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 10
That night Barry slept with Simon and I. Once, in the night, a nightmare disturbed his slumbers, though he didn't wake up. We calmed him and he drifted back into proper sleep.
Next day, it had been agreed that he could stay away from school, since he couldn't sit comfortably. That meant our friendly local supply teacher taking my classes while I stayed at home.
I had a less than invigorating night of it the previous night when I was summoned to Sprowston police station to sit in on the dressing down of Denzil Thorpe. The suggestion was that I bring Barry with me, but I didn't see that humiliating Denzil to that extent could do anything but harm.
"It doesn't do to be too soft with them," the constable had confided. We were talking about a ten year-old boy, and I couldn't imagine that anybody had ever been too soft on him. I'd seen the bruises.
I was forced to listen to the constable explaining that "people like him" should never be allowed to live alongside decent people. That was even before his father arrived and had to get in on the act. His threats of violence obviously met with the constable's approval until I said,
"Well you'd better hide the bruises really well Mr. Thorpe because, if I see them, I will be reporting it and that constable there will be arresting you, whatever he is thinking at this moment. If it were alright for your son to abuse other children, it would be alright for you to abuse your son, but it isn't, so it isn't."
"Yes," said the constable. " Well that's as maybe, but you can't let your son go around assaulting innocent children."
"Though he is an innocent child himself," I added, "so you can't go around assaulting him either."
The constable looked annoyed, so I added for his benefit,
"And you, constable 327, will uphold the law."
Belatedly, the constable realised that I might not be on his side.
"Yes, well Sir, I'd always do that. "
"So what am I supposed to do?" demanded Mr.Thorpe. "I'm not allowed to hit him and that's the only sort of language he understands."
"The only sort of language YOU understand, you mean," I retorted. "Denzil speaks perfectly good English but you've just admitted you can't communicate except by violence. Are you saying Denzil would be better off in the care system, because Social Services will certainly be considering it if there is one more episode like this."
Denzil looked surprised that I was taking his part, but I can assure you it wasn't because of any love I had for Denzil. I just wanted to see justice done for everybody.
It was agreed that, while Denzil was suspended from school, he would report to Sprowston police station each day.
"You know I should be setting lessons for you while you're at home?" I said to Barry next morning.
"I'm not home-schooling, I'm sick," Barry replied.
"Are you so?" I muttered. "I'll try to remember that."
Barry knew me too well to accept this apparent victory. I had seemingly given in so easily that he was instantly suspicious.
"Uh oh!" he muttered.
"You'd better be convalescing." I told him. "Back off up to bed. If you're quiet and no trouble I might let you get up for a little while this afternoon. "
"I'm not that kind of...."
"And of course, you'll be too ill to have anything to do with that train if Lloyd gets it out this afternoon."
"I've only got some bruises. I'm not THAT sick."
"So you might be well enough to do a little home-schooling?"
"I suppose so," he mumbled moodily.
"Sorry Barry, I couldn't hear you."
"Yes, Mr. Ito, of course I'm well enough," he almost shouted.
"Fair enough," I replied. "I hadn't got any lessons planned anyway, but we might have a look at some later."
We did have a look at some arithmetic and had a brief Bible-study, but it was necessary to go out and shop, so we did that as well. Barry's next lesson was in cookery. Cottage pie and cauliflower cheese, to be followed with rhubarb crumble and custard was this afternoon's menu and Barry pitched in like a good'un. By the time the troops returned from school we were all ready for them. That meant that Lloyd did have time to get the train out. What he didn't have was the weather for it.
It was precipitating. Little drops of water bounced off the driveway, formed a river down the street and beat a tattoo on the rooves of the cars. Indoor pursuits were obviously the order of the evening.
The DVD selected was an Ealing Comedy - "The Ladykillers" with an all star cast that included a number of locomotives of the Eastern Region of British Railways. The boys loved it and none of the comedy was lost on them. It was soon time for an early bed.
Wednesday morning dawned, after a fashion, and the rain it was a-raining. I stayed in bed until after the others had left and then rose and showered ready to prepare breakfast for myself and Barry.
He eventually put in a scantilly clad appearance.
"Is it still raining?"
"Piddling down," I replied. "Are all the stripes and bruises healing nicely?"
He turned and grasped the waistband of his boxers.
"It's alright Barry," I told him. "You don't have to show me. You're capable of telling if they're getting better."
"Hm! They are," he said.
"Right, porridge for breakfast, it's in that saucepan and you can use it all up - I've had mine. Then we'll look at some English after the washing up's done.
Well we did that. I explained to him the difference between writing narrative in the first, second and third person. When I judged that he understood it, I tasked him with writing a story, written in the first person as a tomcat.
I interrupted him for lunch at midday. As I handed him his buttered toast and orange squash, he asked if he could continue after lunch. I wasn't about to prevent that.
I didn't get to finish my lunch in peace as the telephone interrupted me.
"Garret Ito."
"Sorry to disturb you Mr. Ito. It's Sergeant Robbins."
"Good afternoon Sergeant. How can I help you?"
"Well it's a bit of a strange request Sir. We've just had young Thorpe in for his daily report. He's requested to speak to you. Of course you might not want to, but I reckon we need to make some progress with the lad, and this might hold out some hope."
"I can't come to the Police Station in the daytime. I'm home-schooling young Barry at the moment."
"No, I realise that Sir. I asked the boy's father if he objected to you calling to see him after school hours. He isn't enthusiastic, but he gave his permission."
Well the afternoon passed peacefully enough. The only sounds were the rapping of the raindrops on the window pane and the scratching of Barry's pen. I had asked him to write a story, not a three volume novel, but he evidently hadn't understood that.
With the return of the three musketeers from school we dined and then I mentioned Sgt. Robbins' request to Simon.
"You'd best see what he wants to say," he told me. "It could be important. He's still suspended for another two days, but you might get the chance to ease him back into civilisation."
I couldn't disagree with that so, after dinner I climbed into the Discovery and drove into Norwich.
The housing estate on which Denzil and his father lived was not the most salubrious. The front gardens had been meant to be open plan but that only meant that the street included a childrens playground for most of its length. Even at seven in the evening there were still quite small children playing and none of them seemed to recognise the boundaries between their parental home and their neighbours' abodes.
I found the Thorpe home and rapped on the glass of the front door (actually round the side).
""You'd best come in," said Thorpe senior as he opened the door. "You'll find him up in his room. You can't miss it - it'll be the only room with the door shut."
I found the room in question, knocked and entered.
"Hi Denzil," I greeted him "Your dad said to come up."
He was lying on his bed, his bare feet hanging over the end. To see him you might have thought that he had taken advantage of being suspended to avoid getting up and getting dressed properly, but I knew he had kept his appointment at the police station. He didn't seem upset by the intrusion so that was something.
"I need to say sorry," he told me.
"You really do Denzil," I told him.
"You told that policeman that I only did to Barry what my dad does to me. I never thought of that before."
"You weren't the first to do it to Barry," I told him. "It seems that you and Barry have quite a lot in common."
"I didn't know."
"No, well you do now. What do you think that policeman meant by "people like you"?".
"I don't really know. I think I hoped you knew."
"I don't know everything Denzil, but I think he was trying to make you feel bad. That isn't a good thing to do but then, you've tried to make people feel bad before now, haven't you?"
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are Denzil, which tells me that you're not a bad person, as that policeman thought you were."
"I think I'm a bad person," he said sullenly.
"Well, you're not. Wanna know how I know you're not?"
"How?"
"You can't be because there's no such thing as a bad person. There's only a person who does bad things. You've done some bad things but all you have to do to be a good person is to stop doing those things."
"I don't think I can."
"Well you can and, when you need to, you'll even find yourself doing good things that you didn't even know you were capable of. There won't be any policemen thinking you're bad and talking nonsense about "people like you.""
"I'll try."
"That's all I ask."
I took my leave of him and went down to speak to his dad.
"I let him stay up there because I can't do anything with him," he told me.
"To be fair, beating him isn't doing anything with him. All it achieves is what we've seen in the school before - and it gets him suspended when, really, the one who should be punished is you. Do you really think you can't control Denzil?"
He shrugged.
"Do you think he'd be better off in care?"
"No! He's my boy. I have to look after him."
"Just so long as you ARE looking after him. If you hit him again you'll be in prison and he'll be in care. You won't be able to look after him then. I think you CAN look after him. You try to do the right thing. He needs someone to love him and to be there for him. You turned up for him at the police station the other night didn't you?"
"Had to."
"Because he's your responsibility and you care about him?"
"I s'ppose so."
"So do I Mr. Thorpe. I'll tell you something else. He loves you."
"I doubt it."
"Then how do you explain that he's still here after all that you've done to him? Oh yes, he loves his father alright."
He sat down in his chair and sank his face into his hands. I knelt next to the chair.
"Mr. Thorpe, Denzil is still suspended from school, but I'm home-schooling the boy that Denzil beat up. Do you want me to pick Denzil up in the morning so that I can home-school him as well? Apart from anything else, Denzil apologised to me. This would give him the opportunity to apologise to Barry. I'd have to take him into the Police station for his appointment of course."
"Would that be alright. The other boy wouldn't hate him?"
"I don't think the other boy has ever hated anybody in his life. I think it'd do Denzil good to find that out. What do you think?"
He lowered his hands and turned to look at me. Slowly a smile spread across his face.
"If you're prepared to do that for him," he said quietly. "Thank you."
"I'll see you in the morning Mr. Thorpe."