The boy leans over and rests his hands on the floor of the bath. His spine curves into a frill of little bumps. As Matron pours the water over his head and body, he exhales quickly as if he’s been punched. A couple of drops ricochet onto William. He flinches. It’s freezing.

The boy uncurls, scurries to a row of pegs and snatches one of the thin towels. Matron refills the jug from the sink behind her. Martin steps sideways into the vacated space. His belly wobbles slightly as he puts his broad hands flat on the bath and his upside-down face scrunches into a different shape.

‘Shuffle up!’ she snaps at William, once Martin has moved away and started rubbing his body, beaming with relief, or maybe encouragement. But William doesn’t move. He waits for what seems a long time for Matron to look up from the bath. When she finally meets his gaze, William smiles politely and shakes his head.

‘Not for me, thank you, Matron. It’s too cold.’

The boy on his left sniggers, then stifles it. Matron’s face is surprised into a moment of softness before she grabs him, her thumb easily meeting her fingers round his upper arm, and pulls him next to her.

‘I’m afraid his Lordship doesn’t get to choose.’

He hears another laugh from the boy on his left. Then his head is pushed down and a cascade of cold water shoots up his nose, into his eyes, through his ears, and its icy fingers curl around his tummy. The pale lino glitters with water. His gasp is loud and high.

He straightens up, water blurring his vision, and hurries away. He buries his face in a towel for a few seconds before wiping himself down.

▪ ▪ ▪

‘If you’re on the way to a whacking, nick a handkerchief from here.’ Dressed now, they leave the dorm to go for breakfast, and an invigorated Martin points towards a huge cupboard on the landing. ‘Mr Atkinson can tell if you’ve got a towel stuffed down your trousers, but handkerchiefs slide nicely into your underpants.’

‘A whacking?’ William has only met the headmaster twice, but he hadn’t seemed at all violent. ‘What do you get that for?’ His body is still smarting from the cold water.

‘Last one was for bed hopping.’

‘What’s that?’ William’s feet patter lightly down the staircase behind the rhythmic pound of Martin’s two-steps-at-a-time leaps.

‘Two minutes before Matron’s due to check lights are out, you jump from bed to bed till you’re back at your own.’

They are overtaking Charles and the other probationers in the corridor. William concentrates on Martin as they slip into the dining hall ahead of them.

‘How many beds?’

‘Ten.’

‘Crikey.’

‘And you do it naked.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You do the bed hop naked.’