‘No I haven’t.’
‘What do they call you Noel for, then?’ demanded Spud.
‘Because I was born at Easter.’ Noel expected laughter but overestimated Spud’s intelligence.
‘Are you coming cow-walloping then or not?’ asked Denzil. ‘We’re all taking the morning off work, pretending we’re sick.’
Noel bit his thumb. He had enjoyed himself more than yesterday; Denzil was not so bad after all. ‘I suppose I could always play truant. It’s nearly the end of term and we’ve done exams. All right, I’ll see you then!’
Gaining an answer, Denzil grabbed his putrid-smelling trophy and turned for home. ‘I’m taking this so nobody steals it. See you at Walmgate Bar first thing on Thursday morning!’ Spud followed and shortly Gunner left too.
Noel turned to Nat and made fun of Denzil. ‘I don’t know who he thinks is going to steal that – it stinks like nothing on earth!’
Nat had to share his laughter.
‘I didn’t like to ask in front of the others, did you bring your razor?’ Noel had been looking forward to using it all day.
‘Sorry, I forgot.’
‘Oh, well, I’d better make for home. Shall we walk together?’
With Nat’s agreement they fell into step and Noel asked him about the meeting on Thursday. ‘What exactly is cow-walloping?’
Nat felt good at being able to impart his knowledge to the other boy, and did so good-naturedly. ‘Sometimes you’ll get a bloke what buys a herd at the Cattle Market and he needs a lad to help him drive them back to his farm.’
‘Oh, I see. We’d better wear old clothes then.’
‘I haven’t got nowt else,’ grumbled Nat.
Noel tried to make up for this faux pas. ‘Would you like to come for tea on Monday afternoon? You could meet me from school and we’ll walk home together – and bring your razor! Don’t tell the others, though.’
Nat looked keen, as if he would share this with Denzil!
After a Monday’s scavenging, he followed Noel’s directions to Archbishop Holgate’s School and was there when his friend came out. Noel looked at the grubby, ragged figure with the bag of scrap over his shoulder and wondered what his mother would say when he took Nat home again. Far from unnerving him the idea brought a grin to his lips. It was fun to annoy Mother.
Noel was correct in his assumption; his mother was displeased. However, in her husband’s absence she was far too cowardly to expel Nat and politely instructed her son and his friend to take tea in the kitchen. Afterwards, Noel enjoyed his first shave and in return guided Nat around the entire house. Nat liked Mr Scaum’s study the best, possibly because it contained an ivory chess set that he could not stop looking at. He picked up a knight. ‘Why have these horses no bodies?’
‘It’s called a knight.’ Noel made to leave. ‘Don’t let Father involve you in a game of chess, it’ll bore you to death.’
Turning the knight in his fingers, Nat cast an eye after Noel, then quickly pocketing the ivory piece he followed. It was still in his possession when he got home.
Noel joined the boys for cow-walloping on Thursday and thoroughly enjoyed himself, promising to see the gang the following evening, though when Friday came he did not show. His parents had discovered his truancy and, blaming Nat’s influence, had confined him to his room for the whole weekend However, the following Friday he did turn up. ‘Sorry I couldn’t come last week. Mother kept me in for jigging school last Thursday.’
Denzil was contemptuous. ‘Goody-goody.’
Noel blushed and sought a topic to divert attention from him. ‘Where’s the trophy?’
It was Denzil’s turn to look awkward. ‘Forgot to bring it.’ In reality his mother had traced the appalling stench to the bottom of his wardrobe and had thrown the deformed creature out. ‘Anyway, I’ve had an idea to make some cash. Follow me.’
Denzil led a foray into the urinals on King’s Staith where he and his cohorts set about trying to extract the pennies from the locks on the doors. After much probing Denzil said they would have to rip the locks off completely; this they did, carrying them back to their headquarters where they spent much of the evening withdrawing the coins through the slit by aid of a knife. Noel pronounced the evening, ‘Pretty exciting.’
Denzil’s expression turned crafty. ‘I’ve something even more exciting for next Friday. How about doing a creeper?’
Noel leaned forward with interest. ‘What’s that?’
Denzil rolled his eyes at the other’s naivety, then explained: ‘We creep into people’s houses when they’re asleep.’
‘What for?’
‘For somebody who’s supposed to be posh you’re bloody stupid! To rob ’em, o’ course.’
Noel covered his unease with an enthusiastic, ‘Oh!’
Others were uneasy too. ‘It’ll mean stopping out late until everybody’s asleep,’ observed Gunner. ‘Me dad’d come looking for me.’ Denzil showed impatience. ‘Look, dummy, you go home as usual, then when your mam and dad are asleep you climb out the window or summat and meet us here at, say, midnight. I’ll need a week to plan things but by next Friday I should have summat worked out. What about you, Nat?’
‘No trouble for me to get away.’ Since his illness Nat had bedded permanently downstairs by the fire; there was only old Granny Maguire to see him go and she was in another world.
Spud too claimed he could manage it. Denzil turned back to Noel. ‘Don’t suppose you’ll be allowed.’
‘Of course not,’ Noel grinned, ‘but I’ll be here anyway!’
Everyone turned up at the appointed time. The night-time streets were deserted save for the odd musical drunk and the beat policeman, whom they dodged quite easily. Their movements had been meticulously planned earlier that evening. It would be too ambitious to choose a large house for their first job, which might well be guarded with dogs and watchmen; better to select one more modest. Excitement surged as they crept down the moonlit alleyways.
In King’s Court their leader stopped and looked over his shoulder to whisper, ‘This one looks good. Nat, see if you can open the window.’ Nat took out a penknife and inserted it under the top sash trying to manipulate the catch. Much grunting and heaving went on as first Nat, then Gunner and Spud, struggled with the jammed window. Defeated, Nat shook his head at Denzil who, with bad temper, ushered them on to the next house where the same performance ensued. Noel looked on, raising a hand to check that his distinctive yellow hair was concealed under the black woollen scarf and hat he was wearing. Whilst the others tried to shift the window, the onlooker performed what he assumed would be a futile attempt on the door, turning its handle. It was open! He hissed at the others, who were still red-faced and huffing over the window.
‘Shush!’ Denzil turned to warn him, then saw the open door and chivvied the others into action.
They were inside the house, their hearts really pumping now. Even Nat, who was used to coping with danger, felt the need to empty his bowels. Noel could not believe he was doing this, felt as if he were dreaming it all as he, like the others, felt his legs carry him involuntarily around the house. Pockets crammed with treasures, Denzil pointed at the ceiling. Noel almost defecated and clenched his buttocks to prevent this. The idiot wanted them to go upstairs into rooms where people slept! But isn’t this what you wanted, he asked himself – excitement? The boys went to the stairs, taking each tread in the most gingerly fashion. Noel felt a desperate impulse to giggle and had to press a hand over his mouth to avoid doing so.
Using gestures, Denzil ordered Nat to open a door. Pulse thumping in his head, Nat turned the handle a millimetre at a time, awaiting a creak. The catch unloosened, he pushed the door open ever so carefully and inched into the small room. The double bed used up most of the space; in it were two sleeping mounds. One by one the boys edged into the room and with one eye on the bed started to pocket items from the dressing table. Nat reached for a watch on the bedside table – when a nightcapped figure sat bolt u
pright in the bed, automatically made a grab for the intruder and caught him by the arm!
At Nat’s yell the others piled for the stairs, running for their lives, all except Noel who, seeing Nat’s desperate fight to escape shouted after them, ‘Cowards! Come and help him!’ With his accomplices fled from the house Noel dithered frantically, his bowel uncontrollable now. The man’s wife was awake and making a terrible din. In his struggle Nat had succeeded in half dragging the man out of bed, but was yet in his grasp. Noel made a dash, bit the man on the arm, thus releasing the captive, then beat a hasty retreat down the staircase, closely followed by Nat. Out into the night they ran, not knowing nor caring where their so-called friends had gone, not stopping until they were far away from the scene of the crime.
‘Oh fack!’ Noel ripped off his hat and scarf and fell against a wall, his breathing laboured. He felt dirty, not just because of the mess in his pants but for his behaviour towards the victims of his crime. Oh, yes it had been exciting! But the couple were elderly, their house – their home – much more modest than his own and above all hovered the terrible knowledge of what this would do to his parents if he were found out.
Nat took a deep breath and raised his head to look at his friend. ‘Thanks.’
Noel merely nodded and continued to pant. ‘I’ll have to go home now.’
Nat could smell the reason for his friend’s anxiety but did not mention it. ‘Ay, me too.’
Noel was disorientated. ‘Where are we?’ He replaced his hat but left the scarf to trail from his hand.
Nat was similarly confused and forced his brain to concentrate on this place where he had been many times before. ‘Oh, down here.’ He motioned for Noel to accompany him down Fossgate, and when this merged with Walmgate they parted company; no cheery farewells this evening.
Noel, plagued by his conscience all night, did not sleep one wink. Saturday was not five hours old when he rose and went back into town. It was more difficult than he had anticipated – visiting the house he had burgled last night. The terror was fresh in his mind, but he forced himself to approach the door. The hour being early there were few people about but he looked around him many times before dropping the items he had stolen through the letterbox and running for his life. And still he felt dirty.
* * *
‘Your turn, Noel!’ Denzil, heading the collection of booty that Saturday evening, turned to the last member of the gang. Noel presented empty hands. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got anything.’
‘What!’
‘I did, but I dropped it when I went to rescue Nat.’ That should ward off any further condemnation, thought Noel. Accuse them before they accuse you.
His theory cut no ice with Denzil, who considered the episode to be Nat’s own fault and suffered no guilt himself. ‘Well, don’t think you’re getting a share of this!’ He pointed to the bag of jewellery, cash and other valuables.
‘I neither want nor need a share.’ Noel was aloof. ‘I only did it for the thrill.’ And I certainly won’t be doing it again, he added to himself, thinking of the poor old man and his wife as their belongings were split between the four young robbers.
After the division of spoils the boys left the camp and wandered around town. By now a feeling of anti-climax had set in. Out of the blue, Denzil turned and punched Spud in the face.
Spud yelped and held his cheek in dismay. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘Cause I felt like it,’ replied Denzil, then walked on as if nothing had happened.
No one dared look at each other, but continued to mooch around town looking for entertainment. Hating the atmosphere but afraid to leave, Noel ransacked his brain for a jape to lighten the load. When the brassy tones of a Salvation Army band approached he was given a chance. The boys paused to watch and when the tubas and cornets marched past, Noel leaped into the road and began to follow them, doing the most ridiculous walk as if his limbs were made of rubber. The others enjoyed his antics, but even this grew boring after a while and finally to the relief of all Denzil announced that he was going home, allowing others to do the same.
As usual Nat walked part of the way with Noel who, when the former was about to take his leave, said, ‘It’s only early, would you like to come to my home for a while?’
Nat showed eagerness and the two were about to move on when a girl’s voice shouted, ‘Nat! Wait on!’
Nat groaned. ‘Crack on you haven’t heard.’ But the cry came again and out of politeness Noel stopped to wait for the girl who hurried after them down Walmgate.
‘Good evening!’ He smiled at her. She returned both smile and greeting, then addressed Nat. ‘Where’re y’off?’
‘I’m just going with Noel to his house.’
Where once Bright would have asked if she could come, all she uttered now was, ‘Oh.’
Afraid that his visit to the boy’s house was about to be curtailed, Nat turned desperate eyes to his friend. ‘Would you mind if she came with us?’
‘Of course not!’ Noel moved across the pavement in order that Bright could walk between them.
Relieved, Nat smiled down at her. ‘You won’t believe your eyes when you get to his house.’
Bright discovered the truth in his statement even before she entered the gate. ‘Is this all yours?’ she gasped.
Noel laughed. ‘My parents’, yes. Come in.’ He opened the gate for her.
Unused to such gentlemanly treatment, Bright stood back until he waved her through to enjoy an episode of sheer delight. The roses were her favourite. Nat watched her trip from bush to bush, inserting her nose deep into the cluster of petals, inhaling the wonderful scent. ‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘I’ll show you the birds.’
A glee-filled Bright pelted over the wooden bridge to be shown the Golden Pheasants. ‘Can we feed them?’ She was asking Noel but Nat, carried away, exclaimed, ‘Yes!’ Grabbing the tin of corn he opened the cage and shoved her inside. Noel raised an eyebrow but made no comment. After a short dedication to feeding the birds, Nat led the way back to the lawned garden where the boys threw themselves down onto the grass and Bright entertained them with an abandoned dance.
Nat sneaked a peripheral glance at Noel, trying to divine if he too was watching the breasts jiggle under the thin summer frock. A dart of jealousy caused him to leap up and run to the dancing girl, grab her hand in a possessive manner and drag her laughing across the lawn to another secret pathway. Noel ran after them.
In the house Mrs Scaum was watching the trio. ‘He’s brought that wretched boy again, and a female. I hope she doesn’t lead Noel astray. Just look at the way she disports herself.’
‘She might be a thoroughly decent girl,’ responded Mr Scaum. ‘You shouldn’t malign her so.’
‘Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you showed similar charity towards the boy,’ retorted his wife. ‘And he repaid you by luring Noel into truancy and destroying your chess set.’
‘It’s not destroyed, there’s only one piece missing.’
‘One piece or five, it’s still ruined if the set is incomplete.’
‘It could have been knocked from the table by…’
‘We’ve looked high and low, Steven! It seems too much of a coincidence that on the night Noel brought that boy home the piece went missing – and Noel admitted he took him into your study.’ A misdemeanour for which Noel had been reprimanded.
‘Even if he is the culprit I can’t just go and bluntly accuse him.’ Scaum lit his pipe and came to look out of the French window alongside his wife.
‘At least question him,’ urged Mrs Scaum. ‘And when he’s gone you’d better speak to Noel about consorting with girls like that one.’ The youngsters’ get-together was interrupted by the appearance of Mr Scaum, who wandered calmly around the pergola and waved as if he had stumbled upon them by accident. ‘Hello, there! Nat, isn’t it?’ He came over.
Nat nodded, feeling uncomfortable.
‘And who is your young lady friend, Noel?’ Mr Scaum waved across the
flowerbed as Bright lifted her head from a rose and caught him looking at her. She waved back.
‘That’s Nat’s friend, Bright,’ explained Noel.
‘Pretty name.’ Mr Scaum drew on his pipe for a while, adding the scent of tobacco to that of rose and honeysuckle. ‘Well, I won’t interrupt your play.’ He turned to go, then wheeled back. ‘Oh! By the way, I appear to have mislaid one of my chessmen – the maid has probably knocked it off the board when she was dusting. If either of you see it lying around just pop it back on the board would you?’
‘What was he looking at me for?’ muttered Nat when Mr Scaum’s back was turned.
Noel attempted to look surprised, though the topic of the chessman had been raised before in his presence.
‘I’ll bet he thinks I pinched it.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t.’
‘Anyway, I’m off now.’ A sullen Nat turned on his heel, calling to Bright as he went. ‘Away, we’re off!’
Noel followed. ‘Why do you imagine my father was accusing you of stealing it? Is it because you feel guilty?’
Nat was angry. ‘I don’t have owt to feel guilty about! And in case you’d forgotten, you steal too.’ Satisfied at the other’s look of dismay, he added less passionately, ‘Anyroad, I’m not going because o’ what he said, I’m just bored sat here doing nowt.’
A disappointed Bright caught up with her friend as he made for the gate. Noel traced their footsteps.
The girl looked over her shoulder. ‘Was that your dad?’ When Noel gave confirmation she flashed a smile. ‘He’s got a bum on his chin.’ Noel had to laugh, for he knew what she meant. ‘It’s called a cleft!’
‘Looks like a little bum to me – you’ve got one too.’
Dismayed, Noel put a hand up to probe his chin.
‘I like it.’ Bright felt herself grabbed by the arm and pushed through the gate.
‘See you next Friday?’ enquired Noel and looked concerned when Nat offered a curt, ‘Maybe,’ and left without looking back. The girl waved though.
Shoddy Prince Page 22
