Upstairs. Infirmary. Objects. Locked up. I seen them! They’re alive, ain’t they? Moving they were. But locked up, locked alive. I shan’t tell, keep it safe. But I’ll burst with it. Things, things are breathing! Won’t keep still. Won’t tell anyone. Master Moorcus needed five new steel rim locks. Mustn’t tell anyone, he says. Why so many? Why so much? And he wanted all the keys to them, none for me. But I keep extra, just in case. And when he was at his schooling. I looked, I gandered. Something in there, something in there I didn’t like! I heard it in Moorcus’s room. Heard it moving! Mustn’t tell, mustn’t tell. But must tell someone, must tell someone, must tell or burst. So I made a decision, decision to tell this paper, only this paper and then lock it up good. Lock it in Piggott room, in safe there, the tall one what says CHATWOOD’S DOUBLE PATENT BOLTON, lock it in there. The safe shall know the secret. Big safe. Bolton. Bolt. That safe looks at me. Knows, it does.

Lock it, lock it.

Safe.

Solly.

6

A KEY TO A PIANOFORTE AND A CHALKBOARD RUBBER

Clod Iremonger’s narrative continued

The Silent One

Cousin Moorcus had me by the ear.

‘I haven’t done anything, Moorcus; you should let me go.’

‘It’s Mr Moorcus to you, maggot.’

‘You’ve no right.’

‘I’ve every right. Keep your foul gob shut.’

‘I haven’t got the door handle.’

‘Whoever said you had? Straighten up, toerag,’ he said and as he said it he punched me in the stomach.

‘Straighten up, I said!’

When I tried to stand up he kicked me.

‘Can you not keep upright, Clod? Are you not capable?’

He kicked.

‘Why?’ I gasped.

‘For being Clod, what else? And that’s enough all on its own.’

I lay on the floor. Moorcus bent over me, he quickly put his hand in my waistcoat pocket, pulled something out.

‘James Henry Hayward.’

‘No, Moorcus, please!’

‘Get up,’ he said, ‘come on, you mutt, let us run!’

He had hold of James Henry, he pulled the chain.

‘No, Moorcus, it’s expressly against house rules!’

‘Don’t talk to me of rules, I’ll make the rules with you, dog, up, up! Get up!’

He pulled me by my plug and I ran along beside him, hurrying to keep up, lest some damage occur to my poor plug.

‘Come, mongrel pup, trot, trot!’

He marched faster so I should run beside him, fretting so. He took me back down the stairs and then into the prefects’ common room where the promoted Iremonger boys hung about. Stunly and Duvit were there, hair slicked back, smoking clay pipes, drinking sherry and putting on the usual show of adulthood and prosperity.