CHAPTER 18
Lynn’s first year drew inexorably to a close. She found, with a minor sense of surprise that the examinations were finished. She checked. No, there was nothing else. A feeling of slight depression settled over her for reasons which were only partly connected to the examinations. She wondered what to do. Other students, she knew, were having parties and celebrating in the pubs, parties to which she had been invited, but which she had turned down. It wasn’t her style at all. Besides, there was little enough money to spare for that.
She brightened up a little as she neared Henry’s house. He would be good to talk to. She rang the bell, waiting patiently until the door was opened.
‘Why, hello Lynn. I hadn’t expected to see you. I thought you would have been busy still,’ said Henry, beaming with pleasure at the sight of her.
‘Not at the moment, Henry,’ said Lynn. ‘The exams are finished at last, I can hardly move my writing fingers, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got the entire summer to recover the use of them.’
‘Finished, eh? You won’t be sorry. How did you do?’
‘All right, I think,’ she said. ‘Actually, I know I did well. I wonder, though, could I check something in one of your books? I’m sure I got it right, but I’d like to see and put my mind at rest. It’s just a question of dates, really, and a name, nothing so important.’
‘Of course, Lynn. Just help yourself. Would you like a coffee? Tea?’
She smiled at him gratefully. ‘Coffee please.’
A few minutes later, Henry studied his young friend over the rim of his coffee cup.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘What comes next? A holiday, I suppose. Or no, you must be celebrating tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘A holiday, yes, at the end of the term, but no celebrations.’ She explained. ‘I’m afraid the money doesn’t quite stretch that far. Besides, I’m not a pub person. Nor are so many others, if the truth be known. I’m not susceptible to that sort of group pressure.’
‘I would have thought that coming to the end of the year would call for some recognition,’ said Henry. ‘You’re not celebrating at all?’
‘Not at all,’ she smiled. ‘Even if I had the spare cash, I still wouldn’t. But as I need the little I’ve got in order to pay my fare home, it’s out of the question anyway.’
‘Hm,’ said Henry. ‘I almost hesitate to suggest this, but if you could stand being seen in the company of an old man, I could book a table for two at some decent restaurant, then you can tell me your plans for next year.’
‘Well, Henry, if you can stand being seen in the company of a child, I might take you up on that. I feel a bit let down right now, and need something to cheer me up.’
‘You may be a little girl, but you’re no child, Lynn.’
‘And you’re not an old man, Henry. So now we’ve got that out of the way, where are you going to take me?’
‘Let me get to the phone, and I’ll find out,’ he said. ‘Tonight suit you?’
‘Perfect,’ she said.
She could hear his low tones on the phone, catching sufficient of the one sided conversation to realise that he had been successful in making a booking.
‘If you can be ready by seven thirty, I’ll pick you up in the car,’ he said. ‘It’s a decent place, just out of town. The George. Do you know it?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’ve heard of it.’
‘As I said, a decent place. I’ve been there before. It’s a bit better class than average, but quite informal. I mean, you won’t need your fur coat, or anything like that.’
Lynn laughed. ‘Just as well. The nearest thing to fur I ever had was on a cat I used to have, and that died years ago. Besides, you know the saying about fur coats, don’t you?’
He grinned at her. ‘The northern expression? Yes, I’ve heard it. I’m not sure how true it is, and in case you’re wondering, I’m not going to ask.’
True to his word, Henry had picked Lynn up from her shared flat precisely at seven thirty. She was, he was pleased though not surprised to note, ready when he arrived. Ignoring the usual looks of admiration as the big Bentley pulled away from the kerb, Henry studied his companion out of the corner of his eye. She was clothed much as he might have expected an impecunious student to be, yet still managing to imbue her simple and clearly inexpensive dress with a style that was fetching and becoming. Not for the first time, Henry wished that he had married and had a family. He would have been proud to have had a daughter like Lynn. Well, granddaughter, anyway. He parked the Bentley close by, and locked the doors. Lynn rested her hand lightly in the crook of his arm as they proceeded to the restaurant entrance, a gesture he appreciated.
After finishing their meal, they sat over coffee in the lounge. Henry studied her carefully.
‘Well, Lynn,’ he said. ‘What are your plans for next year? Obviously you are continuing with your studies, but are there any changes?’
‘There is one,’ she nodded. ‘I have to find new accommodation for next year.’
‘Oh, what’s wrong with the present one?’
‘Nothing at all. It’s very comfortable, all things considered. The only problem is that my landlady is giving up. Retiring. She’s leaving the town to go and live with her daughter in Brighton. The house has been sold already, but the new owner isn’t taking students, so I have to find somewhere else. It’s a bit of a nuisance, but something will turn up.’
‘Not very easily I would have thought,’ said Henry. ‘Student accommodation is at a premium in this town.’
‘I know,’ sighed Lynn. ‘I’ve been trying for weeks to find somewhere. There are places available, but nothing I can afford. It’s a bit of a problem. You don’t know of anywhere, do you, Henry?’
He shook his head dubiously. ‘Afraid not. It’s never been necessary for me to think about such things before. But look here, I have an idea. You say you have found some places which happen to be a bit beyond your means. Well, why not find a place you like, and I’ll subsidise you.’
‘I can’t let you do that, Henry,’ Lynn said, slightly shocked.
‘No? Give me ten thousand good reasons why not.’
‘Well,’ she said, hesitating. ‘For one thing, there’s...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘See?’ said Henry. ‘You can’t even think of one good reason. No powers of analysis, that’s the trouble. I don’t know what they teach them in universities nowadays.’
‘I can’t let you waste your money like that, Henry,’ she said, laughing. ‘Something will turn up, I’m sure.’
‘Will it? Actually, I was under the impression that it already had. Nor would it be a waste. Let me explain. As you know, I never got to university myself, and it’s something I rather wish I had done. Even now, I doubt if I would be accepted for entry. I have very little in the way of formal qualifications. All I’ve been able to do is to make money in fairly large amounts, and there’s no special skill in that.’ He smiled at her. ‘After you’ve accumulated a certain amount, you see, the rest just comes in on its own. I think the banknotes breed during the night. Something like that, anyway, although I’ve never managed to catch the little beggars at it. Just as well, as I’m no Peeping Tom. Haven’t the eyesight for it. The money’s not a great deal of use to me. I hardly touch it. It would please me to think that it was being put to some good purpose for once.’
‘But the flats I’ve seen are so expensive,’ Lynn protested weakly. ‘Besides which, they are all a long way out, past the new estates. It would be terribly inconvenient travelling in every day. I’d rather have something a bit closer.’
‘That far?’ said Henry. ‘Well then, I have another idea, and this time I won’t have to pay your rent, as though that would be any bother. There’s plenty of room in my house. Come and stay with me, if you can stand a possible loss of reputation.’ He grinned at her.
‘But...’
‘As many buts as you like, Lynn. Just think about it, will you? At least give the matter serious consideration. We can do it properly, through the university accommodation authorities if you prefer, and if any such authority exists. I wouldn’t know about that.’
‘Well, it’s an attractive idea, Henry,’ said Lynn slowly. ‘I can see the advantages in it, but I really need to think about it.’
‘What is it, Lynn? Is it the idea of sharing a house with me? A man on his own? The moral aspects? I could understand that.’
She flushed. ‘No, nothing like that. After all, I’ve spent a lot of time in your house already, often until late at night. I don’t really believe you would try to take advantage of the situation. You’re not like that. It’s just that it’s come a bit suddenly, and I wasn’t prepared for it. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, though. I promise to think about it seriously.’
‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘That’s all I ask. If it helps, on the moral side, that is, there’s plenty of room for another student if you would like to have one of your friends with you.’
Lynn’s colour deepened even more and she shook her head. ‘There’s no-one like that. I’m here to study, not to socialise. I don’t actually have any friends of that sort, anyway.’
Henry looked at his watch. ‘Well then, time to take you back, I think. The restaurant is open for some time yet, but I think they would prefer us either to buy something else or move on.’
‘It was a lovely meal, Henry, and a lovely celebration,’ said Lynn as the car reached her flat. ‘Thank you very much. I did enjoy it.’
‘It wasn’t altogether a one sided pleasure,’ Henry assured her. ‘Perhaps you’ll have time to call again before you return home. If not, do write and let me know what you decide about accommodation.’
‘I’ll let you know one way or the other before the week is out,’ she promised him.
True to her promise, Lynn called on Henry a few days later.
‘I think I would like to take you up on your offer of a room,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking around, and it’s quite impossible to find anywhere, or at least anywhere I can afford. That’s another point though. I can’t pay a lot in rent. I could manage a bit more than I’ve been paying for my present flat, but even that’s not a lot.’
‘But Lynn,’ said Henry. ‘Whoever mentioned anything about rent? I don’t need your money. You keep that.’
‘But I have to pay something. You can’t be expected to accommodate me for free.’
‘Why not? It’s my choice. My decision, and as an ex businessman, I’m accustomed to making executive decisions. In fact, I’ve been giving the matter some thought and what I would really like to do is not only to accommodate you, which means the run of the entire house - you would not be expected to stay cooped up in your room all the time - but to feed you, as I’m sure you don’t eat enough. More than that, I would also like to to make you an allowance. If you would permit, that is.’
There came a sudden, shocked silence. ‘An allowance? Why, Henry? I don’t understand.’
‘Let me explain,’ said Henry. ‘I am a fairly wealthy man, with more money coming in than I know what to do with. It’s never meant very much to me, apart from the fact that I can well afford to make my life comfortable, that I can act on impulse, if you like, without having to worry about whether I can afford it or not. I believe I mentioned something like that once before, in fact. I already give quite a lot to various charities and other good causes, but the one thing I haven’t done is to put some of my wealth into education. I suppose it never really occurred to me to do so, but now it has occurred to me. If you would allow me the privilege, and it would be a privilege, I intend to subsidise your studies. Frankly, I think it’s shameful that education should be starved of cash, and that young people should be unable to make proper use of their talents because they are too busy working to find out what they could really do.’
‘But I am doing what I want to do,’ said Lynn.
‘Agreed, but how much better you could do it if you didn’t have to worry about accommodation costs, for example, or whether you should eat today instead of buying a much needed book.’
‘So far I’m with you,’ said Lynn. ‘But it’s not a real problem in my case, since you have been kind enough to let me use your books.’
‘So I have. But there’s a principle at stake here,’ said Henry. ‘You shouldn’t have to rely on my good will. What I mean is, consider what you would be doing now, and next year, if you hadn’t met me.’
‘I accept your point, Henry,’ said Lynn. ‘But it seems to me that if you make me an allowance, I’m still relying on your good will.’
‘I hoped you wouldn’t notice that, but up to a point, yes, that’s true. But with an allowance, you will be able to decide for yourself how to use it, whether to buy books, travel, or anything else. It would be your choice, you see. I would have no control over how you spent the money, nor would I want it.’
‘It’s an attractive thought, Henry,’ said Lynn. ‘But I’m a bit uneasy about it. Why should you do this for me?’
‘Not to wreak my wicked will upon you,’ he said with a grin. ‘Something casual would be cheaper in any case. We’re friends, Lynn, are we not?’
Her face relaxed into a smile. ‘Of course. But that doesn’t answer the question. I can understand you doing the same thing for a relation, but we are still relative strangers, if you don’t mind the pun.’
‘I don’t have relations, Lynn,’ said Henry. ‘I never did.’
‘That’s nonsense, Henry. Everyone has relations. I don’t care so much for most of mine, and sometimes I wish I could be rid of them, but I have them just the same.’
‘Here, let me show you something,’ said Henry. ’Come with me to my bedroom.’ He looked at her reddening face and laughed. ‘Oh dear, what an odd mind you seem to have. It’s quite refreshing in one so young. Don’t worry, I assure you I don’t have designs on your maidenly modesty. You’re quite safe. At your age, you can probably run faster than I can.’
Without another word, he led the way upstairs and entered a large room as tastefully decorated, and as clean and tidy as the rest of the house. It was, as he had said, his bedroom. A single bed stood near the middle of the floor. A pair of carved oak wardrobes stood on one wall, and a dressing table and chair were close to the large picture window. On the dressing table was a floppy looking and none too well sewn blue toy animal which looked vaguely like a cat. Alongside it was a misshapen vase painted in garish colours, and with a small posy of fresh flowers in it. In the centre of the room opposite the foot of the bed was a small table. On the table was a glass case. Inside the case rested a small, shiny piece of metal with a small hole in it, through which a chain had been inserted and the whole surrounded by red velvet. It was an odd sight, somehow dominating the entire room. Henry indicated the case, leading Lynn over to stand in front of it.
‘There you see my family,’ he said.
‘Er, where, Henry?’ said Lynn, looking in vain for a photograph.
‘Just there, right where you are looking. In that glass case. One moment, I’ll take it out.’
He lifted the heavy glass cover, and removed the piece of metal underneath it, placing it in Lynn’s hand. She looked at it carefully.
‘It’s an old coin,’ she said. ‘Oh, now I recognise it. It’s a sixpence, isn’t it? I’ve seen one before.’
‘That’s right,’ said Henry. ‘Pre decimal money. Before your time. Twelve pennies to a shilling. Twenty shillings to a pound. Half a shilling is a sixpence. That’s mine. That’s my family.’
Lynn looked up at Henry with pursed lips and a curious expression on her face.
‘I know you have an odd sense of humour at times, Henry,’ she said. ‘Usually I can understand you, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me this time.’
‘Maybe that’s because there’s not a lot of humour in this story,’ he said. ‘But I can see you’re nervous at being in a man’s bedroom, a fact which does you the utmost credit, especially in these times of expressive freedom, so let’s go back to the living room and I’ll explain. Bring the sixpence with you.’
Settled in chairs before the fire, Henry began his tale.
‘I have no family, as I said. My mother died when I was a baby, in prison. In fact, that’s where I was born. The days of miracles being apparently at an end, if you can believe someone who repairs bicycles for a living, there was obviously a father, but I have no idea of who he was. From the little I can glean, it seems clear that my mother very likely had only a very hazy idea herself. Or maybe someone was simply hiding some unpleasant facts from me as a youngster. I don’t know. So, no father. No mother. At least, none I can remember.’
‘Henry!’ Lynn looked shocked.
‘Doesn’t seem likely, does it, not nowadays. Of course, this was quite some time ago,’ said Henry. ‘I did try to find out more, but the authorities were very cagy about the affair. I’m sure something is known, but I was never told what it was. As I became older, I realised it was of no consequence. I may not know who I was, but I certainly know who I am. The background is unimportant. That background at least. It means a gap in my history, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Things have been made rather easier nowadays, and I’m sure I could get the information if I really tried now, but I know I’ll never bother. It no longer has the importance it once had. Nor am I certain that I really want to know. Anyway, I was sent to an orphanage, children’s home, community child care centre, it changed its title several times during the years I was there. Whatever other purpose it may have served, it was to me an orphanage. Not that I have any complaints. I was well cared for, but of necessity the care was relatively impersonal. I suppose it has to be. If the workers get too emotionally tied to their charges, they probably can’t do the job at all well.’
‘Did you live there all the time?’ asked Lynn. ‘I thought children in your position were fostered even if they couldn’t be adopted.’
Henry shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago. Fostering wasn’t as common then I suppose. Besides, well, just look at my colouring.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Lynn, sounding puzzled. ‘I don’t understand that.’
Henry gave a pleasant smile. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ he said. ‘That’s refreshing as well. It’s practically unnoticeable nowadays, but in my childhood, I really stood out. It was hard enough for pure English children to be adopted or fostered. For someone like me, it was plain impossible. It never meant anything to me at the time. To tell the truth, it means nothing to me now. I was well treated at the orphanage, and when reaching adulthood, nobody had the inclination to make anything of it, not in working life, not during National Service, nowhere at all. Not everyone is so fortunate, I know, but I’ve never had problems like that, excluding the rantings of various anti-immigrant groups, and even those have been of a general nature. Nothing personal. Of course, I pass rather well as pure white to those who don’t know me. The size of my bank balance probably has desirable effects in that direction as well,’ he added drily. ‘Nobody points a finger at a man who has money.
‘Anyway, at the age of seventeen I had to leave and make my own way in the world. I only went back once, for a brief, yet all too long visit. The workers were friendly enough, but they had other responsibilities and really had little time to spare for casual visitors. Besides, I hardly knew anyone, there had been so many changes of staff and inmates during the time since I had left. The place was rather busier than was desirable.’
‘You don’t seem to be bitter about it,’ said Lynn.
‘I’m not. Just a little melancholy at times, at the thought of what might have been. The orphanage was no substitute for a real family. Even if the family is a total dead loss otherwise, it’s still something, and a something I never had. Still, I wasn’t on my own, and by that I mean that there were others in the same position. Well, a similar position anyway. I doubt if many had the dubious privilege of being born in prison. Some took it very badly. One day, somebody should really write a book about the forgotten children, such as myself.’
‘I thought I had problems, but that’s awful, Henry,’ said Lynn. Her eyes glistened with uncontrollable moisture.
‘Not really. It’s not as bad as it may sound. As it happens, I was quite happy in the orphanage. Very happy indeed. I was better off in many ways than many of my classmates at school. They didn’t always have the full complement of parents, either. Because of the war, you see. And of course, I knew nothing else. But you are probably wondering what on earth all this self pitying ramble has got to do with an old sixpence. Well, that sixpence was the only thing I owned. I had no mother, no father, no relatives at all that I knew about, no clothes except for those supplied first by the prison authorities and later by the orphanage. Where the sixpence came from I never found out, and nobody seemed to know. It probably has no significance at all apart from being decorative, being tied to my wrist with a piece of red ribbon. The ribbon wasn’t very strong to begin with, and it rotted away quite soon. That’s when I put a chain on it. I would guess the prison authorities must have had some knowledge about it, but by the time anyone thought to ask, there was nobody there who could have known for sure. It can’t have been given by the prison, which is hardly a charitable organisation. I’m sure it came from my mother. At least, I’ve persuaded myself that that is the case, even though there is some evidence to suggest that she died shortly after giving birth. By shortly, I mean a few hours after, but even that I don’t know for sure. It can’t have been more than a few days later at any rate. However it may be, it was transferred with me when I was sent into local authority care at a very tender age indeed.
‘You understand, don’t you, that where everything else was given to me by strangers as an act of charity, the sixpence was totally mine, the only link with the family, however unsuitable, I never had? Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against charity. I have done well out of it after all, but the things I was given in my early days had always belonged to somebody else, they had never really been my own. Even later, clothing was bought for me by others. Of course, I understood that parents buy clothing for their children too, but it never quite seemed the same to me. When I started work, I replaced all my clothes as soon as I could out of my earnings, throwing out the others, as I felt they weren’t really mine. There must have been years of wear left in some of them. Silly, wasn’t I?’
‘No, Henry, I don’t think you were silly.’
He smiled at her and continued. ‘That’s why the coin is precious to me. That’s why I keep it in a glass case, a bit like the famous handbag in The Importance of Being Earnest. For some reason, that’s always been one of my favourite plays. The sixpence has never actually been away from me, not once in my life, apart from a terrifying time I thought I had lost it. If I spend even as little as one night away from home, it goes with me in its own little travelling box. Call it a lucky charm, call it mindless superstition, call me stupid if you like. I probably deserve it. Just the same, I’ve always felt that as long as I held on to it, there was some stability in my life, that I had a past, that I had a history, that somebody, just once, really cared. Silly, isn’t it? Or have I said that already?’
Lynn shook her head vigorously. ‘No, Henry, it’s not silly at all. I think it’s a beautiful story. Sad, but beautiful. I understand now when you say that’s your family.’
‘It explains why I’m such a boring character,’ he laughed. ‘Stability, you see. Get a bit too much of it at times. Perhaps it also explains why I want to see you through your studies. I was given a good start in my working life. I have nothing to complain about my first employer. He was very good to me. Nothing to complain about the orphanage. Now it’s my turn to pass on something of what they gave me. Besides, since I might have married your grandmother - not likely, I agree, but it might have happened, it wasn’t my choice not to be - then we are practically relations, so that makes it all right.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Henry.’
‘No need to say anything,’ said Henry. ‘Let me give you a cheque for the next year of your studies. Put it in your bank account. If you choose not to use it after all, give it back to me when you’ve finished university, although I don’t want it. It would please me very much indeed if you would do that. Taking the cheque, that is, not returning it. But that can be your choice.’
‘You really mean it, don’t you?’ she said a little unsteadily.
‘I really mean it. So much so that I have already written out your first cheque in the hope that you might agree.’
He rose, pulled back a drawer in a cabinet and taking out an envelope, handed it to her.
‘Open it now,’ he said.
She looked a question at him.
‘You may want to argue some more when you’ve seen it,’ he explained. ‘It’s as well to get that over immediately. I warn you though, that I am adamant. Do what you like with the cheque. It’s yours. Regardless of what I just said a moment ago, I will not take it back. After all, I do have sixpence, and that’s all I need. That’s all I’ve ever needed.’
Lynn left Henry that night, bewildered and not a little shocked. His guess had been right. She had argued more when she saw the size of the cheque, but he had finally persuaded her to keep it. She felt a warm glow at his generosity, all the more precious because she felt free from her grandmother’s incessant carping about the cost of keeping her at university.