Perfection Comes at a Price, page 3
“Thank you very much indeed, Mr Hargreaves, you are very kind. May I ask you another question?”
“Please do.”
“Do I have one of those dreadful working-class accents?”
“Well, Eric, yes you do. How could you have anything other? However, you do pronounce your words properly, unlike some.”
“What can I do about changing it?”
“You would need elocution lessons. But don’t worry about that now. Later you will have opportunity to change it if you want to. What would help is if you listen carefully to the news readers on the radio and if you keep a little list of difficult words. Then come to me from time to time”
Mr Hargreaves watched Eric walk away. He felt like a question mark personified. Eric wanted to read the Bible! How had that come about? It was the best thing the boy could have done. Apart from the spiritual guidance, it would teach the boy what his culture, and that of his country, was based upon. Had somebody said something? But who? The boy and his parents did not attend church. Mr Hargreaves burned with curiosity.
The reason he had suggested giving Eric a small Bible, was because most probably the boy would not want his parents to know. The young one had realised that anything he undertook to do or to learn had to be kept secret from his parents. Otherwise they would step upon any of his efforts. What a horrible way to live! The fact that Eric would be reading the Bible was bound to influence him thoroughly. Yes, the future would show that the power of the Bible to convert was there. Eric did become a believer, and later in life he would join the church.
He, Mr Hargreaves, would point the boy towards various volumes that would help his general knowledge. The boy wanted to know, to find out, to instruct himself. It was like sweet honey to Mr Hargreaves.
Eric started a gruelling program. But for him it was no heavy weight because it was the way that would provide him with the wings with which to fly into the future. It was the fuel for his little plane of life so that it could reach its destination. It was also the runway from which to fly. His parents should have provided it for him, but in his case he had to build it himself. He was fascinated by it all. Life with knowledge was worth living. To be cooped up in ignorance was death. He read the Bible steadily and it opened up his mind and his spirit. He set out to find out about other things as well, such as painters, composers and literature. When his parents were not at home, he listened to classical music on the radio. On his outings, now he visited churches and museums and galleries. All of these activities he kept a great secret, even from his best friend Katie. For the time being, the secrecy was imperative because it was only by small steps at a time that he advanced. Each step made him realise how utterly uneducated he was. This he could not divulge to anyone else as he was unable to divulge it to himself. He did not want anyone to know how like a sewer rat he felt. Once he was beginning to see daylight, he might tell Katie something.
There were, however, two people who knew what Eric was up to. One was Mr Hargreaves whom Eric had encountered once in St Paul’s Cathedral and another time in the National Gallery. The other was Mr Patel, who had once seen Eric at the V&A Museum when he had been taking his family around. As soon as Eric had seen the Patels, he had run to hide. Mr Patel realised that Eric did not wish anyone to know about his outings. Indeed, mused Mr Patel, Eric’s parents would have beaten the lad black and blue had they known that their son frequented places like the V&A.
He, Mr Patel, took his family regularly to museums and galleries in order to give them the best education there was. He did not wish any member of his family to be regarded as “some stupid Indian”. The Flint parents, unfortunately, were the opposite.
Chapter 6
When Eric turned thirteen, he was hit by puberty. His voice broke and went up and down. His body started to react in a manner that he could not control. Like the other boys who were entering puberty, he started to avoid girls. Katie could not understand why her former “buddy” now avoided her and no longer came to collect her to play. Katie’s parents explained to her that at that age it was the normal course of things. It would last three or four years and then there would be a change. When Katie, at the age of fourteen got her period, she began to understand nature.
Eric was with groups of boys. They were all mainly interested in sports. Rugby left Eric cold, but he was keen on football and also gymnastics. He was a member of a gymnastics team. Car-racing he found fascinating, mainly because it was considered to be an elite sport, just look at the life-styles of the racing drivers! Another interest with the boys was cards. As Eric excelled at school in maths, physics and languages, it was his grasp of numbers and how they worked that made him an excellent card player. He liked cards, any card games, and he had a real sense for them. He was good at reading body language and he enjoyed taking calculated risks.
What was particularly important was that his intelligence dictated to him that winning too often would make him unpopular. Thus his aim was to control the games without the others having any inkling thereof. He engineered that Jack and Peter became the main kings of the games. As for himself, his steady losses were invariably small, but his infrequent winnings were large. Due to the occasional stroke of luck, of course. In this way he had a fairly steady income in secret.
In the winter when Eric turned fifteen, his frustrations with his life were taking a certain toll on him. His grades dropped. He discovered beer with the other boys. It was some of the new boys among the card players who had instigated the beer. They also wanted the stakes at play to go higher. The new boys were slightly older and had left school already. Some of the boys started to owe money to these older ones.
“Eric,” said Timmy one day,” Can I ask you for help? I owe a full fiver to couple of these guys. I don’t know what to do. I only have three pounds.”
“How dreadful, Timmy. Have you asked anyone for a loan?”
“No, not yet. I wouldn’t know who to ask.”
“Then don’t. I’ll lend you the two pounds but you must not tell anyone who you got it from. If, and I mean if you can pay me back someday, fine. If you can’t, consider it an early birthday present.”
“Eric. You are a real pal! I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” laughed Eric, “just don’t get into debt again.
Sometime later Jack got into trouble. He appeared in school with a black eye. He had lost in the card games, and the big boys wanted their money. A nasty streak had slithered into the formerly harmless games. The older boys knew full well that the younger ones would not have the money to pay them.
This brought the first steps of petty thieving. The older boys suggested some dishonest methods. Small pilfering thus became the preferred method of raising money among some of the boys. Why not join them, it was all extra income? Even Eric had been influenced by the bigger sums that were being played with. He gained more steadily though seemingly he was forever losing small sums. He was not considered to be a danger. With the added money, he began to want some expensive items. Everyone seemed to be pilfering, so why should not he? The situation began to grow like mushrooms. At a certain stage the headmaster announced to the whole school that a number of items had gone missing. He urged their return so that he need not inform the police about it.
Mr Hargreaves had been vigilant. He had noticed the dip in Eric’s work and he had looked with a jaundiced eye at the type of boys Eric was mixing with. The boy was at a stage where he was floundering. He would have to be guided back to form. What had prompted the address by the headmaster was the fact that the wrist-watch of one of the masters had disappeared, and also an expensive pen of another had gone missing. During that address, Mr Hargreaves had observed a smug look on Eric’s face.
Alarm bells rang in Mr Hargreaves’ head. The boy must be involved. That had to be stopped before it all got too serious. He would see if he could sleuth out the truth. The following Saturday afternoon Mr Hargreaves followed Eric to town. The boy went to an Evensong at Westminster Abbey. Once the lad was seated in the choir stalls, he went to join him and pretended pleasant surprise. Afterwards Mr Hargreaves invited Eric to a café for some tea and cakes. As the wily teacher had guessed, it was Eric who had taken the master’s watch. There it gleamed, on the boy’s wrist. He could only wear it out of school.
“Eric,” said Mr Hargreaves,” I see that you are wearing Mr Turnbull’s watch.”
Eric went pale. A pair of anxious eyes looked up at Mr Hargreaves.
“Dear Eric. I’m not going to turn you in. I can only hope that you will return it to the staff-room. You are the star pupil of this school, and I have been following with great pride your advances in your education. Armed with knowledge, your intelligent brain will make you fly into success. A splendid future awaits you. It will be a long road, but it will be worth it.
However, if you are involved in petty pilfering, when the law gets on to it, you will get a record. An indelible one at that. A brush with the law will prevent you from advancing in the future. You are playing your entire future against a watch. Is it worth it?”
“Thank you, Sir, for putting me right. I am so sorry about it. You are right. It is good to know that my future matters to someone. I am so grateful for your caring words. What shall I do?”
“Give me the watch, and I will slip it onto Mr Turnbull’s desk. He will be pleased to have it back, and nothing further will follow. None of the masters wants the law in.”
“Here you are, Mr Hargreaves,” said Eric, passing him the watch. “I will no longer follow that set of boys, I have learned a lesson.”
“May I bother you with just one more matter? It has come to my attention that you boys have discovered beer. Cigarettes as well, no doubt. When one lives in very difficult family circumstances, it is true that the odd beer too many can relieve the immediate distress. But it does not remove the problem.
When you grow up, if you feel the need to drink, it will be to your benefit if you did so only in your own privacy. A drunk puts himself into a vulnerable position. Various home-truths can leak out. Not good. No swaying in pubs or in parties. Do you understand what I am saying, Eric?”
“I do, Sir. By the “home-truths” you mean my horrible family life. You are quite right, that truth must never come out in the future. If I am to make it in the future, my past must be dead and buried. And I must study properly. I am sorry that my grades have dipped lately. I will put it right.”
“I am so glad that you will turn over a new leaf, Eric, I am in the background and I’ll help you in any way I can. Very discreetly, as you already know. Now eat up that cake. I think it is time for you to hurry home.”
“Oh yes, indeed. Thank you again, Sir. Good bye.”
“Good bye, Eric.”
Chapter 7
In the Spring of 1961, when Eric and his friends were fifteen, Helen’s mother, Mrs Brown, organised a dancing course at the council. She had persuaded many parents that it was a good thing and as a result most parents of Eric’s year and the year above enrolled their youngsters into the course. Nandita’s parents were among the exceptions. Her parents felt that it was not the right thing for young Indian girl to attend. Nandita had been furious and had felt that it was not fair. Especially as she would have been a shining star thanks to her training in Indian classical dance. But her parents had been adamant. There were boys there and western dance meant that a boy would hold a girl by the waist.
“My parents are being horrid, Katie, by not letting me join the dance course!” she raged to Katie.
“Why not? Almost everyone is going.”
“It’s this thing about boys being there.”
“What does that matter? They’re there also at school.”
“Ah, but my parents say that the boys will be touching the girls by the waist,” explained Nandita, “that is what my parents won’t allow. If I attend the course, they won’t be able to find me a husband.”
“How annoying for you. Do you have to marry someone your parents choose?”
“It is customary in India that the parents find a spouse.”
“How ghastly. But you are not in India. Maybe you could find someone yourself. You are very pretty,” said Katie, looking admiringly at her friend.
“How am I going to find anybody when I am not allowed to go out anywhere?”
“Well, that is a problem,” said Katie.
It had been the dancing class that had brought Katie and Eric back together. The worst turmoils of their changing bodies had been overcome by then and a natural interest for the opposite sex had set in.
Katie had started to daydream about Eric. He had now begun to look like the handsome man he was to become. At fifteen he was five foot eight inches tall and he would grow to reach six foot one. The down on his upper lip and chin had begun to turn into hairs, and he had started to shave. He hated the stubble and wanted to avoid a “shadow” which his beard growth gave as it was two shades darker than his blond hair. His love of gymnastics had developed his muscles and he had a fine masculine shape with broad shoulders. Katie’s eyes followed him covertly everywhere, and she tried to be where he was.
Eric had noticed Katie’s interest in him. He was mightily pleased because he fully reciprocated her sentiments. But for the time being he did not show his feelings too overtly to her. It was mainly manifested during the times the two of them danced together. He would hold her slightly closer than necessary, and occasionally he let his head touch her hair. The odd squeeze of hand also spoke volumes. Their nearness to each other was so important that they did not speak, their bodies and their instincts relayed the messages of affection. On the odd time Katie would sigh, give a little smile and whisper, “Eric.”
Katie was aware that most girls were sweet on Eric. In fact there were no fewer than five other contestants for his attentions. He was charming to them all, but Katie knew that he was only interested in her. Thank heavens she was very pretty. She had an oval face, flawless skin, large grey eyes with thick lashes and long, luxurious light-brown hair. She was five foot six in height and had small hands and feet. Her body had developed curves where curves should be. She sensed that Eric was not indifferent to her.
“Oh, Eric. Kiss me. Kiss me,” she repeated in her mind.
It had been at Helen’s sixteenth birthday party that Eric had finally kissed her. What bliss. It was as if a fire had been lit inside her. Her whole body yearned for Eric. From then on he asked her out at the week-ends. They went for walks and sometimes to the cinema. Eric always got tickets at the very back so that he could kiss her in peace. They were two playful puppies.
“Oh Eric. Do you think we could have an evening alone?” Katie had sighed, hugging him as closely as she could. At her words she could feel him tremble.
“Eric, I want to be all your own,” Katie continued.
“If you are sure, then I’ll arrange it,” he said, smiling at her dreamily.
He did indeed arrange it. Nandita’s sixteenth birthday party provided the ideal opportunity. They planned that Katie was to go to the party briefly and leave after an hour, pretending to be unwell. Then she was to come to his flat. Eric would be there alone as his parents were visiting some relatives overnight. A type of Christmas visit, and they had no wish to pay for Eric’s rail fare. That would leave the youngsters alone till midnight, the hour when the party officially ended.
The planning thereof made Eric somewhat nervous. He had gathered that Katie might be keen to go further. That meant they might end up in bed. Eric certainly wished for it fervently, but would under no circumstances push his advantage. For he truly loved Katie. She meant the world to him. Also, his knowledge about such matters was restricted to the talk among the boys. That was no good. He better inform himself upon the subject. Thus he went to the library and hunted under the medical section for any information on human sexuality. He found a volume and then proceeded to peruse it in the library. No way would he take out a book of that ilk. Somebody might see it and then the fat would be in the fire. A good job that he had read the book. There were practical issues to be considered. A pregnancy had to be avoided at all costs. More ruin was not to be added to two already ruined lives. He’d not go to any of the local chemists, no, he’d go to town to get the necessary. He went to Soho where he had no embarrassment about his purchase, only a knowing wink from the sales assistant.
On the day of the party, Katie was at Eric’s place by eight o’clock. Eric had cleaned the whole flat, the lights were low, and a bottle of wine was on the table as well as some peanuts and chocolates. He had not got the cheapest bottle, no, he had wanted quality. Thus he had given a reasonable sum to Timmy’s cousin who was twenty-three, and thus would be able to buy it.
“Oh Eric, this looks lovely,” smiled Katie, “fancy you getting a bottle of wine! And my favourite chocolates. You are a wizard.”
“Katie darling, you are so special to me,” said Eric and then he embraced and kissed her.
“Now let me pour the wine for us,” he said.
Katie was bursting with happiness.
“How was the party?” asked Eric.
“I could hardly wait to get out of there,” replied Katie, “but the Patels had done wonders with their lounge, that is, their tailoring room. It had been cleared of most of the stuff and lovely Indian tit-bits were on offer. Nandita was dressed in a new pale-green Sari and she wore some gold jewellery. She looked lovely. She was most disappointed when I left. Never mind.”
“Let’s dance, Katie. I have some records of Ricky Nelson, Pat Boone, the Everly Brothers and Buddy Holly.”
He knew that Katie loved to dance. So did he. He had an excellent sense of co-ordination plus rhythm and thus was a very good dancer. They were both in bliss. He put on first the faster pieces and then started on the slower ones. He held Katie closer and closer. From time to time he stopped in order to kiss her. They refilled their wine glasses.
