Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2023 17:57:25 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Halls of Academia  Chapter 12

HALLS  OF  ACADEMIA
BY  JONAH

This is a work of fiction so be aware that every character herein is also
fictitious.  If you think you recognise yourself, or somebody else in here
- you don't. Some places, and some institutions in here are real, but the
people attached to those institutions in the story are not.  At least one
character is the creation of another author, Jacob Lion, in the USA.  My
thanks to Jacob for his permission to use his characters in my story.

This story is brought to you, at no charge, by Nifty.  Nifty does not
charge either me or you to publish this story, but if does cost money to
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Chapter twelve

Lloyd was fascinated by the little engine.  Of course, I was unmoved by it.
Carefully I lifted off the cab-back and part of the roof, and peered into
the cab.  It was a steam engine alright.  No steam brake or vacuum brake,
since they wouldn't be needed, but a tiny injector was mounted on the
backhead and the blower valve was mounted beside the injector steam valve.
The short, upright regulator looked much as it would on a real J72, as did
the lever reverser.  The handbrake was on a column at the back of the cab.
The cylinder drain cocks lever was against the cab wall on the driver's
side and a damper control occupied the same position on the fireman's side.
I could drive this beast.  With a tiny fire iron I knocked open the
firehole door.  A slightly sloping grate was revealed with a lot of holes
in the base where the firebars would normally be.

We ordered pizza for lunch and on went the kettle.  As we ate, we discussed
how to get our project started.

Luke suggested a track layout that was basically an oval running down one
side of our garden, and that would be the first bit built.  We had, he
said, six bags of granite chippings being delivered in the afternoon and it
would be a case of taking the turf off of the chosen alignment and laying a
level bed of ballast.  He had a roll of weedproof terram that had to be
laid before the ballast was put down.  The track on the first bit, being
straight, would be easy to construct.  Later we would have to curve the
rails before assembly.

So, after lunch, Lloyd and I amused ourselves attaching chairs to sleepers
and sliding them onto rails. Meanwhile Garrett and Luke busied themselves
preparing the trackbed.  While Garrett cut the turf off, Luke was cuttting
terram ready for laying.

At two o' clock a builders merchant's lorry arrived and and the driver used
his hy-ab to dump six large bags of chippings on our driveway.  I cut one
of them open and half filled the wheelbarrow for Lloyd to push round so
that Garrett and Luke could empty it onto the tracked.  By teatime we had
three lengths of track laid alongside the fence.  Lloyd sat astride the
coach while Luke and Garrett pushed it to each other.

I thought it was a fairly profitable day and offered to take the family out
to dinner in Norwich.

We found a nice curry-house on the Prince-of-Wales Road that could
accomodate us so we settled in to eat our fill.  Lloyd was kept strictly on
the less challenging fare, since we didn't want overnight tummy aches, but
we all had an enjoyable meal.  The topic of conversation didn't surprise
anybody.

"Simon, you're an engineer.  Do you have access to a metalwork shop?" Luke
wanted to know.

"Of course I do, The Halls of Academia still include such things."

"I just wondered if you know how to make a lever frame for a signal box."

"With locking?"

"I suppose it would have to have.  I don't think we need block working -
just signals."

"Size?"

"About half size would do."

"No, I mean how many levers."

"Oh, sorry.  About a dozen I suppose.  There's a firm in Lincolnshire that
will make the signals for us, and quite cheaply too, but we still need a
frame."

Well the project certainly seemed to have mushroomed.

It was bedtime by the time we were back in Newton, and the little one had
to share our bed.

To be honest, neither of us minded that at all.  Lloyd was a delightful
little boy and was no trouble.  This last point was significant, given the
number of foster parents who had sent him back to the home because they
thought he WAS trouble.  They missed out because they didn't persevere.
Sure he had a problem, and it had taken me one five minute chat (and a mug
of cocoa) with him to sort it out.  The subject had never needed to be
raised since.  Were these people so homophobic that they were frightened by
a seven year old boy?  He might not even be gay.  Chances are that he was
just curious.

By the time Garrett and I climbed in on either side of him, the little chap
was fast asleep.  He was happy to spoon with either of us for warmth, but
he didn't awaken.

Luke, of course, had comandeered the little one's bed, though his feet
overhung the bottom.  I don't think that bothered him.  Many years ago, I
once caught Luke sleeping in the dog's basket.

Luke had always been the English part of our contingent.  I am fairly sure
that he was born within the sound of Bow bells (his birth certificate said
Harrow, but that dated from his adoption by Jonah).  Lloyd was his
compatriot as far as we knew.  His birth certificate said that he hailed
from Loughton, Suffolk, and that his mother and father were from Great
Yarmouth and Ipswich, respectively.  For my part, I was nominally English
but had an Indian father and a Scottish mother - both long dead.  Garrett
was born in Massachusetts to a Chinese mother and a Japanese father.  Now
Rikki was the real enigma.  She, like Luke, spoke with the accents of East
London, but her birth was in Morfa Mawddach, North Wales.  We certainly
were a mixed up bunch.

I was up by eight o' clock and showered and dressed.  A glance in Lloyd's
room found the scene being dominated by Luke's bare feet.  You couldn't see
his head at the other end.  I was tempted to attract his attention by
tickling his little piggies, but you don't do that to someone who has been
trained in the art of restraint at Hendon Police College.  Waking sleeping
policemen is something to be done cautiously.  I compromised by gently
massaging his feet.  Suddenly the duvet was thrown back and Luke's beaming
face appeared.

"Alright Simon," he laughed.  "I've got the message.  Is there anyone in
the shower?"

"No mate.  That's why I thought you might like to be the first."

The duvet was flung aside and Luke leapt out of bed.

"Thanks mate," he called as he headed for the bathroom.  I smiled.  Luke's
good nature is something that can always be taken for granted.  It was ever
thus.

It had the look of a hot day.  Consequently, once everybody was
breakfasted, Garrett and Luke were stripped to the waist and out on the
lawn marking out curvatures, using the lawnmower lead as a compass.

Lloyd was busy getting under their feet, which left me upstairs, seated at
the laptop and designing lever frames.

Of course, since everybody else was round the back, I was the only one who
heard the front door bell.  An immediate investigation found Mrs. Treadwell
on the doorstep.

"Can I come in Simon?"

"Of course you can.  Come on through.  Everybody else is enjoying the good
weather."

"Have the police completed their investigation into your sister in law?"

"You're a social services case officer.  Why don't you ask them?  They
might tell you.  They wouldn't tell me."

"So how many children do you have living here now?"

"You mean apart from me and Garrett?"

"Yes, that's one of my concerns."

Uh oh! Sense of humour failure. I should have remembered that social
services case officers are notoriously deficient in that respect.

"I see," I grunted.

"Why didn't you inform us that your nephew was staying here?"

"I informed the police," I said as off-handedly as I could manage.  "That's
better than telling social services."

"Since there are allegations that the child was harmed on your premises,
I'd better have some details."

"I made those allegations, though I think they are a little more than
that," I said sternly.  "As for details, Adam is a minor and I am not at
liberty to give details of him to anybody who asks."

"Mr. Khan, I am a...."

"I know perfectly well what you are Mrs' Treadwell. It is illegal for me to
give details of a minor without his parents' consent and you broke the law
in asking for them.  Now, if you have a legitimate reason for requesting
the child's details you will have to ask your director to take it up with
Essex Social Services, since that is the jurisdiction in which he lives.
If the director chooses to call a properly convened case meeting, I will
cooperate to the full.  I need to speak to her about another matter
anyway."

"What other matter?"  She was trying to bluster now.

"Since you're not the director, I shouldn't discuss it with you, though I
suppse you might be able to throw some light on it. How many times has Luke
been fostered before he came here?"

"I don't see that...."

"Don't worry, I'll save it for the director."

"I was ordered not to discuss it with you."

"By the director?"

"Yes.  She had a conference with Mr. Stuart and they decided that it was
strictly need-to-know."

"Were any of the other foster parents informed?"

"Certainly not."

"Was his case officer in on it?"

"Well I...."

"You see, you appear to have been kept informed, and I am bound to ask, in
what capacity."

"Mr. Khan, I didn't come here...."

"I know exactly why you came here.  You came here to stir up trouble.  Well
you have - for yourself.  You came here to find out why we haven't sent
Lloyd back to the home as all his previous foster parents did.  Well we
won't be sending him back.  There is nothing wrong with Lloyd, and never
was.  You brought him here, confident that he would screw up.  Even he was
confident that he would.  That was your fault.  We found out Lloyd's little
problem, since there was obviously something that you and Mr. Stuart
weren't telling us, and it took five minutes of talking to Lloyd to get it
sorted.  Any of his previous foster parents could have done that.  You
could have done it.  Any of the staff at the home could have.  You all let
him down.  Now it's time for you to leave, but I'll call this afternoon to
make an appointment with your director.  and I'll also request that she
convene a meeting involving Essex Social Services and both police forces to
address your concerns for Adam's safety."

"Mr Khan...."

"Goodbye Mrs Treadwell."

I should have opened the door for her. It was not a case of being the
gentlemanly thing to do.  It was just that, doing so would have prevented
her from slamming the front door on her way out.

I made myself a cup of tea before I went back to the computer.  I felt I
needed it.