A Seat of Learning By Jonah
More of the adventures of Simon and Garret and their boys. This is a loving story of good people. It features men looking after boys but do not expect to find any indecency here. Only genuine love. Not one of the characters in this story is a real person or is, in any way, based on a real person. At least one character, however, is the creation of another author. I wish to thank Jacob Lion, in the USA, for his permission to use his characters in my stories.
I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm grateful to Nifty for enabling me to bring it to you. Nifty does not charge either me or you for doing so, but it does cost money to do it. Please consider donating to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ to help keep this site going.
Chapter 12
Friday dawned bright and sunny. I chose that as a first sentence for the new chapter because it creates the false impression that I was awake to witness the dawn. Quarter to eight was bright and sunny. That's as far as I can venture if I'm honest. I was up in time to eat breakfast with the school-going contingent, and to feed Barry before it was time to go and collect Denzil.
We drove past fields of dust clouds, kicked up by combine harvesters, and we sat patiently behind tractor and trailer-loads of straw. We mingled with the traffic in the city until at last we were at the Thorpe front door.
Denzil greeted Barry like a long-lost brother whilst Mick still seemed to want to shake my hand upon every meeting. When I suggested that they join us for dinner he was, at first, horrified. I didn't plead. I let the boys do it for me. They were so much better at it than I could have been. Finally it was decided that I would collect Mick at five o'clock and would return the two of them in time for bed.
"Oh, and Mick - we don't dress up. It's only a barbecue."
The man smiled his gratitude as I took his son away.
Back in Newton, I set both boys an essay to write - not one each, you understand. They were to write alternating lines and try to make them gel into a story. Of course the results were hilarious. As I boiled the kettle I heard roars of laughter from the lounge.
"As the captain arrived on the bridge his eye fell on a small piece of paper on the floor. It's a good job the paper was there or his glass eye might have got dirty."
"The bos'un swung his leg over the bulwark. It was hard being a bos'un with only one leg."
I took a long time mashing the tea as it gave me an opportunity to eavesdrop on all this jollity. To be honest, I was enjoying it as much as they were.
We rounded off the hour by going over what they had written and adjusting the punctuation to make the piece flow, the intention being to produce a finished piece that they could present to Simon for his verdict.
Next on the agenda came fifteen minutes of relay racing in the garden. We used two footballs for this. Two players - one of them with a ball - stood at opposite points on the railway track while the third stood in the middle with the other ball. The aim was for the player inthe middle to play keepy-uppy with his ball while the other player with a ball ran round the track to deliver it to his colleague. The player in the centre had to keep his ball in the air while the other ball made three laps of the railway. The player who held the ball at the end of the three laps would swap over with the one in the centre, unless the one in the centre dropped the ball, in which case he swapped places with whoever was holding the other ball. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that we were outside running about for quarter of an hour, instead of poring over books inside.
It was hot work on a warm day so the French windows stayed open while we did our geography. This comprised practice in using an ordnance survey map. Both boys showed an aptitude for it, as they did for helping me to make sandwiches so that we could eat before we had to take Denzil to the police station.
Sergeant Robins was ready for us.
"Come on into the interview room boys," he said as soon as he saw us. "Denzil, do you mind if Barrry sits in with us? It'll save him having to sit on his own."
Denzil was more than happy for Barry to do that, so the sergeant opened the file on the desk.
"Looking at this record, you seem to be making some progress. How have you been getting on since yesterday."
I interrupted at this point.
"Do you boys mind if the sergeant reads your essay?"
Both boys broke out in smiles and demanded that I hand over the document in question.
The sergeant took the essay from me and adjusted his glasses.
"They did that together," I told him.
The sergeant looked very serious as he read the document. Then he smiled. Then he smiled more widely. Then he chuckled to himself. By the time he finished the page, he was laughing out loud.
"Gor blass if one or both of you boys ain't a genius," he exclaimed through his laughter. "Now get out of here, the pair on you, I'll see you tomorrow."
As the boys exited, he turned to me.
"How's things at home for Denzil?" he whispered, the laughter having disappeared.
"Him and his dad are joining us for a barbecue tonight," I told him. "They love each other. They just hadn't got around to telling each other so. Denzil's off to Carrow Road with his dad tomorrow."
"Oho!" said the sergeant. "DENZIL!"
The boy's head reappeared in the doorframe.
"You never told me you wuz going to the football tomorrow," said the sergeant.
"Yessir, after we've been here," said the boy.
"Thass miles from here to Carrow Road," replied the policeman. "I've jus' signed off tomorrow's interview so it's already happened. Enjoy the game and I'll see you Sunday."
"Yessir, thank you Sir! said Denzil before he disappeared again."
"Thank you Sergeant," I said as I stood up to go.
"No Sir. Thank you Sir. For all that you're doing for those boys. Coming in here to see Charlie Hopkins wouldn't have done it."
I couldn't disagree with that.
Within ten minutes we were in Tesco's and were shopping for the forthcoming barbecue. Meat, salad, bread rolls, sauce, ice cream, all were acquired and I was glad of the extra pair of hands.
"Denzil, can you see if you can find me a picost?"
"I don't know what one of those is."
It wasn't the reply I'd hoped for, but I couldn't tell whether that was deliberate.
"Thank you for telling me that Denzil, but I only asked you to try to find me one."
"How can I.....
Lloyd had had enough.
"Daddy, what's a picost?" he asked, a little too obligingly"
"One pound thirty - they're over there next to the sandwiches," said Denzil. It had been deliberate alright, and I'd walked right into my own trap.
It was nearly three when we got back home and there might have been time for another lesson. There might have been the remotest smidgeon of a chance that one of the boys would be able to concentrate on it. No there wasn't. We got the barbecue out spread a sheet of newspaper on the tray and spread a few broken pieces of firelighter on it. The best part of a sack of charcoal was poured over that and the barbecue got ceremonially lit. I selected the sacrificial sausage - the one that wasn't going to be eaten, but would be positioned where it would warm up and drip its fat on the charcoal to aid combustion.
By the time Simon brought the other boys home the barbecue was well alight. Simon and Lloyd set about getting out the train while I went to fetch Mick.
Mick was ready as soon as I knocked on his door. There were more profuse (and embarrassing)thanks.
We rode back most of the way in silence, since the traffic, on a Friday evening, was heavy. The little conversation that did take place was easy and friendly.
"Oh, by the way Mick, are you two still off to Carrow Road tomorrow."
"Yes, Denzil's looking forward to it."
"Sergeant Robins says he'll see you on Sunday."
"We've got an appointment with him tomorrow as well."
"No you haven't. He says enjoy the game and he'll see you on Sunday."
"That'll be his last one."
"For ever, I hope. I think it will be too."
"So do I. I hardly recognize Denzil these days."
"He's worked hard at it."
"He's a good lad now."
"He's always been a good lad. He just used to hide it well."
I parked behind Simon's mini.
Within minutes Denzil had the kettle on. There were sausages burgers and mini-steaks on the barbecue. Mick was buttering bread rolls. Barry had set out the big picnic table and Lloyd had the train in motion, Simon having released it from its shed. Denzil produced cups of tea for Mick, Simon and myself and then ran across to the train. Barry soon followed. When the train next came past they were behind Philip on the back of the carriage. Lloyd was having to use all the power available for that load but neither he, nor the little locomotive, seemed to mind.
The train did a few laps like this but, eventually, I had to call a halt to it as food was ready.
Mick was reclining in a deckchair with a Coca-Cola in one hand and a bunful of mini-steak and salad in the other. He was holding forth on some subject to Simon and I didn't want to know what. Whatever it was, he looked more relaxed and contented than I had ever seen him.
The boys were around the table and were soon tucking in. Burgers and sausages disappeared from the barbecue, only to be replaced. There was plenty for everybody, including the ice-cream that was served up as soon as the boys tired of burgers.
The train was soon back in service and the boys had changed seats but, otherwise seemed content to travel round and round. Simon wouldn't have entertained any suggestion that one of the other boys should take a turn at driving the thing, but nobody ever asked anyway. It was just accepted that Lloyd was the engine-driver.
The sun was sinking slowly in the West when I finally drove Mick and Denzil home to Norwich. By the time we got there Denzil was asleep. Mick lifted him from the car.
"It's a lot of years since I did this," observed Mick.
Denzil giggled and leant his head on his dad's shoulder.
"Enjoy the match tomorrow," I said. "See you on Monday Denzil."
""Mmm!" said the sleeping boy.