Twelve Days
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 8
Friday 20th December
After breakfast Papa asked Sissons to bring all the servants to the Dining Room.
"I have asked you all to come here because there is something you need to know. Master Tracy will be staying with us permanently. I am hoping that he will be able to join Master Christopher at Embleton; I have written to Dr Jenkins and expect to hear back very soon. As I am sure you have already realised, Master Tracy is not what he seemed to be. I am in honour bound not to reveal who his connections are, but he is a young man of parts and education, and my wife and I are very glad to be able to offer him a home."
"Oh!" said Jane, "I always thought he was … well, more suited to above stairs…" She giggled, nervously, and Rose joined in.
Mrs Huntly added, "I'm main glad to 'ear it, sir. And I hope, Master Tracy, that you won't never be too grand to come down to the kitchen if you fancy a cup of tea and a slice of cake."
"There's no fear of that, Mrs Huntly," replied Tracy. "I'll never forget you were my first friend in this house, before I had even got to know Christopher."
We were interrupted by the doorbell ringing; Sissons went to answer it and the other servants went about their various duties. A few moments later Sissons came back, offering a telegram on his silver tray to Papa. Papa, raising his eyebrows, unfolded the wire, which he read and then passed to Mamma. She smiled and looked at Tracy, then at me.
A telegram was unusual in our household, and we all looked expectantly at Papa. "It's from Dr. Jenkins," he said. "I wired him yesterday on my way back to Whitehall to see whether he could accommodate another pupil. He says…"
He paused, teasing us as he often did, folding the telegram and putting it under his plate.
"Oh, Papa," said Emily, "Do tell, please…"
"Oh, very well, if you are all so impatient. He says as follows: 'Place available Hervey's House, bring boy 8 th January'".
I don't think I have ever seen as big a smile as that on Tracy's face then. We jumped up from our places and danced a jig round the Dining Room. Papa looked on indulgently, but there was a thoughtful look about him, too. I was so filled with delight that my new friend and companion would be able to join me at school that I don't think I'd have noticed a thunderbolt, never mind a shade of expression on my father's face.
"Bless us!" said Mamma, "Boys, you must be sure to behave yourselves properly at school. We don't want Dr Jenkins to regret his decision."
"No," agreed Papa drily, "but I am sure Tracy will set a good example to Christopher. And a good thing, too." He grinned at me, to take the sting out of his words.
"Talking of which," added Mamma, "I think you two should take a bath tonight. Christopher, see if you can find a spare nightshirt for Tracy."
She rang the bell and presently Rose appeared. "Oh, Rose," said Mamma, "would you please light the oil heater this afternoon and leave it in the bathroom? Master Christopher and Master Tracy will be taking a bath later on, and we don't want them taking a chill."
"Very good, ma'am. I'll make sure it is ready."
After supper I ran upstairs and ferreted in the linen cupboard for a spare nightshirt. Of course, the place was full of girls' stuff, all frills and furbelows, but eventually I managed to find a clean one of mine for Tracy. True to her word, Rose had put the oil heater in the bathroom and it was pleasantly warm in there. We closed the door to keep the warm air in, and I lit the Geyser. I had only recently begun to be allowed to do this, and only upon condition that I was very careful. First, the pilot light had to be lit with a match, and then a minute or two allowed for the gas to 'come through'. Then the water tap had to be opened cautiously and the gas cock turned gradually to full at the same time. All was well on this occasion; it lit straight away and hot water poured from the spout.
Tracy and I stripped off and we observed one another, covertly to start with and then openly. I'd seen plenty of naked boys in the changing room and in the dormitories at my school, of course, and I'm sure Tracy had seen the same at his. But when I saw Tracy's body my heart came to my mouth. I'd seen boys who were thin, but Tracy was gaunt. He'd been a slender lad to start with, but months of near starvation had robbed him of most of his flesh. His legs and arms were like garden canes and his ribs stood out like the bars of a grid-iron. It seemed a miracle to me that he was still alive, and I offered up a short but heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving that we had found him in time. And yet even then, though I did not recognize the fact, I desired him. His father and step-mother may have sent him from their wealthy Mayfair home. But here, in homely, middle-class Kensington, he was wanted, welcome and, yes, loved.
What I hadn't expected was what Tracy said. We were standing facing each other, and in a voice so quiet as to be almost inaudible over the noise of running water and the roaring flames of the Geyser, he looked into my eyes and said, very simply, "Christopher… you are beautiful."
I was a bit taken aback by this, as you can imagine. It's not the kind of thing one boy usually says to another. And I don't know that I would have even thought it about myself. Medium height, brown hair which curls a little and worn fairly long, light brown eyes… not what I would have thought exceptional. But Tracy evidently did. I smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment, turned off the water and the gas and helped Tracy over the edge of the bath, before climbing in with him. I noticed that his pego seemed much bigger than mine – boys will always make such comparisons – but it was only because he was so thin and had no fat under the skin.
Baths in those days were a good deal larger than they are now, and Tracy and I had no difficulty in fitting ourselves in together. It was wonderfully companionable, the two of us together. I sat at the end nearest the Geyser, in case I wanted to run more hot water; Tracy sat facing me, our legs crossing in the middle. We took a flannel and soap and washed each other's backs and shoulders. How poor Tracy had kept himself clean I had no idea. We finished off by washing each other's hair with some of Mamma's special Castile soap, rinsing it away with the big enamel jug that lived in the bathroom for that purpose. Once dried off, we put on our nightshirts and dressing gowns – as I had only the one Papa had lent Tracy his for this occasion, though it was considerably too big for him – and we went down to the Drawing Room.
As our supper had been a very light one, we were allowed a cup of cocoa and a biscuit before going to bed. We sat side by side on the settee, facing the fire. I felt that I should like to hold Tracy's hand, but thought it might be unwise. Papa was in his armchair, placidly reading his newspaper; Mamma was in her chair, equally placidly reading one of Miss Austen's novels, Pride and Prejudice . I remember thinking that this title would have been wholly appropriate to Tracy's parents. The girls were at the small table behind us, playing Parchesi with the usual accompaniment of chattering and giggling. Why girls can't concentrate properly on anything I don't know. Despite this trifling irritation I felt a sense of contentment that I had seldom experienced before.
Before long, it was bedtime. As we'd had a bath, Rose had very kindly heated up a couple of bricks in the oven, then wrapped them in flannel and put them in our bed. She was a treasure! I made a mental note to thank her in the morning, then climbed in next to Tracy.
He looked at me with his sweet smile, the smile that seemed to be reserved for me alone, and said "Good night, dear Christopher". And then he kissed my 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 drawing himself into the curve of my body. I passed my right arm over him and before long, we were both deeply asleep, warm and comfortable in our cosy nest.
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