Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

* * *

  In the week that followed Bright spoke of little else but her visit to Noel’s house. ‘Will ye be going tonight?’ she asked Nat this Friday morning at breakfast – as she had asked every single morning.

  ‘I might do.’ He had become exasperated by her fixation, not to mention that the interrogation over the chess piece still rankled. She asked if he would take her. ‘I don’t know if I’m going!’

  ‘Oh, but if ye do…’

  ‘By, I could put my boots to you!’ exclaimed Nat, abandoning his breakfast.

  Several jaws dropped open. Mrs Maguire projected horror. ‘Nat!’

  Before he had time to enquire about his crime Nat felt his collar grabbed by Martin, as he was frogmarched to the scullery and a bar of soap rammed at his mouth. He twisted his head this way and that to avoid it.

  ‘Wash your filthy mouth out!’ Martin grappled with him. ‘An’ think yourself lucky Dad’s gone to work or he’d belt ye black an’ blue!’

  Nat managed to wriggle free and ran to a corner, back to the wall, eyes wild and confused. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘Don’t you ever talk to my sister like that again!’ Martin stabbed a warning finger into his chest.

  ‘I wasn’t really going to kick her!’ Nat rubbed a cuff over his mouth, trying desperately to remove the taste of soap. ‘It’s just a saying! It doesn’t mean owt.’

  ‘What?’ Martin scowled. When it slowly dawned on him that Nat had not fully understood the sexual implication of his announcement, he relaxed somewhat and took a pace backwards, combing his hair with his fingers. ‘Right… right, well just don’t say that again to Bright – to any woman, understand? Go and apologize.’ He turned his back on Nat to hide a smirk of amusement at the misunderstanding and breakfast was resumed in peace.

  ‘Sorry.’ Head down, Nat did not look at Bright.

  She said it was all right. ‘So will ye take me?’

  Nat sighed. ‘If I go, yes!’ Though I doubt I’ll be invited again, came the glum thought.

  He was to be pleasantly surprised. Noel was as eager for his company as ever when they met up that Friday evening in St Sampson’s churchyard. The chess piece was not mentioned. After an hour or so of mischief the two boys left their companions and walked home together.

  ‘Summer hols soon,’ announced Noel. ‘I’ll be able to come out every day, apart from the fortnight when we go to Whitby.’

  ‘We’ll all be at work,’ replied Nat.

  Noel lost his effusiveness. ‘Oh… I’ll have no one to keep me company. How boring.’

  ‘You can come and help me find scrap,’ offered Nat, restoring his friend’s enthusiasm. ‘Course, we don’t need to do it every day. We could spend some time at your place.’ Nat was dying to get there again.

  ‘Anything you like.’ Noel was happy to oblige. ‘Anyway, I’d prefer it without the others. They’re a bit thick aren’t they? I mean they’re all right, but… oh, I don’t know.’ Judging by Nat’s face he had said too much. It was true, though, the others weren’t very stimulating. There was paradox here, for Nat offered little in the way of conversation, but there was just something that appealed to him in the boy’s face; something about his clean-cut features that demanded finer attire. Ragged and uneducated though he might be, there was nothing oafish or clod-like about him as was the nature of those he mixed with – Spud and Denzil and Gunner. ‘What I meant was, I don’t look upon them as friends as I do you.’

  Nat was flattered. Yet much as he was amused by Noel’s company he could not bring himself to commit his total friendship, because it was just not in him to give himself totally to anyone. Beneath the air of camaraderie was a resentment for all the things Noel had: a mother, a father, big house, money, brains… how could Noel even want to be his friend? What had Nat to offer? Uncomfortable as he might feel, he used Noel’s sentiment to his own advantage. ‘It’s early yet, shall I come to your house for a while?’

  Noel was affable. ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Nat tucked his chin into his chest and muttered. ‘Look who’s waiting for us.’ As they neared the end of Fossgate he could see Bright leaning against the wall of the drapery store.

  Noel shaded his eyes. ‘It’s your friend, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sorry. She keeps pestering for me to take her to your house again. I said I’d ask you…’

  ‘Well, I don’t mind if she comes occasionally,’ answered Noel.

  Pressed against the wall, head down, Bright had not seen them yet. ‘So is it all right if she comes with us now?’ asked Nat.

  Noel did not appear to be keen on the idea. ‘I suppose so.’ They had almost reached her and still she didn’t come galloping over the bridge as was her usual course of action when she saw Nat.

  He looked puzzled. ‘Wonder what’s up with her.’

  She heard his voice now and lifted her face. Her cheeks were stained with tears. The boys paused beside her. ‘Me Granny’s died,’ uttered Bright, then immediately turned away, weeping. Nat bit his lip and stared helplessly at the other boy. He could not abandon her.

  Noel understood. ‘Maybe we’ll leave it for another night.’ He backed away. ‘And you’ll both be welcome.’

  Nat tossed him a look of gratitude then, without words, shepherded the sobbing Bright towards home.

  Noel, too, proceeded homewards. When he removed his jacket later he found a chessman in one of its pockets.

  9

  The old lady’s funeral took place on Sunday when all workers could attend. Unable to afford a hearse, the two eldest Maguire sons negotiated her coffin on a handcart, one at the front and one at the back, with the prodigious Maguire clan trailing behind. Nat was just glad to get the corpse out of the house. Since Friday it had been lying in the front parlour surrounded by candles and drunken weeping relatives. The atmosphere had been unbearable.

  Despite feeling pity for Bright he could not imagine what all the fuss was about. ‘I mean, it’s not as if she ever talked to you, is it?’ he said in a ham-fisted attempt to cheer her up. ‘And you’ve got loads of family left. I’ve got nobody.’ As far as he was concerned his mother was dead.

  ‘I loved my granny!’ Bright burst into tears of outrage.

  ‘I’m not saying you didn’t!’ Nat looked awkward and bent to scratch his leg. After a long pause he added encouragement. ‘You can come to Noel’s with me on Friday if you want.’ Bright’s red-rimmed eyes emerged from behind her handkerchief and she nodded acceptance. Nat had an afterthought. ‘You won’t be crying all the time you’re there, will you?’

  ‘I won’t come if you don’t want me!’ Her face collapsed again.

  ‘Course I want you! You’re my best friend.’

  She blew her nose. ‘What about Noel?’

  ‘He’s all right but he’s too posh to be a real friend – don’t tell him I said that though! Else he won’t invite us any more.’

  Bright managed a damp grin. ‘He’s nice though, isn’t he? Much better than any of that gang of yours.’ An alarming thought came to her. ‘Do they go to Noel’s house, too?’

  There was a twinkle of conspiracy in Nat’s eye. ‘No, me and him pretend we’re going home then we go to his house. You’re not to mention it.’

  ‘As if I would! Anyway, I’m not likely to see them am I?’ Bright had kept well away from Nat’s companions since the fire. She was cheering up now. ‘Will ye be going every Friday evening?’

  ‘Probably.’ Nat did not mention that he would be seeing more of Noel in the school holidays. He was not so much of a martyr that he wanted Bright’s company all the time.

  ‘Can I come too?’

  ‘What, every Friday?’ He looked doubtful. ‘Oh, I’d have to ask him…’

  ‘We’ll be able to spend more time together during the school holidays, maybe go for picnics in the country.’

  Nat had forgotten that Bright would be off school too. ‘I have a living to earn.’

  ‘Oh, yes… well, I could help you collect scrap then
.’

  ‘It’s no work for a girl.’ Nat was pulled in two directions. Sometimes he was filled with all kinds of passion for Bright, wanted to hold her, kiss her… but then at other times he just had to be with his own sex. One was always inhibited in the company of females. ‘Still, it’s a good idea about the picnic. We could go on Saturday, just you and me.’

  This and the promise of regular weekend jaunts appeared to mollify her, allowing him to spend most of the vacation with Noel, often hunting for scrap but more often being at Noel’s house. He loved it here. The feeling was not reciprocated by Noel’s parents, in particular Mrs Scaum who wanted her husband to forbid the boy’s presence.

  ‘On what grounds?’ Scaum looked helpless.

  ‘That he’s a thief, for one,’ countered his wife.

  ‘Oh, now…’

  ‘You know it’s true!’

  ‘The chess piece was returned.’ It had mysteriously reappeared on the board.

  ‘Only after you confronted him.’

  ‘Well, I’ve said before that I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt if only because Noel seems very attached to him.’

  ‘That in itself is even more worrying!’ argued Mrs Scaum. ‘He’ll lure Noel into bad ways.’

  ‘Have you considered that the reverse could happen, that Noel could be a good influence on him and nip his criminal tendencies in the bud? It was only a chess piece for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘A chess piece which you insist he didn’t steal!’ persevered Mrs Scaum.

  Scaum tired of the argument. ‘When I receive firm evidence that the association is bad for our son, then I will terminate it at once. But my dear, Noel has few friends…’

  ‘I’m sure the boy’s only using him!’ interrupted his wife. ‘Mark my words, you’ll see.’

  ‘Then we’ll see.’ He bit on his pipe. The topic was closed.

  However, it was Mr Scaum’s philanthropy that was made to appear a little misplaced when he caught Nat using a brass letter opener to prise up the lid of the piano.

  ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing!’ Foregoing his usual calm manner he lunged at Nat and grabbed the letter opener from his hand.

  The boy already had his excuses. ‘It was locked! I was only…’

  ‘I know it was locked!’ Scaum was angry. ‘I locked it because I’m sick of people tinkling on it whilst I am trying to read on an evening. Look at the damage you’ve caused!’ He probed the gouges on the mahogany lid. ‘Where’s my son – Noel!’ Noel came running.

  ‘Where have you been?’ demanded his father.

  ‘Just to the… you know.’ Noel was flushed.

  ‘Well, you might like to know that in your absence your friend here has ruined my piano!’

  ‘Sorry, Father.’ Noel hung his head, wondering how Nat could be such a barbarian.

  ‘Sorry is not enough!’ Mr Scaum wagged the letter opener. ‘If Nat cannot pay for the damage it will come out of your hide!’ He turned and marched from the room, afraid that if he remained he would throttle both boys.

  ‘What’s he so mad about?’ The perpetrator dismissed the marks on the wood. ‘It’s only a few chips.’

  Noel disagreed as to the severity of the damage. ‘It could mean replacing the entire lid.’

  ‘Well, what does that matter to him, he’s got bags of money.’

  Noel had been brought up to respect others’ property. Even if he had stolen, he had never caused wilful damage and with this act Nat had fallen in his esteem. ‘He hasn’t as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Who’re you trying to kid!’ sneered Nat, his contempt more for himself than for the other. What on earth had made him do it? He had surely spoilt his chances of coming here again.

  Noel was cool. ‘I know we have a splendid life compared to you, but honestly we’re not that rich. Why do you think I have to go to grammar school? Because my father can’t afford the fees for anywhere better. Yes, we have a nice house but that was left to my father in his uncle’s will, it costs an awful lot to maintain. Father works very hard, but from what I can gather he’s not very well paid – although he’s never actually told me, I’ve only overheard Mother grumbling. It would take months of hard work to save up for another piano lid.’

  ‘I work bloody hard too but I’ll never be able to afford owt like this!’ Nat lashed out at the piano leg with his boot. ‘And you!’ He shoved Noel in the chest. ‘You only bring me here so you can show off your fancy things!’

  ‘How dare you!’ Mr Scaum, as if not believing it the first time, had returned to make further investigation of the damage. ‘How dare you throw my son’s friendship in his face! How dare you abuse our hospitality by vandalizing our precious belongings!’ He shook with a fury that travelled down his pointed finger. ‘Let me give you a piece of advice…’

  Advice! They were all so free with advice. Nat clenched his teeth and glared at the carpet as Scaum waded into him.

  ‘If you are to keep your friend then you must take that chip off your shoulder, and until you do you can stay away from my house. Do you hear?’

  Nat merely turned on his heel and left without so much as a goodbye.

  Mr Scaum addressed his son: ‘Noel, I sympathize I really do, but I’ve given Nat every chance…’

  ‘I know, I’m terribly sorry, Father.’ Noel felt sick both at Nat’s behaviour and the loss of his friendship.

  ‘You have no need to apologize for his wrongdoings.’

  ‘I won’t bring him here again.’

  At his son’s crestfallen face, Scaum modified his anger. ‘Oh look, I know how you two get on. If he takes the chip off his shoulder he’ll be fine. Just as well we’re going to Whitby on Saturday, it will give me a chance to cool down.’

  * * *

  Bright, preparing for her Friday night treat at Noel’s house, was dismayed to learn that it had been cancelled. ‘He’s off on holiday,’ mumbled Nat. ‘I won’t be seeing him for a while.’

  Bright laid the hairbrush back on the mantelshelf. ‘Suppose ye’ll be with Denzil and the others all night then?’

  Something in her face touched Nat. ‘I don’t have to see them at all, we could go brambling or summat, it’s a nice night.’

  She turned an eager smile on her mother. ‘Oh can we, Mammy?’

  ‘So long as ye don’t expect me to make all these brambles into jam,’ answered Mrs Maguire, repairing one of her sons’ shirts.

  ‘I’ll bake you a nice pie with them!’ Bright sprang into action, crossed a shawl over her chest and knotted it behind, then went to find a receptacle.

  After she and Nat had gone Mrs Maguire nibbled her lip and said to her husband, ‘I forget that child of ours is growing up. Should we ought to have sent one o’ the lads with them?’

  Maguire laughed at the notion, barely raising his eyes from his evening paper. ‘And him as much a brother to her as the rest o’ them? Away with ye, woman!’

  In only fifteen minutes the youngsters had left the overcrowded city behind them and were combing the hedgerows for blackberries. The briars were laden and in next to no time the basket was half full. Pausing to rest, Bright popped one of the dark fruits into her mouth, grinning impishly at her partner. In response, Nat scooped up a handful of berries and crammed them into his own mouth, purple juice spurting with his laugh. Not to be outdone, Bright used both hands to scoop fruits into her mouth, abandoning all vestiges of newly attained womanhood, laughing and spluttering as the juice was smeared all over her cheeks, then falling to the grass in hysterics as Nat pretended to eat the entire basket.

  In the smiling calm that followed Nat reclined on the grass whilst Bright returned to filling the basket. He watched her dextrous fingers move over the briar, watched the way her shoulderblades jutted from the light material of her dress, the curve of her jaw dappled with juice, the fineness of her wrist bones, the glow of her hair in the evening sunlight. She turned to look at him and he was smitten with the urgent desire to kiss her.

  Bright fel
t his concentrated gaze and offered a blushing riposte. ‘Are ye going to let me do this all on my own?’

  Leaping to his feet, Nat came to stand beside her, plucking haphazardly at the berries and wondering how to make his approach. His forearm accidentally brushed hers. Bright issued a self-conscious laugh and half turned to receive a clumsy impulsive kiss. Then, though both tingled with excitement, they continued with their task as if nothing had happened.

  On the way home he took her hand. Bright prayed that he would kiss her again but, alas, this did not happen and before they reached the city he had released his grip in case anyone should see them. When they arrived home it was as if no intimacy had taken place. Indeed, in the barren weeks that followed Bright could almost have believed she had dreamed it.

  * * *

  It was October before Noel decided to meet up with the gang again. When, on that autumnal Friday evening, he arrived at St Sampson’s churchyard he found Nat’s response as cool as the weather. Only the two of them were here at present, which gave Noel the opportunity to broach the subject of their inglorious parting. ‘Father’s calmed down now, the piano was fixed while we were away. It didn’t need a new lid, just some french polishing. It looks as good as new – mind you, it cost a few quid. Anyway, Father’s agreed to let me bring you home again.’

  Nat was airy, holding his palms to the fire he had lighted. ‘Who says I want to come?’

  The yellow-haired boy was obviously disappointed. ‘Yes well, only if you want to.’

  ‘First he accuses me of stealing his chess piece…’

  ‘Which you did!’

  ‘Then he goes mad cause of a few scratches on a piano!’

  ‘They weren’t just scratches!’ Noel’s cheeks were pink, not merely from the cold. ‘I know from the amount of money that was confiscated from my allowance. I won’t get anything for the rest of the year and all because of you!’

  Nat’s reply was nasty. ‘You can always steal some! Huh! I wonder what dear Father would say if he knew you’d broken into folks’ houses and pinched stuff.’