27
THE HEADMASTER WOULD have been the first to admit that the boy who had taken a couple of days off to assist his uncle at the general election was not the same young man who returned to Beechcroft Abbey a few days later.
Sebastian’s housemaster, Mr Richards, described it as his ‘St Paul on the road to Bristol’ epiphany, because when Clifton came back to begin swotting for his end-of-term exams, he was no longer satisfied with simply coasting and relying on the natural gift for languages and maths that had always got him over the finishing line in the past. For the first time in his life he began to work just as hard as his less gifted chums, Bruno Martinez and Vic Kaufman.
When the results of their O levels were posted on the school notice board, no one was surprised that all three of them would be starting the new academic year in the sixth form, although several people, not including his aunt Grace, were amazed when Sebastian was invited to join the select group who were chosen to sit for a prize scholarship to Cambridge.
Sebastian’s housemaster agreed that Clifton, Kaufman and Martinez could share a study during their final year, and although Sebastian seemed to be working just as hard as his two friends, Mr Richards told the headmaster it still worried him that the boy might at some time revert to his old ways. Those misgivings might have proved unfounded if four separate incidents hadn’t taken place during Sebastian’s last year at Beechcroft Abbey that would shape his future.
The first occurred early in the new term, when Bruno invited Sebastian and Vic to join him and his father for supper at the Beechcroft Arms to celebrate defeating the examiners. Sebastian happily accepted, and was looking forward to a further introduction to the joys of champagne when the celebration was called off at the last moment. Bruno explained that something had arisen that caused his father to change his plans.
‘More likely he changed his mind,’ said Vic after Bruno had left for choir practice.
‘What are you getting at?’ asked Sebastian, looking up from his prep.
‘I think you’ll find that when Mr Martinez discovered I was Jewish, and Bruno wouldn’t agree to celebrate without me, he called the whole thing off.’
‘I could quite understand him calling the whole thing off because you’re a wet and a weed, Kaufman, but who gives a damn that you’re Jewish?’
‘Far more people than you realize,’ said Vic. ‘Don’t you remember when Bruno invited you to his fifteenth birthday party? He explained at the time that he was only allowed to take one guest, and it would be my turn next. We Jews don’t forget these things.’
‘I still can’t believe Mr Martinez would cancel the dinner for no other reason than that you’re Jewish.’
‘Of course you can’t, Seb, but that’s only because your parents are civilized. They don’t judge people on which cot they were born in, and they’ve passed that lack of prejudice on to you, without you being aware of it. But sadly you don’t represent the majority, even in this school.’
Sebastian wanted to protest, but his friend had more to say on the subject.
‘I know some people think we Jews are paranoid about the Holocaust – and who could blame us after the revelations that keep coming out about what really took place in those German concentration camps? But believe me, Seb, I can smell an anti-Semite at thirty paces, and it will only be a matter of time before your sister has to face up to the same problem.’
Sebastian burst out laughing. ‘Jessica’s not Jewish. A little bohemian perhaps, but not Jewish.’
‘I can assure you, Seb, although I’ve only met her once, she’s Jewish.’
It took a lot to render Sebastian speechless, but Vic had managed it.
The second incident happened during the summer holiday, when Sebastian joined his father in his study to go through his end-of-year report. Sebastian was glancing at the large selection of family photographs on Harry’s desk when one in particular caught his attention: a picture of his mother linked arm in arm with his father and Uncle Giles on the lawn of the Manor House. Mama must have been about twelve, perhaps thirteen at the time, and was dressed in her Red Maids’ school uniform. For a moment Sebastian thought it was Jessica, they looked so alike. Surely it was nothing more than a trick of the light. But then he recalled their visit to Dr Barnardo’s, and how quickly his parents had given way when he insisted that Jessica was the only girl he would consider for a sister.
‘Overall, very satisfactory,’ said his father after he’d turned the last page of Sebastian’s report. ‘I’m sorry you’re dropping Latin, but I’m sure the headmaster will have had his reasons for that. And I agree with Dr Banks-Williams that, if you continue to work hard, you’ve got a good chance of winning a scholarship to Cambridge.’ Harry smiled. ‘Banks-Williams is not a man given to hyperbole, but he told me on speech day that he’s making arrangements for you to visit his old college some time next term, as he hopes you’ll follow in his footsteps at Peterhouse, where of course he was himself the prize scholar.’
Sebastian was still staring at the photograph.
‘Did you hear what I just said?’ asked his father.
‘Papa,’ said Seb quietly, ‘don’t you think the time has come to tell me the truth about Jessica?’ He transferred his gaze from the photograph to his father.
Harry pushed the report to one side, hesitated for a moment, then sat back and told Sebastian everything. He started with how Sebastian’s grandfather had died at the hands of Olga Piotrovska, then moved on to the little girl who had been discovered in a basket in his office, and how Emma had tracked her down to a Barnardo’s home in Bridgwater. When he came to the end, Sebastian only had one question.
‘And when will you tell her the truth?’
‘I ask myself that same question every day.’
‘But why have you waited so long, Papa?’
‘Because I don’t want her to have to go through what you told me your friend Vic Kaufman experiences every day.’
‘Jessica will go through far worse if she stumbles across the truth herself,’ said Sebastian.
Harry was shocked by his next question.
‘Do you want me to tell her?’
Harry stared in disbelief at his 17-year-old son. When does a child become an adult, he wondered. ‘No,’ he finally said. ‘Your mother and I must take that responsibility. But we’ll have to find the right moment.’
‘There won’t be a right moment,’ said Seb.
Harry tried to recall the last time he heard those words.
The third incident arose when Sebastian fell in love for the first time. Not with a woman, but a city. It was love at first sight, because he’d never come across anything so beautiful, demanding, desirable and tempting all at the same time. By the time he turned his back on her to go back to Beechcroft, he was even more determined to see his name printed in gold leaf on the school’s honours board.
Once Sebastian had returned from Cambridge, he began to work hours he hadn’t realized existed, and even the headmaster was beginning to believe that the unlikely might prove possible. But then Sebastian met his second love, which caused the final incident.
He had been aware of Ruby’s existence for some time, but it wasn’t until his final term at Beechcroft that he really noticed her. He might not have done so even then if she hadn’t touched his hand while he was standing at the serving plate waiting for a bowl of porridge. Sebastian assumed it was an accident, and wouldn’t have given it a second thought if it hadn’t happened again the next day.
He was queuing for a second helping of porridge, despite the fact that Ruby had already given him more than anyone else the first time round. As he turned to go back to his table, Ruby pressed a slip of paper into his hand. He didn’t read it until he was alone in his study after breakfast.
See you in Skool Lane at five?
Sebastian was well aware that School Lane was out of bounds, and if a boy was caught there he would get six of the best from his housemaster. But he thought it was worth the risk.
When the bell rang to announce the end of the final lesson, Seb slipped out of the classroom and took a long, circuitous route around the playing fields before climbing over a wooden fence and stumbling down a steep bank into School Lane. He was fifteen minutes late, but Ruby appeared from behind a tree and headed straight for him. Sebastian thought she looked quite different, and not just because she wasn’t wearing an apron and had changed into a white blouse and a black pleated skirt. She had also let her hair down, and it was the first time he had seen her wearing lipstick.
They didn’t find a lot to talk about, but after that first encounter they met twice, sometimes three times a week, but never for more than half an hour, as they both had to be back in time for supper at six o’clock.
Seb had kissed Ruby several times during their second get-together before she introduced him to the sensation of what happened when their lips parted and their tongues touched. However, he didn’t progress much beyond groping and trying to discover different parts of her body as they hid behind a tree. But with only a fortnight to go before the end of term, she allowed him to undo the buttons of her blouse and place a hand on her breast. A week later he located the clip on the back of her bra, and decided that once the exams were over, he was going to graduate in two subjects.
And that’s when it all went wrong.
28
‘RUSTICATED?’
‘You have left me with no choice, Clifton.’
‘But there are only four days to go before the end of term, sir.’
‘And heaven knows what you’d get up to during that time if I didn’t rusticate you,’ countered the headmaster.
‘But what have I done to deserve such a harsh punishment, sir?’
‘I think you know only too well what you’ve done, Clifton, but if you wish me to spell out how many school rules you’ve broken in the last few days, I will happily do so.’
Sebastian had to stop himself from grinning as he recalled his latest escapade.
Dr Banks-Williams lowered his head and studied some notes he’d jotted down before summoning the boy to his study. It was some time before he spoke again.
‘As there is less than a week to go before the end of term, Clifton, and as you have completed your final exams, I might have turned a blind eye to you being caught smoking in the old pavilion, even ignored the empty beer bottle found under your bed, but your latest indiscretion cannot be dismissed that easily.’
‘My latest indiscretion?’ repeated Sebastian, enjoying the headmaster’s embarrassment.
‘Being found in your study with a serving maid after lights out.’
Sebastian wanted to ask if it would have been all right if she hadn’t been a serving maid, and he’d left the lights on. However, he realized that such levity might land him in even deeper trouble, and that if he hadn’t won an open scholarship to Cambridge, the first the school had achieved for over a generation, he might well have been expelled, and not just rusticated. But he was already considering how he could turn his rustication from a disgrace into a badge of honour. After Ruby had made it clear that, for a small remuneration, she was willing to pass on her favours, Sebastian had happily accepted her terms, and she’d agreed to climb through the window of his study after lights out that evening. Although it had been the first time Sebastian had seen a naked woman, it quickly became clear to him that Ruby had climbed through that window before. The headmaster interrupted his thoughts.
‘I need to ask you something, man to man,’ he said, sounding even more pompous than usual. ‘Your response may well influence my decision as to whether I advise the admissions tutor at Cambridge to withdraw your scholarship, which would be a great sadness for us all at Beechcroft. However, my paramount responsibility is to uphold the school’s reputation.’
Sebastian clenched his fists, and tried to remain calm. Being rusticated was one thing, but losing his place at Cambridge would be quite another. He stood there, waiting for the headmaster to continue.
‘Take your time before you answer my next question, Clifton, because it may well determine your future. Did Kaufman or Martinez play any part in your –’ the headmaster hesitated, clearly searching for the right word, but finally settled on repeating – ‘indiscretions?’
Sebastian suppressed a smile. The idea of Victor Kaufman uttering the word ‘knickers’, let alone trying to remove said article of clothing from Ruby, would have caused incredulity and mirth, even among the lower fifth.
‘I can assure you, headmaster,’ said Sebastian, ‘that Victor has never, to my knowledge, smoked a cigarette or taken a sip of beer. And as for women, he’s embarrassed when he has to undress in front of Matron.’
The headmaster smiled. Clearly Clifton had given the answer he’d wanted to hear, and it had the added advantage of being the truth.
‘And Martinez?’
Sebastian had to think on his feet if was going to save his closest friend. He and Bruno had been inseparable since Sebastian had come to his aid during a dormitory pillow fight in his first term, when the new boy’s only crime was being ‘Johnny Foreigner’ and, even worse, hailing from a country that didn’t play cricket, a pastime Sebastian loathed – which only made their bond stronger. Sebastian knew that Bruno indulged in the occasional cigarette, and he had once joined him at a local pub for a beer, but only after their exams. He also knew that Bruno wouldn’t be averse to what Ruby had to offer. What he couldn’t be sure of was how much the headmaster already knew. Added to that was the fact that Bruno had also been offered a place at Cambridge in September and, although he’d only met his friend’s father a couple of times, he wouldn’t want to be the one held responsible for his son not going up to Cambridge.
‘And Martinez?’ the headmaster repeated a little more firmly.
‘Bruno, as I’m sure you know, headmaster, is a devout Roman Catholic, and he has told me on several occasions that the first woman he sleeps with will be his wife.’ That much was true, even if he hadn’t expressed that view quite so vociferously lately.
The headmaster nodded thoughtfully, and Sebastian wondered for a moment if he’d got away with it, until Dr Banks-Williams added, ‘And what about the smoking and drinking?’
‘He did once try a cigarette during the holidays,’ admitted Sebastian, ‘but it made him sick, and to my knowledge he hasn’t indulged since.’ Well, not since last night, he was tempted to add. The headmaster looked unconvinced. ‘And I did see him drink a glass of champagne on one occasion, but only after he’d been offered a place at Cambridge. And he was with his father at the time.’
What Sebastian didn’t admit was that after Mr Martinez had driven them back to school in his red Rolls-Royce that evening, Sebastian had smuggled the bottle into his study, where they’d finished it off after lights out. But Sebastian had read too many of his father’s detective novels not to know that guilty people often condemn themselves by saying one sentence too many.
‘I am obliged, Clifton, for your frankness in this matter. It can’t have been easy for you to be questioned about a friend. Nobody likes a sneak.’
This was followed by another long pause, but Sebastian didn’t break it.
‘Clearly there is no reason for me to trouble Kaufman,’ the headmaster eventually managed, ‘although I will need to have a word with Martinez, just to ensure he doesn’t break any school rules during his last few days at Beechcroft.’
Sebastian smiled, as a bead of sweat trickled down his nose.
‘Nevertheless, I have written to your father, explaining why you will be returning home a few days early. But because of your candour and evident remorse, I shall not be informing the admissions tutor at Cambridge that you have been rusticated.’
‘I’m most grateful, sir,’ said Sebastian, sounding genuinely relieved.
‘You will now return to your study, pack your belongings and prepare to leave immediately. Your housemaster has been forewarned, and will sort out your travel arrangements to Bristol.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Sebastian, his head bowed, for fear the headmaster might see the smirk on his face.
‘Do not attempt to contact either Kaufman or Martinez before you leave the school premises. And one other thing, Clifton, school rules will still apply to you until the last day of term. Should you break even one of them, I will not hesitate to reconsider my position concerning your place at Cambridge. Is that understood?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Sebastian.
‘Let us hope you have learnt something from this experience, Clifton, something that will benefit you in the future.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Sebastian, as the headmaster rose from behind his desk and handed him a letter.
‘Please give this to your father as soon as you get home.’
‘I most certainly will,’ said Sebastian, placing the letter in an inside pocket of his jacket.
The headmaster thrust out his hand and Sebastian shook it, but without a great deal of enthusiasm.
‘Good luck, Clifton,’ the headmaster said unconvincingly.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Sebastian replied, before closing the door quietly behind him.
The headmaster sat back down, well satisfied with how the meeting had gone. He was relieved, though not surprised, that Kaufman had not been involved in such a distasteful incident, especially as his father, Saul Kaufman, was a school governor, as well as chairman of Kaufman’s Bank, one of the most respected financial institutions in the City of London.
And he certainly didn’t want to fall out with Martinez’s father, who had recently hinted that he would be giving a donation of ￡10,000 to the school library appeal if his son was offered a place at Cambridge. He wasn’t altogether sure how Don Pedro Martinez had made his fortune, but any fees or extras were always paid by return of post.
Clifton, on the other hand, had been a problem from the moment he had walked through the school gates. The headmaster had tried to be understanding, in view of all that the boy’s mother and father had been through, but there was a limit to how much the school could be expected to tolerate. In fact, if Clifton hadn’t been likely to win that open scholarship to Cambridge, Dr Banks-Williams wouldn’t have hesitated to expel him some time ago. He was glad to have finally seen the back of him, and only hoped he wouldn’t join the Old Boys.
‘Old Boys,’ he said out loud, jogging his memory. He was due to address their annual dinner in London that evening, when he would present his end-of-term report; his last, after fifteen years as headmaster. He didn’t much care for the Welshman who had been chosen to succeed him; the sort of chap who didn’t tie his bow tie, and probably would have let Clifton off with a warning.
His secretary had typed up his speech and left a copy on his desk for him to go over in case he wanted to make some late changes. He would have liked to read it one more time, but having to deal with Clifton had made that impossible. Any last-minute emendations would have to be added by hand during the train journey up to London.
He checked his watch, placed the speech in his briefcase and headed upstairs to his private quarters. He was pleased to find that his wife had already packed his dinner jacket and trousers, a starched white shirt, a bow tie, a change of socks and a wash bag. He’d made it clear to the chairman of the Old Boys that he didn’t approve when they’d voted to stop wearing white tie and tails for the annual dinner.
His wife drove him to the station, and they arrived only minutes before the express to Paddington was due. He purchased a first-class return ticket and hurried across the bridge to the far platform, where an engine was just coming to a halt before disgorging its passengers. He stepped on to the platform and checked his watch again. Four minutes to spare. He nodded to the guard, who was exchanging a red flag for a green one.
‘All aboard,’ the guard shouted, as the headmaster headed for the first-class section at the front of the train.
He climbed into the carriage and sank back into a corner seat, only to be greeted by a cloud of smoke. A disgusting habit. He agreed with The Times’ correspondent who had recently suggested that the Great Western Railway should designate far more no-smoking carriages for first-class passengers.
The headmaster took the speech out of his briefcase and placed it on his lap. He looked up as the smoke cleared, and saw him sitting on the other side of the carriage.