In Spite of Everything
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 4
Aiden
You could have knocked me down with a feather! Mr Tootell had sent me to the village, to Mr Blandy the joiner, who had a reputation for being very skilled in furniture repair and woodwork generally. I had to take Lady Hanbury's jewel box, which she had dropped and broken, to him to be repaired.
I found Mr Blandy's workshop without difficulty, knocked and went in. And there, standing in front of me, was the gorgeous boy from the shop! For a moment I was speechless with joy, until I remembered my manners and introduced myself. Mr Blandy didn't think the job would take more than a day or two, and we agreed that Paul would bring it up to the Hall when it was finished. I suggested that he might like to stay for afternoon tea, a suggestion which I was delighted to see he immediately accepted. But I couldn't hang around hindering a craftsman at his work, and Paul was clearly helping him, so I had to make myself scarce.
But a couple of days later I was upstairs in my room, lying on my bed reading a book, when Betty, the younger of my two sisters, popped her head round the door to tell me that I had a visitor. I shot downstairs (much to Mrs May's annoyance), and of course it was Paul, who had brought Lady Hanbury's jewel box back. I'd already arranged with Mrs May that Paul would stay to tea, and I have to say that she did us proud, with her home made scones as well as a fruit cake. After we had eaten, Mrs May suggested that I might like to take Paul to see the stables. He looked very happy to do so, and I found that he was fond of horses. So we spent a pleasant hour there. All the time, he was close to me, sometimes so close that we were nearly touching. I really wanted to hold his hand, but of course it wouldn't have done. Eventually, of course, he had to go back home. I'd heard from Mr Tootell that while Mr Blandy was very well liked and much respected, Mrs Blandy was regarded as a hard-faced, self-righteous prig and was very unpopular with all the villagers other than her few friends from the Chapel. I was surprised at his saying this, as he was, under his professional stiffness, a generous and kindly man who liked to see the best in everyone. But before long I was to find out just how true it was.
Anyway, we'd left it that I would write to Paul once I was back at school, and that we could meet again when I was home again for half term. And before long I was on the train back to St Anselm's and a new school year.
I settled back into the routine easily enough. I was now in the Fourth Form, no longer a Junior, but nowhere near the exalted heights of the Sixth. It was a good place to be. I looked around at my schoolfellows, mentally comparing the better-looking ones with Paul, but not one of them came anywhere near to him. It was a curious thing about St Anselm's, thought I was later to learn that it was a fairly common practice in Roman Catholic schools the world over, that though friendships between pairs of boys were looked on as a good thing, they had to be at least ostensibly spiritual in nature. The friendship between two boys was considered to be analogous to that between Christ and His Disciples.
On the other hand, friendships between boys and girls, had there been any opportunity for such, would have been sternly discouraged. Try as I might, I have never managed to understand the Roman attitude to women and girls. On the one hand, they were put upon a pedestal, with the Blessed Virgin Mary, who was worshipped if anything even more devoutly than Her Son. On the other hand, they were regarded as creatures who had the power to lead men and boys into temptation, jeopardizing their immortal souls. It was all very puzzling. But of one thing I was certain, that my budding friendship with Paul was pure and virtuous.
But there were things that did worry me. In those days, boys started to mature rather later than they do now, and I was just beginning to have erections, particularly in the morning. I was not sure whether these were sinful or just a part of growing up, so eventually I tackled Father Murphy about it. He was a bit evasive, but eventually asked me if I ever touched myself "down there".
"No, Father," I replied, truthfully enough, "only when I need to, to make water or wash myself."
"Well, that's all right, then", he said, with some relief. "If you are ever tempted to do that, you must pray to St Agnes. If you make a habit of it, you will do yourself untold harm. But the Saints will help you to keep yourself pure." And more, in the same vein.
Every year, shortly after the beginning of the Michaelmas Term, the Fourth Form boys were gathered in the Chapel and given a sermon from Father Martin about Self-Abuse. This, we were told, was an unnatural practice, which could lead not only to physical weakness and debility, but was also a mortal sin which, if not confessed and repented, would lead the sinner directly to Hell. How sad it is, that innocent boys' minds should be racked with guilt about something that boys have done, no doubt since the human race emerged from the Old Stone Age and, for all I know, even earlier, and done them no harm whatsoever. But there it is. It is a sad fact that the Christian faith in its various forms, though no doubt with the best of motives, has caused untold harm throughout the world, and the Roman Church has to accept at least a part of the responsibility.
As I wrote earlier, we were allowed, even encouraged to have 'special friendships' as long as they were 'pure'. There were a couple of boys at school that I did get on well with: Maurice White was one, and Patrick Duffy another. We didn't actually do anything much, but we loitered around together, and tried to arrange matters so that when we were sent on a cross-country run we were together (and as often as not, took a short cut together as well). But it was Paul Blandy who occupied my dreams. That soft brown hair, those green eyes, the smile that lit up the whole room… and his obvious enjoyment of simple things, such as when he had come to tea and eaten one of Mrs May's scones with jam, as if it was something really unusual. I wondered what sort of food he got at home, if a home made scone could give him such pleasure.
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