The War of Jenkins' Ear. Michael Morpurgo

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      ‘Of course, Matron,’ said Rudolph stiffly; and he went on, his hand clutching his lapel: ‘and let this be a lesson to you, Christopher. Because you are a new-boy, and because it is the first night of a new term I shall take no further action this time. But mark my words, the next time it’ll be the cane. Very well, you may go now.’ Matron had already gone, Custer at her heels, still hopeful.

      ‘I want those boys upstairs for unpacking in two minutes, Mr Birley,’ she called from outside. ‘Two minutes!’

      Toby didn’t see Christopher again until he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom later that evening. They were standing side by side facing the mirror and alone. By now the rice-pudding incident had eclipsed all other beginning-of-term excitements. Toby looked across at him in the mirror as he rinsed his mouth. Christopher did nothing in a hurry. Even when he spat in the basin his movements were measured, almost elegant. If he was enjoying his fame, he showed no signs of it. He stared back at himself for a moment and then dropped his toothbrush into his mug. His face was pale, paler even than his oversized cream pyjamas. He looks more dead than alive, Toby thought, more like a ghost. The ghost spoke.

      ‘I’m sleeping next to you,’ Christopher said.

      ‘I know,’ said Toby.

      ‘Why do they call you Jinks?’

      Toby shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. They always have. Partly my name I suppose, and maybe I’m not very good luck or something.’

      Neither of them spoke for a moment. ‘Do you like it here?’ Christopher said, turning to him.

      ‘’s all right, I suppose.’

      ‘That’s not what you really think is it? Why don’t you say what you really think?’ Toby didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t expecting this directness. ‘Well, I hate it,’ said Christopher, zipping up his sponge bag. ‘Do you snore?’

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Good,’ said Christopher as he hung his towel on his hook.

      Toby asked the question he’d been longing to ask. ‘What would you have done, you know, if Matron hadn’t come in like she did, if Custer hadn’t . . . Would you have eaten it, in the end I mean?’

      ‘No,’ said Christopher. ‘Course not. He’d have given in. They always do in the end.’

      The dormitory was known as ‘The Pit’. Five steps down and you were in a huge vaulted room with bare floorboards and high mullioned windows like a church. There were twelve beds on each side, and a wooden locker in between each. No one wanted to be in The Pit. It was the closest to Rudolph’s flat and therefore the most dangerous. Any noise after lights-out and he could pounce without warning. It was freezing cold too and the beds were the old type – metal frames with springs that sagged in the middle. It was like sleeping in a squeaking, spiky hammock. But Toby was happier than he’d ever been on the first night of any term. His mind flitted from Wanda to Christopher and back to Wanda again. All thoughts of home and Mum and Dad and Gran and little Charley were forgotten. Matron had put the lights out some time ago but no one was asleep. No one would be asleep for hours, not on the first night. Suppressed giggling and whispering filled the darkness. The tower bell sounded in the quad outside, eleven o’clock. Toby looked across at Christopher. He lay still under his blankets, hands under his head. ‘You awake?’ Toby whispered.

      ‘Yes,’ said Christopher.

      ‘What school were you at before?’

      ‘A day-school down the end of our road, St Peter’s.’ He was talking louder than he should.

      ‘You haven’t been to a boarding school then, like this?’

      ‘No, and I won’t be staying for long either.’

      The door opened suddenly. ‘Talking! Who was talking?’ Rudolph stood silhouetted in the doorway. The lights went on. ‘Who was talking then? Come on. I heard you.’ Everyone lay doggo and looked at everyone else.

      ‘I was,’ said Christopher propping himself up on his elbows. Rudolph hesitated for a moment, clearly surprised.

      ‘You again. We really haven’t made a very good start have we? Out of bed. Over here.’ Christopher stepped into his slippers and put on his dressing-gown. He took his time. As he walked over to Rudolph everyone in the dormitory knew what would happen, everyone except Christopher, it seemed, for he showed no sign of fear, even in his voice.

      ‘Yes, sir?’ he said, looking Rudolph straight in the eye.

      ‘Take off your slipper,’ said Rudolph stonily.

      ‘Which one, sir?’ Christopher asked.

      ‘Either.’

      Christopher bent down and took off his right slipper. Rudolph almost snatched it out of his hand. ‘There is no talking after lights-out. It is a rule. Do you understand about rules? I don’t suppose they had rules in your Council school?’

      ‘Yes, sir, they did.’

      ‘There’s things you are going to have to learn, Christopher, like not answering back for instance. Hold out your hand.’ Rudolph gripped the heel of the slipper and struck three times. Christopher stood silent, his hand still held out in front of him. ‘You want more?’ said Rudolph, breathing hard.

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘Get back to bed.’

      Christopher walked slowly back towards his bed undoing his dressing-gown cord. He lay down in bed, pulled the sheets up under his chin, and stared up at the ceiling. The lights went out and no one said a word until they could no longer hear Rudolph’s footsteps, until the door of his flat shut behind him.

      ‘You all right?’ said Toby. But there was no reply.

      When Toby woke next morning the bed next to him was empty. There was an excited huddle around Simpson’s bed at the other end of the dormitory. Toby went over. Simpson was sitting cross-legged on his pillow and holding court.

      ‘What’s happened?’ said Toby.

      ‘Your friend,’ said Simpson. ‘He’s run off.’

      ‘You don’t know,’ Toby said.

      ‘Oh, don’t I? I only saw him go, that’s all,’ Simpson retorted. ‘I was coming out of the bog early this morning, and there he was fully dressed. He walks right past me with his suitcase. Never says a word. Never even looks at me. Just walks down the stairs and out of the front door. I saw him from the bathroom window. He stops at the school gates, puts his suitcase down, takes off his shoes, shakes them, puts them on again and that was it. I’m telling you, he’s gone, he’s done a bunk.’

      CHAPTER 2

      MAJOR BAGLEY TAUGHT LATIN. HE WAS HARMLESS enough, unless you caught him in a bad moment and then he could be quite unpredictable. The trouble was that he drank too much. Everyone knew it, and indeed he made little attempt to hide it. Latin lessons that ended at break always finished СКАЧАТЬ