Chapter 9
Nigel Recovers Something Lost
At first Nigel's small victory brightened his mood when he got up the
next day. The morning fog had dissipated and the glorious Sunday sun
poured through his bedroom window, beckoning him to run out and play.
Tossing off his pyjamas, he skipped up to the window and bathed
himself in the warm light. Then he peered out across the rooftops
towards Evan's home and further on towards Harry's. Once more,
melancholy rushed in.
How lonely he felt! If only he had a chum to talk to, a friend who
might understand how he felt, who might make him feel better, and who
might tell him what to do. He had considered both Evan and Pooh, but
Evan wouldn't talk to him and Pooh couldn't talk to him. The truth
was he wanted to talk to Harry, but he was afraid, and he felt ashamed
at feeling that way. After all, Harry had never done anything to make
him feel bad. Furthermore, Nigel thought, Harry had bought him a nice
present. So in spite of his apprehension, the boy made up his mind
he'd take a stroll in the general direction of Wickham Avenue, and
then decide what he should do.
Nigel left right after breakfast. He paced down to the corner of Dean
Street, and then paused to decide what to do. He then walked on down
to Mooreland, where Dirk the bully lived, and stopped on the corner to
determine if he should go on. On he went, as far as the corner of
Wickham Avenue, and he lingered there for some time, considering what
to do next. It was Sunday morning, he remembered. Perhaps Harry was
at church. Nevertheless, the boy walked down Wickham towards Harry's
house, his footsteps anxious and uncertain.
As Nigel came up to Harry's home, the urge to keep walking nearly took
hold of him. The boy perked up his bravery, shook the feeling off and
stopped at the gate. All was quiet. Perhaps Harry was at mass. He
peered up the walk towards the front door. Although the screen door
was closed, the main door was wide open. Certainly Harry was home. On
the porch, set in an old rocker, Nigel spied the yellow and white
striped Strefford's Kids Klothes shopping bag. With no sign of Harry,
the lad first peered left and right, then slipped through the gate and
tiptoed up onto the porch. He cautiously unfolded the top of the bag.
Dear! It made such terribly loud crinkly noises. Reaching in, Nigel
found the wonderful captain's hat, a pair of white short corduroy
trousers and a yellow striped polo shirt, the pocket embroidered with
a picture of Pooh and Eyore.
And he felt just horrible.
Apparently Nigel's crinkling had been heard, for all of a sudden from
in the house there was a set of frenetic paws tickity-tacking across
hardwood floors. Harry's terrier appeared at the screen, yapping
noisily.
"Shhh!" Nigel whispered to him, "Be quiet, Ralphy!"
To the boy's surprise, the dog obeyed him, whipping his tail excitedly
and sending a spray of water at him through the screen. Ralphy was
soaking wet. Perhaps Harry had given Ralphy a bath in the garden,
Nigel thought. The boy took the captain's hat out of the bag, set it
dog gave another yap.
"Quiet, Ralphy," Nigel again cautioned, "Alright! I'll give you a hug
but you have to be quiet!"
The boy opened the screen and stepped inside. As he stooped to pet
him, Ralphy bolted off down the hallway, leaving a trail of wet
prints. The terrier skidded to a stop at the foot of the stair case,
looked back at the boy expectantly, and then bounded up the stairs.
Nigel knew what Ralphy wanted him to do, but he wasn't sure he had the
courage to do it. Perking up his bravery again, he straightened his
captain's hat and crept down the hall. He paused at the staircase,
put a hand on the banister, and then slowly started upward. When he
came to the top, he saw Ralphy scurry down the hall. The terrier made
a sharp right turn into the lavatory and Nigel heard, of all things, a
splash.
"Oh, so you're back now is it?" he heard a deep voice echo from down
the hallway, "Bite the burglar, did you? Good boy, Ralphy!"
Nigel inched forward, trying not to be petrified. When he reached the
bathroom door, he peeked in. It was quite steamy. Through the steam,
he could see the bath. At one end sat Harry, a wash cloth draped over
Ralphy gave a yip and Nigel ducked from view.
"Don't be so bloody noisy, damn it all," Harry groaned from beneath
the wash cloth, "I've got a beastly headache."
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Nigel clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. It was too late. The
words were out.
Harry lurched to a sitting position.
"Hello?" he sputtered, rubbing his eyes, "Nigel? Is that you, lad?"
The boy meekly stepped into the doorway.
"Afraid of what?" the man inquired, "Of me?"
The boy only nodded in shame.
"Tell me, son," Harry asked softly, "What's the matter?"
"I can't get happy again," Nigel murmured, his lower lip trembling,
"And I want to tell a friend, but I don't have anyone to tell. Can I
tell you?"
"Absolutely," Harry grinned, "Come on in, lad and tell me all about
it."
Nigel stepped into the bathroom. He set his captain hat on the sink.
With the greatest seriousness, he peeled off all his clothes,
carefully folding each article, including his socks and underpants,
and placing them on the toilet tank. He then set his captain hat back
on his head and turned towards Harry. Harry was staring back at him
in some astonishment.
come on in."
With perfect manners, Ralphy leapt out of the tub to make room for
Nigel, who slipped in between Harry's two large feet.
"So tell me," Harry began off-handedly, wringing out the wash cloth,
"Why can't you get happy again?"
And to Harry's surprise, Nigel began quietly crying.
So Nigel scooted up to Harry and lay down against his chest. Harry
placed the captain's hat on the toilet seat and cradled the boy's head
against his shoulder. He began gently rocking him, sending the warm
water sloshing back and forth. Gradually, the boy's crying subsided.
They lay still for a time, and the waves of bath water calmed.
Finally, Harry looked down at Nigel.
"All better, lad?"
"No."
"No? A good cry's good for you," he frowned, "I've had a few myself.
Why not?"
And so Nigel told him. He told Harry everything that had happened to
him, about Ian the therapist and the examination, and the family
meeting and his lie, and Evan and todger tag, and Mr. Patel and who
everything.
"Every day I feel horribler and horribler," the boy finished, "Because
I'm ruined too because Ian took away my incense."
"Your incense?" Harry asked, scratching a whiskery cheek.
"And I'm a bad person," Nigel continued, "Because I touched Evan's
willie."
"All kids do that," scoffed Harry, "Where the bloody hell are you
getting all this rubbish?"
"But the grownups say so."
"Oh, the grownups is it? Well, that's a load of tosh," Harry grumbled,
"Can I ask you a few questions? How did you feel when Ian touched
your penis?"
"I didn't like it," Nigel replied, "I was nervous. He said he wanted
to be my friend, and I didn't want to be, so when he was feeling my
willie, I just jumped off the table and went to the lavvie and I
didn't want to see him anymore."
"How did you feel about that later?" Harry asked, "Did you feel
horrible?"
"No," the boy responded, "Mummy said I didn't have to go back."
"And did it bother you the next day, and the next?"
"So did you ever feel horrible after that?"
Nigel stuck out his lower lip in thought.
"And when was that?"
"After our family meeting," Nigel mumbled, looking up at Harry, "I was
scared because I thought something terrible had happened. I didn't
want to lie, but I knew it would make Mummy and Daddy feel bad and I
didn't want to make them feel bad."
"Alright. So did you feel better the next day?"
Daddy and Claris were treating me different, and then all the days
felt like the wrong days. Then I heard Mrs. Ethridge say that Ian
"Oh!" Harry laughed, "You mean innocence. So you think maybe he stole
your innocence, too, eh?"
"I don't know," Nigel sniffed, "What's incense?"
adults do to each other in the real world. Grownups don't want their
kids growing up too fast, learning about those bad things. They
believe if someone exposes a child to bad adult things, he's stolen
the child's innocence. Adults really get cheesed off if their kids
are exposed to sexual things. I suppose murders and wars aren't quite
so bad."
"So is sexual an evil thing?"
most grownups do believe sex is evil ... though they'll bloody well
deny it."
Nigel lay motionless in the water, idly fiddling with Harry's earlobe
and thinking.
"Sure."
The man pondered the boy's question for a time. At last he heaved a
sigh.
"Bad person?" Harry whispered back, "No, Nigel. I've loved boys all my
life. In my heart, I don't feel like a bad person, but a hell of a
lot of people would say I was a monster if they knew that I did."
Nigel nestled against the man's shoulder.
"I don't think you are a monster," the little boy reassured, "Because
I don't feel bad when I come to see you. I always have fun and I feel
There was a long pause.
"I want to be friends."
"It's alright," Harry said with a sad grin and affectionately rubbed
the boy's bottom, "I just can't do it. I love you Nigel. Sometimes I
away and I feel just like a boy myself. So I just can't do it. It
would be like saying no to sunlight. I'm sorry. I guess I'm selfish.
Can you understand?"
Nigel simply took hold of the man's finger and nodded. He did
understand.
"I have another hard question," the boy murmured, "Am I bad because I
played with Evan's willie?"
"Do you feel like a bad person?"
"Look. When grownups say that something is bad, it doesn't always
mean it is. And no matter how hard you try, they just won't change
the key. Grownups can be a nasty bunch to get on with."
"But Mr. Patel said touching the private zone made children sick for a
long time."
"Rubbish," Harry snorted, "That's just what they expect. Grownups
and that their kids are ignorant. Adults aren't so smart. Kids
they can bloody well make better decisions than a lot of adults I
know. You've got to understand. Grownups like Mr. Patel and your
that's all. Don't know any better."
"But Evan said I was bad."
"He'll change his mind. I'd wager grownups have made Evan feel pretty
miserable. They're good at that."
"Do you think I should tell Mummy and Daddy the truth?"
"Can't say, Nigel," Harry replied, "I'm afraid it's up to you. I know
you'll do what's right. You're bonnie smart."
of the boy's freckled nose.
"It's your decision," he smiled, "But I will give you some advice.
Evan needs a special chum right now. Give him another chance, won't
you?"
"Okay," Nigel promised, and then scooted up and pressed his cheek
against Harry's stubbly one, "You're my very best friend, Harry. I
don't care if you are a gardener."
"Congratulations, son," Harry smiled, "I think you've just got your
innocence back."
HMSVV Christmas Day, 2011
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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