‘Why the change of plan?’
‘Hitler’s visiting France, big meeting with Pétain. There’s word he’s coming on here afterwards. This is all very hush hush, by the way.’
Harry looked at him seriously. ‘So Franco could be about to enter the war.’
Tolhurst nodded. ‘Moving in that direction, at least. We need to know as much as we can, about everything.’
‘Yes.’ Harry nodded grimly. ‘I can see.’
‘I’d better get back, tell Hillgarth I’ve caught you.’ He glanced round the bare walls. ‘You ought to cover up those blank spaces. We’ve loads of pictures at the embassy if you want some.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s be optimistic, and assume we’re not all going to be kicked out, or worse.’
After Tolhurst left, Harry returned to the window. It was raining again, little spots tapping the glass. The man had disappeared; probably he was hanging around somewhere waiting for him to emerge. He thought about the poor woman who had been arrested. Where would they put her? In some stinking cell probably. The incident seemed to crystallize everything he had seen these last few days. Harry realized he wasn’t neutral any more; he hated what Franco was doing here.
His mind went back to Sandy and tomorrow’s meeting. He thought of German tanks rolling south over the Pyrenees, war in Spain again. He wondered how the embassy had got that information. Perhaps it was something to do with what Hillgarth and Maestre had been talking about. Juan March, the crooked millionaire, had financed Franco during the Civil War but he could still be pro-English, like Maestre. He wondered what the Knights of St George were, some sort of code. Hoare had told him to put it out of his mind but why had he and Hillgarth been so obviously worried that he knew? He shrugged. Well, he had better start preparing himself mentally for his task, prepare to meet Sandy, Sandy who was making a profit out of the Spanish Hell.
What would he be like now? He thought back to the year at Rookwood when he had shared a study with Sandy, that strange year.
THE INCIDENT WITH the spider in Taylor’s study had been the start of a difficult time. Things felt unsettled, uncomfortable. Bernie had been moved to a different study, but he remained friendly with Harry. Bernie and Sandy loathed each other. It wasn’t anything particular; it was visceral, instinctive. The school was full of feuds and rivalries between boys, but this was more unsettling because it was expressed not in rows and fights but cold glances and sarcastic comments. Yet Sandy and Bernie were in some ways alike. They shared a contempt for Rookwood, its beliefs and the system, which Harry found painful.
Bernie kept his socialism mainly to himself because he knew most of the boys would have found his ideas not just distasteful but incomprehensible. He carried on doing well in class; he was clever, as scholarship boys had to be to get to Rookwood at all. He played rugger aggressively, making the junior team. But occasionally his feelings about Rookwood showed through and he would talk about it to Harry with cold, hard disdain.
‘They’re preparing us to be part of the ruling class,’ he said to Harry one afternoon. It was wet and they were all in Harry’s study, Harry and Bernie at the table, Sandy sitting reading by the fire. ‘To rule the workers here and the natives in the colonies.’
‘Well, someone’s got to rule them,’ Harry replied. ‘I’ve thought of applying to the Colonial Office myself when I leave. My cousin might be able to help.’
‘Oh God!’ Bernie laughed harshly.
‘Being a district commissioner’s bloody hard work. My uncle’s got a friend who was in Uganda for years, only white man for miles. He came back with malaria. Some of them die out there.’
‘And others make a packet,’ Bernie replied contemptuously. ‘You should listen to yourself, Harry. “My cousin might be able to help. My uncle’s friend.” None of the people I know at home have cousins or uncles to help them rule huge chunks of Africa.’
‘And the socialists can run things better, can they? Those idiots MacDonald and Snowden?’
‘They’ve sold out. They’re weak. We need a stronger type of socialism, like they’ve got in Russia.’
Sandy looked up then and laughed. ‘D’you think Russia’s any better than here? It’s probably like this place, only worse.’
Harry frowned. ‘How can Rookwood be like Russia?’
Sandy shrugged. ‘A system built on bloody lies. They say they’re educating you, but they’re trying to drill you full of things they want you to know, just like the Russians with all their propaganda. They tell us when to go to bed, when to get up, how to talk, how to think. People like you don’t mind, Harry, but Piper and me are different.’ He looked at Bernie, his brown eyes alive with malicious humour.
‘You do talk a lot of shit, Forsyth,’ Bernie replied. ‘You think sneaking out late to go drinking with Piers Knight and his mates is being different. I want freedom for my class. And our day’s coming.’
‘And I suppose I’ll be on the way to the guillotine.’
‘Maybe you will.’
SANDY HAD FALLEN IN with a crowd of fourth-and fifth-formers who went to the local town to drink and, they said, meet girls. Bernie said they were all wastrels and Harry agreed although, after Taylor’s attempts to recruit him as a spy, he could see things a little from Sandy’s side: the black sheep, the boy who had to be kept an eye on; it wasn’t a status he envied. Sandy did as little work as possible; his attitude to the masters and his schoolwork one of barely veiled contempt.
That term, Harry took to going for walks on his own. It cleared his head to go ranging for miles over chalky Sussex woodlands. One damp November afternoon he turned a corner and was astonished to see Sandy Forsyth crouched on his haunches in the lane, turning a dark round stone over and over in his hands. He looked up.
‘Hello, Brett.’
‘What’re you doing? You’ve got chalk all over your blazer.’
‘Never mind that. Look here.’ He stood up and passed Harry the stone. At first it looked like a dark flinty rock but then he saw it was full of concentric circles, spiralling inwards.
‘What is it?’
Sandy smiled, not cynically as usual but broadly, a happy smile. ‘It’s an ammonite. A fossilized sea creature. Once all this was a sea and it was full of these, swimming about. When it died it sank to the bottom and over years its shell turned to rock. You can’t imagine how many years. Millions.’
‘I didn’t know fossils were like this. I thought they were big, dinosaurs.’
‘Oh, there were dinosaurs here too. The first dinosaur fossils were found near here a century ago, by a man called Mantell.’ Sandy’s smile turned sardonic. ‘Wasn’t popular in some circles. Fossils were a challenge to the Church’s idea the earth was only a few thousand years old. My dad still thinks God put the fossils in himself, to test men’s faith. He’s a very traditional Anglican.’
Harry had never seen Forsyth like this before. His face was alive with excited interest, his uniform streaked with chalk and his thick black hair, normally neatly combed, stood up in little tufts. He smiled. ‘I often come out fossil hunting. This is a good one. I don’t tell people – they’d think I was a swot.’
Harry studied the stone, cleaning mud from the whorls of the shell with his fingers. ‘It’s amazing.’ He thought it was beautiful, but you didn’t use words like that at Rookwood.
‘Come out with me some time if you like,’ Sandy said diffidently. ‘I’m building a collection. I’ve got a rock with a fly in it, three hundred million years old. Insects and spiders are as old as the dinosaurs, much older than us.’ He paused, reddening slightly at his display of enthusiasm.
‘Are they?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He looked out over the Downs. ‘They’ll be here when we’ve gone.’
‘Taylor’s frightened of spiders.’
Sandy laughed. ‘What?’
‘I found out once.’ Harry reddened, he wished he hadn’t said that.
‘Stupid old bugger. I’m going to go in for hunting fossils when I leave this d
ump, go on expeditions to places like Mongolia.’ He grinned. ‘I want to have adventures, far away from here.’
AND SO THEY became friends of a sort. They went on long walks hunting fossils and Harry learned about the life that had heaved and rolled in the ancient seas that had flowed where they stood. Sandy knew a lot. Once he found the tooth of a dinosaur, an iguanodon, buried in the side of a quarry. ‘They’re rare,’ he said gleefully. ‘And they’re worth money. I’ll take it up to the Natural History Museum in the hols.’
Money was important to Sandy. His father made him a generous allowance, but he wanted more. ‘It means you can do what you want in life,’ he said. ‘When I’m older I’m going to make a packet.’
‘Hunting dinosaur bones?’ Harry asked. They were exploring one of the old iron workings dotted around the woods. Sandy studied the horizon, the bare brown trees. It was an early winter’s day, still and cold.
‘I’ll make my fortune first.’
‘I suppose I don’t think much about money.’
‘Piper would say that’s because you’ve got plenty. We all have here. But it’s our families’ money. I want to make my own.’
‘My money was left me by my father. I wish I’d known him, he was killed in the war.’
Sandy’s eyes went back to the horizon. ‘My dad was a padre on the Western Front. Telling all those soldiers God was with them before they went over the top. My brother Peter is following in his footsteps, he’s at theological college now and then he’s going to join the army. He was Head Boy at Braildon, Head of Games, Greek Prize, all that.’ Sandy’s face darkened. ‘But he’s stupid, as stupid with his religion as Piper is with his socialism. It’s all nonsense.’ He turned and looked at Harry and there was something strange, fierce, in his eyes. ‘My mother left when I was ten, you know. They don’t talk about it but I think it was because she couldn’t stand all the rubbish. She used to say she wanted some fun in life. I remember feeling sorry for her, I knew she didn’t have any.’
Harry felt uncomfortable. ‘Where is she now?’ he asked.
He shrugged. ‘They don’t know. Or won’t say.’ He grinned broadly, showing square white teeth. ‘You need some fun in life, she was right. Why don’t you come out with me and my crowd? There’s some girls we meet in the town.’ He raised his eyebrows.
Harry hesitated. ‘What do you do?’ he asked diffidently. ‘When you’re with them?’
‘Everything.’
‘Everything? Really?’
Sandy laughed. He jumped off the rock he’d been sitting on and slapped Harry on the arm. ‘No, not really. But we will, one day. I want to be the first.’
Harry kicked a stone. ‘I don’t want to get into trouble, it’s not worth it.’
‘Come on.’ Harry felt the force of Sandy’s personality bearing down on him. ‘I plan it all, make sure we always leave when there’s no one around, never go anywhere the masters might come – or if they did, would be more worried than us about being seen.’ He laughed.
‘Some dive? I’m not sure I fancy that.’
‘We won’t get caught. I got caught breaking the rules at Braildon, I’m more careful now. It’s fun, knowing they’re out to get you and you’ve got them fooled.’
‘What did you get sacked for? At Braildon?’
‘I was in the town and this master caught me coming out of a pub. He reported me and I got all the usual stuff, why couldn’t I be like my brother, how much better than me he was.’ The hard angry look came into Sandy’s eyes again. ‘I got him back, though.’
‘What did you do?’
Sandy sat down again and folded his arms. ‘This master, Dacre, he was young. He had this little red car. He thought he was the bee’s knees, driving about in it. I know how to drive; I sneaked out one night and took it out of the masters’ garage. There’s a steep hill near the school. I drove the car right to the edge, jumped out, and over it went.’ Sandy smiled, his happy smile, all white teeth. ‘It was amazing watching it go down the hill, smashing up bushes. It hit a tree and the front caved in like cardboard.’
‘God! That was dangerous.’
‘Not really. Not if you know how. But when I jumped out of the car I cut my face on a branch. They saw that and put two and two together. But it was worth it, and it got me out of Braildon. I didn’t think anywhere else would take me, but my father pulled strings and got me in here. Worse luck.’
Harry dug at the ground with his foot. ‘I think that’s going a bit far. Destroying someone’s car.’
Sandy gave him an even stare. ‘Do unto others as they would do to you.’
‘That’s not what the Bible says.’
‘It’s what I say.’ He shrugged. ‘Come on, we’d better get back, we don’t want to miss roll-call or we’ll be in trouble, won’t we? With our kind teachers.’
They said little as they walked back. The winter sun set slowly, turning the puddles in the brown muddy paths pink. When they reached the road the high walls of the school came into view. Sandy turned to Harry. ‘D’you know where the money came from that started the school, and that funded the scholarships for people like Piper?’
‘Some merchants a couple of hundred years ago, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. But d’you know what their main trade was?’
‘Silks and peppers and stuff?’
‘Slavery. They were slavers, capturing niggers in Africa and shipping them to America. I found a book in the library.’ He turned to Harry. ‘It’s amazing what you can find out if you look. Things people want to keep hidden that might come in useful.’ And he smiled again, a secret smile.
THE TROUBLE BEGAN a few weeks later, in class with Taylor. The form had had a Latin translation to prepare and Sandy had skimped it. He was called on to read and produced a succession of nonsensical howlers that made the class laugh. Some boys would have been humiliated, but Sandy sat with a smirk on his face, laughing along with the class. Taylor was furious. He stood above Sandy, his face red.
‘You didn’t even try to do that translation, Forsyth. You’ve as good a brain as anyone here, but you just don’t bother.’
‘Oh no, sir,’ Sandy said seriously. ‘I found it difficult, sir.’
Taylor got even redder. ‘You think you can get away with that dumb insolence, don’t you? There’s a lot you think you can get away with, but we’re watching you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Sandy replied coolly. The class laughed again, but Harry could see Forsyth had gone too far. You didn’t provoke Taylor.
The master crossed to his desk and picked up his cane. ‘That’s sheer insolence, Forsyth. Come out here!’
Sandy set his lips. You could see he hadn’t expected that. Canings in front of the class were rare. ‘I don’t think that’s fair, sir,’ he said.
‘I’ll give you fair,’ Taylor marched up to Sandy and hauled him out of his place by the collar. Sandy wasn’t tall but he was stocky and Harry wondered for a moment if he might resist, but he allowed himself to be led to the front of the room. His eyes were blazing, though, with a fierce anger Harry had never seen before, as he bent over the master’s desk and Taylor brought the cane down, again and again, lips tight with anger.
After class, Harry went up to the studies. Sandy was leaning on the table. He was pale and breathing heavily.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘I will be.’ There was a moment’s silence. He squirmed and winced. ‘You see, Harry? You see how they control us?’
‘You shouldn’t have provoked him.’
‘I’ll get my own back,’ Sandy muttered.
‘Don’t be stupid. How can you get back at him?’
‘I’ll find a way.’
THE SCHOOL ate their meals at long tables in the dining room, the form master sitting at the end. One evening, a week later, Harry saw that Sandy and Taylor were both missing. Sandy wasn’t seen again that night and another master took the class next morning. He announced that Alexander Forsyth would not be returning; he had been
expelled for an assault on Mr Taylor, who would be having a period of sick leave. The boys plied him with questions but the master said it was too unpleasant to talk about, a spasm of disgust crossing his face. It was that morning, through the classroom window, that Harry saw Bishop Forsyth walking in the quadrangle. His face was stern and drawn. Bernie, next to him, whispered, ‘I wonder what Forsyth did. Good riddance to bad rubbish, anyway. I wonder if they’ll let me back in the study.’
At lunchtime the boys were full of excitement, wondering what had happened. Harry skipped the meal and went up to the dormitory. Sandy was there, packing his fossil collection carefully into a suitcase. He gave Harry a cynical half-smile.
‘Hello, Brett. Heard what happened?’
‘I heard you were going. What did you do? They won’t say.’
Sandy sat on the bed, still smiling. ‘Best revenge I’ve ever had. It was you put the idea into my mind, actually. Spiders.’
‘What?’
‘Remember that day we were out fossil hunting and I told you insects and spiders were as old as the dinosaurs.’
Harry felt his heart sink. He remembered Taylor asking him to spy on Sandy, though he had kept that to himself. Taylor had been distant with him ever since.
Sandy smiled. ‘Ever been up in the attics? They’re full of cobwebs.’ He smiled broadly. ‘And where there are cobwebs there are spiders. I collected a biscuit tin full, I went for the big ones. Then yesterday I went to Taylor’s study when he was in the common room.’ He laughed. ‘I put them everywhere. In the drawers, in the cigarette box on his desk, even in his cheesy old slippers. Then I went into the study next door; you know it’s been empty since old Henderson retired at Christmas. I sat there to wait. I knew Taylor would be along at four to do his marking. I wanted to hear him scream.’
Harry clenched his hands. Sandy had used what he had told him, this was partly his fault. ‘Did he?’ he asked.
Sandy shrugged. ‘No. It went wrong. I heard him come up the corridor and shut the door but there was no sound, just silence. I thought, come on, you bastard, you must have found them by now. Then I heard his door open and footsteps like somebody drunk and then a thud. Then there was a funny whimpering noise, like a cat mewing. It got louder, it turned into a sort of screech and some of the other masters came out of their rooms. I heard Jevons say, “What’s the matter?” and then Taylor’s voice. “In my room,” he said, “it’s full of them.” Then Williams went into his room and called out that it was full of spiders.”