A Future Arrived by Phillip Rock Page A

terribly, chronically homesick. Blubbered half the night in the dorm and then, most disgusting of all to his house prefects, began wetting his bed. Their cure for that was to thrash him every morning in his wet pajamas. Only made the situation worse, needless to say. After a few weeks of being thrashed all the time he ran away. His grandfather brought him back. From what we can gather, his parents died years ago. He lives with his grandfather and some old biddy of a housekeeper … ex-nanny I suppose. Anyway, he was returned to the school. Running away was the worst possible crime he could commit. An insult to the entire school. He became a target for everyone’s scorn and abuse. Life became a living hell and he finally responded to it the only way he knew how—by running away again.”
    â€œProbably to be sent back again had he gone home.”
    Jameson nodded vigorously. “Oh, no doubt of that, sir. It seems that the old gentleman went there … and his father—that is, young Ramsay’s father. The must-keep-up-the-tradition nonsense. I faced the same sort of thing when my father packed me off to St. Gregory’s in a burst of Catholic fervor which I thought rather odd for a man with two divorces and contemplating a third. Fortunately he came to his senses after my first term and allowed me to come here. I have the feeling that this chap’s granddad won’t be as accommodating.”
    â€œProbably not.” He stood up and slowly paced the room. “ If he were permitted to come here would the soviet accept him?”
    â€œI believe so, sir. He’s not without faults. Bit of a glutton and chews his fingernails to the quick. Bed pisser and all that. But those are anxiety symptoms, aren’t they? Placed in a more tranquil atmosphere I’m certain he’d be quite changed. I mean to say, if I knew I’d be bummed with a bloody stick for pissing my mattress, I’d never stop bloody pissing.”
    â€œNot so much of the bloody , if you don’t mind.”
    â€œSorry, sir.”
    Charles gazed thoughtfully at the wallpaper. A child’s room. Rabbits in eighteenth-century costumes dancing a quadrille. “One thrashing too many and he ran away.”
    â€œMore to it than that, sir. Meaning no disrespect to the little chap, but he does have an uncommonly fat rump. Absorb any number of blows I should think. The bruises are certainly vile, though I doubt if he was ever given more than the customary six of the best. What sent him rushing off was a caning in front of his entire house following sentencing by a kangaroo court.”
    â€œI thought that sort of nonsense was outlawed these days.”
    â€œI’m sure it is in any decent school. It was certainly forbidden at St. Gregory’s but still occurred from time to time. I imagine the same holds true at Archdean. Houses are run by the sixth form, prefects, and societies. They know how to form a court without attracting the attention of the housemaster. This particular one was held at midnight, in cloisters, the lower forms’ study room. Ramsay was dragged out of bed to attend it. It was a frightening and humiliating experience and we feel certain he told us the truth.”
    â€œThere’s truth enough in a black-and-blue backside.”
    â€œIndeed there is, sir. He ran away the next morning before breakfast. That was three days ago.”
    â€œHow on earth did he manage to get here?”
    â€œHe’d read about us in one of the tabloids and had been to Abingdon before. He had enough pocket money for a railroad ticket. Got here in a few hours … then lost his nerve. He hid in that old shack at the bottom of the orchard for two days. Lived off apples and a few buns he’d bought in the High Street with the last of his money.”
    â€œResourceful chap.”
    â€œYes. And he’s only twelve. A bit young for Archdean, but he was academically advanced at prep school.