Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage (5 page)

Perry stopped listening, his
eyes danced from line to line until he saw it. He felt the blood
drain from his face.

‘
What is
it?’

Perry’s jaw went slack, ‘She’s
dead.’

‘
Your Irish
Ma?’

Words caught in
his throat, he nodded, yes. He picked the paper up and read it
again just in case he’d been mistaken:
The
sanatorium list over two dozen infected and the county coroner
lists five deceased; Gavin Straker, Terence Colestaff, Billy
Cudgill, Drew Fletcher and the first female, Norma
Donnegan.

His throat tightened, and he
suddenly wished he were alone. He barely knew this boy and didn’t
want to cry in front of him. He looked away, focusing on the crowd
on the bell tower steps. He would not cry.

‘
I’m
sorry.’

He felt Joel’s hand upon his
shoulder but couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d miss her
sing-song Irish voice, or that she was the closest thing he’d had
to a mother since…. he couldn’t remember when. He had to pull
himself together. He was no softie. He was the eldest. He had to be
tough.

Perry cleared his throat, ‘It’s
not like she was my mum or anything but still…she was fair to us
boys.’

‘
Maybe you’ll
stay with us for good now?’

Joel was likable enough but he
couldn’t imagine a worse place to stay.

‘
Maybe.’

A clergyman emerged from the
bell tower, a crucifix held aloft and shaking in his hands. He
bellowed something in a deep and hollow voice and the group of
waiting townsfolk bowed their heads, murmuring a prayer for The
Sick. The clergyman flicked water out on the crowd and the people
jostled and elbowed for a drop on their faces.

‘
Idiots, what’s
holy water going to do?’ Perry shook his head, ‘I should go to the
wharf to see if any of her boys are there. Only fair they hear it
from me rather than some stranger.’ Perry rolled up the newspaper
and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. ‘You coming?’

‘
Course,’ Joel
hopped down, ‘then I’ll take you somewhere guaranteed to cheer you
up.’

Being cheered up was the last
thing on his mind, but he might as well have company as not.

The wharf was busy; it was as
if a deck had fallen from a ship and landed perfectly in the water,
complete with iron wrought benches and well-to-do folk taking a
stroll. Perry paced the wharf, squinting to spy the outline of the
littleuns, Peter or Rodney.

‘
They’re not
here.’

‘
Let’s go to
the end anyway,’ said Joel.

‘
What’s the
point?’

‘
At least then
you’ll know they’re not bobbing face down in the drink.’

He shuddered, such a thing
hadn’t even occurred to him and he found himself walking faster. At
the end of the wharf there was an old fisherman sitting on a stool.
Perry ran to his side and looked down into the milky green water
below. It was dirty; corks bobbed, a fish skeleton, a constellation
of sawdust and a couple of bottles but no sign of the boys. His
chest unknotted in relief.

‘
I wasn’t being
serious about them being in there,’ Joel said, ‘it were a joke.
Just trying to lighten the mood.’

Irritated,
Perry took a breath and looked for calm in the fold between sea and
sky, ‘Early days between us Joely, but your
sense of humour is your twos, not your aces.’

‘
Alright,
alright.’

Perry checked both sides of the
wharf, just to make sure. The fisherman was whistling a tune. If
Perry knew anything, he knew fishermen; they were superstitious
folk that tended to have their favourite beats and kept to them
regular.

‘
Excuse me
mister, you happen to be here yesterday?’

The old man looked up from his
stool, his eyes were cloudy blue, white stubble frosted his
cheeks.

‘
I was,’ he
said in a gap-toothed whistle.

‘
Did you see
some boys fishing down here?’

‘
Hmph,’ he
stretched his woolly hat a little further down his forehead,
‘Yesterday aye. Not today and a good thing too. Bleaters were so
damn noisy I reckon they scared away the mackerel. Barely caught a
thing, if you see ‘em tell them to stay clear of here. Now Shhhhh,’
he said softly, his finger placed on his lips and turned back to
the water.

Perry turned to Joel, who was
stifling a giggle and he found himself grinning as they walked back
down the wharf. Joel pulled down his cap, walked as if he had a
peg-leg and puffed his face up like a seadog, whistle-speaking,
‘Ssssay ssssonny, don’t you go making facesss and ss-ss-sscaring
the fishesss away!’

Perry laughed and then caught
himself. It felt wrong to be laughing now, like he was betraying
Mrs D somehow.

‘
They’ve
probably snuck back to Mrs D’s.’

‘
Want to go
there?’

‘
Not yet, the
doctor and Brumpton might have it under watch. I might sneak back
when it’s dark.’

His bed at Ma’s was just a
bundle of old blankets and a chewed up eiderdown, not even a
mattress. It would be good to sleep in his own bed tonight.

‘
Ready to be
cheered up then?’

He smiled, grateful for Joel’s
enthusiasm. Perhaps he could come and stay in Mrs Donnegan’s place
too.

‘
Maybe. What is
it?’

Joel’s face lit up, ‘it’s a
surprise. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.’

‘
Why should I
trust you?’

Joel looked hurt, ‘Friends
trust each other and we’re friends now aren’t we? Me and you.’

Perry looked into Joel’s
earnest face, ‘Yes, I suppose we are.’

A couple of miles from
Southampton, the seafront road petered out to mulch gravel with
thorn bushes and squat hedgerows to one side and a drop to a stony
beach on the other. Tufts of stubborn grass thrust through chalky
outcrops where seabirds sheltered in pockets against the shunting
wind. Perry wrapped his arms close to him. He remembered the days
of snow in Bishopstoke when his father sent him off to school with
a hot potato in his pocket. It wasn’t as cold as that, but the way
the wind bit and boxed his ears, a bit of warm in his pocket would
be welcome.

Joel was quiet, perhaps
suffering a little from the cold too. Perry was glad it wasn’t just
him but it occurred to him that this was supposed to be cheering
him up. There wasn’t much cheer to be had facing the bluster of the
English Channel.

‘
Are we nearly
there yet?’

‘
Nearly,’ Joel
muffled back.

It had better be worth it. He
cupped his hands over his cold ears to give them a moment’s warmth
though it did little but chill his fingers to the bone. The road
became rugged and spawned worn paths that followed the dip and rise
of the landscape. The sky was one of grey cloud and the apple-green
sea raged in a frothy torment of white, wind-swept waves. In the
distance, the Isle of Wight hovered above the waterline like a
mosquito standing on a puddle. It was all so bleak and worn, what
he’d give for a cup of tea by the fire with the boys, hearing an
Irish tale of giants from Mrs Donnegan.

They trampled down towards the
beach, and it was only then, when they re-joined a gravel road that
Perry realised where they were heading.

‘
Joel, why on
earth are we going down here?’

‘
You’ll
see.’

Perry heard the faint smash of
surf. A bird squawked overhead and he followed the arc of its
flight. As the road snaked around, a building came into view. It
was a boxy brick construction sheltered by giant rocks to the rear
and by a hull-shaped concrete sea wall that met the crashing waves
to the front.

Birdshit
Prison
.
He’d heard
of it of course, but had never seen it before. The road led to the
gated entrance flanked either side by a guard booth.

‘
Looks more
like a fortress than a prison don’t it?’ said Joel.

‘
What the
blazes are we doing here?’

‘
Come on, don’t
be soft.’

‘
Soft?’ Perry
was incensed; they must have walked for well over an hour, maybe
two in the freezing cold to be cheered up in a prison!

‘
Have you gone
crazy?

‘
Come on
Perry!’ he yelled. ‘You ain’t scared are ya?’

Scared? The
cheek to think of it. He was cold, tired and grieving. Not scared,
not in the slightest. He should just leave Joel, turn around and
walk back, find a café and wrap his hands round a hot brew…. but
then Joel would think he
was
scared, when he wasn’t.

A guard came out and shook
hands with Joel. Perry didn’t want to go in. Who in their right
mind wanted to go into Birdshit Prison?

‘
I’m not
scared, there’s just no point.’

The guard yanked the gate open.
Joel stepped through.

‘
Prove it
then.’

It was all too much to explain
to his new friend.

The guard stared at him. ‘Come
on son, you going in or what? It’ll be my job if I keep the gate
open much longer.’

He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.
He just wasn’t ready.

‘
Hurry
up!’

Against all his better
judgement his feet were moving. And he was inside. They would be
quick. It was just a dare. They’d go in and be out again straight
away.

The yard was completely empty,
save Joel, who stood there, his hands in his pockets flicking some
of the shingle with his feet.

‘
I thought you
said this was going to cheer us up?’ Perry did his best to sound
confident. ‘So we’ve been inside
.
Let’s get out of here now.’

‘
We only just
got here! There’s money to be made first.’

‘
Money? You’re
sixpence short of a shilling more like.’

Joel snorted, ‘We’ll see.’

A claxon sounded. Guards looked
down on them from metal towers.

‘
What’s
happening?’

Joel didn’t reply, but nodded
to the inner building. Two guards stepped out, followed by a line
of men in striped shirts and baggy trousers. The prisoners spread
out in the yard; some lit cigarettes, others leant on the wall but
a few headed their way.

This wasn’t happening. It
couldn’t be happening. Anxiously he flitted from one face to the
next, there were hundreds, too many to count.

‘
Let’s get out
of here!’

Joel had a grin on his face and
waved.

‘
Gents!’

Perry couldn’t believe it.
‘What the hell are you doing? Don’t wave them over!’

Two wrinkled prisoners
approached them.

‘
Hi Joel,’ one
of them said in greeting, ‘got a helper today I see?’

Perry looked around for the
guards and stopped in his tracks.

‘
How do they
know your name?’

‘
That’s right
Si,’ said Joel, ignoring Perry, ‘what you got for me?’

‘
Here you go
boy,’ Si pulled a bit of paper from his pocket and handed it to
Joel with a farthing.

Joel returned it, ‘There’s no
address on the back.’

‘
Mine’s got the
address on,’ said the taller man.

Joel collected the note and a
coin. ‘Much obliged sir, in times like these we need to stay in
touch with our loved ones.’

Joel winked at Perry; ‘I’m
cheaper, quicker and uncensored.’

Perry was amazed. How had Joel
even come up with such an idea? Delivering notes for prisoners,
where did the inmates get the money from? His eyes darted over the
prisoners in the yard, but each was a hallow-eyed stranger.

Perry realised he wasn’t being
much help and didn’t want to be accused of being scared once they
were safely out of there, so when a trio of prisoners approached
them, Perry straightened up ready to take their notes.

‘
What news on
The Sick?’ one asked, ‘the guards don’t tell us
nothing.’

Perry had an idea and took the
newspaper out of his pocket, ‘There’s loads gone caught it, but
only a few dead. We got names in here of them taken. Yours for a
farthing.’

‘
Ain’t right to
profit from such a thing,’ the man said.

‘
What you in
here for then?’ Joel chipped in.

‘
Thievin’’

‘
Well then,’
Perry shrugged, ‘If you want to know,’ he held out his palm. One of
the men grumbled and handed him a farthing.

Perry unfurled the paper and
cleared his throat,

‘
The county
coroner lists five deceased:
Gavin
Straker
,’

The prisoners all removed their
caps and bowed their heads.

‘
Terence
Colestaff,’ Perry went on.

‘
And Billy and
Drew too,’ one of the prisoners said shaking his head.

‘
Yes, Billy
Cudgill and Drew Fletcher,’ Perry confirmed, ‘Hold on, how come you
know?’

‘
They were
inside here, all of them.’

‘
What?
All
of them were in
here?’

‘
Aye, carry on
lad, I paid you the money didn’t I? Is there anyone else, anyone
from outside?’

‘
There was one
more,’ he said with a pang of guilt, ‘Norma Donnegan.’