John Fenton - Please Don’t Make Me Go - How One Boy’s Courage Overcame A Brutal Childhood

I followed Bernard around like an obedient lapdog. He made sure that I sat next to him in the dining room and he showed me how to get a steaming mug of tea out of the silver tea urn on the serving counter. He also advised me what were the best sandwiches to put on my plate and how to sneak food out of the dining room so that I could have a feast later in bed. The only thing he couldn’t do was arrange an exchange of dormitories so that I slept in the same one as him. He patted me on the back as I headed towards my room and said, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

I walked into my dormitory and looked nervously around me. Bernard had been my support since I arrived, but now I was on my own again. There were eight beds in the room and I didn’t have a clue which one was mine. I looked at a boy who was sitting on the bed closest to the door and asked quietly, ‘Which is mine?’

He pointed to the other end of the room and said, ‘The one under the window.’

Even though all the boys were friendly, I felt ill at ease. I was embarrassed as I slipped out of my clothes and struggled into an ill-fitting pair of striped pyjamas. I had never exposed my body to other boys’ scrutiny and did my very best to hide my willy from their view. I dived into bed and pulled the bedclothes up tight under my chin then watched enviously as my room mates larked around and threw pillows and books at each other. I would have loved to join in but I didn’t have that sort of confidence, so I watched and laughed at their stupid antics from the confines of my bed. Mr Grey, one of the Bosses, soon appeared in the doorway and ordered everyone into their beds. He looked around the room to make sure everything was in order and turned off the light.

‘Goodnight boys and no more noise,’ he said as he closed the door behind him.

I think I half expected the riotous fun to continue and I was surprised when, apart from a few snickers, the room fell into silence. I lay quietly staring up at the ceiling and listening to the muffled sounds of the house settling down for the night. My mind was racing and I blessed my good fortune at having been sent to such a fun place. I closed my eyes and said my prayers and asked Jesus to watch over my mum. Momentarily I worried about her, but without warning the day’s events overtook me and I fell into an exhausted but happy sleep.

The first five days flew past for me. I had never had such a good time. Bernard taught me how to play table tennis, and although I was well and truly thrashed every time, I loved the game. Boys seemed to come and go and Bernard always knew what had happened at their court appearances. Trevor, a ten-year-old, had come back from court crying and was put into the infirmary for a few days. Bernard told me that he had been given three years in a junior approved school and the Bosses were keeping him in the infirmary so he couldn’t try to run away. ‘He’ll be OK,’ he said in his usual matter-of-fact voice. ‘He’s just got to get his head round it.’

I nodded as if I knew what Trevor was going through. ‘It wouldn’t bother me if they gave me ten years. I love the place.’

‘Then you’re fucking nuts,’ Bernard said harshly. ‘This may be a doddle of a place, but approved school’s a completely different ball game.’ He noisily cleared his throat and spat a big globule of phlegm between my feet. ‘It’s full of nasty bastards. They kick the shit out of you for nothing and, if you’re not careful, they’ll put it up your bum.’

‘How do you know that?’ I was staring down at the phlegm. ‘You’ve never been in one.’

‘Everyone knows what goes on in those places. Where have you been? Don’t you know anything about life?’ He seemed to be getting annoyed and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

‘I’m dreading it,’ he said, ‘and if you were facing it, you would be dreading it too.’

‘Then why did you play truant? You knew what might happen.’

‘Fuck off, John. You’re starting to piss me off.’ Bernard’s voice sounded menacing. ‘Don’t talk about something you know fuck all about.’

‘Sorry, Bernie. I didn’t mean to annoy you.’ It was the first time I had shortened Bernard’s name and it came out quite naturally. ‘Maybe you won’t get approved school.’

‘I wish,’ Bernie said quietly. ‘I just know in my heart that I’m going down.’

‘Maybe I’ll go down with you. I’m a Catholic and would go to the same one as you. That wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?’ I was trying desperately to reassure my friend.

Another globule of phlegm landed between my feet. ‘You’re getting probation. That’s for certain.’ He cleared his throat and sucked more phlegm into his mouth. ‘There’s no chance of you going down.’ This time the phlegm hit the wall by the side of me and slid down leaving a slimy green trail behind it.

‘I know you’ll think I’m stupid,’ I needed to ask the question, ‘but what exactly is probation?’

‘You really don’t know, do you?’ Bernie looked at me sympathetically. ‘It’s nothing really – a load of piss. I bet you everybody in here, apart from you, has had it. All you have to do is report 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.