In Spite of Everything
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 2
Aiden
At my boarding school, St Anselm's, there were strict rules covering pretty well everything. Father Thomas, the Headmaster, was very keen on Purity. We had a long sermon from him every Sunday, and a short one every weekday for that matter. We were enjoined to pray frequently and fervently, lest the Adversary put evil thoughts into our minds, and to use the Rosary so that our hands might be piously occupied.
On Saturday afternoons, Father Thomas and Father Murphy heard our Confessions, so that we might be in a State of Grace for the Sunday mass. Quite honestly, I don't think that I ever had anything very dreadful to confess: scamped work, an extra biscuit purloined, these were the limits of my sinfulness in those times. And as a penance a few repetitions of 'Hail Mary' or 'Our Father' were considered sufficient.
But the whole Sin thing was a bit hazy in my mind. Why was it, I sometimes wondered, that we were instructed to go to sleep lying on our backs with hands folded over our chests? I knew that when I woke in the morning I should be lying on my side, curled up with my hands between my knees. But to a twelve-year-old, the world is filled with oddities imposed by adult authority, and it was best to go along with them, as any questioning usually brought disapproving comment, if not actual punishment. Writing out one hundred times, "I must not question the wisdom of my elders and betters" was an exceptionally irksome way of spending a chunk of my all too scarce free time, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
Games, which generally meant either football or cross-country running, were supervised by prefects under the instruction of Brother Callum, a youngish man with unruly ginger hair around his tonsure and a broad Irish tongue. I was not keen on cross-country running, but detested football. At least when running one had the possibility of taking a short cut, strolling a few hundred yards instead of running a mile or more. Curiously, confession of this particular sin brought no great penance; perhaps because Brother Callum was a nephew of the Bishop and Father Murphy resented him for this reason.
Showers were taken wearing our shorts, and we were instructed to keep them on until we were ready to dry ourselves, when they were to be removed under cover of a towel. At no time were we to look at our 'parts', either our own or anyone else's, lest we have 'impure thoughts'. I do remember on one occasion a boy's towel coming loose and falling to the floor, with the result that his 'parts' were on display to one half of the changing room and his arse to the other half. He was reprimanded very sharply by Brother Callum. My father had died when I was quite young, and I had no brother, so his was the first penis, other than my own, that I had ever seen. Of course, I was shocked – it was clearly my duty to be shocked. I remember to this day Brother Callum's strictures on 'filt'iness'. But it planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Having seen my friend's legs and belly as well as his 'parts', and having thought them quite beautiful, I was at a loss to know why they were 'filt'y'. For many and many a day after that I gazed at his towel-clad body, knowing what was beneath the wrapping and wishing I could see it again.
As I wrote just now, my father had died when I was quite young, and my mother in consequence had to work. She was a talented seamstress and had kept an immaculate house for my father, so it was natural that she should go into service. She thus became Housekeeper at Ainsworth Hall, the big house at Ainsworth, in the Peak District of Derbyshire. The family who had owned the Hall for three or four generations, whose name was Hanbury, Sir Russell and Lady Hanbury, were Roman Catholics of long and immensely respectable standing, and so while it was unusual for a married woman with children to enter service, her misfortunes were treated with kindness and we were allotted three rooms in a separate corridor of the Servants' Wing. My own bedroom was tiny, with a sloping ceiling, a minute dormer window and just room for a narrow bed, a chest of drawers and a washstand, but at least it meant that I could be with Mother during the holidays. And the Hanburys paid my school fees; my two elder sisters attended the village school until they were fourteen, when they entered service as housemaids at Ainsworth.
But of course being at St Anselm's meant that I did not spend much time at home. When I was there, I was made welcome in the kitchen, where I helped Mr Tootell, the butler, with polishing the silver, or sometimes I went out into the gardens and carried out small tasks there. One particular friend was Wiggins, the second under-gardener. He was not actually much older than I, having started work under Mr Tompkins, the head gardener, on the day after his fourteenth birthday. He had a broad Derbyshire accent which I enjoyed listening to; it was very different from the homely West Midlands which I had grown up with, and which the masters at school were trying to eradicate from my voice.
From time to time I would be sent by Mr Tootell to the village to pick up something from the shop there: it might be a couple of ounces of tobacco for his pipe, or some stamps or even a bar of chocolate, to which he was addicted. It was not much more than a mile each way; to a boy who was frequently expected to run a cross-country course of anything up to five miles, it was an easy stroll, and in fine weather really enjoyable. I got to know the Postmistress, Mrs Harper, quite well; she looked kindly upon me and would sometimes give me broken biscuits which she could not sell, or a slice of her home made seed cake. On the whole I found the villagers quite friendly; they would chat with one another in the shop while they waited to be served, and I would get sundry pats on the head and enquiries as to my and my mother's health. Occasionally even the odd halfpenny would come my way.
However much we try to plan our lives, the unexpected always gets in the way. The most trivial or commonplace action or event can have totally unpredictable consequences. In my own case, a brief encounter in a shop changed my life for ever. Mr Tootell had sent me to buy chocolate – and had given me a penny for myself, which he quite often did – and I had walked to the village as usual. It was a dull, slightly misty day – what Brother Callum called a 'soft day' – and I was turning over in my mind what my penny might be spent on – should it be chocolate or toffee? And which variety?
I pushed open the shop door and walked in, and as I did so, a person who was at the counter finishing a purchase turned round and caught my eye, and smiled at me. He was a boy of around my own age, fourteen. He had light brown hair, worn rather longer than was then usual; he was of medium height, slender and graceful, with shapely, long-fingered hands, soft green eyes which lit up with his smile, and the most beautiful face I had ever seen. He had on a long sleeved, open necked shirt, grey flannel trousers and a sleeveless pullover with zig-zag patterns. I was struck dumb for some moments. I had never seen so perfect a human being. I must have just stood there and stared at him, until Mrs Harper spoke to me. At the sound of her voice I remembered my manners, smiled back and said, "Hello…".
"Hello," he responded. "I've not seen you before. Are you new here? My name's Paul."
I told him my name, and he said, "I hope we meet again," and left the shop. Mrs Harper looked at me quizzically – it was a long time before I understood that look – and asked what I wanted. But I was so entranced by my new acquaintance that I forgot to buy anything for myself. Still, I had Mr Tootell's chocolate for him, and I could always keep my penny for another day. But all the way back to Ainsworth Hall – and I confess that I took the return journey at a pretty slow pace, wanting to take time to remember the vision I had seen – I thought about Paul, wondering who he was, where he lived, where he went to school… yes, I was definitely smitten. Part of me wanted to run back and search the village until I found him. But I continued on my way.
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