Gradually the group began to form their own ideas. Their amusement just made Bedivere grow hotter. ‘This isn’t funny! One of you told her, so tell me who, all right?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ snorted Lancelot. Viola shrugged, and Gavin shook his head.
‘Not me,’ Tom murmured.
‘I don’t know anything about it either,’ Gwenhwyfar lied.
Lancelot offered him a shrug. ‘Looks like it wasn’t anyone.’
‘Sorry Bed,’ Viola started, ‘maybe someone overheard?’
‘You do get eavesdroppers here,’ Gavin tried. Their newest addition was not satisfied. His poised stance suggested he was thinking of leaving, but ultimately he pulled out a chair. As he sat his head fell into his hands and he groaned.
‘People will be talking about this for weeks.’
‘Nah,’ Gavin tried, ‘I mean, just get Lance to hit someone. Then they’ll all be talking about that, instead.’
‘I wish he’d hit whoever did this,’ he muttered. Lancelot leant back in his chair and propped his foot on his knee.
‘That can be arranged. For a small fee, of course.’
‘Is eternal gratitude small enough?’ he begged.
‘Works for me.’ Lancelot looked at Gwenhwyfar, and her gaze was pulled to his as if their eyes were opposite ends of two magnets. ‘You’ll have to tell me who did it first though,’ he added. Suddenly uncomfortable, Gwenhwyfar stood abruptly and plucked her things off the table.
‘Sorry, I said I’d meet someone for lunch.’
‘Who?’ Viola enquired, her interest peaked.
She glanced briefly at Lancelot. ‘Who do you think?’
‘Arthur?’
Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘I’ll see you in Geography. Bye, everyone.’ She hurried away, weaving expertly through the crowd.
‘Tell me about it then!’ Viola shouted after her. She turned and offered them one last wave, trying not to feel too guilty about telling on Bedivere.
* * *
Gwenhwyfar hurried to Mr Caledonensis’ classroom, expecting Arthur to be waiting outside. When she arrived, however, he was nowhere to be seen, and it wasn’t until she heard voices that she thought to check the room itself. Feeling as if she were intruding, she knocked softly, pushing on the door the moment she was beckoned in.
‘Ah, Gwenhwyfar!’ Marvin beamed. ‘Arthur told me we were expecting you. Going on a lunch date, are we? Sounds very nice, though I can’t say the weather’s good for it.’
It was as if she’d just interrupted an important conversation. There was an atmosphere lingering, a sense that she’d come too early, and that they both still had things they were burning to say.
‘It is a bit miserable out,’ she agreed, venturing a little further into the room. ‘Am I interrupting? I can come back later if you like.’
‘No, no, not at all! Arthur was just returning a book I lent him,’ Marvin explained, still holding The Human Condition in his hand. Gwenhwyfar spotted it before he could hide it, the grey and black cover glaring at her with its large, human eye.
‘Is that it? What is it?’
‘Oh, it’s just something for Politics. It’s not very interesting, is it, Arthur?’ He stowed it away. ‘I already have another student lined up to read it.’
‘Is it good?’
‘Good? I’m not sure about good.’ Marvin busied himself at his desk. ‘Useful, if you’re interested in that sort of thing. You’re welcome to borrow it, of course, but it’s quite dull. Very stuffy prose, if you know what I mean.’
‘Boring,’ Arthur corrected, offering a smile.
‘I think I’ll pass,’ Gwenhwyfar said, sensing the hollow gesture in Marvin’s words. He clapped his hands together.
‘So! Are you two off?’
‘I think so.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Of course.’ He followed her to the door, and soon they were out in the empty corridor.
‘So… what’s The Human Condition really about?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, once Marvin’s room was some way behind them.
‘You saw the cover?’
‘It was hard not to, with him waving it around,’ she teased. Arthur remained silent. ‘Was I not supposed to?’
‘Not really, no,’ he murmured, ‘and I wouldn’t go telling anyone you did. He could get into a lot of trouble, Gwen, and so could I. He shouldn’t be lending me stuff like that, and I shouldn’t be reading it.’
‘Stuff like what?’
‘You know, banned books.’
‘Marvin gives you banned books? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?’
‘Yes. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone. Not even Viola, because she’ll tell Tom, and Tom can’t keep anything to himself.’
‘She won’t tell Tom if I ask her not to,’ she started.
‘Yes she will. They’re going out. They’ll tell each other everything,’ he remarked matter-of-factly. ‘Marvin’s the best teacher in this school, and I don’t want him getting into trouble because of me.’
Gwenhwyfar felt like he was scolding her for something she hadn’t done. ‘Right, I get it. I won’t tell anyone.’
Her words seemed to appease him. ‘Thank you.’
They walked in silence for a while, until they braved the cold and found a bench on which they could perch. Huddling in her coat to keep herself warm, Gwenhwyfar brushed some flyaway hair from her eyes. ‘So what is it about then? You know, that book.’
‘It’s a study on what led to the restriction of human liberties.’
‘Is that the kind of stuff that he gives you to read at that club?’ Arthur nodded. ‘So then why can’t I read it?’ she challenged.
‘Because you’re not technically a member yet.’ He smiled at her fondly. ‘Are you cold?’
‘A little.’
Immediately he removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. His arm lingered there, and he pulled her closer. ‘Better?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she nodded, extremely pleased with her current position. ‘What about you, though?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said, as the icy wind blew. ‘I’m fairly warm-blooded.’
‘I wish I was. I’m like a lizard, I need the sun to warm up.’ She shivered, pressing closer to his side. ‘Are we still on for Saturday?’
‘Of course,’ he responded with amusement. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’
‘Just checking. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Me too.’
She thought for a moment, and wondered why he spent so much time alone. ‘So how was work?’
‘It was OK.’ Gwenhwyfar could feel each breath he took, each word reverberate in his chest. ‘Someone came in looking for a book no one could find. That was the highlight.’
‘So it’s just you and your grandmother living together, right?’
‘And Lionel,’ Arthur reminded her.
‘So… is your grandmother quite rich, then?’
‘Not that I know of, why?’
‘Oh, it’s just—I mean… what about bills and stuff?’
He seemed offended. Gwenhwyfar stared at him, sensing she’d said something wrong. They both frowned.
‘Why do you think I work at the library every evening? I pay the bills, or contribute to them at least—it’s not like my grandmother’s non-existent pension could cover it. That ran out years ago.’
She scowled. ‘You mean you pay for everything?’
His arm slipped from her shoulders. ‘Who else?’
‘Everything?’ Gwenhwyfar repeated.
‘No, not everything,’ Arthur relented, ‘most things. She still has a bit of money left over from when my grandfather was alive. I’m just glad the house is hers, otherwise it’d be impossible. How could you think it was all just provided for?’
‘I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just—usually an uncle or a relative would pay for something like that.’
‘Well, I don’t have an uncle,’ Arthur remarked. ‘Or any
other relatives.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, it’s fine.’
This time the silence was short-lived. ‘You know, I think it’s pretty great that you support your grandmother. Most people wouldn’t know where to start with something like that.’
‘Thanks.’ He folded his arms into his chest in an effort to keep warm. ‘I think she appreciates it. Sometimes.’
She hitched closer to him again, and offered his coat to half-cover them both. Gratefully he put his arm around her and rubbed her side. Pleased that they were still friends, Gwenhwyfar held him close, and they sat huddled together until the bell rang.
* * *
Arthur walked with Gwenhwyfar to Geography, where they talked together until their lessons started. As Gwenhwyfar left to queue with Viola, Arthur rejoined his own class, feeling the sullen gaze of Lancelot press hard upon him. They were called into their classroom. The moment he approached Lancelot blocked his way with a palm to the chest.
‘What?’ asked Arthur, in the bored tone he always used: a tone that never failed to annoy Lancelot.
‘So you and Gwen are dating now?’
‘Maybe.’ Arthur twisted past him.
‘Lance! Sit down,’ Miss Church commanded. He did, but without indicating that he’d heard her, and as Arthur took his usual seat behind him, Lancelot twisted around.
‘So you are dating? Just for the record, if anyone does tell you I’ve slept with her, please ignore them, because I wouldn’t even want to.’
The best policy with Lancelot was usually to ignore him. His jaw squaring, Arthur occupied himself with collecting the necessary objects from his schoolbag.
‘Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t, because she seemed up for it, going by what Hector said…’
He opened his books, pulled out a pen, and calmly wrote down the date.
‘…and she had to have had something along those lines in mind when she invited you both up to that room…’
‘Me. She invited me to that room.’ He shouldn’t have corrected him. Immediately Lancelot’s eyes sparked.
‘Yeah, whatever, Arty,’ he smirked. ‘Next time just make sure you’re not getting anyone’s seconds.’
His fist tightened around his pen. He hated being called Arty and he hated the way Lancelot always threw such disgusting concepts around. What was worse, Arthur seemed to find it nearly impossible to resist the urge to provoke him. ‘Don’t worry about me, Lotty. Gwen’s made it quite clear who she’s interested in.’
His assailant scowled. ‘Oh, has she?’
‘Yes,’ Arthur stated, jaw tight. ‘So as much as I’m touched by your concern, you needn’t worry. I’m not getting anyone’s seconds, unlike some people.’
His pointed look was enough to show Lancelot what he meant. Suddenly Lancelot rocketed to his feet, and Arthur’s table was flying towards his face as his angry, bruised hands smacked the edge up. Snapping the desk back down, Arthur rose to the challenge. Miss Church yelled.
‘What, don’t like thinking about her?’ Arthur sniped, pleased that for once, it was he who was getting a rise. ‘It’s just as well—she told me she couldn’t stand you, anyway.’
‘Arthur!’ Miss Church cried. She stormed towards the duelling boys as Lancelot pushed him.
‘I never touched her,’ Lancelot growled, his heavy brow twisted with rage.
‘Lance!’ she shouted. ‘Sit down!’
‘Funny how she left, isn’t it? I told her she was welcome to you, but apparently she would rather move schools.’ Arthur stood firm as he was shoved again. Their teacher caught Lancelot by the arm and dragged him away from the desk.
‘He started it!’ he hollered as he was pushed towards the door.
‘Out, Lance! I gave you a warning—I want you to go straight to the principal’s office, now. You’re not to come back until you’ve told him why I sent you there.’
Arthur smiled with satisfaction as Miss Church slammed and locked the door. For a while Lancelot hammered on the wood, but then the knocking ceased and his curses echoed down the hall.
‘Arthur!’ Miss Church barked, ‘If you don’t sit down, I’ll send you there with him! Sit!’
Her voice rose to silence the class. Arthur snapped down and spent the next few moments trying to restore his disturbed desk. For a while the girl who sat next to Lancelot glared at him through narrowed eyes, but her silent accusation was wasted. Arthur wondered why so many girls seemed to be enamoured with the aggressive teenager. When the class quietened, Miss Church finally had a moment to write her intentions on the board. The lesson would be on the science of predicting volcanic eruptions. Arthur smiled.
Corrected
'Lance has been disrupting Mrs Church’s lessons again.’
The final bell of the day had sounded, expelling the students of Logres from the school grounds in an excited hubbub. Though the days were getting shorter, there was still some sunshine left to enjoy, and Julie felt the usual sting of being one of the last stuck in the stuffy, dusty building.
‘I heard,’ Marvin remarked mildly, stirring the two cups of tea he had just made. ‘Apparently she’s rather upset. I’d have thought she’d be used to it by now.’
‘You don’t have him in any of your classes, do you?’
‘Not since Year Nine, no.’ Carefully, Marvin carried the two full mugs across to where Julie was leant against the small refrigerator that stood at counter height. ‘Personally I find Tom Hareton harder work. At least whatever Lancelot has to say is vaguely intelligent. Tom just runs off that mouth of his as if he’s got verbal diarrhoea.’
‘You shouldn’t be so cruel,’ she scolded, taking her tea from him and blowing the steam over the brim. ‘I know what you mean, though. Since I gave Lance something to work on from a higher set he’s settled right down. Where is Jo now?’
‘In the deputy’s office, giving Mr Hall more black marks for Lance’s record.’ His brow rumpled, and he sighed. ‘Sometimes I think the principal is doing that boy more harm than good.’
‘Didn’t his mother teach music here?’
Marvin nodded, and swallowed. ‘Yes! Emma. She was lovely. One of those rare people that just light up the room. I met her at university. I didn’t know Ben that well, but he seemed a decent man. Lance could have used him in his life.’
‘Funny how things just happen, isn’t it?’ Julie remarked. ‘One day your life is set—you wake up, have toast, go to work, see friends, come home and have your family—and then the next everything changes. Sometimes I wonder how I got where I am.’
‘You seem to be doing well by those boys.’ He looked at her, encouragement in his eyes. ‘Erec will get better once he settles. He always finds it difficult when they swap him over to something new.’
She sighed. ‘I know. So how’s Arthur?’
‘He’s been spending more time with Gwen. It’s good for both of them, I think.’
Julie nodded in agreement. ‘You should try to limit the amount of time he spends with you. Jason’s concerned. He doesn’t think it’s… proper.’
‘Proper?’ Marvin questioned. ‘Of course it’s not proper. How many students would rather hang out with their tutor over their own ilk? What have you heard?’
‘Just that the principal thinks it’s cause for concern, and that’s without him knowing the full extent of how much time Arthur spends with you.’
‘They won’t know that, unless Mr Pick tells them, and he and I have an agreement.’ He grinned at her toothily.
‘You’re so anti-establishment,’ she teased. ‘It’s going to get you into trouble, one of these days.’
‘When it does, I’ll be sure not to mention your hand. Covering for me in staff meetings? Keeping me up to date with the gossip? You and I make a jolly team, Julie.’
She smiled at him fondly.
‘Those biscuits,’ he said, eying the coffee table in the middle of the room. ‘Do they belong to anyone?’
‘They’re Mr Hall�
�s. He brought them in yesterday.’
He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, crept forwards and set his mug on the table.
‘Marvin, don’t.’
He opened the tin with a pop.
‘You shouldn’t!’ she exclaimed. ‘He’ll know, I swear he counts them.’
‘A couple won’t hurt.’ He pushed the lid back in place, and scurried over to her. ‘Chocolate digestive?’
She took one and Marvin bit into the other, showering crumbs down his front.
‘I assume you’ve read the latest poll results,’ Julie remarked. ‘The New Nationals still have the majority. I can’t imagine who votes in such things.’
‘Whoever answers their phone,’ Marvin told her. ‘Those they call are hardly going to voice support for an opposing party.’ Swallowing, he dunked the rest of his biscuit into his tea. ‘I have wondered how many of our choices are smoke and mirrors. It’s a popular conspiracy theory that the three main parties are essentially one and the same, run and funded by the same oligarchy.’
‘Andrew Graham’s convinced that life has never been better. Things are good under Milton, for men like him.’ She glanced to the New National poster hanging on an otherwise empty wall, opposite the notice boards. ‘I can’t remember when Logres suddenly became so politicised.’
‘I think it was about the time when Ravioli became headmaster, shortly after they came to power.’
‘It’s very tiring.’ She offered him a strained smile. ‘I’m sure it’s what keeps Andrew and other Milton supporters here spouting their praise.’
‘Every regime thrives on its celebrating simpletons.’ He leant next to her. ‘And you? What do you think?’
‘Do you even need to ask? If the New Nationals had their way, Erec would be packed off to a mental institution. I know my son—he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I even heard from my doctor that he could go into one of those Mobilisation Centres.’
‘I would keep him away from those, if you can,’ Marvin advised. ‘I’ve heard rumours about those places, and none of them are good.’
She frowned at him. The late afternoon sun cast new shapes through the windows onto the rough blue carpets. ‘What have you heard?’
The Future King: Logres Page 23
