At Home At Arrowhead
Matty Holmes' Diary
Chipping Sedford, October 6th 1981
Why are all my children so desperate to leave me?!
Mikey gone off to Morecombe College one year early, and Sherlock nagging me to be sent away to boarding school as well a.s.a.p! What did I do wrong, eh? I gave them all my love and care and patience, and what do I get in return?!
I know it is wrong to feel this way, I know, I KNOW! But I can't help it!
I told Sherlock (in a cruel streak, I guess) that he can go if he wants to, but Redbeard can't go with him, and without him at home to look after the dog, we might be forced to give it away. So that's HIS dearest wish taken care of, and two years of therapy possibly to get over the shock. What kind of mother am I?!
Chipping Sedford, October 20th 1981
Daddy has died and my heart is broken. The funeral will be on Thursday, and for once in my life I am glad that Rosie is such a bossy busybody who insists on organising it all on her own, because truly, I could not do it. Poor Mummy! She's been married to Daddy for 49 years after all, and for all I can say, they've been as happy together as any couple could possibly be.
Chipping Sedford, December 9th 1981
Yesterday John Lennon was shot. I don't know why, but I'm feeling kind of numb.
Chipping Sedford, December 26th 1981
Christmas was actually quite nice this year. Who'd have figured? Certainly not me (not I, I should say, as Mike corrects me constantly). But Mike is back from school for the holidays and the experience of actually being around other children has mellowed him a lot, in particular regarding his esteem for his little brother; he even grudgingly admitted that Sherlock may not be quite as stupid as he always thought.
Everybody else though is, in his learned opinion, and so is Morecombe College. His classes are 'laughable', especially his PE classes (just IMAGINE: his teacher actually demanded him to run 2 miles! And there's Rugby! An INCREDIBLY stupid, not to mention VIOLENT sport, how can anybody subject poor innocent children to such harassment? And tennis – the unfortunate child has bruises all over because his opponents shoot the balls right at him! It should be forbidden by law! – Oh my poor Mikey – he's all injured innocence, and not even his parents manage to actually feel sorry for him!). All the other students are completely beneath him, so are the teachers, and he no longer wants to become an admiral but has set his heart on becoming Prime Minister instead in order to outlaw all these outrageous miscarriages of justice. Need I mention that his father and I are constantly in danger of cracking with laughter?
Chipping Sedford, February 11th 1982
The question of Sherlock's schooling can no longer be postponed, so I made an appointment at the one and only primary school in Appleton, met the headmaster Mr. Finch, looked around the school and discussed the curriculum – and am already convinced that it is going to be a disaster. Mike wrinkled his nose at Dragon School, then? I can only imagine what he'd make of THIS place!
Yes, opting out is chickening out, I KNOW. I may even have said similar things in the past but that was before I knew about the appalling standards of our state schools! Tertius suggested that I could home-school Sherlock as I did with Mikey, but I guess that's not really an option. Mikey at least listened to me, Sherlock doesn't, the only person he listens to in this respect is Mike himself.
So maybe we should cave in and grant him his wish and send him to boarding school, too?
Chipping Sedford, May 29th 1982
With the upcoming records, it transpires that Mike is far too advanced for his classes and should skip another year, as the Headmaster informed us. Well, it was sort of obvious and he's got our blessings. My only concern is that his new classmates will be two years older than Mike and unlikely to accept him as a peer. He's not the most endearing of children at the best of times, I can only pray he will make some friends nevertheless!
On a similar note: we enrolled Sherlock in a Primary School for the Highly Talented. It's in Cornwall, which breaks my heart, but otherwise it seems the only way. He'll be around children his own age and similarly gifted, and unlike Mike he can actually be quite charming and sociable, so that should be no problem.
Chipping Sedford, September 3rd 1982
Saying goodbye to my little boy yesterday may have been the single most sad thing I have ever done. Luckily – or not! – he didn't seem to feel likewise. He merely mourns for being unable to take Redbeard with him, and his only other complaint was the school uniform, short trousers and ties – not really his kind of thing. Otherwise he was a very happy little camper. Good for him.
Gosh, this place is far too big for two people. Not that it isn't far too big for three or four, but at least the boys love it. And I guess I should start cleaning it myself now that I have no more excuse not to.
Chipping Sedford, September 7th 1982
Received a call from Sherlock's Matron who informed me quite uneasily that he refuses to eat. Calmed her down that this is quite normal with him. He eats when he wants to – in fact he can wolf down three servings if he's hungry – and doesn't if he doesn't feel like it. Ms. Barrymore didn't seem convinced, but alas, she'll get used to it. As I did.
Chipping Sedford, September 14th 1982
Received a call from Sherlock's Headmaster Mr. Singh. Like the Matron, he is very concerned for my poor baby. Apparently, his participation in class is rather erratic. He's interested in some subjects and very eager – at other times, he appears to be rather 'catatonic', to quote Mr. Singh. Told him that this is not surprising at all.
Chipping Sedford, September 20th 1982
Received another call from Mr. Singh. Sherlock has destroyed his violin by beating up another child with it. I am quite shocked. Though I guess I shouldn't be. As sweet as he can be, he was always quite – well, physical in his altercations with Mycroft. We should have taken that more seriously, but with Mike being five years older, it was never much of a problem before. What a feeble excuse, eh? Anyway, he refuses to excuse himself, and only laments the loss of the violin. Their idea of punishment is to exclude him from the classes he enjoys and PE for two weeks. I told Mr. Singh that I don't think it'll work, but since I have no better suggestion either, I reckon they'll have to try.
Chipping Sedford, September 23rd 1982
TWO calls, one from the Matron and one from Mr. Singh. The latter informs me that Sherlock has started to steal from other students, not even for gain but merely to upset them, like nicking favourite books and hiding them in the library, or cuddly toys and throwing them in the incinerator. The Matron on the other hand let me know that to her knowledge, my poor child has eaten NOTHING in three days, and even before that, she reckons it was no more than four or five apples, three pieces of toast over the course of two weeks and a box of chocolates which – naturally – belonged to another student.
Tertius and I will travel to Cornwall tomorrow.
Chipping Sedford, September 25th 1982
I am completely torn. It breaks my heart to see my poor baby in such a pitiable state. He's lost four pounds since leaving here, and he was too thin to begin with, and there is such a dejected look on his face, you'd think he was a traumatised war-orphan! He scarcely talked to us other than being angry that we didn't bring Redbeard (which WAS stupid, now that I think about it, but I thought a ten-hour-drive in the Saab wouldn't be nice for the dog either).
Mr. Singh says that a lot of children have difficulties settling in, but that he cannot ignore Sherlock's 'delinquency' either, and if he doesn't better himself, he'll have to expel him for a fortnight.
Chipping Sedford, September 30th 1982
Had to drive to Cornwall for the second time in four days in order to fetch Sherlock, who got himself suspended for four weeks. It should have been only two, but he gave the Headmaster such lip that Mr. Singh saw himself obliged to double the sentence. Oh well, I can see his point, and what is more – I am actually quite happy to have my darling back at home, and so is he, clearly. This time, we were smart enough to take Redbeard and you should have seen the reunion! Heart-warming doesn't begin to cover it. Even Tertius and I got our share of being coddled, it's obvious he couldn't have been more pleased to see either of us.
It transpires that I do not know my own children very well. Sherlock, whom I had believed to be the more personable of my sons, HATES being around other children. Or perhaps, as Mr. Singh tells it, THEY hate being around him and let him feel it. Mycroft on the other hand, cold and aloof as he is, has some knack in fitting in if he has to. I am astonished, to say the least.
Chipping Sedford, October 24th 1982
With the end of Sherlock's temporary expulsion drawing nearer, I cannot help it but see that we must not send him back at all. He has developed all kinds of symptoms which – without medical training – I cannot but diagnose as psychosomatic. Diarrhoea, vomiting without having eaten anything, of course: not eating, headaches, tremors and – bizarrely – a kind of limp. He actually drags his right leg, believe it or not.
Chipping Sedford, November 12th 1982
How fortunate to have a fortune, so we can spend it on our children! Today I employed a very sympathetic young man – Mr. Carlton – in order to tutor my second-born. He can live in the little cottage on the estate. His credentials are excellent; he read biology and sociology at Cambridge, graduated with a double first class, and is just working on his dissertation. Also, he appears patient, well-mannered and truly nice.
Chipping Sedford, December 20th 1982
Mr. Carlton handed in his notice with the words that Sherlock has no need of a tutor, but a handler. Ph!
Chipping Sedford, December 24th 1982
Redbeard has become sick and I don't know where to find a vet who will work on Christmas Eve!
Chipping Sedford, December 25th 1982
Crisis closely averted by packing man (well, child) and dog into the Saab and driving down to London. Dog is well again (he had swallowed a golf ball – heaven knows how, or where he got a golf ball from). Thank the Lord for non-Christian vets having their practise open over the holidays! Dr. Zhang may have single-handedly saved this family from the worst Christmas ever and the equanimity of my child.
Chipping Sedford, January 1st 1983
Sherlock nearly set the house ablaze with fireworks of his own making. Note to self: Raise premium on fire-insurance.
Chipping Sedford, January 11th 1983
Found another tutor for Sherlock, a trained teacher this time, Mrs. Maynard, who used to teach at Appleton comprehensive. Sherlock loathes her, but what the heck.
Chipping Sedford, January 13th 1983
This could be the shortest employment ever, as Mrs. Maynard quit after just one day, telling me to my face that she thinks my son is certifiably insane. I slapped her for that remark, and no, I do not feel sorry!
Chipping Sedford, January 23rd 1983
New tutor for Sherlock. Tertius and have a bet going how long he will last. He is called Mr. Goldstein, he is 72, and I can only pray that Sherlock doesn't bring his demise about. Other than that, he seems very qualified; used to teach at Harrow, speaks six languages, has a PhD in chemistry and a penchant for biology. Oh please, Lord, let us keep this one!
Chipping Sedford, February 27th 1983
Mr. Goldstein is still here and Sherlock LOVES him. I wouldn't have thought it possible to be so happy about such a comparably small thing!
Chipping Sedford, April 18th 1983
Mike has won a prize for the best essay on Greek moral philosophy, being the youngest entry by three years, incidentally. Pleased and proud as we are, neither his father nor I would have thought he had any personal moral philosophy. He sometimes seems the natural child of, oh I don't know, Ayn Rand and a member of the Manson family.
Sherlock and Mr. Goldstein still get along fine. Fingers crossed!
Chipping Sedford, July 4th 1983
Mike is home for the holidays and does his possible best to alienate Mr. Goldstein in raging jealousy of the man being such a favourite with Sherlock. Tertius took him – Mike I mean – aside and had some very strict words with him. Knowing my dear husband, I imagine they were 'look here, chap, please behave for your mum's sake', but I appreciate the effort.
Chipping Sedford, July 15th 1983
Raised Mr. Goldstein's salary by a thousand pounds, merely for putting up with Mike, AND sent him on holiday on our own expenses. Sherlock is pouting and takes it out on Mike, who, I must say, thoroughly deserves it.
Chipping Sedford, December 3rd 1983
Poor Mr. Goldstein has had a stroke! The good news: my son can impossibly be blamed for causing it, but still! Sherlock is inconsolable and has already begun composing a get-well-soon-song on his violin for him, the dear child.
Oh, I hope he recovers and comes back, but what are the odds with a guy who's already 73?
Chipping Sedford, February 27th 1984
I'll light a candle next time I'll go to church. Today Mr. Goldstein returned, and he is as hale and healthy as can be expected and appeared quite touched by Sherlock's hearty welcome. As am I.
Chipping Sedford, August 13th 1984
House invaded by a bunch of upper-class brats. Am I allowed to call them that? Seeing that by some accident – at least on my part – we've become upper-class as well? If Mikey EVER becomes like one of them, I might give him the first spanking of his life!
Where to start, really? There is Kingsley Marchmont (who would call a child like that?!), the proverbial devil's son (should have called him Damian!), 14 years old, blond, angelic-looking and so arrogant that it makes Mike look almost humble. Then there's Timothy Jones-Brinkley, who must be one of the most handsome boys I've ever seen and damn him if he doesn't know it. It's obnoxious how vain and self-satisfied this child is even if he looks like the kid in Death in Venice. And there's The Honourable Julius Watkins, second son of Lord Alexander Watkins of Treasury fame, who by default is the nicest of the lot, and whose greatest fault is his constant moaning because there is no 'proper' golf course around.
So these are my son's best friends? Should I consider myself lucky that he has any, or impress on him how repellent I find the company he keeps?!
Chipping Sedford, August 25th 1984
Bar visits from Rosie, I've never been happier to see people leave than Mike's mates. How they tormented poor Sherlock! Anything I ever assumed about bullying in public schools must be true!
Fortunately he's got a thick skin, I'll give him that. Never did I see a six-year-old more stoic (that is until he'd crack and try to beat the living daylights out of Kingsley Marchmont, that insufferable little git, who wasn't above beating back a child seven years younger than him!).
The Foul Four went on to haunt the Watkinses until school starts again, so I had to say goodbye to Mike this morning already; he'll not come home before Christmas. I wish I could delude myself into believing that he merely acted so coolly because his pals were watching.
Chipping Sedford, September 2nd 1984
Tragedy has struck. Mr. Goldstein has died peacefully in his sleep. It was poor Sherlock who found him when he didn't show up this morning and while he did not understand what had happened and that he'd just tumbled over a corpse (count your blessings, Matilda, count your blessings!), he is inconsolable at the prospect of Mr. Goldstein never coming back. As am I.
Chipping Sedford, September 6th 1984
The funeral of Mr. Goldstein was very moving. Loads and loads of his former pupils were there and there were no less than eight eulogies, one by the Minister of Agriculture himself and one by that actor playing Macbeth in the BBC miniseries last year, I can never remember his name. As if the event in itself wasn't touching enough, the latter had me in tears all the way through.
My poor little Sherlock is devastated and I cannot think of anything to comfort him. Like Mikey, he doesn't believe in any kind of afterlife (where do these children get it from?! My father was a sodding priest after all!) and being told that Mr. Goldstein led a full and happy and comparably long life does nothing for him either, of course. One needs to be much older and world-weary to be comforted by the fact that it could have come worse.
Chipping Sedford, September 19th 1984
Employed and lost two tutors in one week, one of them had the almighty gall to hit my poor boy. Not even slap him, but hit him with a book over the head! Strangely, it wasn't Sherlock who told me that but Mr. Briggs himself when handing in his notice. I am out of myself and so is Tertius, only Sherlock doesn't seem to care. Which makes me – perhaps unfairly – quite suspicious of Mikey's way of teaching him in the past.
Chipping Sedford, November 15th 1984
I will stop counting, as I keep losing track anyway. How many tutors did I employ in the last two years? It doesn't even make sense for them to make themselves at home in the cottage. I LONG for another Mr. Goldstein!
Chipping Sedford, December 22nd 1984
Mike is back from school and has grown three inches since I last saw him. Also, he's hit puberty. You can scarcely see his face for all the pimples, and he hasn't accustomed to his longer limps so he's all knees and elbows and gangly moves.
Naturally, Sherlock won't stop making fun of him. I told him off, to no avail, and Mike later locked him up in a big chest in one of the guestrooms. He was stuck in there for three hours before I figured out he was missing and forced Mike to tell me where he is!