Over supper, Martin eats his way through the steak and kidney pie, evidently with nothing more to say. William knows that Evelyn would be furious to see Howard in the chapel with Robert, and they would be mortified to be there against her wishes. The letter, when he sends it, will be a ticking time bomb. But he knows something else too, and it feels bigger and stronger than all the other things; the ‘Miserere’ is not just any piece of music. And if his mother, his uncle and Howard are there to hear it, to hear him sing it, somehow, eventually, it will be all right. Plus, it’s such a relief to be speaking to Martin again, it coalesces in William’s heart as the right thing to do, the answer to everything.

Quiet and pensive over supper, Martin becomes riotous once the bedtime routine begins. William wonders if it’s out of relief, that they are maybe inching back to their old way of being.

Eleven boys, including William, are in bed, while Martin stands on his, surveying the room. He claps his hands, looks at the wall clock.

‘Four minutes. Someone? Anyone?’

Martin throws off his pyjamas, wobbling a little on the mattress as he balances on one leg, then the other. Excitement jitters from bed to bed. Martin beats his chest, his gaze sweeping the room for a taker. When William first saw Martin do this, more than three years ago, his body was hairless. Now there is a soft red cloud around his swinging penis and under his arms.

‘Come on! Someone!’

More than once, Martin has leapt from bed to bed on his own, unable to draw anyone else in, but sometimes, like tonight, he won’t stop until someone joins him. Most have accepted the challenge, but not William, unable to imagine being bold and reckless without any pants on. And there is always the real possibility of being caught. The last time, Martin was given five whacks, and since it was by no means the first time, an appointment with the school psychiatrist.

‘OK,’ says William, climbing out of bed, discarding his pyjamas and jumping up alongside Martin. And he thinks no matter how embarrassing this is going to be, it will have been worth it for the smile on Martin’s face right now.

‘Get a move on!’ someone says. ‘Only three minutes left!’

‘You go clockwise, I’ll go anti,’ says Martin, gesticulating the directions, turning William round, their bare rumps nudging against each other.

William feels the scrutiny of the dorm, but the rush of adrenaline is an unexpected surprise. He’s ready for this. Martin lifts a three-fingered hand. ‘Three.’ He flips one finger down. ‘Two.’ Then another: ‘One!’