Two years passed with the same cold monotony. Jons body did not suffer from the stringent amount of food, most of it without nourishment, that was dutifully doled out, his shoulders broadened and his muscles were hard. When his emotions were stirred aggression came quickly to the surface, often it was a case of self defence. School was a necessary evil that had to be endured. He read any book he could lay his hands on, which was not many, and he wrote his stories, stories which grew from his active and imaginative mind, gentle tender stories, stories touched with yearnings. The period for sports were the highlight of the day, and the feeling of success gave him a rosy glow when he competed well against larger boys. It was at this time just as the long summer evenings were drawing in that he set a challenge that was daring as well as foolish.
The dormitory window opened out to a ledge, and from this ledge Jon climbed on to the roof. Exhilarated he felt I'm the king of the castle. Those fields are mine, those hills are mine, everything is mine, and I belong to no one but me. Wish I could jump and shout, but that d spoil everything Now I'm going to walk right round the building. Up and down all the battlements. Come on Jon, get going. He goaded himself. Having climbed round the edge of the whole roof he looked down to the ground, and saw the vine, the strong vine which led from the roof to the ground that he had been too sad to appreciate on the day of his arrival. Just the ticket. Now I can really escape. Down that vine I go, and then anywhere. Hope it holds out. Gingerly he felt his way down, clutching the young branches with his fingers, and feeling low down with his toes. Once on the ground surrounded by velvet darkness he moved silently but surely to the kitchen gardens and orchard. Fruit and vegetables in abundance for the taking! This was another way of filling his stomach.
"Look, Slater, promise you Won't tell?" "Tell what?" asked Slater sensing Jons excitement.
"I've found a way of stocking up. Stocking up with fruit, and vegetables. Game to have a go? Snakes head honour you Won't split?"
"Snakes head honour!" Slater spat on the back of his hand and then held it up in the shape of a snakes head. "Now tell me!"
"Wont tell you. I'll show you. Middle of to-night. I'll come to your bed. Mighty quiet you must be." Jons enthusiasm was infectious.
"In pyjamas?", enquired Slater. "What about boots. They make a noise."
"Pyjamas and bare feet," ordered Jon. "See you. Not a word."
That night when all was quiet, the lights out, and the Sisters sleeping, Jon and Slater slipped the window open. Like two young cats they pulled themselves out and up on to the roof.
"My! Thats cute. How often you've dun this?" Shivering a little, Slater looked round. "Now what? I'm bloody well not going to jump. You said wed get apples. Dont see apples here?"
"No, you fool. Here's the staircase." Jon lowered his legs over the lower edge of a battlement and his toes found the vine. Crouching slightly he caught hold of a nearby branch. "Come on, Slater. Follow me." The two boys, hands and feet working in unison, quickly made ground level, the healthy branches of the vine, making easy footholds for them both.
"Come on. Its a bit sore on the feet. Its worth it though." Jon saw Slater wince. "Its O.K. Come on, were nearly there."
They ran along the grass verge, crossed the gravelled path, and into the forbidden territory of the walled vegetable garden. "Pears and apples on the right, peaches on the left, carrots and tomatoes just anywhere. Mind you dont make footprints," Jon advised his young accomplice with the authority of an experienced thief.
They ate in silence, watching and listening. "Think I've had enough," Slater murmured. "Lets get back."
"O.k," Jon replied. "This time we Won't take anything with us in case we make a mess. Might get squashed in our pockets. Come on, its easier up than down." They cleaned their feet as well as they could with vine leaves and spit, crept through the window, shut it quietly, then snuggled into bed for the rest of the night, stomachs rumbling with the unaccustomed invasion of raw fruit.
They made several sorties unobserved, and a bond grew between the two boys, a comfortable feeling that Jon had not experienced before. One night they went out after a shower of rain. This was their undoing.
"Come on, Inglis," Slater chided as they reached the top of the roof again. "Gotta clean our feet and legs. That mud was sticky. Its all between my toes." They took longer than usual to clean up, using many leaves. In the darkness they thought they had done well. Both crept into bed and went to sleep.
Friday morning was laundry day, and all clothes had to be left in a pile, the top sheet put to the bottom of the bed, and a clean sheet spread out on top. After sports that Friday afternoon, Sister Helen was waiting for Jon.
"Inglis," she said in a stern voice.
"What 've I done now, Sister?" Jon tried to look innocent.
"The Superintendent wants to see you and Slater in his office immediately." She was flushed and angry.
"Sister, whatve I done thats wrong?"
"Youll soon find out. Go and find Slater immediately. I'll wait for you there."
"We're in for it, Slats," Jon said gloomily. "The Super wants us pronto. Come on quick. Put some paper inside over your 'b.t.m. It helps sometimes. And some soap on your hand."
"You must have had more beatings than me," Slater said with a smile.
"Say that again. I'm always found out. Sometimes think I'm a scapegoat. Never mind. Here goes."
The two boys, nine year old Jon and ten year old Slater, walked dejectedly along the corridor and knocked at the Superintendents office door. Sister Helen and four other sisters were standing in a half circle behind the Superintendent who sat crouched over his desk. On his desk were two pairs of pyjama legs. The legs were stained in mud.
"Christ," muttered Jon. "We're for it."
"Stop talking," bellowed Mr Johnson. "How exactly do you explain mud on your pyjama trouser legs."
"Must have been sleep-walking, sir," said Jon cheekily.
"Dunno, sir," Slater replied.
"Youre both lying. And Inglis you're just rude. Now how did you get outside? Which key did you steal - you sneaky little thieves."
"We never stole a key, sir," again Jons reply seemed to aggravate the older mans annoyance. The Sisters mumbled together.
"Liar," shouted Mr Johnson. "Five extra for lying."
"We never," whined Slater. "We took fruit from the garden cos were hungry. We never stole a key."
"How did you get to the kitchen garden if you didnt open a door?" Sister Helen asked in a gentler voice.
Slater started to whimper. "We got out of the window. Thats how, Sister. We climbed down the vine."
Thats cooked that goose, thought Jon. No more extra food.
"Twenty strokes for you, Inglis. Ten for impertinence and ten for breaking rules. Ten strokes for you, Slater. Let that be a lesson for you both." Mr Johnson reached for his cane. "And the Sisters will be watching," he added, enjoying his authority. "This'll tell you whose master in this place." Jon watched while Slater received his ten strokes. Why does old Johnson enjoy it so? Hes a beast. Sisters are smiling too. Whats wrong with them all? Bet he hits me the hardest. I'm damn well not going to cry. Poor old Slatss crying like a scalded cat. As Jon bent over the chair he thought the worst part is being watched by those Sisters. Me Mam never hit me like this. Wonder what shed say. Wonder if she ever thinks of me.
By the time the twentieth stroke came Jon was weak with the effort of bearing it all manfully.
"Off you go, you wretches. I dont want to see you again. Specially you, Inglis. Youre leading Slater astray. Go to your beds now, no supper, no anything. That'll teach you to break rules." Mr Johnson seemed unable to contain himself.
"Go to the dormitory now," said Sister Helen in a gentle voice. "I shall come along soon to see if you're in bed." Jon had to lie on his side his small bottom was so sore, in spite of the paper in his trousers. Slater was crying softly.
There was a rustle, and Sister Helen appeared.
"I've bought you each some milk. Drink it up quickly. Youre not supposed to have it. Silly thing to do that, wasnt it? Quite dangerous? Think I might have done the same thing myself, I enjoyed breaking rules." A smile spread across her face. "I was a tom-boy, you know. You can't believe that, can you? Now, dont do it again, will you? Try to sleep, its the best to forget the pain." The unexpected gentleness in Sister Helens voice and the smile on her face broke down all Jons defences. When he had finished the milk he put his head into his hard pillow and let the tears flow. The anguish in his heart was greater than the soreness of his little behind.
Jons prize and only possession he had was a stamp album. The Sister who taught him Geography gave it to him for being top in the class. Not quite knowing what to do with it as he had no facilities for buying new stamps and did not know about stamp swapping, Jon took the album from his locker from time to time and let his mind wander when he read the exotic names of far away places, and he looked at the small strange pictures.
"Hello, Inglis, whatve you got there?" It was Watson, the Sea Captains son.
"Its my stamps. they're fine, arent they?" Jon turned over the pages proudly.
"Could do with those myself," said Watson. "What you selling them for?"
"Me? Selling? This was a prize. I'm not selling," Jon remonstrated.
"You wait and see," said Watson cryptically.
The next time Jon laid his album on the table Watson appeared beside him.
"Here, what about this?" Watson put three coins beside the album, two one guinea pieces and half a guinea.
"Whew," Jon breathed mesmerised by such wealth. The most Jon had ever seen was the note that he had found in the collection plate in the Newcastle Church.
"Think what you could get with that," persuaded Watson. "Sweets and chocolates to last for months. My old Dad gives me lots of cash, but I dont tell the Sisters. Just keep it hidden. Would like those stamps though. Dad could bring me plenty from places he visits. You've not got a Dad, have you, that could bring you things from different places? Whats the point of having stamps if you can't add to them?"
"Think of all that chocolate," Jon murmured aloud.
"Ill let you help me with the new stamps, if you like," persuaded Watson.
"O.K" said Jon, "you win." That afternoon after school he visited the small sweet shop which was on the way back to the Orphanage. He held his three coins tightly in his hand. He looked at the shelves, chocolate, peppermint, toffee, biscuits. All his for the asking.
My! I'm important. Unbeknown to him the stout lady behind the counter was eyeing him with suspicion. She viewed the uniform with distrust, and as Jon was not one of the regular boys with regular amounts of money she was anxious.
"Youre taking a long time, son. Sure you got money? Do you really want peppermints and chocolate?"
"Yes, please, and biscuits, and shortbread. Look, I've all this to spend." Jon laid his coins on the counter. "If There's any money left over I'll have more peppermints. The large ones that get stuck in your teeth."
"Gob-stoppers. Those the ones?" Glad to see the coins, the shop owner made packages of all the things that Jon had pointed to.
In the free time after supper that night Jon called out, "here everyone. I've got a surprise." He was soon surrounded with expectant faces.
"Cor, look at this lot!" Bowness, the teaser of his first supper, and forever a thorn in Jons side, "What you been stealing now? You got no money coming to you. How come this?" Jon started to clench his fists.
"Come off it, Bowness," Slater came to the rescue. "If you want some, take it and push off. Jolly decent of Jon to pass it round."
The boys started pushing and shoving with hands outstretched. "You can have a go with my bat to-morrow." "Ill do boot duty for you if you like." "Give you some cake after Grannys visit." Jon was on cloud nine, he enjoyed the attention and temporary popularity that his sudden wealth had brought him. Just cos Id got money they seem to like me. If this is what being liked is all about, wish Id got more money he thought as he filled his stomach as full as possible before the bell for bed time. There was only a few peppermints left for the next day after the appetites of the other boys had been satisfied.
"Come and help me stick in some new stamps," Watson called out to Jon. "Got some beauties through the post this morning." Watson felt guilty that he had persuaded Jon to give his collection away for such a relatively small amount. "Think youll be interested." They were soon absorbed in the new arrivals.
In the course of a childish philatelic discussion and with their heads close together Watson said, "Want some more money, do you? You've have made a lot of friends since you went shopping."
"What do you mean? Want more money? I've nothing to sell. You know that. Youre teasing me." Jon bridled.
"No, honest. That money I gave you wasnt all from my Dad. I know another PLACE. A SOURCE."
"What do you mean, A SOURCE?". asked Jon bewildered.
"Snakes head promise you Won't tell. Not even Slats. Hes cissy."
"Snakes head promise," Jon went through the ritual of spitting on the back of his hand. "Seems fishy to me."
"You watch for me to-night after supper when the bell for Sisters Complin has gone. they're there for 15 minutes at least. All closeted together. Thats our chance."
"What ARE you going to do?" Jon asked suspiciously.
Jon nonchalantly waited at the Common Room door idly looking over a book listening for the bell. Soon after it had gone, Watson appeared down the passage.
"Come on, quick. No ones about." In their black plimsolls they made no noise. Watson stopped at Matrons office.
"You can't go in there?" Jon exclaimed horrified. "Someone may come?"
"Dont tell me I cant," hissed Watson. "Been here before, heaps of times. Are you chicken? Do you want to run off? My! if you split on me, I'll have your guts for garters."
"O.K," Jon replied in a quaking voice. "Ill just watch."
"You stand there and listen out. If someone walks by, well hide behind the desk."
Jon watched mesmerised, as with deft skill, Watson removed a key from a long row of keys on hooks. He opened a large wooden cupboard, and there before Jons eyes were stacks of money, row upon row. Excitement sent the blood running through his system. Anxiety that someone coming down the passage made him anxious.
"Help yourself," said Watson. "You should know better," chided Jon. "A Sea Captains son doing this." Jon stuffed a few notes from the top of each pile into his back pocket. Both of them made sure nothing looked touched. They left they cupboard as neat and tidy as they had found it. Watson locked the door, put the key on the hook, and together they wandered back to the Common Room as if nothing untoward had happened.
"Now what?" Jon asked, embarrassed by his richness.
"Go and spend it, you fool. But dont you dare split on where you got the money." Watson moved away, glad to be free of the younger boy.
At the next possible opportunity Jon went to the sweet shop.
"You again, young man,?"joked the fat owner. "Some ones being kind to you. Who is it this time?"
"Got another present," replied Jon abruptly. He knew the pattern of the shop so did not take so long to choose the things he wanted. He fished out half the money, the other half he put back into his pocket.
In the first playtime after supper and remembering the adulation he had received after his last chocolate handout, he called out "anyone for chocolate? Peppermints? Got another present, I did." Soon he was surrounded by pushing and shoving boys, hands outstretched. His supply rapidly vanished, leaving just enough for him to chew upon till bedtime. He repeated his visit to the sweet shop in a few days, and again he became an immediate hero and the most popular boy in the orphanage. Watson looked on amused.
"Youre a bloody fool, Inglis. Why dont you keep it for yourself? Someones bound to find out."
"No they wont," Jon replied. "Everybody eats up before bedtime. No one comes in now. they're all praying."
"Dont forget your snakes honour," pressed Watson.
"Lets go again. When can we do it again?" Jon asked Watson, greedy for more sweets and more adulation from the boys.
"You go on your own. I've shown you how. Its up to you now." Watson wanted to be shot of the responsibility for someone else.
"O.K, if thats how you feel. I'll do it myself." Slightly grieved Jon moved away. "Snakes honour all the same."
The next evening with heart pumping with excitement Jon performed the ceremony of stealing the money. No one saw him. He was safe, his back pocket swollen with the folded notes and jingling with some coins.
Think Id better try another shop, he reasoned. That fat lady might think it odd me getting all these presents. He went to a shop near the quay-side. Being in his uniform he wasnt sure if they would accept him.
"Hello, young man," said the shop-keeper. "Dont often see the likes of you. Got some money to spend. My! thats fine. Had a visitor have you. Funny being stuck up that hill, all boys together. Often wondered how they treat you. Do alright, do you?"
Delighted with the welcome and the interest shown in him Jon replied, "Its O.K sir. Not enough food. My auntie gave me some money. That'll help me from being hungry. Its sort of alright otherwise. My bottom gets sore after a beating sometimes. Shouldnt get caught, should I, sir?" Jons blue eyes twinkled. He wondered how far he could take the shopkeeper up the path of innocence. "Can I have some chocolate, and peppermints? You know, the ones that get stuck in your teeth?"
"Course you can, young man. As long as you can pay, you can have what you want." The excitement made Jon stuffed as much of he could in his many pockets. Then he slipped behind a building and ate a whole bar of chocolate, dropping the paper to the ground. He was just in time to tag on to the last of the boys as they left the school for the uphill journey to the Orphanage.
"Hello, young Inglis.? Whatve you been up to? Dont usually see you at this time." An eleven year old chucked him on the ear.
"Teacher wanted to talk to me," lied Jon.
"Been in trouble again? You always seem in trouble!" The gang laughed, but let Jon join the group as they ambled up the hill to supper. Jon rushed to his locker and hid his booty at the back, hoping no one had seen the extra packages.
After supper he again doled out chocolate and peppermints. Again he was given moments of adulation and promises of rewards. The next day Jons class were assembled for a nature walk. Jon usually enjoyed these, but today the cards of fate did not play into his hands.
"What ARE you eating?" Sister Jane, grumpy and cross called across to one of Johns recipients of chocolate. "And you, too. And you." Three boys were munching away at the head of the crocodile, thinking that Sister Jane at the back wouldnt be able to see them.
"Chocolate, Sister." Jons stomach lurched and his cheeks reddened. Stupid ass. Now were in for it. He walked on nonchalantly.
"Shouldnt be eating chocolate now. Put it away at once. Why! You've got great bars of it. It should be eaten after supper in the Common Room, not out on a walk." Sister Jane walked on in silence, and nothing more was said.
After supper the Superintendent made an unaccustomed visit to the Common Room. For a moment Jon looked for an escape route, but then he realised that sooner or later he would have to face the consequences of being found out. The Superintendent bawled out, "Silence." The boys stopped what they were doing and turned towards him, innocent looks on all their faces. The Superintendent continued, in a voice boiling with suppressed rage, "It has been brought to my notice that three boys were eating chocolate out on a walk. Now, we know that these three boys do not have access to any pocket money. I want to know how these three boys got the chocolate. Sister Helen is going to stand by the door and give the three boys a pencil and paper. They will write down the name of who gave them the chocolate. " Mr Johnson paused. Jon felt sick. "And each other boy will be given a chance to write the name of anyone who has given them sweets or chocolate during the last week. Any boy who doesnt own up will be sorry. The staff here have a good idea who has money and who doesnt. It has been reported that a strong smell of peppermint has come from this room after evening break. We must get to the bottom of this. I'm not having rules flaunted or broken."
Jon watched anxiously as the three boys, caught in the act of eating on a walk, wrote on their bits of paper. Without hesitation they wrote something. Then he watched as the other boys wrote, some were puzzled, some handed in a blank sheet. When Jons turn came he wrote "No one." Sister Helen looked puzzled. When the last boy passed through the door they waited in the cloakroom for the next move.
"Youre in for it, Inglis" "Bad luck, old boy," "Wouldnt be in your shoes." These comments floated round Jons ears as the tension rose.