‘Morning, Adebisi,’ Mr Apple said, with a grin Julius found unsuitable for the hour. ‘My office, ten minutes.’

‘Eh?’ Julius murmured dopily, defending sleepy eyes from light coming through the door as Mr Apple headed out.

‘I’ll send flowers to your funeral,’ Matt yawned as Julius pulled yesterday’s shirt over his head and hopped into school trousers.

Julius was more curious than worried. Mr Apple had done Julius’s induction when he’d arrived at The Hall and, despite looking like he could smash most men with a stare, the young games master seemed a good guy.

Julius’s brain was woolly as he strode past a man running a floor polisher and headed for an office close to the boys’ changing rooms. Steam and sweat lingered from the day before.

‘Have a seat, big fella,’ Mr Apple said.

It was a tiny office, with a tracksuit drying over the radiator.

‘I tried to catch you during study period last night, but I was dealing with this house feud,’ Mr Apple explained. ‘I wanted to know how you’re settling in.’

Julius yawned as he sat in a battered foam chair.

‘Would it be fair to say things have been going well?’ Mr Apple began.

Julius nodded. ‘It’s more chilled than my old school in Akure. I like having girls around and teachers who are almost human.’

Mr Apple laughed, then slapped his rock-hard stomach. ‘You look fitter too. Must be the soccer and that weight training I made you sign up for.’

‘Throw in weight loss from the tasteless food,’ Julius added.

‘I’ve been thinking about your soccer,’ Mr Apple said. ‘You won’t win many foot races, but you’ve got height and your positioning is excellent. And for a central defender, speed is less important than being in the right place to start with.’

Julius didn’t look convinced. ‘It is?’

‘After half-term, I’m moving you up from house team to the second squad.’

Julius was flattered, but wary. ‘They train more, don’t they?’

‘Two sessions per week, alongside the first team.’

Julius didn’t love the idea of training outdoors through an English winter. But soccer was mostly fun, and he trusted Mr Apple because he’d recommended weight training. It hadn’t turned all of Julius’s flab to muscle, but his arms and chest were bulkier, and a stronger core had done wonders for the stooped posture.

‘I’m happy to try, sir,’ Julius agreed.

‘Are you flying back to Nigeria for the break?’

Julius shook his head. ‘Just London.’

‘Oh well, Christmas isn’t far off,’ Mr Apple said.

‘Exactly,’ Julius said, not mentioning that he probably wouldn’t be flying home then, either.

Julius had two lessons after breakfast, then five forms headed into chapel for the end of term service. Helicopter landings obliterated parts of the service, and by the time pupils emerged, The Hall’s driveway was choked with cars.