7
THE SCHOOL TUCK SHOP was open between four and six every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.
Harry rarely visited the ‘Emporium’, as it was known by the boys, since he only had two shillings’ pocket money a term, and he knew his mother wouldn’t appreciate any little extras appearing on his end-of-term account. However, on Deakins’s birthday, Harry made an exception to this rule, as he intended to purchase a one-penny bar of fudge for his friend.
Despite Harry’s rare visits to the tuck shop, a bar of Fry’s Five Boys chocolate could be found on his desk every Tuesday and Thursday evening. Although there was a school rule that no boy could spend more than sixpence a week in the tuck shop, Giles would also leave a packet of Liquorice Allsorts for Deakins, making it clear to his friends that he expected nothing in return.
When Harry arrived at the tuck shop that Tuesday, he joined a long queue of boys waiting to be served. His mouth watered as he stared at the neatly stacked rows of chocolate, fudge, jelly babies, liquorice and, the latest craze, Smiths potato crisps. He’d considered buying a packet for himself, but after a recent introduction to Mr Wilkins Micawber, he had been left in no doubt about the value of sixpence.
As Harry ogled the Emporium’s treasures, he heard Giles’s voice and noticed that he was a few places ahead of him in the queue. He was just about to hail his friend when he saw Giles remove a bar of chocolate from a shelf and slip it into his trouser pocket. A few moments later, a packet of chewing gum followed. When Giles reached the front of the queue, he placed on the counter a box of Liquorice Allsorts, 2d, and a bag of crisps, 1d, which Mr Swivals, the master in charge of the shop, entered neatly in his ledger against the name of Barrington. The two other items remained in Giles’s pocket, unaccounted for.
Harry was horrified, and before Giles could turn round, he slipped out of the shop, not wanting his friend to spot him. Harry walked slowly around the school block, trying to work out why Giles would want to steal anything, when he could so obviously afford to pay. He assumed there had to be some simple explanation, although he couldn’t imagine what it might be.
Harry went up to his study just before prep, to find the pilfered bar of chocolate on his desk, and Deakins tucking into a box of Liquorice Allsorts. He found it difficult to concentrate on the causes of the Industrial Revolution while he tried to decide what, if anything, he should do about his discovery.
By the end of prep, he’d made his decision. He placed the unopened bar of chocolate in the top drawer of his desk, having decided he would return it to the tuck shop on Thursday, without telling Giles.
Harry didn’t sleep that night, and after breakfast he took Deakins to one side and explained why he hadn’t been able to give him a birthday present. Deakins couldn’t hide his disbelief.
‘My dad’s been having the same problem in his shop,’ said Deakins. ‘It’s called shoplifting. The Daily Mail is blaming it on the Depression.’
‘I don’t think Giles’s family will have been affected much by the Depression,’ said Harry with some feeling.
Deakins nodded thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should tell the Frob?’
‘Sneak on my best friend?’ said Harry. ‘Never.’
‘But if Giles is caught he could be expelled,’ said Deakins. ‘The least you can do is warn him you’ve found out what he’s up to.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Harry. ‘But in the meantime I’m going to return anything Giles gives me to the tuck shop without letting him know.’
Deakins leant over. ‘Could you take my stuff back as well?’ he whispered. ‘I never go to the tuck shop, so I wouldn’t know what to do.’
Harry agreed to take on the responsibility, and after that he went to the tuck shop twice a week and placed Giles’s unwanted gifts back on the shelves. He had concluded that Deakins was right and that he would have to confront his friend before he was caught, but decided to put it off until the end of term.
‘Good shot, Barrington,’ said Mr Frobisher as the ball crossed the boundary. A ripple of applause broke out around the ground. ‘Mark my words, headmaster, Barrington will play for Eton against Harrow at Lord’s.’
‘Not if Giles has anything to do with it,’ Harry whispered to Deakins.
‘What are you doing for the summer hols, Harry?’ asked Deakins, seemingly oblivious to all that was going on around him.
‘I don’t have any plans to visit Tuscany this year, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Harry replied with a grin.
‘I don’t think Giles really wants to go either,’ said Deakins. ‘After all, the Italians have never understood cricket.’
‘Well, I’d be happy to change places with him,’ said Harry. ‘It doesn’t bother me that Michelangelo, Da Vinci and Caravaggio were never introduced to the finer subtleties of leg break bowling, not to mention all that pasta he’ll be expected to wade through.’
‘So where are you going?’ asked Deakins.
A week on the Riviera of the West,’ said Harry with bravado. ‘The grand pier at Weston-super-Mare is usually the high spot, followed by fish and chips at Coffins cafe. Care to join me?’
‘Can’t spare the time,’ said Deakins, who clearly thought Harry was being serious.
‘And why’s that?’ asked Harry, playing along.
‘Too much work to do.’
‘You intend to go on working during the holidays?’ asked Harry in disbelief.
‘Work is a holiday for me,’ said Deakins. ‘I enjoy it every bit as much as Giles does his cricket, and you do your singing.’
‘But where do you work?’
‘In the municipal library, clot. They have everything I need.’
‘Can I join you?’ asked Harry, sounding just as serious. ‘I need all the help I can get if I’m to have any chance of winning a scholarship to BGS.’
‘Only if you agree to remain silent at all times,’ said Deakins. Harry would have laughed, but he knew his friend didn’t consider work a laughing matter.
‘But I desperately need some help with my Latin grammar,’ said Harry. ‘I still don’t understand the consecutive clause, let alone subjunctives, and if I don’t manage a pass mark in the Latin paper, it’s curtains, even if I do well in every other subject.’
‘I’d be willing to help you with your Latin,’ said Deakins, ‘if you do me a favour in return.’
‘Name it,’ said Harry, ‘though I can’t believe you’re hoping to perform a solo at this year’s carol service.’
‘Good shot, Barrington,’ said Mr Frobisher again. Harry joined in the applause. ‘That’s his third half-century this season, headmaster,’ added Mr Frobisher.
‘Don’t be frivolous, Harry,’ said Deakins. ‘The truth is, my dad needs someone to take over the morning paper round during the summer holidays, and I’ve suggested you. The pay is a shilling a week, and as long as you can report to the shop by six o’clock every morning, the position’s yours.’
‘Six o’clock?’ said Harry scornfully. ‘When you’ve got an uncle who wakes up the whole house at five, that’s the least of your problems.’
‘Then you’d be willing to take on the job?’
‘Yes of course,’ said Harry. ‘But why don’t you want it? A bob a week is not to be sniffed at.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ said Deakins, ‘but I can’t ride a bicycle.’
‘Oh hell,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t even have a bicycle.’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t have a bicycle,’ sighed Deakins, ‘I said I couldn’t ride one.’
‘Clifton,’ said Mr Frobisher as the cricketers walked off the ground for tea, ‘I’d like to see you in my study after prep.’