clouds of invisible
fire as the edges of her nostrils twitched with anger and
impatience. She did not leave, as usual, with the headmaster.
Instead, her voice echoed, shrilly shaking throughout the subdued
hall.
“ . . . and
all the boys on patrol duty last night will to report IMMEDIATELY
to my office! You will begin leaving right now! Caps on and you
will wait outside until I call you! Go!”
Hans felt his stomach
fold over itself. Did she know about the episode concerning the
loose stone? Had her niece spied on him and reported his failed
attempt in stopping the vandal, to her aunt? It was the event of
last night that she meant, wasn’t it?
The senior boys waited,
caps on and jackets correctly buttoned. They stood in silence,
huddled close to the dark oak walls as if looking for protection.
Every few minutes the office door opened and one by one they filed
in, then out. Hans observed each one, frowns of puzzlement on each
face. Soon, there was only Hans and another. He watched the doorway
swallow up his companion, like a hungry monster. As soon as that
victim was spat out, the huge oak-rimmed doorway with the one word
‘Matron’ was ready to swallow him whole.
“ Next!”
That piercing voice of
hers shook him back into reality. He entered. He removed his cap
and rolled it up in his hand. She was not alone. The headmaster was
there in his black gown, standing guard like some huge vulture,
intently watching every boy until his eyes had bored right into the
depths of their inner bodies.
“ Stand there
and don’t move!” The curt order came from the
headmaster.
Hans stood, hands behind
his back, screwing his cap into the tightest roll he could. Miss
Turner shuffled forward and perched like a vulture on the edge of
her chair. Mr Bowes-Heath remained standing beside the back
wall.
It was Miss Turner who
spoke to him.
“ Were you on
duty last night?”
He hesitated, frozen with
fear as the headmaster’s eyes bored deep into him. It was not what
he had expected.
“ Were you?”
she asked again.
She looked over the top
of her glasses, her eyes boring holes through his blazer and
pullover until he was sure she could see right into his
soul.
“ Yes, Miss.”
The words were mumbled and barely audible.
“ I should
like you to know that . . .” The voice lowered, paused, and began
again. “Did you remove a large stone from the wall and crash it
down on the ground?”
A hundred tiny spines
pricked the back of his neck.
“ Did you, or
didn’t you?”
That piercing stare of
hers. It drilled through his skin and burnt the flesh below. His
clammy hands wettened his cap making it damp as if he had been
caught in a shower of rain. He could feel the muscles of this
thighs twitch as he willed himself to be sucked down into the
floor. But miracles never happen to those wicked of soul. The
honourable and manly thing to do would be to admit.
But it didn’t happen that
way. A whisper squeezed out from between his dry lips.
“ Maybe. I
don’t know.”
“ Well, If you
did . . . which I don’t doubt, as boys can take it into their heads
to be so stupid at times. Only an idiot would aim at a target he
had not identified. What do you think would happen if a shooting
party did not keep to rules and identify the pheasants before they
fired their shots or a batter swing the bat around before the
bowler threw the ball?”
“ Someone
could be hurt, Miss Turner.”
“ And did you
not think of the consequences of your action? Most likely, not. If
you were the idiot responsible, you will have to be
punished.”
“ Sorry, Miss
Turner.”
“ Do you
remember what the school motto is, Mr Resmel? Or do we have to
remind you?”
The headmaster had moved
and now stood just behind Hans ready to catch any mistakes and call
him out.
Hans was ready to be
batted out. He squeezed his fingers tighter around his cap and
began to twist it as if wringing the life out of it. His hands
began to shake. He could feel Mr
fire as the edges of her nostrils twitched with anger and
impatience. She did not leave, as usual, with the headmaster.
Instead, her voice echoed, shrilly shaking throughout the subdued
hall.
“ . . . and
all the boys on patrol duty last night will to report IMMEDIATELY
to my office! You will begin leaving right now! Caps on and you
will wait outside until I call you! Go!”
Hans felt his stomach
fold over itself. Did she know about the episode concerning the
loose stone? Had her niece spied on him and reported his failed
attempt in stopping the vandal, to her aunt? It was the event of
last night that she meant, wasn’t it?
The senior boys waited,
caps on and jackets correctly buttoned. They stood in silence,
huddled close to the dark oak walls as if looking for protection.
Every few minutes the office door opened and one by one they filed
in, then out. Hans observed each one, frowns of puzzlement on each
face. Soon, there was only Hans and another. He watched the doorway
swallow up his companion, like a hungry monster. As soon as that
victim was spat out, the huge oak-rimmed doorway with the one word
‘Matron’ was ready to swallow him whole.
“ Next!”
That piercing voice of
hers shook him back into reality. He entered. He removed his cap
and rolled it up in his hand. She was not alone. The headmaster was
there in his black gown, standing guard like some huge vulture,
intently watching every boy until his eyes had bored right into the
depths of their inner bodies.
“ Stand there
and don’t move!” The curt order came from the
headmaster.
Hans stood, hands behind
his back, screwing his cap into the tightest roll he could. Miss
Turner shuffled forward and perched like a vulture on the edge of
her chair. Mr Bowes-Heath remained standing beside the back
wall.
It was Miss Turner who
spoke to him.
“ Were you on
duty last night?”
He hesitated, frozen with
fear as the headmaster’s eyes bored deep into him. It was not what
he had expected.
“ Were you?”
she asked again.
She looked over the top
of her glasses, her eyes boring holes through his blazer and
pullover until he was sure she could see right into his
soul.
“ Yes, Miss.”
The words were mumbled and barely audible.
“ I should
like you to know that . . .” The voice lowered, paused, and began
again. “Did you remove a large stone from the wall and crash it
down on the ground?”
A hundred tiny spines
pricked the back of his neck.
“ Did you, or
didn’t you?”
That piercing stare of
hers. It drilled through his skin and burnt the flesh below. His
clammy hands wettened his cap making it damp as if he had been
caught in a shower of rain. He could feel the muscles of this
thighs twitch as he willed himself to be sucked down into the
floor. But miracles never happen to those wicked of soul. The
honourable and manly thing to do would be to admit.
But it didn’t happen that
way. A whisper squeezed out from between his dry lips.
“ Maybe. I
don’t know.”
“ Well, If you
did . . . which I don’t doubt, as boys can take it into their heads
to be so stupid at times. Only an idiot would aim at a target he
had not identified. What do you think would happen if a shooting
party did not keep to rules and identify the pheasants before they
fired their shots or a batter swing the bat around before the
bowler threw the ball?”
“ Someone
could be hurt, Miss Turner.”
“ And did you
not think of the consequences of your action? Most likely, not. If
you were the idiot responsible, you will have to be
punished.”
“ Sorry, Miss
Turner.”
“ Do you
remember what the school motto is, Mr Resmel? Or do we have to
remind you?”
The headmaster had moved
and now stood just behind Hans ready to catch any mistakes and call
him out.
Hans was ready to be
batted out. He squeezed his fingers tighter around his cap and
began to twist it as if wringing the life out of it. His hands
began to shake. He could feel Mr
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