The Great Hall is alive with the laughter and voices of students. He sees Horne, Felicia and the large boy glowering at him and imagines they are appalled to see him in their precious Beaulieu uniform. He levels his gaze at Horne and smiles a half smile, watching with satisfaction as Horne stiffens, his face burning red. His spots look like they are about to explode.
He notices the crests on the student blazers vary in colour: most are silver and bronze. Only Horne appears to wear a golden badge.
‘It suits you,’ says a voice.
Will turns to see the girl with the butter hair and painted red lips.
‘Erm… thanks,’ says Will.
She smiles and extends her hand, ‘I’m Violet.’
Her hand is soft and warm. ‘Will.’
‘I know. Everyone knows who you are.’
Will is a little surprised to hear that. ‘They do?’
‘Oh yes. We’re all speculating like mad on why you are here. I know we shouldn’t. Top secret and all that, but who doesn’t like a bit of gossip.’
Will opens his mouth to speak but does not know what to say.
Violet continues, ‘You must meet my friend. She’s dying to get to know you.’
‘Violet!’ says a voice.
Violet turns and pulls someone from behind her. It is the fighting girl from the balcony. She seems furious.
Will notices that she and Violet have silver crests.
‘Will, meet Anna Wilder,’ says Violet, shoving Anna forward.
Anna Wilder pushes back. Her cheeks flush with indignation. Then she turns and storms off into the crowd. Will does not know what to make of her. Snooty seems like a good description.
Violet shrugs. ‘Don’t mind her. She’ll come around.’
Will has no idea what she will come around to and changes the subject, ‘Why are the crests different colours?’
‘A bronze crest is for new students, those wet behind the ears so to speak,’ she says with a wink. ‘Silver is awarded to those who have successfully completed their training and their first mission. Gold is awarded to those outstanding students who have three successful missions under their belt. There is only one golden crest in the school and that belongs to Horne.’
Violet makes a vomiting gesture and leans toward Will conspiratorially, ‘Some of us know the truth about Horne. Successful missions – I don’t think so. Family connections got him the gold.’
Will is distracted when Eoin and the Major appear at the foot of the staircase. They are accompanied by several other adults, presumably schoolmasters.
The Major is talking to a slender man with a wide serious face and a long hook-like nose.
‘That master talking to the Major is Nicholas Morrow. MI6,’ says Violet. ‘Slippery fellow, if you ask me.’
Next to him is a taller lady with a dreamy expression and a whistle round her neck. It is the handsome woman from the picture in the Major’s office. Standing next to her is an Indian gentleman wearing a vivid green turban.
‘And that’s Miss Davenport, who teaches games and physical training. Mr Singh is Communications and Code Breaking.’
The Major stands on the stairs and faces the crowd, ‘Good morning,’ she says loudly.
The crowd continue to chatter, seemingly oblivious. She raises her arms and drops them slowly in a hushing motion, but no one seems to notice. She rolls her eyes and nods politely to the tall lady with the whistle. The masters cover their ears as she blows hard.
The chatter dwindles and fades to a whisper and then complete silence.
The Major nods her thanks and turns to the students. ‘Good morning all.’
‘Good morning,’ the students mumble in unison.
The Major smiles and then her expression turns grave. ‘In the last few days the Germans have walloped London and Coventry. There are many casualties and far too many deaths.’ She pauses for a moment, in thought, before continuing. ‘There are occupying forces in the Netherlands and we also know that, in the next few days, Paris will be taken. The Third Reich is spreading across Europe like a tumour.’
There is a grumbling from the students and Will senses a feeling of unease. He thinks it odd that in just over twenty-four hours he has come to terms with the war. It is part and parcel of this cold and dangerous existence he has woken up to.
‘…Never has the work of this school been more vital to the war effort. Your commitment and bravery will go down in history, which is why we must continue to learn and become the best at what we do.’
A rumble of agreement ripples through the crowd.
The Major gestures at Nicolas Morrow. ‘Some of you will know Mr Morrow. He is here to assess certain students for a posting at MI6. So please, do your best to impress.’
There is a murmur of excitement from the crowd.
The Major continues, ‘The war is not abating, it is building. The Army, the Navy, the Air Force all need new recruits and so do we. I am always on the lookout for new talent and today I would like to introduce you to a new addition to the school.’
Will stiffens.
‘I would ask you – no, I will tell you – to forget what you saw yesterday and welcome our new student, Will Starling.’
Will squirms inside as all heads turned to look at him.
He does not react to the gaze of the many curious eyes, but he can feel one pair in particular boring into him from the foot of the staircase. He turns to see Nicholas Morrow, frowning at him.
‘Will is going to undertake a fast-track training program with Mr Heaney as his mentor,’ says the Major. ‘So please, make him feel welcome.’
Everyone claps with the exception of Horne and his friends.
‘Righto, everyone. It’s almost 8.15 am and another school day begins,’ says the Major, rubbing her hands together.
The boys’ changing room is narrow, bare and cold, with a single row of grubby wooden benches dividing the limited floor space. Will stands among the bustle of boys, his nose wrinkling at the sour stench of unwashed bodies. There are suspicious glances and whispers in his direction. It is unsettling, but he is well aware that he is a stranger and, to some, an unwelcome outsider.
However, none of that concerns him. He has greater things to worry about. He drops his kit on the bench and removes his blazer, tie and shirt. He feels a shove from behind and stumbles forward banging his knee on the bench. There is laughter. He turns to see Horne’s spotty face looking down at him. With him is the large boy who had floored Will from behind yesterday. He towers over him like some sort of giant with a red face and pink pudgy fists.
‘Have you run many cross-country courses, Starling?’ says Horne, in a mocking tone.
Will rubs his knee and bristles. He has no memory of running any courses. ‘I’m sure if you can do it, it can’t be difficult.’
Horne raises his arms in a theatrical gesture and addresses the boys. ‘Observe how our new recruit brims with confidence.’
Laughter erupts.
Horne glares at Will and points at the crest on his blazer, ‘I am the only gold in this school. Do not forget that.’
Will’s hands curl into fists. He could take both of them out easily, in less than seven seconds by his calculation. Horne has made a mistake already by being too close. A knee in the groin would disable him and before his knees hit the ground, Will’s fist would be gracing the giant’s nose. Seven seconds. No more. Easy.
His heart begins to beat faster. A primal urge for violence surges through him. He so wants to teach these amateurs a lesson. They have it coming.
And then Horne leans forward, his face is so close Will almost gags on his stale breath. ‘It takes even the fittest person four weeks before they can complete this course. I am cross-country champion. You are…’ Horne looks Will up and down, ‘…nothing.’
Horne snorts and then walks to the other end of the changing room. The giant lingers to glare at Will through small button-like eyes.
‘Sneddon!’ barks Horne.
&nb
sp; The large boy flinches and backs away, jabbing a thick digit in the air at Will.
Will is relieved they have gone. His self-control was about to be tested but, lucky for those two, it wasn’t. He checks himself. His desire to hurt those two boys makes him shudder.
Who am I? What am I?
He is confident that in time he will know the answers to those questions but for now he must keep a low profile and not draw attention to himself by being rash and stupid. He glances over at the two boys.
That does not mean, however, that I cannot have some fun.
Chapter 16
The Race
Will makes his way to the front of Beaulieu House where the cross-country runners are gathering. It begins to spot with rain and goosebumps prickle his skin. The girls, including Violet, Anna and Horne’s friend Felicia are waiting. Despite the morning being cold and dull, there is an excited hum in the air.
Eoin stands at the front of the crowd, ‘Start warming up,’ he calls and begins jogging on the spot. ‘I want you to put everything you have into today’s race. Forget your aching muscles. Forget the stitch in your side. Forget your gasping lungs. Run like your life depends on it. Because one day, it will.’
A grim silence hangs over the crowd.
More rain begins to fall. Will looks upwards. Thick grey clouds are rolling across the sky like giant sheep. A feeling of déjà vu unsteadies him; a memory flashes into his mind: a rainy day in a remote and treacherous landscape. He is wearing dark green fatigues. There are others like him but bigger, older, with shaven heads. He knows them, but not their names. A voice is booming at them – a stern, angry voice. They are running across fields, up hills and mountainsides with heavy boots thumping on the coarse, uneven terrain. It is relentless and unforgiving.
‘Will!’
Will snaps out of his fug and sees the others running into the distance. Eoin is looking back at him, beckoning him to hurry. Will swears under his breath and springs after them, troubled by the memory.
He catches up with Eoin, who points to a wooded area in the distance. ‘We’re running through those woods, then along the river and across to the assault course. We’ll meet back here. It’s your first time, so do your best and try not to get lost.’
Eoin runs off in pursuit of the others.
Still spooked by the memory, Will lags behind, his performance hindered by a blurred sense of reality. Who am I? He rubs his head and feels the gash on his temple under this thick hair. It is still tender. The pain jolts him and he feels foolish. He looks ahead and tries to see where everyone is, but it is misty and the view is obscured. He increases his pace, breathing slowly through his nose and mouth, exhaling in time to the rhythm of his running.
He hears the crunching of twigs and turns to see a boy he doesn’t recognise leaping over a wire fence and disappearing into the woods. Will runs at the fence, leaps over it and sprints after him. The ground is uneven and slippery. Thick clustered trees slow him down. He runs for twenty minutes with no sighting of the boy or anyone else. He stops to get his bearings and catch his breath. He has a stitch in his side and his muscles burn with the exertion.
‘No resting!’ shouts Eoin from somewhere beyond the trees. Will focuses on the direction of his voice and runs toward it. Although he cannot see him, he can hear the Irishman’s fast and heavy footfalls and follows in their wake.
He estimates fifteen minutes has passed before he clears the woods and catches sight of Eoin and the others. They are running uphill, alongside a river. He sees Anna and Violet amongst the melee following Horne, who is way ahead of everyone.
Will steadies his breathing and takes measured sprints toward the crowd. Trailing behind them is the burly Sneddon, who glances back at him. He is red faced and struggling to get up the hill. Will passes him, narrowly missing a podgy pink fist swiping close to his face. He almost laughs but runs on passing three more boys and Felicia.
He runs for twenty minutes along the bank against the current and stops at what seems the most dangerous part. The water is swirling furiously, drowning out any other sound. Will watches as the others wade through the waist-high treacherous rapids. Beside him are Anna and Violet. They work as a team and hold on to each other as they step down. Will follows, but someone shoves him and he falls against Anna. They both topple over. Will swallows a mouthful of grey, gritty water as the undertow drags him downstream. He swims to the top and grabs hold of an old uprooted tree jutting overhead. Anna surfaces beside him, gasping for breath, her hair sodden and plastered to her face.
‘Grab my hand!’ calls Will.
Anna grips his arm and Will guides them out of the water and onto the muddy bank.
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ she shouts.
‘I just saved you!’
‘You’ve just cost me this race!’
Will opens his mouth to explain but Anna has is already making her way back down to the river. She wades across to the other side where Violet waits. Will can almost feel the steam coming out of his ears, and turns his attention to whoever pushed him. Felicia is the only one nearby. She smiles slyly, before hurrying up the bank and back into the race.
Will wades carefully through the water and hauls himself up the riverbank, plodding through the thick mud. He picks up his pace as the ground grows firmer and assesses what lies ahead. The runners are sprinting towards a wall that looks like a great brick slab plonked in the middle of the countryside. It is approximately fifteen foot wide and twenty foot tall. It is less than quarter of a mile ahead, perhaps one thousand feet. If he runs uninterrupted, he could make it in three minutes, maybe less. He inhales and exhales, filling his lungs with oxygen, and springs forward.
The runners are spread out. Felicia glances back at him, but Will ignores her. He can see Violet and Anna following in the tracks of Horne who is still leading, and almost halfway to the wall. Will hurries forward and breaks into a sprint. Like a hound pursuing a fox, he focuses on Horne and pounds across the field.
Now is my time to have fun.
Felicia turns to face him, raising her arms like some sort of goalkeeper trying to prevent him from getting to the back of the net, but Will runs wide and skims past her. He overtakes several more runners and sees five ropes hanging down from the wall. Horne, Violet and Anna are almost there and leap across a pool of water at the foot of the wall. They begin climbing the ropes.
Will leaps across the small pool like a long-jump athlete and reaches for the thick rope, but he slams against the wall, his hands gripping desperately, his knuckles grazed and bleeding against the rough bricks. The rope is slippery. It is difficult to maintain purchase. He tightens his grip and pulls with all his strength, but he keeps inching further down. He grits his teeth and holds on, but the rain crashes down, hampering his efforts. He blinks and tries to look above but the water stings his eyes. He wipes them with his forearm and sees Horne almost at the top. Anna and Violet are close behind but are struggling against the downpour. Their technique is poor, with limbs wrapped around the rope, they haul their weight slowly up. In this weather, there is a better way to climb a slippery rope. Using one foot, Will catches the rope and with the other he creates a loop. He is then able to stand on the rope with ease and haul himself upwards.
He is close to the top when he sees a shadow looming directly above him. Horne is crouched, watching him like a hyena stalking its prey. Will hesitates, suspicious. He glances down and swallows, his throat dry. If he slips, or there is an accident, he could be done for. He steadies his breathing and carries on climbing, his eyes never leaving Horne’s. He reaches forward, his fingers gripping the ledge. Horne stands up and raises his foot. He presses it down on Will’s fingers. The pain is unbearable. He hears Violet shouting at Horne to stop, but his strength is sapping, he can’t keep his grip and then he falls. Scrambling for purchase, Will clings to the slippery rope, his hands and legs burning with the friction. Eventually, he stops his slide and looks up to see Felicia hopping over the
edge. Violet and Anna are looking down from the top. Violet is waving her arms, shouting for him to climb up.
Will is sodden, his muscles ache, the skin on his hands and legs feels like it is on fire. He wants to cry out, but he won’t let himself. He must not give up. Ignoring the pain, he climbs back to the top.
Violet and Anna have already taken off. He can see Eoin in the distance beside a row of monkey bars, gesturing at everyone to hurry. Horne is ahead; Felicia, Violet and Anna are following close behind. He looks quickly at his hands. The skin is hanging off. He removes his vest, tears it in two and wraps the material around his palms and fingers. He slides quickly down the rope. His feet hit the ground lightly and he springs forward. Breathing through his mouth and nose, he increases his pace and soon flies past Felicia, who shouts some obscenity at him.
Horne is crossing the monkey bars with Anna and Violet inches behind him. Will leaps onto them, wincing at the pain in his hands, but thankful they are protected with his ripped vest.
Horne, Anna and Violet are neck and neck, heading toward what look like shallow underground tunnels. Horne crawls into one; Violet and Anna dip into the other.
Will drops off the bars and hurries toward the tunnels. He dives into the tunnel behind Horne. There is no light. It is cold and wet with an earthy smell, like a long empty grave. He can hear Horne squelching through the mud. Will tries to catch him up but his hands and knees sink in the quagmire, slowing his progress. He pulls them out and lies down on his front with his arms and legs flat, crawling across the surface of the mud, ignoring the stones and wood that scrape his bare chest. He should be spent, but a fire burns in him and he carries on.
But then something tugs at his foot. It is a hand. Felicia! Will pulls his foot away, freeing from the grip but losing a plimsole at the same time. Felicia grabs him again. She is strong, but he pulls his foot free and crawls fast toward the opening where the back of Horne’s head is framed.
Sleeper Page 8
