Just then, the door to Neff's office flew open and Neff stepped out into the hallway. The sudden interruption broke Damien's trance; he shook his head free and blinked his eyes. Teddy sat slumped in the corner. The sound had subsided. The other cadets stood absolutely still.

'What are you doing on the floor?' Neff asked Teddy.

Teddy said nothing. He just sat there, whimpering and rubbing his jaw.

'Who hit you?' Neff persisted.

Teddy struggled to stand up. 'Nobody, sir.' It wasn't exactly a lie.

Neff seemed to accept that. 'Okay,' he said. 'Foster next.' He turned and walked back into his office. The cadet named Foster folowed him in, closing the door quietly behind him.

The silence that ensued was unbearable. Finally Damien pushed his way through the cadets who were now crowding around Teddy, and made his way outside. Mark was close on his heels.

Halfway down the wide outdoor steps, Mark caught up with Damien. 'What did you do to him?’ he asked, genuinely concerned.

'I don't know,' said Damien. He meant it. He had hardly known what was happening or who was responsible for it. Maybe he was going crazy, too, like his father.

Mark put his arm around him, and they walked this way for a while. Finally, Mark said, 'They've asked me to join the band.'

Damien smiled, glad for the change of subject. 'Hey,' he said, 'that's great!' He almost seemed to be himself again—carefree, funny, charismatic. He had a twinkle in his eye as he nudged Mark gently. ‘Once around the field,' he said, pushing Mark in front of him. 'I'll give you a head start!'

And off they went, shouting and laughing, running across the field, working off their youthful energy and high spirits.

Like any other kids.

***

In the Thorn household, the mansion was being put to rest for another winter. The maids shook out voluminous white dust-covers and placed them over the furniture, making the house a mixture of museum and mortuary.

Ann came out of the dining room and hurried up the wide marble stairs that led to the second-floor bedrooms. Supervising this particular part of the Thorns' annual routine always depressed her, so she tried to get through it as quickly as possible.

When she reached the second floor, she approached the maids collecting the dirty linen from the various bedrooms. She singled out one in passing.

'Is Miss Marion dressed yet, Jennie?'

The maid shook her head. 'I don't think she's awake, Mrs Thorn. I knocked earlier, but she didn't answer.'

‘Thank you,' Ann said as she brushed past Jennie and headed for Aunt Marion's door. When she got there, she rapped twice, sharply.

There was no answer.

Ann cocked her head to listen but heard nothing. 'Aunt Marion,' she said, 'you don't want to miss your plane!'

Still nothing.