Twelve Days
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 7
Thursday 19 th December
The next day, Papa went to work as usual, but unexpectedly, he came home early in the afternoon. He rang for one of the maids to find both Tracy and myself. We were in the kitchen, cleaning the dresser, polishing it and taking all the dishes to the scullery for Jane to wash. Jane told us that Papa was asking for us both to go to the Morning Room and wait for him and Mamma.
"Well, young man, I saw your father his morning. Quite by chance, he came into Whitehall to speak to the head of my Department, and I asked for the honour of a brief conversation with him."
He paused, impressively.
"Yes, I spoke to him, and told him what you had told me. I can only say that I was shocked by his reply. Yes, shocked is the only word. He was rude to me, very brusque indeed. First of all, he said 'I have no son other than Edward, who is an Army cadet at Sandhurst.' I described you to him, and he said, 'That is the son I used to have. What he has done, sir, is an infernal blot on the family escutcheon, and I desire to have no further dealings with him, now or at any other time.' More than that he refused to say, and when I ventured to suggest that he might reasonably welcome you back into your home, he said… well, let us say, he used an unparliamentary expression before turning on his heel and slamming the door. At any rate, it is now clear that what you have told me is no less than the truth."
I looked at Tracy. A tear sprang from each eye and rolled down his cheeks. I drew him to my side, and we sat together upon the Chaise Longue . I couldn't imagine the pain of being disowned by my father, even if he had been as remote and uncaring a figure as Sir Algernon and Her Ladyship evidently were towards their own family. My own dear Mamma and Papa may have been only ordinary middle class people, though Papa was at least in Government rather than Trade, but they were warm-hearted and generous and set a shining example of courtesy and kindliness.
"I must return to my duties now. Tonight, I will discuss with my wife - with Christopher's mother, that is to say - what is to be done. Christopher, kindly pull the bell."
Sissons came in. "You rang, sir?"
"Yes, Sissons. The Mistress and I will dine tete-a-tete this evening. Master Christopher and Master Tracy will have a tray each in the Morning Room, please. I believe Miss Charlotte and Miss Emily are dining with their friends the Misses Ponsonby at their house."
"Very good, sir." And Sissons, looking with great curiosity at Tracy and me sitting side by side, went out.
"Papa," I said, "You will let Tracy stay, won't you? Please?"
"I will talk to your mother about it this evening. We will decide what's best to be done."
"Yes, Papa… but please let Tracy stay, sir. We are going to be such great friends."
"We'll see. I must be going back to the office now."
The ice having been broken by Tracy's revelation and its confirmation by Papa, I had no further inhibitions about asking him personal questions. We returned to the kitchen and resumed both our operations upon the dresser and our interrupted conversation.
"Tracy… why were you sent away from school? And which school was it?
"It was Eton. And I was caught… by one of the masters… I was with another boy, and we were… you know…"
That could have happened to me, if I'd been careless. Embleton was a good school; David and I were happy there. It was not one of the ancient foundations like Eton or Winchester, and was rather looked down upon by them. But it was a good school for all that, and provided a broad and effective education and catered for a wide variety of individual interests.
Inevitably, one of the interests pursued by a few of the boys was… well, other boys. The Housemasters all knew it happened, and as long as it was kept within reasonable bounds they did nothing to stop it. Indeed, it could not reasonably have been stopped; if two hundred or more healthy boys are kept coopered up together for twelve weeks on end, nature will have its outlet in one way or another.
My cousin David, I have to say, showed no interest in this pursuit. Perhaps after all there is some truth in the belief that a healthy outdoor life prevents such interests? But no; thinking about it, there were several senior boys, including the Captain of Rugby and at least one House Captain that I knew about, who had younger boys of whom they were enamoured.
I didn't have a 'young friend' of my own; I was too young for that. But there was a boy, Henry Percevall, with whom I had shared a study since entering the Fourth Form. Indeed, we shared a good deal, including buttered toast, sausages, fruit cake and each other. Like me, Percy (the use of Christian names was discouraged, but nicknames were acceptable) was not exceptional in looks, but we suited one another well enough.
"Oh, Tracy," I said, "how silly of you to get caught." And I stretched out both of my hands across the table and clasped his.
He looked at me in astonishment. "You don't mind…"
"Of course I don't mind, silly. You are my friend now. In fact, I think you are my best friend." And I got up from my chair, walked around the table and hugged him. After a few moments he returned my hug, and I felt his lips very delicately touching my cheek. Yes, we were going to be – indeed, we already were – such good friends.
That evening Jane and Rose brought trays with our supper to the Morning Room. It was beef-steak pudding, I remember, and custards by way of dessert. Mrs Huntly does a particularly good custard which she flavours with nutmeg. We'd just finished when Jane came in and said, "The Master and Mistress would like to see you in the Drawing Room, if you please."
Papa and Mama were sitting in their armchairs by the fire.
"Sit down, sit down," said Papa. We did so, side by side upon the settee. Both Tracy and I were in a state of some trepidation.
"Now, Tracy," said Papa, "my wife and I have discussed your situation at some length, and we are going to put a proposal to you."
We looked at him, our hearts beating fast and hard. Lord, I prayed in my heart, Please, please let Papa and Mamma allow Tracy to stay here with me.
"Tracy, we hope you would like to remain here, as companion to our son Christopher."
I breathed a silent but heartfelt sigh of relief.
"As the house is already quite full, you would need to share his room. You should address me as Uncle Barnaby and Christopher's mother as Aunt Maria. We will see you properly clothed and furnished with pocket money. And I will be writing to Dr Jenkins, the Headmaster of Embleton, tomorrow to ask whether a place can be found for you at that school. Now, how does that seem to you? Would you like to live here with us? Would you like to go to Embleton with Christopher?"
Poor Tracy! Once again he broke down, though it was almost the last time I ever saw him do so. And that time it was not I who held him in my arms, it was Mamma. Fond as I was of my cousin David, and of my two sisters, I'd always wanted a brother. Well, now I had at least the next best thing, unless it was something even better. And while Tracy was not a classic 'pretty boy' – I'd seen one or two of those at school – there was something about him that I found very appealing.
What was it? He was a little taller than I, fine boned, brown haired. His eyes were light brown but with the longest lashes I ever saw on a boy's face; a girl might have wanted to sell her soul for those eyes. His nose was straight but with the slightest tilt upwards at the tip, his mouth full and generous. His hands were slender, too, with long, capable-looking fingers.
We sat side by side on the settee, facing the fire. His business done, Papa sat in his armchair, quietly reading his newspaper; Mamma was in her chair, talking to Tracy and me. She had the tact not to ask him about his previous life, either as the son of a rising statesman or as a mudlark or a mendicant match-seller. But she asked him about his favourite authors, what foods he liked best, that kind of thing.
The girls, who had returned from their friends the Misses Ponsonby, who lived only a few houses away from ours, were at the small table behind us, playing Parchesi, a game that seemed to involve much giggling and head-tossing. For myself, I felt a sense of contentment that I had seldom experienced before. My right hand stole towards Tracy's left, and it did not surprise me to find his moving towards mine. We touched fingers, and exchanged a small, secret smile.
Now that Tracy was officially my 'companion' it was assumed that we would share a bedroom and, at least until another bedstead could be ordered, a bed. In those days, no-one thought twice about this. Rose and Jane shared a bed in their room under the roof, and no doubt if we'd have been wealthy and important enough to have footmen, no doubt they would have done the same. Now, I can't imagine what it would be like not to share a bed with Tracy. But that second bedstead never did appear in my – our – room.
He got into bed first, then I slid in next to him. He looked at me, smiling– and I have no doubt that I did the same – and then he said quietly, "Good night, dear Christopher. Sleep well." And then he kissed me, very gently, on the cheek, turned over and prepared to go to sleep. I lay on my side facing him, and as delicately as possible slipped my left arm under his neck. He responded by curling up slightly and moving into the hollow of my body. I passed my right arm over him and, though I do not believe he felt it, touched my lips to the back of his neck. Before long, we were both deeply asleep.
It's a curious thing, looking back, that my feelings for Tracy were never associated in my mind with the amusements I was enjoying at school with Henry Percevall. The answer, of course, is that what Percy and I were doing was merely sexual: a relief for excessive pressure, if you like. What I was feeling for Tracy went much deeper. Even then, I loved him, though I hardly realized it.
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