The boy laughed loudly. ‘That’s fucked me.’ He looked at me with a friendly expression. ‘My name’s Bernard. What’s yours?’
I smiled back. ‘John, John Fenton. What’s your last name?’
‘Connors.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘What are you in here for?’
‘I don’t know. My dad said he was taking me out for the day and I ended up in Juvenile Court. Next minute I was told I had to come here for reports. I haven’t a clue what they were talking about or what happened.’ I felt tears springing to my eyes and turned away so the boy wouldn’t see them and think me soft.
‘You’re lucky. They’re just going to do probation reports. You’ll be going home the next time you go to court.’ Bernard spoke with such assurance that I immediately felt better. Then he added, ‘I’ve had probation already – this time I’m going down.’
‘Going down where?’ I was in awe of the way Bernard spoke. ‘What have you done?’
‘Played truant. Nothing big, just truant.’ He laughed again. ‘The wankers were always round my house. My old lady would take me into school and I would leg it out the back gate. I hated the fucking place.’
‘So what happens to you now?’ My admiration for him was growing by the minute.
‘I reckon I’ll get three years’ approved school,’ he told me. ‘Quite likely I’ll go to St Vincent’s. I’m a Catholic. Yer, I’ll get Vincent’s.’
‘Let’s go and sit down.’ Bernard started towards an empty table. ‘I’ll put you wise as to what goes on here.’
I listened intently as my new friend outlined the daily procedure at St Nicholas’s. The routine was simple. Out of bed at 6.30 am. Wash and shower and then tidy the dormitory. Get dressed and go down for breakfast at 7.30 am. Between 8.30 and 10 am scrub and clean the interior of the house. After the morning house inspection it was off to help the gardener with weeding and cutting the lawns. At 1 pm lunch and at 1.30 until 2 pm recreation. Between 2 and 4 pm it was back to helping the gardener. All boys were required to bathe after work and to be inspected for cleanliness. Tea was at 5.30 pm and there was further recreation between 6 and 7.30 pm. We would then be given a watery cup of cocoa and a slice of bread and jam. Into bed by 8 pm and lights out at 9 pm.
All the boys smoked. It was strictly forbidden, but that made not the slightest difference and boys were always being caught having a crafty smoke in some shaded part of the building. The ‘Bosses’ – the name given by the boys to all who worked in ‘St Nick’s’ – tried their hardest to stamp it out, but always failed. I was amazed at the hiding places Bernard showed me to secure my cigarettes so they were not found in the frequent searches. They were taped underneath the table tennis table, or in the potting shed in the garden, or inside the chimneys. Visitors usually smuggled cigarettes in on a Sunday. One of the gardeners would also buy them for you if you had the money. The Bosses were fighting a losing battle and this alone made smoking worthwhile.
I followed Bernard around like an obedient lapdog. He made sure that I sat next to him in the dining room and he showed me how to get a steaming mug of tea out of the silver tea urn on the serving counter. He also advised me what were the best sandwiches to put on my plate and how to sneak food out of the dining room so that I could have a feast later in bed. The only thing he couldn’t do was arrange an exchange of dormitories so that I slept in the same one as him. He patted me on the back as I headed towards my room and said, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
I walked into my dormitory and looked nervously around me. Bernard had been my support since I arrived, but now I was on my own again. There were eight beds in the room and I didn’t have a clue which one was mine. I looked at a boy who was sitting on the bed closest to the door and asked quietly, ‘Which is mine?’
He pointed to the other end of the room and said, ‘The one under the window.’
Even though all the boys were friendly, I felt ill at ease. I was embarrassed as I slipped out of my clothes and struggled into an ill-fitting pair of striped pyjamas. I had never exposed my body to other boys’ scrutiny and did my very best to hide my willy from their view. I dived into bed and pulled the bedclothes up tight under my chin then watched enviously as my room mates larked around and threw pillows and books at each other. I would have loved to join in but I didn’t have that sort of confidence, so I watched and laughed at their stupid antics from the confines of my bed. Mr Grey, one of the Bosses, soon appeared in the doorway and ordered everyone into their beds. He looked around the room to make sure everything was in order and turned off the light.
‘Goodnight boys and no more noise,’ he said as he closed the door behind him.
I think I half expected the riotous fun to continue and I was surprised when, apart from a few snickers, the room fell into silence. I lay quietly staring up at the ceiling and listening to the muffled sounds of the house settling down for the night. My mind was racing and I blessed my good fortune at having been sent to such a fun place. I closed my eyes and said my prayers and asked Jesus to watch over my mum. Momentarily I worried about her, but without warning the day’s events overtook me and I fell into an exhausted but happy sleep.
The first five days flew past for me. I had never had such a good time. Bernard taught me how to play table tennis, and although I was well and truly thrashed every time, I loved the game. Boys seemed to come and go and Bernard always knew what had happened at their court appearances. Trevor, a ten-year-old, had come back from court crying and was put into the infirmary for a few days. Bernard told me that he had been given three years in a junior approved school and the Bosses were keeping him in the infirmary so he couldn’t try to run away. ‘He’ll be OK,’ he said in his usual matter-of-fact voice. ‘He’s just got to get his head round it.’
I nodded as if I knew what Trevor was going through. ‘It wouldn’t bother me if they gave me ten years. I love the place.’
‘Then you’re fucking nuts,’ Bernard said harshly. ‘This may be a doddle of a place, but approved school’s a completely different ball game.’ He noisily cleared his throat and spat a big globule of phlegm between my feet. ‘It’s full of nasty bastards. They kick the shit out of you for nothing and, if you’re not careful, they’ll put it up your bum.’
‘How do you know that?’ I was staring down at the phlegm. ‘You’ve never been in one.’
‘Everyone knows what goes on in those places. Where have you been? Don’t you know anything about life?’ He seemed to be getting annoyed and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes.
‘I’m dreading it,’ he said, ‘and if you were facing it, you would be dreading it too.’
‘Then why did you play truant? You knew what might happen.’
‘Fuck off, John. You’re starting to piss me off.’ Bernard’s voice sounded menacing. ‘Don’t talk about something you know fuck all about.’
‘Sorry, Bernie. I didn’t mean to annoy you.’ It was the first time I had shortened Bernard’s name and it came out quite naturally. ‘Maybe you won’t get approved school.’
‘I wish,’ Bernie said quietly. ‘I just know in my heart that I’m going down.’
‘Maybe I’ll go down with you. I’m a Catholic and would go to the same one as you. That wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?’ I was trying desperately to reassure my friend.
Another globule of phlegm landed between my feet. ‘You’re getting probation. That’s for certain.’ He cleared his throat and sucked more phlegm into his mouth. ‘There’s no chance of you going down.’ This time the phlegm hit the wall by the side of me and slid down leaving a slimy green trail behind it.
‘I know you’ll think I’m stupid,’ I needed to ask the question, ‘but what exactly is probation?’
‘You