Tim took a deep breath. ‘I’m… I’m being… It’s the rules, I know, and I should just put up with it, but… the Captains, they beat me every day. I only wanted to ask, is it ever going to stop? Does it stop when I’m in the second year?’

Smith put down the apple, and looked around the room, lost for words. Finally, he answered. ‘I don’t know. Does it? Is there anything I can do? I’ll tell them to stop⁠ —’

‘No! Don’t!’

‘No, no, then I won’t, no…’ Smith held up his hands in pacification. ‘Does it happen to everybody?’

‘No. They do a few things to the others, and they call Anand and Alton names. But it’s only me that they give a beating to every day.’

Smith wandered into the middle of the room, biting his lip in concentration. There seemed to be nothing inside him to answer the boy. He’d never been bullied⁠ — or had he? If he had, he didn’t remember. What would Rocastle say?

‘It’s part of growing up.’ He gazed into the corner of the room. ‘It’s everyday. Cat eat dog. Survival of the fittest. A place like this⁠ — it’s full of rules. Full of customs. And they have to be obeyed. It’s just the way things are. Discipline. The making of a man. One day, you’ll be a captain, and then you can beat who you want. You’ve got that to look forward to.’ He turned back to Timothy and managed to meet his pained eyes. ‘Does that help?’

Timothy didn’t answer for a moment, looking at Smith almost accusingly. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’ He almost ran out of the room.

Smith stared after him. ‘Or you could always burn their houses down,’ he whispered to himself.

The door opened and Rocastle entered, beaming. He glanced behind him at the departing Timothy. ‘John, I do believe I’ve misjudged you!’

‘Sorry?’ Smith went back to his case and finished packing up.

‘Well, I was on the way here to give you a bit of a lecture, something mad and racy about Boadicea, I heard. But I stopped to have a glance at the cricket team selection and heard you giving that strange Dean boy a wonderful talking-to. That’s just the spirit! Tell me, would you be interested in helping out with the OTC?’

‘The OTC?’

‘Officer Training Corps; probably don’t have them in Scotland. There’s a session tomorrow afternoon. We do it every Saturday. Can’t ask you to come along on your time off, but…’

‘I’ll pop my head around the parade ground.’

‘Good… good! Well, keep it up!’ Rocastle slapped Smith on the shoulder, and left, rubbing his hands together. He stopped at the door.