

"What's that lot?"

"I'm writing up a physics experiment," said Daniel.

"Which one?"

"To test Boyle's Law, it's about gases."

"What about them?"

"Well, at a given temperature, the absolute pressure and the volume of a gas are inversely proportional. In a closed system of course. We can use it to predict the changes in either the pressure of a gas if the volume changes, or the volume if the pressure changes. You see, the equation …"

"OK, stop there! Why would we need to?"

"If you're a scientist, working on pressures, or maybe you work for the gas board and are installing new pipes, or something like that," said Daniel.

"OK, I believe you. I can see that, I mean how the pressure and volume have a relationship, it's just the maths that gets me, as always. I like physics until the maths starts."

"Can't be good at everything."

"You are," said Simon. "But perhaps I can interest you in the causes of the French Revolution?" he added with a smile.

"Would that be an increasing middle class who were excluded by the privilege of the nobility from any power," started Daniel, grinning, "coupled with France's inability to feed the poor despite having a large agricultural economy? And then there's the …"

"Daniel Gray, there are times when I hate you," laughed Simon, bringing Daniel's historical discourse to a halt with a thump. "But what about the massive government debt? And the King's support for the American Revolutionaries which made it worse, the rise in anti-clericalism as a reaction to the church's opulence and its taxes on agriculture which made the price of bread even higher, and…"

"OK, OK," said Daniel. "I know you know much more about history than I do. That's why I pick your brains on history as well as English and things like that."

So Simon was able to repay the favour sometimes, helping with English essays, and in history, where Simon's extra reading often covered areas that he would study in the future and that Daniel was studying now. He would throw ideas at Daniel about history who would eagerly take every morsel Simon could give. So there was reciprocity and balance in their friendship which made it grow even deeper and stronger.

When they had finished, Daniel said, "Come down and listen to my new piece I'm working on."

So they went down to the back room where the Bösendorfer piano awaited them.

"More Rachmaninoff?" asked Simon, while Daniel looked for the music.

"No, Beethoven. Sonata number eight, the Pathetique."

"Why's it called the Pathetique?" asked Simon.

"Never mind. Sit there and turn when I say."

Daniel started to play. Simon recognised the tune but wisely kept silent, aware of the look of intense concentration on Daniel's face. It seemed a hard piece and Daniel frowned once or twice, but to Simon it was an excellent performance.

Daniel stopped, and turned to Simon, seeking his approval. "That's just the first part. What do you think?" he asked anxiously. He really cared what Simon thought.

"Brilliant, as always," said Simon. He looked at his friend in admiration and love, although he would never have expressed it as such.

Peter and Simon were lying on the grass of the school field on a warm autumn day. Fourth years now, around whom the younger boys trod warily. As they themselves did of the prefects, sixth formers and fifth formers, bar one in Simon's case. Both boys were now stars in the eyes of the other boys, Simon for his record run, Peter had found a niche in the school's drama club and had taken to acting like a duck to water. He now wanted this to be his career.

"You've always been a such a pal to me, Simon," said Peter. Simon looked at his friend, aware that something was troubling him. He wasn't the usual chirpy Peter.

"Well, you have been to me."

"You're my best friend, Simon."

Simon felt a little guilty about that. How could he respond in kind? He liked Peter, always had, but he was not Simon's number one. He knew little of Peter's life out of school. He was saved when Peter continued, "Oh, I know Gray's your best friend, always has been, I know that. But you do like me, don't you?"

"Yes of course I do, Peter," said Simon, relieved at not having either to lie or let Peter down. "What's the matter? You don't seem right lately."

"If I tell you something, promise you won't tell anyone? Anyone at all."

"Yes, OK."

"No, I really mean it. I just know I can talk to you, you're the sort of person people can talk to. But you have to promise."

"I promise. What is it?" said Simon, curious yet concerned at Peter's evident upset.

"Not even Gray. In fact, especially not Daniel Gray."

"Why especially? He's very understanding too, you know."

"Not about this. Promise. Not even Daniel Gray."

"OK, Peter. I promise. Not a soul, not even Daniel."

"Good. Thank you." Peter fell silent.

"Well?"

"It's difficult. I more than like you, Simon. You understand?" He reached out and placed his hand on Simon's upper thigh. As close as he dared? But his face said it all.

Now Simon understood perfectly. "You mean sex? You want to have sex with me?"

Peter nodded, he was close to tears. What could Simon say? He'd had no idea. He knew though that he must not reveal his true friendship with Daniel. He played a straight bat.

"Peter, are you telling me that you're a queer?" he said in as sympathetic a tone as he could manage.

"Yes, I had to tell someone, and you're the one. I've liked you that way for ages. I see you when we're in the showers and it makes me … well, you know. Please don't be angry. I would hate that." He withdrew his hand.

"I'm not angry, Peter. Just surprised. I had no idea you were like that, or that you felt that way about me." At least that part was true.

"I know you're not one, Simon, but can we still be friends? Please? I haven't spoilt it have I? It's just I had to say. It's been burning me up for ages."

Poor kid, thought Simon. Would I be in that hidden anguish were it not for Daniel?

"Of course we're still friends. Just like we always have been. I'm not going to drop you because of that. You're still the Peter I've known for years." He reached out and patted Peter's shoulder.

Peter's face was one of sheer relief and pleasure. "Thank you Simon. I knew in my heart that you'd be OK. I couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. I've been wanting to tell you for ages."

"Honestly, Peter, it's fine," said Simon. He looked at Peter anew, and briefly wondered what sex with him would be like. But no, put that out of your mind. "Why were you so worried about Daniel?"

"Daniel Gray! Are you joking? You know him. A homo is the last thing he is. He's good at sports, music, dead brainy and all that, like you. I can see why you're friends. But please don't tell. You promised."

"OK, I promised. I'll keep my promise. But he's a very kind person, and he would not condemn you. He's not a bigot like so many of them here."

"Bigot?" muttered Peter. "Oh yes, bigot. I know what you mean. So we're friends still?"

"Of course, Peter. We always have been, always will be. Don't worry, your secret's safe."

"I know you're friends with Gray, so maybe I shouldn't say this," said Peter.

"What?" said Simon, suddenly anxious.

"Well, as I seem to be telling you everything, it's just about Daniel Gray."

Simon's head was spinning. Was there something about Daniel that despite their closeness, he didn't know? Hideous doubt crept into Simon's mind.

"What, Peter?" he said, his impatience showing.

"Well, some of the boys say he's …" Peter's voice tailed off.

What was he going to say? That they thought Daniel was queer, a homo? He felt panic. Had they been found out?

"Peter, what is it?" he demanded.

"Well, they say he's a bit too big for his boots, big headed sometimes. But they might not say that to you coz you're his friend."

Relief surged through Simon. "Is that all, Peter?" he said, relaxing. "I wondered what the hell you were going to say. Like he was a murderer or something."

"Did you know?"

"Don't worry, Peter. I can see how he comes across that way, and yes, he is a little bit sometimes. I tell him off for it."

"So you don't mind me telling you?"

"Of course not."

"And you really won't tell him what I've just told you? About me, I mean."

"No, Peter, I won't. I promised, didn't I?"

Simon kept his promise. He and Peter talked more about it, Peter happy to have someone he could trust and be open with. Simon knew how that felt and was happy for Peter, and knowing how Peter felt about him, being attracted to him, made him feel flattered. Daniel was never told, even though Simon knew he could be trusted. He had promised Peter.

As the nights drew in and it got cooler, the pressure of school work mounted and the scout hikes stopped. Scout activities became more indoor oriented, concentrating on badge work for Simon, as well as helping his patrol with their mainstream work, another new tenderfoot and the second class course for most. Gareth was a good Second and almost had his First Class. Definitely a future Patrol Leader. Daniel had his eye on him for promotion. Scout nights often ended with games such as British Bulldog or Hot Rice, and then perhaps camp fire songs such as Coming Round the Mountain and Quartermaster's Stores and of course the Scout 'anthem' Ralph Reader's Riding Along on the Crest of a Wave.

"We're riding along on the crest of a wave, and the sun is in the sky.

All of our eyes on the distant horizon,

Look out for passers by.

We'll do the hailing,

When all the ships are round us sailing,

We're riding along on the crest of a wave,

And the world is ours!"

One evening Daniel said, "Who knows Fire Down Below?"

Simon looked across at Daniel, startled. Daniel refused to make eye contact but was aware of Simon, a slight smile playing round his lips. Simon knew he was being privately teased, in public! About half the boys put up their hands.

"We did that one at school," said one and others nodded.

"Right," said Daniel. "I'll start, you all join in and the ones that don't know it, join in the chorus."

Daniel launched into the sea shanty, with the boys joining in. Their raucous singing of that song took Simon by surprise and for a moment he didn't sing. Then Daniel caught his eye, smiled through his singing and gave him a wink. Simon grinned back and joined in as loudly as any other.

When the shanty ended, Daniel held up his hand, and the troop fell silent. Daniel gestured they get up, and the scouts got to their feet, all eyes on their Troop Leader.

"Troop! 'Shun!" commanded Daniel.

Thirty-seven boys came to attention and waited. All that could be heard was the breathing after the singing and quick standing and coming to attention. Simon knew that this was a way Daniel had of allowing the boys' exuberance to ebb, to calm the troop down before the prayers that would close the meeting.

"Simon, tell Skip we're ready," ordered Daniel.

Obediently Simon stepped out from his Patrol's line and up the steps to Skip's little office.

"Troop! At ease!" Daniel barked. The scouts placed their feet apart and their hands behind their backs, right hand in left, thumbs crossed as Daniel had taught them.

Skip came out of the office just as Simon appeared through the glass.

"Thank you, Simon," said Skip, and followed him down the steps. When Skip entered the circle of boys next to Daniel, the Troop Leader again brought the troop smartly to attention.

"Troop! 'Shun!" commanded Daniel. Turning to Skip and saluting, "Troop ready, Skip."

"Thank you Daniel," said Skip.

"Troop, stand at ease. Stand easy," said Skip. The scouts stood relaxed as the notices and reminders were given out and with the prayers, another scout night was ended.

42. 1960/10 Separation

Simon woke up. Something was wrong. He switched on his bedside lamp and looked at his watch, it was just after midnight. Then he heard what had woken him It was Mum in the bedroom next door, arguing with Dad. With mounting horror, he realised what was going on.

"No, Harry, not now. I don't want it."

Then Dad's voice, but lower, the words indistinct. But Simon could hear the bed creaking.

"Get off me, you brute!" shouted Mum. But the steady hammering of the bed could still be heard. Simon's heart was pounding, he felt sick, frightened, angry, powerless. He lay there, listening to his father forcing himself on his mother in the next bedroom.

"Oh God!" he heard Mum cry. But his mother's protests went unheeded and Simon was overwhelmed with helplessness because he could not, dare not, intervene. He wanted to cover his ears but yet was compelled to listen, to share Mum's suffering. At last the hideous creaking stopped. There was silence, broken only by the sound of Mum crying through the wall. Simon turned out his light and lay in bed, weeping through that October night.

In the morning, Dad was not at breakfast.

"Where's Dad?" asked Frances.

"He's left already, early this morning," said Mum, subdued. Simon looked at Frances. Had she slept through it? In which case, how did he tell her? She seemed not to notice Mum's quiet manner that morning. Outwardly, all seemed relatively normal, but Simon knew the truth. Alone with Mum for a moment, he asked, "Mum?"

"Yes, Simon."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes of course, darling," Mum replied, forcing a smile. Simon knew then that she would not confide in her fourteen year old son. How could he say it? What could he say? And what difference would it make if he did? Simon saw that revealing his knowledge would only upset her further. Mum was trying to protect him.

He put on his green blazer and his coat. It was cool outside, but not cold.

"See you tonight, Mum."

"Yes love, have a good day."

"I love you, Mum."

"And I love you too, Simon. Never doubt that," Mum said giving him a hug. Simon, now taller than Mum, hugged her back. He turned and went out before the tears he felt would show.

He waited at the corner. Daniel appeared, carrying his heavy satchel. This was his GCE year and he seemed to have more books than ever.

"Hi Simon," he said.

On seeing Daniel, Simon could contain himself no longer. On the corner he burst out in tears, sobbing, unable to speak.

"What's the matter? What's wrong? They been arguing again?"

"Worse, far worse," sobbed Simon. "I can't go to school today, I just can't."

"You'll get detention or even worse if you don't," said Daniel.

"I don't fucking care," snapped Simon, angrily. Seeing Daniel's hurt expression, "I'm sorry, Daniel. It's not your fault. Can I tell you about it?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that," said Daniel gently. Simon knew he could. But not here, on the corner. Daniel continued, "Get through the day, we'll talk tonight. We have to get the bus now."

Simon knew the sense of what Daniel said, with the wisdom of his sixteen years. Comforted by Daniel's support, he walked down with him and got the bus to school. How Simon got through that day, he could never remember. It was a blur. Peter knew there was something wrong, but Simon could not tell Peter. Not even Peter who had trusted him with his darkest secret.

At home time, Simon was walking down the school drive to the gates past the field. Peter was with him, but in response to Simon's downcast mood, uncharacteristically quiet.

Then Daniel was beside them. "Sorry, Peter. I'm taking him now." Without waiting for Peter's reply, Daniel took Simon's arm and steered him away. "Come on, I'm with you now," he said to Simon, ignoring Peter's puzzled look.

They spoke little on the bus, and walking up the hill, Daniel said, "Come straight to mine. We can talk there."

Simon nodded. Daniel let himself in, and Simon followed. They hung up their coats. The house was quiet.

"Must check the Aga," said Daniel. Simon waited. Daniel led the way to his room. He hung up his blazer, Simon put his over Daniel's chair and stood, feeling helpless, not knowing where to begin

Daniel sat on the bed. "Come on, sit with me."

Simon sat next to Daniel. "I don't know how to say it."

"Just say what's wrong. What happened? Something last night? You seemed OK when you left here."

Simon nodded.

"So? Something about your Mum and Dad? You can tell me, but only if you want to."

"I want to, it's just I don't know how to."

"Simon, we've known other each practically all our lives. We've no secrets, none at all. We trust each other, don't we." A statement, not a question.

Simon nodded again and slowly the painful events of the previous night came out. Daniel listened, stony faced, horrified by what he heard. Simon's anguish and fear manifested as he collapsed in sobs at the end, relief at having someone in whom to confide. His true friend, Daniel. In tears himself now, Daniel took Simon into his arms and rested his head on his shoulder and just held him tight, allowing the tears to flow. Daniel was outraged, and felt the same protective care he had always felt for Simon, his closest friend, his lover. But he knew he could not change what had happened and was angry at his own impotence in this matter. But the important thing now was Simon.

"I'm so sorry, Simon. What can I say? What can I do?"

"Just be there. Please?"

"Always. You know that."

"Sex with a woman isn't supposed to be like that, is it, Daniel?"

"Well, I don't think so. I'm sorry, Simon, I know it's your parents, but it sounds wrong to me."

"Me too," said Simon, sadly. "It's not like that with us, is it?"

"Of course not," replied Daniel. A ghastly thought came into Daniel's mind. "Simon, tell me honestly. You've never done anything with me you didn't want to, have you? I mean, tell me now if you've ever felt forced at all."

"No, Daniel. Never. You would never do that anyway. You're just not like that."

"Thanks, Simon. I couldn’t bear it if I thought I'd done that."

"I never want to do that!" said Simon with feeling.

"Do what?"

"Do that, to a girl. It's horrible."

"Like that, yes," said Daniel, all concern. "But it doesn’t have to be like that. I do it to you, after all."

"Yes, but that's different. That's you, and you're …. I love it when you’re in me, you're just special, that's all." Simon felt the emotion of his feelings for Daniel welling up inside him. Daniel saw this and his own emotions, his love for Simon, seeing his lover's distress, overtook him and he shed a tear.

"Simon, trust me, you'll feel differently when you're older."

Simon nodded again against Daniel's shirt, damp with his tears, wiping his eyes. "I do trust you, you know that. I'll never have a better friend than you, Daniel."

"Same here, Simon, same here."

Back home, Mum simply said over tea that Dad would not be home for a while. This came as no real surprise to either Simon or Frances. They just accepted it and resumed life in as normal a way as possible.

A few days later, Simon was in bed late at night but not asleep. He heard the front door open and voices in the hallway. Mum and Dad! He got out of bed and went onto the landing, to find Frances arriving there too.

"Dad?" she said.

Mum and Dad looked up to see the faces of their two children peering over the banister rail.

"It's all right," said Mum. "Dad and I have some talking to do."

"I'll come up and see you soon," said Dad. To Simon, Dad seemed sad and drawn. The brother and sister exchanged glances as Mum and Dad went into the sitting room.

"Is Dad coming home again?" asked Simon.

"No," said Frances. "I don't want you to get upset, Simon, but I think they're talking about getting a divorce. It's not been right between them for years, has it?"

Simon shook his head. "What will happen?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait and see. But we'll be together, won't we?"

Simon looked at his big sister. Frances had always been there, taken for granted perhaps. The age and gender difference combined meant that they had not been playmates. But Simon knew that he could count on her.

She in turn looked at her younger brother. She knew so much more than she could tell him, yet anyway. She had tried to protect him from so much. She knew of Mum's wartime misery, of her younger baby sister that died (accounting in part for the big age gap between herself and Simon), of how Mum had gone to the church, the Mothers Union, for help and been rejected because she had married a divorced man. Mum had been left to bear that grief alone with a young daughter to care for in the dark days in the middle of the war. And later of Simon's own harrowing birth just after the war, how Mum had nearly died in childbirth and Simon, born blue, had been labelled subnormal, retarded, mentally deficient, and of Dad's deep disappointment that his first and only son was not what he had hoped for. The rift had opened then and had simply got wider. But she could not tell him these things. Not now. If ever.

"I'm going back to bed," said Simon.

He lay in bed, his room being over the sitting room, he could hear the low voices of Mum and Dad talking. They weren't arguing, that was one thing. But the tones weren't happy ones either. There was no laughter or joking, as there sometimes once had been. Then the sitting room door opened and Dad's footsteps were coming up the stairs. Simon looked at his watch. Ten past midnight. Dad went along the landing to see Frances. Simon heard them talking for a while, Dad and his now grown up princess. Once or twice he thought he heard his name. Her bedroom door opened.

"Good night, darling," Dad said.

"Night, Dad," said Frances.

Then a knock on Simon's half open door. A knock!

"Dad?" said Simon, sitting up in bed.

Dad came in. He sat on the end of the bed. Simon waited. Dad seemed so quiet, miserable even.

"I've just come to say, Simon, how much you mean to me, son. I want you to know that whatever happens, it's not your fault, or Mummy's. Everything that might happen now is my fault, old son. Do you understand that?"

Simon simply nodded, wondering what all this meant. He looked at this man almost apologising to his son, a man who should have been a tower of strength to him, a model to emulate but who instead had been inconsistent, capricious, feared. Simon felt anger and resentment amid his uncertainty, and yet this was his Dad. He didn't want to lose him.

"Are you and Mum getting divorced?"

"Yes, I think so," said Dad. "But you must remember that as far as you and Frances are concerned, we will always be your father and mother. Mummy and I are completely agreed about that. We both want the best for the pair of you. Of course Frances is a lot older, almost grown up, but we still need to take care of you, Simon."

Simon said nothing, unsure, confused, frightened by the now uncertain future. He was aware that his world was changing. The stability of his life was breaking apart.

Dad said, "I'm sorry, Simon. I may not be with you, but Mummy and I will always love you and take care of you."

Simon nodded, not knowing what to say. He felt a leaden weight in his heart.

"I have to go now, son. It's very late." Dad leaned and kissed Simon on his forehead, and then got up and went to the door.

"Dad."

"Yes, Simon?"

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, son. Remember that." And then he was gone. There were voices in the hall and the front door. Simon heard the Austin start up, and leave the quiet road. It was nearly one o'clock.

"They're getting a divorce." Simon was in Daniel's bedroom after school recounting the nocturnal visit and voicing his fears for the future.

"So your Dad's left for good then?" asked Daniel.

"I think so. I don't know. I hope we don't move. That would wreck everything."

"Would you have to leave Henrys?"

"I don't know. That would mean losing Atherstone for athletics, but more, it would mean moving away from you. I can't do that. I just can't do that."

"I hope not, Simon, I really do."

"What can we do?"

"Just wait and see, I suppose. They never ask kids what they want or need."

"I can't bear it if we can't be close again. I don't know what I would do."

"Well it might not happen, so let's make the most of the present."

Simon found solace and comfort from his fears with Daniel.

It was a few days later that Mum said she was going away for a couple of days.

"I've got to go up north to sort some things out," said Mum over tea.

"What sort of things?" asked Frances.

"Work. I need to find a job, loves," replied Mum.

"Where are you going?" asked Simon, worried.

"Bilthaven."

"That's miles away!" exclaimed Frances.

"Look, it's just to see. Things have changed. I'm sorry but I have to find a proper job. The part time work isn't steady enough and it doesn't pay enough. It's only for a night or two."

"Why there?" asked Simon.

"I know people there. You remember Ken Thompson, used to be on the paper here? Well, he's in Bilthaven and he thinks there is work I can do there."

Simon remembered the tall, fair journalist who had visited the house a couple of times. "Is Dad coming back to look after us?" he asked.

"No. Frances is old enough not to need it. She can look after you, Simon. Or maybe I could ask Daniel's parents if you could stay a night or two."

"Daniel won't mind," said Simon, hastily.

"It's up to his mother, Simon, not Daniel. I'll have a word. Would you stay here or with Jennifer, Frances?"

"I'll ask Jennifer, if Simon's staying at Daniel's. Yes, I suppose so."

"That's settled then," said Mum with an air of finality.

Later the two talked about this development.

"Looks like we might be moving, bro," said Frances.

"I don't want to move," said Simon. "I'm happy here. What about school?"

"Don't worry," said his big sister, "These things take ages to sort out. Nothing will happen in a hurry."

Simon knew he was approaching his GCEs and this would be his trump card. He just could not move now, and certainly not next year when he would be fifth year. He felt reassured, and relayed this to Daniel.

Mrs Gray said she would be happy to have Simon to stay. She could put a camp bed in Daniel's room, if that was all right. Of course it was. Frances went to stay with Jennifer. So when the day came, Simon and Frances said good bye to Mum that morning, knowing she would soon be setting off on the long train journey north.

"You'll be OK, both of you, won't you?"

"Yes, of course Mum," said Frances.

"Be on your best behaviour Simon, won't you," said Mum.

"Of course I will," said Simon indignantly.

"And you've both got keys in case you need anything, but make sure you lock up again afterwards."

"Yes, Mum," replied both together.

Simon was used to going straight to Daniel's after school to spend time with him and do homework. But this night it had a special sweetness. They would be together all night! Daniel let them both in, and as usual his first job was to check the Aga, and then they went up to Daniel's room. There was a camp bed made up next to Daniel's big bed. They hung up their school uniforms together, two green blazers, two pairs of grey trousers.

"Do you want it now, or shall we wait until tonight?" asked Simon.

"Do you want to wait?"

"No," said Simon. "I just thought … I'm not sure what I thought, what with me staying here."

"Both then," said Daniel, and he kissed Simon, they hugged and rolled over on to the bed, each pulling the remaining clothes off the other and making love, lost in their union, enveloped in mutual ecstacy.

Simon had already left some more casual clothes to change into so they got dressed, and started the homework. Later Mrs Gray came home, and they were called down for tea.

"I remembered you don't eat cheese, Simon, so I hope this is all right."

"It's fine, thank you. It's very good of you to remember things like that," said Simon with genuine feeling.

"It's no trouble at all, Simon," she said, thinking what nice manners he had.

After tea, Daniel announced, "We've both got rather a lot of homework, so as soon as I've done piano, we'll just go back up if that's OK."

"Of course, love," said Mrs Gray. "I'll clear away, Dad and Louise will be back later anyway."

Daniel motioned Simon to follow and led the way to the back room and the piano.

"Rachmaninoff prelude?" suggested Simon.

"Something more cheerful tonight, I think," said Daniel smiling. "Chopin maybe, but first some exercises."

Daniel played a series of scales, each more complex than the last, encompassing almost the whole keyboard with both hands. He then moved on to play a series of pieces with Simon turning for him, some Chopin, but of course some Rachmaninoff after all, but not the dark Prelude in C sharp minor. Instead his Prelude in G minor, Op 23 No. 5 and unusually for Daniel, Mozart, the Piano Sonata no, 15 in C Major. Simon knew this because he was turning the pages and it was helpfully printed at the top of the first page.

Simon watched as Daniel's hands, those strong yet sensitive hands, swept across the keyboard, at times so fast Simon found it hard to see individual fingering, especially in the G minor. He had watched Daniel's skill grow over the years to the point where he could now tackle even the most demanding of pieces.

After the Mozart, Daniel stopped and turned to Simon.

"You see how different the Mozart is from the Rachmaninoff?" he said.

"Yes, there seems somehow less of it. Less full in a way."

"Pianos in Mozart's day were much lighter than modern pianos, so I suppose that's why the music has a lighter feel. Good though."

"But you like Rachmaninoff better?"

"Yes, he's my favourite. I've got something to tell you."

"What?"

"I've passed my grade 8 piano exam." Daniel sat looking for Simon's reaction. Simon had heard of these grades before, and so assumed that this was good news.

"That's good, is it?" he asked cautiously.

"It's more than good, Simon. Not many kids my age get grade 8!"

"For once, he's not boasting," said Mrs Gray passing the door with pride in her voice. "I was in my twenties before I reached that kind of standard. It is very good, Simon."

Daniel beamed with pleasure. Simon wanted to reach out and hug him, but contented himself with a pat on the shoulder.

"Well done, Daniel. I've always said you were good."

"Thanks, Simon," said Daniel, pleased. Then to Simon's astonishment he suddenly launched into a piano version of "Only the Lonely", Roy Orbison's number one hit. Laughing, Simon joined in with Daniel's left hand.

"Dum-dum-dum-dumdy-doo-wah"

"There. What did you think of that?" asked Daniel, amused by Simon's surprise.

"Brilliant, as always. I wish I could play the piano, properly, I mean."

"You do OK," said Daniel. "Come on, homework."

They went back up to Daniel's room and worked together on Daniel's desk as so many times before. His father put his head round the door to say hello.

"Are you two all right?"

"Hello, Dad," responded Daniel, eagerly, and got up from his chair to give his Dad a hug, genuinely pleased to see him. Simon watched this, the contrast not lost on him.

"OK, I'll leave you two to your homework then," said Mr Gray, and left.

When they finished, Daniel said, "Do you want to go downstairs and watch TV, or just stay up here?"

"Up to you," said Simon, but really wanting to stay so he had Daniel's company to himself.

"Let's stay here then," said Daniel, glad that Simon hadn't opted to go downstairs, as he wanted Simon's company to himself.

So they stayed and talked, risking the occasional (fully dressed) hug and kiss. Just being together in deep companionship.

A call came from downstairs. "Supper, boys!"

They went downstairs to the big kitchen, Simon thinking how warm the house was, the kitchen especially because of the Aga. There was a coal fire burning in the sitting room, but Simon wondered if that was really needed. Louise came in and said hello, and then went out again. After their light supper, they said good night and went back to the bedroom.

"You go to the bathroom first," said Daniel, so Simon did, returning to find Daniel in pyjamas.

"I'll go now. Better get in the camp bed," he said.

A bit disappointed, Simon climbed into the camp bed. Not the most comfortable he had ever slept in. Daniel came back from the bathroom, and laughed.

"You really did! Idiot," he smiled. But then he had a thought. "Actually, better stay there for the moment." He climbed into his own big bed.

Soon, there was a knock at the door. "Are you two all right in there?" asked Mrs Gray.

"It's OK Mum, come in," said Daniel.

Mrs Gray's head appeared round the door. "Are you comfortable, Simon?"

"Yes, thank you, it's fine," said Simon politely.

"Good night, then," said Mrs Gray.

The door closed. Daniel wriggled about in the bed and then dropped his pyjama trousers on Simon's head. Simon grinned back, and in response to Daniel's beckoning, slipped into the big bed with him. Daniel removed his own pyjama top and then Simon's pyjamas.

"I can't believe we can spend the whole night like this together," said Daniel. "I've wanted to for ages."

"It's super, isn't it," agreed Simon.

Unhurried, and wary of noise, they held each other, kissed and made love until they fell asleep, still in each other's arms.

Simon woke first, in the dim light he could see Daniel's sleeping face close to his, feel his gentle breathing, the warmth, the scent of his body. Simon just watched, enraptured, savouring the moment. He could not ever remember being so happy.

In the event, Mum was away three nights on her visit to Bilthaven. Three wonderful nights of unbelievable sensuality, closeness and happiness. The spectre of any move forgotten for the time being. But it came to an end. Mum returned from Bilthaven and he returned home. Simon had learned a bit about Bilthaven in history. The industrial revolution, a place of big factories, heavy industry. A seaport. He put it out of his mind.

An air of gloom hung over the household, from which Simon escaped to Daniel at every opportunity. Mum was quiet, but it seemed as though a move to Bilthaven looked more likely. But Simon felt secure in that Mum would not move him before his GCEs, they were too important. That was over a year away, and beyond that Simon could not think. Just concentrate on the next year or so. This November morning Mum was still in bed, while Simon was up and getting his breakfast. He grabbed his blazer, and went back upstairs to say goodbye to Mum.

"I'm off, Mum," he said, standing in Mum's bedroom doorway.

"All right love, see you tonight, " said Mum, dully.

On impulse, Simon asked, "Do you know when we're moving? Only I would need time to sort things out at school, there are records and that sort of thing."

Mum was quiet for a moment. Then, "Yes, I suppose you do. Two weeks today. We go two weeks today."

Simon was rooted to the spot, in shock. Two weeks! Just two weeks! His heart raced, this was horrible. Unbelievable. Daniel!

"What about my GCEs?" he asked shakily.

"I'm sorry if it's come as a shock," said Mum. "They have good schools there. You'll be all right."

"I won't! I won't be all right!" he shouted.

Simon turned and ran downstairs, slamming the front door behind him. Daniel was waiting on the corner.

"Come on, slowcoach," he said, cheerily. "We'll miss the bus."

"Two weeks, Daniel. We're moving in two weeks!"

The shock registered on Daniel's face. "O Jesus, Simon! Just two weeks? What will we do?"

"Have a bloody good time in the next two weeks, that's one thing. Every night!" said Simon angrily.

"You bet," said Daniel. "But then what?"

"I don't know, Daniel. Come on, we'll be late."

The two boys spent every possible moment together for the rest of that November, expressing their as yet unspoken but deeply felt love in physical, sexual, emotional ways. Their lovemaking was the more frequent, varied and passionate, borne of desperation. There were tears on both sides as each tried to come to terms with their impending separation.

43. 1960/11 North!

The day before departure, so many things had been packed away, ready for the van to come. Only those things needed for overnight, which would be carried in the car, and the items being left behind for Dad when he returned to live alone in the house, were not being packed away. Simon's bed was ready for the van, but he would use his sleeping bag that last night. To his annoyance, he was sent to school on that day, so Mum could concentrate on getting ready. But at least it was another journey to and from school with Daniel.

The last night in their old house arrived too quickly, the house where Simon had lived for the first fourteen years and three months of his life. He came home to find the removal van had been, their stuff was already on its way to Bilthaven.

"I'm going back round to see Daniel," said Simon after bolting down his tea and dumping his school uniform, it occurred to him for the last time.

"OK love," said Mum. "Try not to be too late back, we want to make an early start." Simon left without another word, feelings of fear, uncertainty and anger running through him. He ran round to Daniel's in the November drizzle. Please be in! He knocked on the back door.

"Come in, Simon," said Mrs Gray, cheerily. "Daniel thought you'd be round. He's in his room I think. Daniel! Simon's here!"

"Send him up," came Daniel's voice. To Mrs Gray's nod, Simon went through to the hall and hung up his damp jacket.

"Hello Simon," said Louise. "Tomorrow's the big day then?"

"Yes, 'fraid so," said Simon, glumly.

"I hope it goes OK. Daniel's waiting for you I think," she said, with a smile. Simon ran up the stairs to Daniel's room. He was at his desk, but got up when Simon came in.

"Shut the door," he said. Simon did, and there they stood for a moment facing each other. Simon felt the emotion welling up in him, which of course Daniel noticed. He came to Simon and put his arms round him and they hugged tightly.

"It's so unfair," said Simon.

"I know, I know."

"Why do I have to go? It's rotten."

"I suppose they couldn’t work things out together."

"But why so far away?"

"You can come and stay in the holidays and that. Perhaps I can come and visit the frozen north too."

"Yes, please do. I'd love that. I may be coming back to see my Dad as well."

And so the two friends sat and talked, Simon making sure Daniel had his new address, but the unspoken undercurrent was there, waiting to surface. In the end it was Simon.

"I want it. I want us to do it again before I go."

"I know. Me too. But where? How can we?" wondered Daniel.

"It's too cold and wet outside, and where could we go anyway?"

"And my Mum and Louise are in."

"Where's your Dad?"

"Working late. Some case or other." Daniel sat on the edge of the big bed and pulled Simon down next to him.

"OK, now," said Daniel. "What the hell, I don't care." He got up and opened his bedroom door.

"Mum, we're talking for a while," he called down.

"Right Daniel," Simon heard her reply from downstairs. "I expect you've a lot to get sorted out."

Daniel closed the door and turned the lock.

"What if she comes up?" asked Simon, anxiously.

"She's watching telly. Lie down, you. I want you," said Daniel, smiling. Simon did so, arousal coursing through his body. Gently, lovingly, Daniel removed Simon's clothing, Simon feeling his nakedness coming and the eroticism of being undressed, and when Simon tried to respond, Daniel shook his head.

"No, I'll do it," he said and quickly undressed, dropping his clothes on the floor until he too was naked, standing looking at Simon, each taking in the other's admired form. He joined Simon on the bed, and they kissed, tentatively at first, then with sudden passion as they explored and probed each other's well-known body, forgetful of all else, their surroundings, time passing and the parting to come. Over the years, they had learned each other's most erotic stimuli, experts on the erogenous needs of the teenage male, so they were entwined, locked, fused, flesh against warm flesh, using all their bodies, hands, mouths, thighs, a writhing decapod, until both were spent, each at the doing of the other. Breathless, they lay together, Simon refusing to allow Daniel to withdraw, holding fast, frightened to let go in case they would never touch again.

"What time are you going?" asked Daniel eventually.

"Not sure. An early start Mum said."

"I'll come and see you off."

"Thanks." And then there seemed little left to say. So they just remained, holding, trying to make the precious time last just a little longer.

"I want to lie like this with you forever," said Simon, trying to imprint on his mind the warm strength of Daniel next to him so that he would never forget how it felt.

"Me too. But it might be a bit awkward, food and that, never mind missing school," Daniel joked, but tightening his hold on Simon, he too trying to store the memory.

After some time, Simon reached forward and kissed Daniel gently. "Again, please, again. Can you?"

"You bet," said Daniel. “This?” he asked, holding the Vaseline jar. Simon nodded.

“How, this time?” asked Daniel.

“I want to see you,” said Simon.

So Daniel lifted Simon’s legs to his shoulders and pulled Simon's lips into his fiercely, and gripping his younger friend, their lovemaking the second time was if anything stronger and more ferocious than before. All the violent but largely unspoken feelings for each other finding expression now in the fusion of their beings, reckless love determined by the deadline of the morrow, Daniel now arched over his lover as so many times before until once more exhausted, his precious seed within Simon, both used up, they lay panting.

"I don't know what I'll do," said Simon, remembering the next day.

"You'll be OK, you'll make friends," comforted Daniel.

"Not like you. You know me better than anyone in the world."

"You know me better than anyone. And you'll still have me," said Daniel, tapping Simon's chest twice. "There's trains I assume? Unless it's still all pony and trap stuff up there!"

Simon had to smile.

But then there was the sound of the door handle, followed by a knock on the door.

"Daniel, are you all right? What's going on?" It was Mrs Gray. Simon's heart pounded, Daniel froze. But then recovered.

"It's OK, Mum, Simon and I were just mucking about."

"Why is your door locked?"

"Mum, I am sixteen," countered Daniel, looking at Simon's scared face. Listening for a reaction the other side of the door.

"Well, Simon's fourteen. And I think perhaps it's getting a bit late. He will need to be up early."

"OK, Mum, we'll be down soon."

"Are you going to open this door or not?"

"No, Mum," said Daniel, firmly. Strong Daniel.

"Why not?"

"Jesus!" whispered Daniel quietly. And then louder, "Because we're both stark naked in bed."

Simon gasped, his body now racing at fever pitch. Outside the door, there was a pause, and then the sense of Mrs Gray moving away and going downstairs.

"Why did you say that?" asked Simon, sitting up on the bed.

"I think she'd guessed anyway. We probably made too much noise. What difference can it make now? You'll be gone tomorrow."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be OK. You know I will." And somehow, Simon knew he would be. "Come on, get dressed. Let's go down and tell them," said Daniel.

"How can we? What will they think? And isn't two boys, I mean, it's against the law or something isn't it?"

"We've always known that, so nothing new there."

"Yes, but not when just we knew."

"Get dressed."

"A minute," said Simon. "I want to remember you." He reached out and ran his hands over Daniel's smooth, athletic body, memories flooding back, times in the den, out on their bike rides, scout camps, being pulled from the lido, in this very bed. So much, so long. Tears rolled down Simon's face, and then Daniel too, so uncharacteristically, was in tears too. They held each other for a last time, and then silently, the two boys got dressed.

"Come on then, let's go and face the world," said Daniel, brave Daniel, and unlocked the door. He led the way down. Simon was all for grabbing his jacket from the hall and going, but Daniel took Simon's hand and they went into the sitting room. Mrs Gray stood up, expressions running across her face in rapid succession as thoughts raced through her mind. Louise sat in the chair, looking at Daniel, with a quizzical gaze.

"Here we are, Mum," said Daniel.

"I don't know what to say, to either of you," said Mrs Gray. "You were both naked? I don't understand."

"Oh Mum," said Louise, despairingly. "They've been at it for years."

"What!" said Daniel, turning to his sister. For once, Daniel was lost for words.

"Well, look at you, it's obvious you two are in love, and knowing boys, the rest was pretty obvious too."

Simon flushed red and shook, looking down at the floor. But Daniel continued to hold his hand tightly.

"You mean Daniel's a … and Simon too?" Mrs Gray said, but looking at her son, standing quietly and defiantly before her. "What will your father say?"

"If he doesn't know now, don't tell him," suggested Louise, pragmatically. "And Simon goes north tomorrow, so what's the point?"

"Is there anybody else?" Mrs Gray abruptly demanded of Daniel. "Now or in the past? Am I going to get more surprises?"

"No," said Daniel. "Simon has only ever been the one, and only ever will be. He's so special."

"That's what you call it, special. I think it's…" and then Mrs Gray stopped, unable to say how she felt; to voice the feelings would be to commit, and she didn't want to commit. "Simon, have you anything to say?"

But Daniel spoke first. "Mum, leave Simon out of it. It's not his fault and anyway, as Louise says, what's the point now?"

"I'm sorry … "began Simon, unable to meet Mrs Gray's eyes, but Daniel cut in.

"Simon, don't be sorry," he said turning to his friend. "You've nothing to be sorry about and I'm not sorry," he finished with emphasis, turning back to his mother and sister.

"I just don't feel I can just leave it at that, Daniel. We need to sort this out. We have to talk," said Mrs Gray.

"Not now, Mum. Not tonight of all nights. Tomorrow. Please," Daniel pleaded.

Mrs Gray hesitated, looked at Louise who was nodding.

"Very well, but I think it's time for Simon to leave."

"Come on," said Daniel, drawing Simon away.

"Good bye," said Simon, "Thank …" He was going automatically to say 'Thank you for having me', but somehow, he just could not.

"Come on," said Daniel again, and the two went out into the hallway.

"Simon!" Mrs Gray was calling after him. "I hope it works out for you all up there." Simon turned and just nodded. Louise was smiling and nodding also. Then they turned and closed the sitting room door, leaving the two alone in the hall.

"Your jacket," said Daniel, helping Simon on with it.

"Why did it have to end like this?" said Simon, bitterly.

"What did you want? 'They all lived happily ever after'? You're such an idiot," said Daniel, smiling through the tears in his eyes. "Louise is right. I love you. I have loved you for as many years as I can remember. I don't regret a single thing and I never will. Remember that Doris Day song?

Once I had a secret love

That lived within the heart of me

Maybe one day this bloody country will wake up to the truth."

Simon looked at Daniel, waves of emotion released. "Oh God. I love you too. I don't regret it either. I'm going to miss you. I love you so much."

"We'll meet again."

"In all the old familiar places?"

"Different song, idiot. But I expect so," said Daniel, managing a smile, "just don't know where, don't know when."

"Promise? Scout's Honour?"

"Promise. Scout's Honour."

In that hallway, the two hugged tightly and kissed, a kiss that summed up all the years of closeness, of shared childhood and youth, of sexual exploration, passion and deep, abiding love. They drew apart, and Daniel opened the front door to the cold, wet late November night.

"Write," said Simon. Daniel nodded. And Simon left, stopping at the gate to look back at Daniel, silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Then he turned and ran home.

He ran in through the back door, and hung up his wet jacket. Mum called from the sitting room.

"That you Simon? Say goodbye to Daniel?" The word – goodbye – cut Simon deep inside. He didn't answer. "Are you all right, love?" called Mum.

"No, not really," said Simon. "I'm going to bed. 'Night."

"Leave him, Mum," he heard Frances say. "He'll be OK. It must be hard, he and Daniel have been friends for years. It's like me saying goodbye to Jennifer."

But by then he was upstairs in his room, lying on the temporary airbed, weeping uncontrollably. Mourning the loss of all he knew, his whole world, but specially, hugely and overwhelmingly, the loss of Daniel. Why had it taken so long for them to say it? Why wait until now to say just how much they loved each other? Why did it take Louise of all people? What is wrong with this bloody world? The love that dare not speak its name. Well, it had now, but it was Daniel who would bear the brunt of it.

The next morning was cold, now December, and showing it. But it was dry. Mum had got them up early, it was a long way to go. Bilthaven. Simon had this image of a grim and grimy place, heavy industry. A long way. It was a Thursday, but no school now for Simon. After breakfast, still dark outside, they packed their last things and put them in the little Ford. It was crammed and Simon was to share the back seat with an assortment of effects that had not gone on ahead. A last look at his room, a few things remaining, and round the house. Would Dad be OK when he came back, he wondered.

As it grew light, it was time to go. They climbed in the car. Mum was pale and quiet, determination and resolve on her face, Frances quiet too, lost in her thoughts. They backed out of the drive for the last time and turned towards the corner.

There he was, leaning with his consuming elegance in Hooray Henrys uniform against the corner fence. Seeing the car, Daniel stood up.

"Oh, there's Daniel, Simon," said Mum. "That's nice." Simon looked at his love as the car drew level. Their eyes met, those wonderful blue eyes. Mum looked and then the car moved round the corner, turning away from Daniel.

"I love you, Simon!" shouted Daniel.

"What did he say?" asked Mum. Nobody replied. Simon looked out of the back window as the car went down the hill to the main road until Daniel was gone from sight. Gone.

# # END # #

If you would like to know the rest of Simon’s story, you can read the entire trilogy “The Clouds Still Hang”.

Details at:

http://www.thecloudsstillhang.com/

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Table of Contents

Book One – The Book of Daniel