Mossop stared at him wide-eyed before joining him, ‘We’re not allowed on the lawn,’ he said spinning his head around to see if anyone was watching.

‘You don’t have a choice.’

Cardilini walked to the centre of the quadrangle with Mossop following and sat on a low wall encircling a large lemon-scented gum tree. ‘Take a seat.’

Mossop sat a little distance from Cardilini, still looking around to see who was watching.

‘I want you to see something,’ Cardilini said, pulling the sketch from his pocket, ‘The other night you placed this at the base of that tree. Why?’

‘No I didn’t,’ Mossop answered sharply.

‘Your name’s on it,’ Cardilini said.

‘No it’s not.’ Cardilini turned the sheet over. ‘Oh. That side. Yeah, well,’ Mossop said.

‘You were seen.’

‘No we weren’t.’

‘Placing a rock on it.’

‘Who saw us?’ Mossop asked.

‘Does it matter?’

‘I want to know who dobbed.’

‘It wasn’t a student,’ Cardilini replied.

‘Oh. Will I get into trouble?’

‘What does it mean?’

Mossop looked around before indicating the lemon-scented gum tree under which they sat, ‘These trees drop their branches.’

Cardilini turned and looked up at the tree, ‘When?’

‘Anytime they haven’t enough water.’

‘Stupid place for it then,’ Cardilini said.

‘That’s what my dad said,’ Mossop said smiling.

‘So what does this sketch mean?’ Cardilini persisted.

‘What?’ Mossop asked, looking to the tree.

‘The sketch.’

Mossop pondered for a moment, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Why do it then?’

‘We saw another one and thought it meant something, so we did one too.’

‘But yours is different.’

‘No it’s not,’ Mossop replied affronted.

‘What do you think it means?’

‘No idea. Aren’t you going to ask me about Captain Edmund?’ Mossop asked enthusiastically.

‘What would I ask?’

‘If it was a shooting accident?’

‘Was it?’

‘Yes,’ Mossop replied sharply very pleased with himself.

Cardilini looked at Mossop for a moment before asking, ‘What did Carmody say to you?’

‘He said not to disgrace myself.’

‘He didn’t tell you anything else?’

‘No.’

Cardilini looked across to the boarders’ dormitory block, the broad tall windows with limestone surrounds and a giant portico. He wondered what brief the architects were given and wondered the effect these grand traditional surrounds would have on a growing child.

‘How do you know it was a shooting accident?’ He asked.

‘Everyone says so.’

‘Carmody?’ Cardilini asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You respect Carmody?’

‘Yes. Everyone does. He won’t even let the teachers hurt you, like Mr Willet, who would always slap me on the side of my head. One time when Willet hit me, Carmody said to him, “Mr Willet, I think that’s enough, don’t you?” Then he told me not to use Mr Willet’s nickname anymore.’

‘Did Mr Willet stop hitting you?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s his nickname?’

Mossop, surprised, said, ‘I’m not allowed to say it.’

Cardilini nodded and smiled. He turned his eye around the quadrangle again. Did these grounds, buildings, uniforms and traditions tell the students they were special, superior, destined to lead those that attended the crumbling, asbestos-ridden public schools? The buildings were certainly telling Cardilini that he hadn’t taken his education seriously. In fact, apart from a few students and fewer teachers, no one had taken education seriously at his school. Did anyone ever mention going on to university? He couldn’t remember. He smiled, acknowledging he was feeling envious of Carmody. No wonder he didn’t like him.