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Chapter 4

February 1958

In February the whole country was gripped by icy winds and freezing fog. It was an ordeal to get out of bed in the morning as the coldness seemed to bite into every exposed part of me and left my flesh sporting a blueish tinge. The rest of Europe was experiencing the same cold spell and it was during this weather front that England was plunged into mourning. On 6 February in Munich, Germany, the plane carrying the Manchester United football team crashed on take-off. The news spread around the remand home like wildfire. Seven of the famous ‘Busby Babes’ were killed and England lost some of its finest players. Duncan Edwards, a shining star and one of England’s finest young players, died of his injuries fifteen days later. The tragedy of the air crash affected every boy in St Nicholas’s and united the country in grief.

I reluctantly climbed out of bed the day after the plane crash. I could hear the rain lashing against the dormitory windows and the howling winds shaking their sturdy frames. In places that were invisible to the naked eye the wind found apertures and whistled noisily into the already cold room. I shivered as an icy blast of air swept over my feet. As I hurried out of the dorm and down the hallway, my footsteps made a hollow sound on the polished floorboards and I regretted not putting on my socks because my feet were exceptionally cold. I threw open the washroom door with such ferocity that it crashed noisily against the wall, and hopped across the stone-covered floor to a hand basin on the far wall.

The cold water I splashed on my face stung me with the ferocity of a thousand bee stings and my teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. I spent very little time cleaning my teeth and could taste the peppermint flavour on my lips all the way back to the dorm. I reached under my bed and pulled out the wicker basket that contained my own clothes and, still shaking, hurriedly put them on. My two weeks in St Nicholas’s were over and it was the day I was due back in court. I hurried to the dining room because I wanted to have as much time as possible with Bernie before we went our separate ways.

Bernie sat hunched over our usual table. There wasn’t the usual cheery greeting; he looked dejected and lost in thought. We had become firm friends over the last two weeks and the other boys affectionately called us Pinky and Perky. Bernie looked up and gave me a weak smile. He reached into his tunic pocket and handed me a slip of crumpled paper.

‘It’s my address. My mum or dad will let you know where I am.’

I felt despair washing over me. I would be going home today but Bernie was facing an uncertain future. This boy had given me loyalty and friendship at a time when I needed it most and I was profoundly grateful to him.

‘Bernie, I wish I was staying with you,’ I said. ‘I promise I’ll come and see you, wherever you are.’

‘When you do come, make sure you bring plenty of baccy.’ It was obvious that Bernie was holding back tears. ‘Can I have your address?’ He produced a scrap of paper and a small stump of a pencil.

I scribbled down my address and handed it back to him. ‘If you get a chance to write, please make sure you do. I’ll write back.’ I spoke with such conviction that Bernie at last managed a warm smile.

‘I know you will.’ A serious look followed. “Don’t forget to say sorry when you speak to the judges today. Tell them that you’re ashamed of the way you behaved and that you will never do it again. They love all that shit.’

‘Did you say that when you went to court last Tuesday?’

‘I didn’t get the chance. They gave me three years before I could open my mouth.’ I remembered how Bernie had come back from court the previous Tuesday. He had just walked nonchalantly into the recreation room and said, ‘I told you I would get three years.’ Then, as an afterthought: ‘Bastards. I hope they’re all dead by Christmas.’

‘Do you think I’ll get a chance to speak?’ I enquired.

‘How many times have I got to tell you? You’re getting probation. They’ll give you some bullshit lecture and send you on your way.’ Then with an embarrassed look, ‘I’m really going to miss you. You’re a bit of a wanker, but a nice one.’ He grinned. ‘You’d never have survived in an approved school. You’re too soft.’

The door to the dining room swung open letting in a cold blast of air from the hallway. Boss Lewis stood in the doorway with two uniformed police officers. ‘OK, Fenton. Time to go.’

I stood up slowly and, with a despairing glance at Bernie, walked towards the waiting officers.

As the two large doors were closing behind me I heard Bernie shout ‘See you soon.’

I sat quietly in a small room that was an annexe to the much larger courtroom. I was not alone. There were three other children in the room: two girls and a boy. I wondered if I had looked as terrified two weeks ago as they all appeared to be now. One of the girls had been crying, and though she had stopped, every few seconds she sniffed loudly. I would have liked to tell her that she had nothing to worry about but we had been told we had to be completely silent so I didn’t dare.

The door opened and a very tall police officer signalled with one finger for me to follow. My heart was beating rapidly as I walked into the courtroom and it was hard to stay calm. I spotted my father immediately. He was sitting in the same seat as when we were here the last time. All of the seats were occupied. I wondered briefly which of the adults were the parents of the sniffing girl. The three judges were already in their seats and were looking at me intently. The policeman walked me over to the table and stood me in front of the same grey-eyed woman as before. She and her companions looked down at some papers and spent several minutes reading. More than once they huddled together whispering. Occasionally they looked in my direction and then resumed their secret discussion. At last they sat up and looked directly at me.

‘Well, I think we have all the necessary facts now.’ The woman sounded friendlier than the last time she had spoken to me. ‘It was for your own good that we sent you on remand and after reading your reports it would appear that it has done you some good.’ She smiled. ‘You must remember that your parents only brought you here for your welfare. They wouldn’t want you to stay in a place like that for an indefinite amount of time.’ She paused briefly. ‘I am sure you wouldn’t want to either.’

‘Yes I would. I loved the place.’ The words were said with sincerity. ‘It doesn’t frighten me. It was great.’ The respite from the life I led at home and at school had been welcome. I had slept peacefully for two weeks. I had heard and witnessed no violence. No one had teased me about the clothes I wore. I had a friend. A real friend. I felt good about my experience. I felt good about myself.

The woman was astounded. ‘What did you say? It was great – you loved the place – is that what you said?’ She was looking at me with amazement. ‘It would appear that these reports are wrong. You haven’t changed. You’re still as brazen with defiance as you were before.’ The three judges once again went into a huddle then raised their heads and glared at me.

‘You’ve got your wish,’ the woman said. ‘Three years’ approved school.’ She looked towards a police officer. ‘Take him away.’ The woman barked to the police officer. ‘We have heard enough.’

I was led away to the holding room. The same green-painted surroundings, the same green linoleum, the same black plastic chairs greeted me.

‘I’m going to tell you your future, sonny, whether you want to hear it or not,’ the tall policeman said, scowling down at me. ‘When you’ve done your three years in the approved school, you will only be out a short while and then you’ll go to Borstal. After Borstal you’ll end up in prison and after prison,’ he grinned, ‘I have no doubt you’ll kill someone and then we’ll hang you. I wonder how smug you’ll be when the judge puts that black cap over his wig.’

I didn’t understand what he was saying. ‘Thank you, sir,’ I murmured quietly and flinched as the policeman lifted his arm as if to hit me.

‘You cheeky little bastard. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.’ The policeman slammed the door and stationed himself on the other side, glaring at me through the windows.

I was relieved when at last they came to collect me and take me back to St Nicholas’s.

‘You said what? I can’t believe you’re that stupid.’ Bernie was staring at me in complete amazement. ‘No wonder they gave you three years.’

‘I meant it. I do love the place and I did have a good time here.’ I grinned. ‘It means you and I will be together in Vincent’s.’

Bernie gave me an appraising look. ‘You’re hardly equipped to handle an approved school. You’re not exactly Mr Universe.’ He shook his head slowly, still finding it hard to believe that I had come back from court with a three-year sentence. ‘Have you ever had a fight? Do you know how to look after yourself? If you don’t, you’d better learn quickly. We’re going to a shithouse of a place.’

‘Maybe it won’t be as bad as they say.’

‘Oh, it’ll be as bad as they say and possibly worse. We’re both in deep shit now and if we’re not careful,’ he pretended to cut his throat with his finger, ‘we’ll be dead meat.’

‘If anybody hurts us,’ I said nervously, ‘why can’t we just report them to one of the Bosses?’

‘Don’t be stupid. Nobody goes to the Bosses. You’d be a grass and, believe me, you wouldn’t want to be one of them.’ Bernie had a serious look on his face. ‘Promise me that you’ll never be a grass. I mean it, John. Promise me.’

‘OK, I promise.’ Bernie looked relieved. ‘So how do we look after ourselves?’

‘With difficulty I expect. We’ll stick together until we know the ropes and then do our best to survive.’ He nodded at my feet. ‘You’ll need to use them when you fight.’

‘How do you know so much about these things, Bernie? You’ve never been in an approved school. How do you know for certain what it’s like?’

‘My brother Jimmy did three years in St Swithin’s on the Isle of Wight. He told me all about it.’ He nodded his head approvingly. ‘Jimmy’s a real hard case. Nobody fucks with him. He’s great.’

‘Are you a bit of a hard case, Bernie?’ I asked hopefully. ‘I know I’m not. I’ve never had a fight.’ I remembered how often I had been hit by other boys at school and how I had run away, usually crying. ‘I don’t like fighting.’

‘I’m no hard case. But I’ve had a few fights.’

‘Did you win?’ I asked with admiration. ‘I bet you did.’ I couldn’t imagine Bernie not being good at everything he did.

‘I did OK. But the boys I fought won’t be anything like the ones in Vincent’s.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘They’ll be nasty.’

For the first time since my first appearance in court I viewed my future with trepidation. Everything Bernie said filled me with dread. How would I survive in an environment like the one he claimed would exist in Vincent’s? My only consolation was that Bernie would be with me. At least I would have a friend.

‘How long do you think we’ll be here before we get a place in Vincent’s?’ I asked.

‘Maybe a couple of weeks. Who knows?’ Bernie reached into his tunic pocket and produced a squashed cigarette. He rolled it expertly between his fingers until it was back to its original shape. ‘Let’s go for a quick fag before tea.’

I stood up and followed Bernie as he strolled towards the door. I still had an overwhelming feeling of doom but was determined not to show it. I would take a leaf out of Bernie’s book and be nonchalant about my situation. I would survive. Bernie would help me. Fuck them all, I thought. I hope they’re all dead by Christmas. I liked that expression and decided I would use it more often. It made me feel better.

Bernie was wrong. It wasn’t two weeks before we were taken to Vincent’s. It was four days.