Something appeared to catch Callum’s eye, and he tipped his head. ‘Look,’ he said, and they all turned to watch Mr Harris, the headmaster, striding through the grounds towards his office. As ever, he was sporting black, full-length robes that were every bit as ridiculous as the uniforms the pupils were obliged to wear. ‘Harris is the perfect example of what I’m talking about. Do you know he only got the job of headmaster in the first place because his uncle is the provost?’

‘The what?’ said Ben, and immediately wished he’d held his tongue. He knew instinctively that Callum was smarter than him; Lance and Melissa, too, and not just because they were older. All Ben had done was make himself look stupid.

But: ‘The provost,’ Callum answered, without a pause, and without a trace of judgement in his tone. ‘That’s like …’

‘Chair of the governors,’ put in Melissa. She smiled at Ben kindly, again without seeming in any way patronising.

Even as they watched, Harris seemed to notice the four of them gathered on the bench. He stopped in his tracks, and turned as though to tell them off. Break time wasn’t quite over yet, but the first bell had rung, indicating they should already be heading to their next lesson. Ben braced himself for the headmaster’s inevitable rebuke – but rather than launching into a tirade and marching them back inside the school, Harris just dipped his head and walked on as though he hadn’t seen them.

‘Oh, and he’s a coward, too,’ Callum said. ‘He hates me with a passion, but he wouldn’t ever dare tell me off.’

Ben wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. But it was true: Harris had reacted to seeing Callum just as the bigger boy who’d shoved Ben in the corridor had, not to mention the kids in his dorm when Callum had challenged them about Ben’s bed sheets. Why were people so afraid of him?

‘And it’s not just Harris,’ Callum went on. ‘All the teachers here are frauds. They prance around like mini Mussolinis, acting as though they’re better than anyone else, when the truth is they’re either inept, stupid … or worse. And whenever something bad happens at Beaconsfield, the governors use their connections to ensure it never gets out. Like with Father Steiner, for instance.’

Ben had been watching Harris disappearing along the path. Not once had he even looked back. ‘Father who?’ Ben said, turning.

Callum glanced behind him, as though he was worried that someone might overhear. ‘Father Steiner,’ he said. ‘The chaplain. Everyone knows what he gets up to with the pupils he singles out for special attention. The boys, anyway.’

‘The man’s a predator,’ chipped in Lance, with a knowing look at Ben.

Ben turned to face the chapel. ‘No way. Why hasn’t he been fired?’