Perfection Comes at a Price, page 2
Katie’s heart was bursting with sadness for Eric. When she’d get some nice tit-bits from home, she would give them to Eric.
“But what about you?” Eric would ask.
“I’ve already eaten all my goodies, Eric, I’m quite full. Those are just for you,” she lied.
Her heart would swell with joy to see Eric wolf down her offering.
Chapter 3
For the past few years Eric had managed to advance well at school in spite of all the obstacles. Mr Hargreaves was highly satisfied. He paid a lot of attention to the boy but did it surreptitiously. Just the odd times after a class when he’d ask Eric to stay for a moment or two. Sometimes outside school when he’d see the boy. Then he would have a little chat with him.
Eric had no idea that he was being singled out. Mr Hargreaves had decided that Eric would not be awarded any prizes till he was at least eleven years old. The child needed to be a child whilst he was one and have the freedom that went with it. Where Mr Hargreaves had failed was to get the parents to attend any meetings. There he had to concede defeat.
When Eric was nine and a half, he slowly began to assess what his life was about. So far he had only been as far as West Ealing from his home in Southall. He began to want to see more of his surroundings. Thus one Saturday afternoon he took the bus to Ealing Broadway. He enjoyed seeing an area new to him. Another time he went as far as Hammersmith. He walked to Chiswick, and there he came across Chiswick House and park. How lovely. He admired the fine building and the cedar trees beside it. Later he would learn that the architecture was Palladian in style. The high road in the area was full of cafes, restaurants and shops. So much to see. There was one place called The Old Cinema which had been turned into an antiques shop. Apart from the china, glass, porcelain figurines, lamps and so on, there was a lot of furniture. How lovely. The antiques really appealed to Eric, it was so different from his home. The beautiful wood and the carvings he found fantastic.
What struck Eric particularly was the difference between the areas. Southall, West Ealing and Hammersmith seemed rough areas compared to Chiswick, where the people seemed better dressed. Only after he had been more to the centre of London, in Kensington, did he really notice the difference between classes. In Kensington Gardens a lot of smartly dressed people took their afternoon walks. He realised with a shock that he was wearing frightful clothes. He had never liked the second-hand clothes that his mother bought for him, but now he became deeply ashamed about his appearance. He looked every bit the tenement urchin that he was. Because of his sufferings in his home life, Eric’s senses had become honed; he had become observant and noticed all kinds of details.
He winced in agony. He had gone all pale and had to hold himself against a wall. A kind woman stopped.
“My dear boy, you are looking very ill. Can I help you? Do you live far away?”
Eric was mortified. It remained to pray that the woman could not read his thoughts. Eric forced himself upright.
“Thank you very much. I am feeling better now. Don’t worry, I live just around the corner.”
It was infuriating how he had let himself down. Getting faint did not help him forward one iota. Action was needed. He would have to change himself, and that he promised himself he would do.
He started to go to different parts of the city centre and every part was an eye-opener to him. Hyde Park made him feel almost as if he was in the country-side. There were paths for horse riders. The people who lived in the smart buildings surrounding the park had even horse riding available at their doorstep. The boats on the lake were fun to watch. He had asked about the price of hiring one, but they were too expensive for him. What a superb large green area right in the centre of a big city, he thought. From there he discovered Green Park and admired the building of the Foreign Office, and near it, the Horse Guards at one end. Seeing soldiers in uniforms impressed him. When he saw Buckingham Palace, he was bowled over by its size. He wandered how they kept the soup warm during its journey from the kitchens to the dining room. Anyone in a hurry there would need a bicycle! And again the sight of soldiers in their colourful uniforms filled him with awe. He was astonished. He discovered the Thames, the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. The very first time Eric had been there a priest had asked him if he had come for the Evensong, and if so, he better hurry as it was about to begin. The priest guided him to the choir stalls. Eric thought he was nearly in heaven, so beautiful did he find the service. This started a life-long love of going to the Evensong. In the centre there were often groups of tourists and a guide. He would latch himself to a group and listen attentively to the guide in order to learn about the places.
On Saturday, he had time from around two or two-thirty (depending when his mother went to the bingo) till seven. During that window of four and a half to five hours on Saturdays he could do anything unobserved. His parents assumed that he would be playing with various boys on the estate.
Bus fares were very cheap, but it took an hour and a half to get to the centre. Thus he learned to use the underground. That was much quicker. He would go by bus to Ealing Broadway and from there with the Underground. The District Line took him to places like Chiswick, South Kensington, Westminster and Tower Hill. He was particularly interested in The Tower, that historical place of fate. The place gave him an uneasy feeling. He knew that two of the six wives of Henry the Eight had been beheaded there. The Central Line took him to Shepherd’s Bush, Notting Hill Gate, Oxford Circus and St Paul’s. In St Paul’s he found the luminosity wonderful. The place was enormous and he felt like an ant. The cupola was ever so high up. Everywhere the colour and beauty of the paintings impressed him. The world was full of wonders.
In town he studied the shop windows. He saw that he would have to change his wardrobe completely. In order to do so, he persuaded his mother to let him get his clothes himself. She would give him a meagre sum. This was where his savings in the kitchen cupboard came in useful. Even in the second-hand shops there were price-ranges. Eric bought only one item at a time. A jacket was the first one. A dark grey wool jacket that was a little too big for him. He took into account that he would be growing. Next came a blue shirt. Then a pair of grey trousers.
The colour scheme was more or less what he already had, but the quality, the fabric and cut were totally different. With his new second-hand clothes he suddenly looked smart for those who had eyes to see. His parents noticed nothing. Neither did his friends. The most expensive item was a pair of black lace-up shoes. Those he could not get second-hand so he had to count on luck to find them at some sale. His luck held.
There was one person on the estate who did notice the changes in Eric’s wardrobe. That was Mr Patel, the tailor who lived on the ground floor and whose windows Eric had to pass when he was going out. Both Mr and Mrs Patel were observant and curious.
“I’ve noticed that Eric is changing,” said Mr Patel to his wife, “He has begun to look smart. Good tailoring has gone into those clothes, and the quality shows through. Yet he gets everything second-hand.”
“You are right,” his wife answered, “and have you noticed that he only wears those new clothes when he goes out on Saturday afternoons? As soon as his mother is out sight, he hurries away. Regularly. I wonder where he goes?”
“I also wonder. Apart from the quality, cut and style change, he looks much the same as before. I should doubt whether anyone else in our estate has noticed anything.”
No, nobody had.
As for the change in Eric’s behaviour pattern, there was one other person who had noticed it. And that had been by chance. That was Mr Hargreaves. On one afternoon in August he had had business in the centre, and as he was near the Houses of Parliament, he suddenly saw Eric with a group of tourists. The guide was just explaining about Big Ben.
“May I join you?” asked Mr Hargreaves, patting Eric on the shoulder.
The boy went all red and directed a pair of anxious eyes at the deputy-head.
“I’m not really eavesdropping,” he stammered with a red face.
Mr Hargreaves smiled and put a finger across his lips to indicate silence. Then they both stood and listened till the guide finished.
“Eric, that was very sensible to join the group to learn about Big Ben. I had no idea that you came to the centre of the town.”
“Mr Hargreaves, sometimes I like to travel to different areas of London. It’s so big. Till last Spring, I had no idea about it at all.”
“I’m so glad you’re exploring the city in which you live. I suggest that you go to the school library and get out a book on London. That way you can plan your journeys.”
“Oh thank you for the suggestion, Mr Hargreaves, I’ll do just that.”
“I’m glad to have bumped into you this afternoon, Eric. Good bye for now. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”
“Good bye, Mr Hargreaves.”
As Mr Hargreaves walked away, he had a distinct feeling that Eric had gone out to town in secret from his parents. Good. The lad showed curiosity about life and places and he had started to find out about things in practice. This boded well. He would see to it that he occasionally suggested to the boy places which he should see. The youngster needed a rounded education apart from merely school-work.
Chapter 4
As Eric was growing, he became more and more aware of his miserable home-life. He was an unloved and unwanted child. His mother had become pregnant at the age of nineteen and that had necessitated a hasty marriage. The couple was very quarrelsome. They had frequent shouting matches and the vocabulary was unrepeatable. More often than not, their attention turned to Eric who then got the brunt of their fury.
Mr Flint was a dour type of man who was only interested in football and rugby. At the end of the week, on Fridays, he was regularly to be found in the pub from where he swayed home at closing time. Eric’s mother never stopped talking. She went on and on relentlessly. Her interests in life were local gossip, the gutter press and bingo. She smoked like a trooper and kept gin bottles in her wardrobe. Food was what it was. Dinner time depended upon her return from various cleaning jobs. She gave herself airs and graces and pretended to be a Fine Lady. Had she but known it, the whole estate giggled behind her back. It was rumoured that there was more to her cleaning jobs than met the eye. Eric was mortified. On occasions, when she was in an alcoholic soppy mood, she would have Eric sit next to her while she caressed his hair and gave him the odd pat. It was terrible for the child who was in need of affection to see that his mother never did that when sober. Eric often cried himself to sleep.
By the time he boy was ten years old, he had started to wash the dishes in order to make sure that they were clean. He washed and ironed his own clothes. He kept his small room neat and tidy. His mother was contented because thus she has less to do.
Eric’s savings depended upon his little earnings. He saved diligently and the sums mounted steadily. That was what enabled him to buy the second-hand clothes, added to the small sum his mother gave.
Under the covert guidance and help from Mr Hargreaves, Eric continued to blossom in school. To his parents it was of no interest at all.
It was a warm September day. The nearly twelve-year-old Eric had been to Kensington Gardens. It had been wonderful. Before setting back home, he decided to go into one of the smart cafes and order a pot of tea. That made him feel quite grown-up. He had hardly got settled with his tea when two smart ladies entered the café with loads of parcels and they sat at the table next to his.
“Georgina,” said the dark-haired lady to the blonde one,” we’ve got some splendid stuff. Your new two-piece is out of this world, and that negligee is to die for.”
“I agree. I had not expected such success. But you did very well yourself in getting two pairs of heavenly high-heels. I am particularly taken by the light-grey suede ones with the white trimmings. Most unusual.”
“After our coffees, shall we pop into one of the kitchen departments? I am in need of a fancy tray.”
“No problem. Oh Lizzie, I wanted to ask you about that new Jazz quartet that you went to see. Are they good?”
“Yes, Georgina. They were excellent. I can thoroughly recommend them. Even your Tom might appreciate them in spite of his penchant for classical music.”
“Lizzie, how are Lucius and Emma? Will you be taking them to a pantomime again this year?”
“Of course, I am. Now at seven and eight they will appreciate the humour in the pantomimes better. It is very funny when they use those dreadful working- class accents and expressions. They were five and six when I first took them, but they could not follow all of it at the time.”
“Now that my Sarah has turned six, I think I’ll give her a start with a pantomime, just like you did. To give her an idea what it feels like to be in a theatre.”
“Do, Georgina. For the time being, the odd Pantomime is enough. Plus children’s films. Mine like Walt Disney. When they are ten, an amusing theatre play might be good, and when they are twelve, I think that music should be added. By fourteen they should be introduced to operas, operettas and concerts. Carefully chosen, of course. That’s when it starts to be fun for us parents as well.”
“As we are on the subject of education, we must remember the museums and fine arts as well.”
“Of course. However, before dragging them there, they’ve got to have a base. That base is the Good Book. That is why going to church and taking part in the Sunday School is so vital. Without a thorough knowledge of the Bible, how would they know what they are looking at? As for the museums, what I do once a month is to take Lucius and Emma to one section only and stay no longer than half an hour or so, after which it is the play park. This works wonders.”
“Indeed, not to overdo it is the key. Look, Lizzie, we better hurry with our coffees and continue on our way.”
Eric had been listening to the two women intensely. What he had heard had appalled him. He felt diminished into a sewer rat. It dawned on him in one fell swoop that fine clothes were not enough. No way. He felt hot under the collar. Thank heavens nobody knew how utterly shameful his life hitherto had been. He knew now that he was in a social abyss thanks to his parents. The shame of it was unbearable. A whole education was needed. Here he was, nearly twelve years old and he had visited no museums, no theatres, he knew nothing about music or art or literature, plus he had never opened a Bible, the very book upon which his culture was based. And good heavens, he was bound to have one of those dreadful working-class accents of which he had been unaware till now. He was crying inwardly. He sat in the café, drinking his tea and his brain was furiously turning somersaults. A new program had to begin, a new orientation had to be started. He would change his life. He swore to himself right then and there in that café that he himself would not remain a moron, no, he would do whatever it took to lift himself up from that abyss to a position of honour. Mercifully he was still young enough to be able to catch up on education and learn everything needed.
The two women had left a newspaper on one of the chairs. Eric picked it up and turned to the entertainments section. He wanted to know what was playing in the theatres. He had just had the bright idea to take Katie to a show for her twelfth birthday. Oh yes, as from beginning of December, they were showing Dick Whittington at the Richmond Theatre. He had money saved and he would take Katie to see Dick Whittington. He was sure that her parents would give permission. Thank goodness for the money he had saved.
When Eric approached the Smith parents with the request to take Katie to Richmond Theatre, they were truly astonished. It was quite unheard of. From where on earth had Eric come to that idea? But they were delighted that their Katie would have a posh outing. Eric had bought expensive seats, on the sixth row in the front. He would remember this, their first outing, till the end of his days, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wore black trousers, his grey jacket and a cream shirt. His old winter-coat had to do but he had bought a fancy new scarf to spruce it up. Katie wore a pleated skirt with a new bright-blue twinset. Her mother had lent her a small silver pendant.
Katie’s father gave Eric one whole pound “to get ice-creams with”. That was more than generous, but Mr Smith had realised that it must have been very difficult for Eric to save up enough money for theatre tickets, and thus he wanted to help the boy by his over-generous ice-cream offer.
Both youngsters were most excited and they felt very posh indeed. It had been an unforgettable occasion. To be in a real theatre was a heady experience for Eric. During the interval they had their ice-creams. For both of them it had been more than a Very Special Occasion.
Chapter 5
At school, on the Monday after the “Lucius and Emma Episode”, Mr Hargreaves got an inkling that some major changes were happening in the boy. As a result Mr Hargreaves paid more covert attention than ever. A new intensity had come to his eyes, a kind of determination. A week later the boy approached him at the end of the day when most people had gone home.
“Mr Hargreaves. The school library does not have a Bible.”
“Good heavens, Eric. That is quite scandalous.”
In Mr Hargreaves’ mind it occurred that the school probably assumed that everyone had a Bible at home, and thus they had not thought of providing one.
“Should I go to the main library, Sir?” asked Eric.
“I have a very good solution to this, Eric,” said Mr Hargreaves. “As I happen to have several Bibles in my home; I could give you a small one. It is more convenient to handle than the big ones, Yes, it would be your very own. In that way you can dip into it at home whenever you like. Otherwise, by all means, get a library card at the main library. It could be useful for the future. By the way, If I may suggest, you will find it the easiest if you read first Genesis, then Exodus and then jump to do the New Testament. Afterwards to continue with the Old Testament.”
