Troy knew he’d come off badly if he interfered, but what kind of person stood and watched their little brother get bullied?
‘Unacceptable!’ Troy shouted, using the only appropriate English word he could think of as he stepped away from his bed and strode purposefully down the narrow room towards Williams. A couple of boys whispered cautions, and one even stepped into his path.
‘He’ll murder you,’ the boy warned.
‘Keep your head down, mate,’ another begged, but Troy marched on.
Troy imagined an heroic gesture: knocking Williams out with a punch to the jaw or slicing his head off with a sword. But reality found a thirteen-year-old dressed in baggy shorts and vest facing a grown man with fiery eyes and hobnail boots.
‘It seems I have a visitor,’ Williams said, cracking a demented smile as he shoved Mason back over the end of his bed. ‘What can we do for you?’
Troy was quaking, but couldn’t walk meekly back to his bed with all the other lads looking on.
‘He’s eight years old,’ Troy said. ‘Why not help, instead of hurting him?’
‘Or you’ll do what, big man?’ Williams taunted. ‘This is my dormitory. I make the rules.’
Troy had fought a few times in his thirteen years. He’d won more than he’d lost, but the punch he threw now wasn’t his best. It glanced off the fleshy part of Williams’ arm with barely enough force to rustle his shirt.
‘You dare raise a hand to me!’ Williams roared, as Troy found himself being thrown forwards over the end of Mason’s bed, with Williams wrenching his arm tight behind his back and his brother’s legs trapped beneath him. ‘George, Tom, deal with him.’
George and Tom were stocky lads of fifteen. They acted as snitches and enforcers for Williams, who let them bully and extort the younger lads in return.
‘Put them both down,’ Williams ordered, before pointing at Troy. ‘And make trip an uncomfortable one.’his
Troy didn’t know what being meant, but there were sadistic grins on George and Tom’s faces as they grabbed his arms and bundled him outside. After dragging Troy ten metres down a freezing corridor, they turned into an unlit cloakroom and shoved him in a corner with a coat hook digging into his back.put down
‘Fists up, you French weed.’ George grinned, as he made a boxing stance. The fifteen-year-old was bigger than his pyjamas and his muscular torso showed where his top was too small to button over his chest.
Troy raised his hands, but George was too strong. His first punch batted Troy’s defences aside. The second was an uppercut that smacked his lower jaw and made his teeth clatter.
‘I’ve got plenty more where that came from.’ George laughed, as he grabbed Troy around the neck, bent him over and brought his knee up into his guts.
Troy groaned and belched as his throat filled with burning stomach acid. George backed away after a couple more punches, only for Tom to drag Troy out of the corner and hook his ankle, sending him sprawling across the floor.
‘Stings, don’t it, froggy?’ Tom smiled.
Troy groaned as he rolled on to his back, then sat up, clutching his stomach and coughing.
‘We can do what we like to you now,’ George added. ‘Fancy raising your hands to Williams! You just signed your own death warrant.’
Troy was defenceless, lying in the dark with two heavyweights looming. He hurt in a dozen places and blood drizzled from his nose. Out in the corridor he heard wailing and saw Mason’s legs as Williams dragged him past the doorway.
George hitched Troy off the gritty lino, intending to knock him down again, but Williams called from the far end of the corridor.
‘Get Troy out here. I want to be in my room before comes on.’Book at Bedtime
A metal bolt thunked. With one hand grasping Mason’s neck, Williams booted a door open and bitter outdoor air rushed into the corridor. Troy finally understood what being meant as he was dragged barefoot on to the icy courtyard behind the building.put down
‘I’m not going down there,’ Mason sobbed as Williams lifted the hinged wooden flap that covered the entrance to the coal cellar. ‘Please don’t make me.’
‘It’s the only way you’ll learn,’ Williams shouted. ‘Now, sit on the edge and jump or I’ll throw you down.’
The coal was piled high at one corner of the cellar. Mason made the short drop on to the highest part of the mound and scrambled down over churning coal to an area of bare floor in the far corner.
‘Watch out for the rats,’ Tom teased. ‘They’ll gnaw your toes if you fall asleep.’
George was ready to shove Troy down into the cellar. ‘Hold up,’ Williams ordered. ‘Let’s have a look at him.’
Tom clamped a muscular arm around Troy’s waist. Williams moved up close and smiled, as Mason’s sobbing echoed out of the cellar below them.
‘I never did like Frenchies,’ Williams said, before slapping Troy hard across his right eye. ‘Throw him down.’
Troy’s head swirled from the blow as Tom let him go. George kicked Troy behind the knees, buckling his legs and sending him face first into the mound of coal. The wooden cellar door banged shut over his head, and Williams fixed a joist over the flaps to lock it.
‘Sleep tight, boys,’ Williams said nastily.
‘But don’t forget the rats,’ George added.
Mason stood with his back against an unplastered wall. It was pitch dark, his feet were in icy water and he shuddered, imagining bugs and spiders crawling all around him.
‘Troy?’ he said quietly, before erupting into a coughing fit as coal dust tickled the back of his throat.
Mason waited for the voices above to disappear before feeling his way back up the mound of freezing coal lumps. He sniffled as he rested a hand on Troy’s back, between his shoulder blades.
‘Troy?’ he said, tapping his hand warily. ‘What’s the matter, Troy? Are you dead?’
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Henderson's Boys: Eagle Day: Book 2 Page 27
