First day
The knot in David’s stomach had been there
for days on and off, but for the past two or three hours it had grown to a
state of permanent and unavoidable presence.
Nothing Pat or Richard said would shift it. His mum tried to make him feel better by
saying how soon it would be before they would see him on a visit. His dad was impressed by the architecture of
the school and tried to encourage him to see it too. Nothing helped. All there was to do was to pretend to be
brave and he wasn’t doing that very well.
The morning had started early. They had to be two hours away in Horsham by
noon and the car had to be packed. A
typed list sent from the school four weeks earlier made it clear what was and
what wasn’t allowed. Most of his
favourite stuff had to stay at home. The
drive had been uncomfortable with his father talking about how proud he was and
what a good opportunity it would be and what a great school it was. His mum kept quiet and David felt her anxiety. His brother and sister, stiff in their best
clothes sat alongside him in the back of the Rover, making occasional comments
to pass the time. ‘I spy’ was tried
without any enthusiasm. They were all
mostly silent with their own thoughts.
The first impression as they drove through
the ornate iron gates to the school was of a long country house drive with red
brick houses either side. It felt very
different from the photos David had seen in the brochure. It felt hard and cruel
in the September sun. They drove slowly, wide-eyed faces peering nervously from
the car windows, following the signs put out to direct new parents. Various cars had recently arrived and David
saw other worried-looking boys arriving with their families. Once parked more
signs directed them to a big hall overlooking a grassed quadrangle, a chapel on
one side and another big hall opposite.
Cloisters ran along two sides and as the family walked silently along
one they passed notice boards giving information about school activities, lists
of rugby teams and faded notices. A silent wait as they gazed around the hall with plaques dedicated to famous
old blues as old boys of the school were called. They listened with all the
other families to a speech by the Headmaster, a small, unsmiling, owl-faced man
with a Cambridge gown who then directed the new boys to their various houses
where it was expected that they should attend to matron’s office for uniform
fitting. The parents and families were free to wander around the school while
this happened.
For David the next hour was a strange and
worrying experience. Suddenly and
unexpectedly split from their parents, David and three other boys found their
way to their allocated House and once there were directed to Matron’s office. The
old woman was fat and unsmiling. Fitting the uniform meant David had to strip to
his underpants in front of her as she tried on various sizes. Matron’s gaze
frightened him and even though he had known about it, he hated the uniform from
the start. Through his last years at
Primary he had been looking forward to wearing long trousers, but what he had
been given to wear today was a pair of thick wool breeches with silvered
buttons just below the knee, long bright yellow wool socks, a shirt stiff with
starch, clerical bands at the collar which had to be fastened with two safety
pins and to top it all a heavy dark blue wool coat reaching to the floor with
silver buttons down the front and a leather hip belt. It all felt heavy and itchy and alien. From
the time he had put it on and was passed as fit by Matron, he knew this was for
real. The reality at that moment was that
this was his new life, this discomfort in a place with no warmth, no
friendliness, no understanding of what was going on inside his head.
Meeting up again with his family dressed like
this was difficult for them all. Surely
they could see how much he hated it?
Nothing was said though and almost without any more discussion it was
time for them to part. Goodbyes were
awkward and dreadful but nothing more was said.
David watched as the Rover disappeared back
down the drive. It would soon be teatime
and uniformed boys were gathering in the House Day room. David had unpacked his trunk and put the box
of Quality Street, Miss Heathcott’s gift to him, in his locker. He crept into
the dayroom. In one corner a group of
boys were listening to a radio. They
ignored him. Pop music David didn’t like.
He was feeling desperate. He
fetched the Quality Street, opened it and offered the tin to one of the boys.
‘You don’t offer us sweets. You don’t talk to us.’ The boy sneered and
turned away, laughing at the squit’s audacity.
Life would never be the same again for
David and he knew it at that moment. His
past life was forced to fade into distant memory by the sharp pain of rejection.
Instantly he was on guard, ready for the next assault. It wouldn’t be long in coming as the Christ’s
Hospital bell rang for tea.
All the best from a road near you,
Mr Alexander