LITMIR.BIZ

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to a probation officer once a week, usually after school, and listen to a load of bullshit. It only lasts for about half an hour. As long as you pretend you’ll do as he says, he’ll be happy.’

      ‘Is that all?’ I was amazed it was that easy. ‘You’re kidding me? Right?’

      ‘No. That’s all there is to it.’ Bernie lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘When your mum comes to visit, get her to get you an ounce of baccy – Golden Virginia – and a couple of packets of fag papers. It lasts longer than fags.’

      ‘If she’s got the money I know she’ll get them for me.’ I felt embarrassed. ‘But, she might not have the money.’ I had written to her every day since I’d been there but I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask her about the baccy because she might be upset if she couldn’t afford it.

      ‘It’s no big deal,’ Bernie seemed to understand. ‘I’ll get my dad to get plenty for both of us.’ He put his arm around my shoulder. ‘We’ll be OK.’

      I had never felt such an overwhelming feeling of friendship – virtually love – as I felt for Bernie at that moment. I would do anything for him. I would repay his friendship tenfold. I felt ten feet tall as we sauntered over to the table-tennis table.

      I awoke early on Sunday, excited because my mother was coming to visit that day. I wondered what time she would arrive and worried that she might not find the place. I was relieved when at last my name was called to report to the visitors’ hall. She hadn’t got lost, so I had been worrying over nothing.

      I was led into the hall and hurried over to where Mum sat beside one of the large windows. I was disappointed to see that she was alone as I had hoped she would bring my sisters along so I could show off my new home.

      She stood up and hugged me tightly. ‘Oh, my poor little darling. I’ve missed you so much.’ She started crying. ‘How are they treating you? Are you all right?’

      I returned her hug and guided her back into her chair.

      My mother was thirty-six years old but looked fifty. The unhappiness of her life had left indelible grooves scored deeply in her face. Her eyes had heavy bags under them and the thick lines around her mouth could never be mistaken for laughter lines. Her forehead had permanent wrinkles and her once-bright auburn hair was now streaked with grey. She had generously applied a cheap face powder in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a fading bruise on her cheekbone. Her clothes were shabby and her beige raincoat was at least one size too small. She had on a thick pair of stockings with a visible ladder running from her right shin to where it vanished under a scuffed pair of brown shoes.

      She reached under the table and picked up a carrier bag which she handed to me. ‘I’ve brought you a few little treats.’

      I opened the bag and looked inside. There were three apples and two comic books. She took out her purse and handed me a shilling piece. ‘And here’s something for you to buy some sweets during the week.’

      I took the money reluctantly. ‘Are you sure you’ve got enough to get home?’

      Mum smiled. ‘Of course I have. I want you to have it. Now tell me how you’re getting on.’

      The next two hours flew past as I related everything that had gone on since I arrived at St Nicholas’s. Mum was very interested in my new friend Bernie and asked lots of questions about him. ‘Don’t admire him. You should really feel sorry for him,’ was the advice she gave me, but I didn’t understand why she was saying that. I thought he was the bee’s knees.

      When I asked about my sisters and home, she was a little vague and only wanted to talk about me. Then when I asked how my dad was, she replied, ‘Forget about him. Tell me more about how you’re getting along at table tennis.’

      All too soon the visit was over. I knew that Mum had very little money so I didn’t ask her for any cigarettes or baccy. It would only upset her if she couldn’t give me any. I decided that I would lie to Bernie and pretend that I had asked but she had no money. As she walked away and out of the main doors, I found myself crying and ran to the toilet so that no-one saw my weakness.

      That night, for the first time since I had arrived, I found it difficult to sleep. My mind wouldn’t let me rest. I missed my mother badly. I worried about her. For hour after hour I lay awake thinking about my home and my old life there.

       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

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