Authors: Stephen Sweeney
“And what do you think you’re
doing up at this hour?”
The cigarette flew from my hand as
my heart leapt into my throat, and I began choking profusely. I
looked about to see that a tall, black-cloaked figure had arrived by
my side. I prepared to run, fearing that on tonight’s little
venture outside I had finally been discovered by little Scott
Parker’s killer. I then realised who was actually standing before
me –
The B.F.G
.
“I ... I was just out for a walk,”
I stammered, my heart still beating furiously in my chest. “I
couldn’t sleep and thought that a walk around the school would help
me to relax.”
“Hmm,” Father Thomas said, his
eyes moving to the cigarette on the ground, which still burned where
I had flung it. “You do know that smoking is against the school
rules and leads to fines and a letter of warning home to your
parents?” he asked, his breath visible in the cold night air.
“I ...” I couldn’t think of
any excuse. It was clear that the monk had seen me smoking from a
long way off, the hot red glow of the end of the cigarette as I took
each drag acting as a beacon of sorts. He had then made his way over,
sliding as silently as a ghost, only revealing his presence when he
was right next to me.
He held out his hand. “Give me the
rest of them, Joe,” he asked.
I did so, parting with the four
cigarettes that remained, as well as the lighter, my eyes moving to
the one that still burned on the ground. Father Thomas’ foot moved
to it at the same moment, and the man crushed it under his shoe.
“What are you doing up so late,
Father?” I asked. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
“I’m keeping boys such as
yourself safe, Joe,” Father Thomas said. “We patrol the grounds
at night, to make sure the school is secure.”
We? He must have meant the other
monks. They led peculiar lives down in that monastery. “Have you
just started doing so recently?” I asked.
“We’ve always done so.”
“Always?” I asked.
“Always. More of us do it now
after Scott’s death.”
I had never known. I thought back to
a few nights ago, when I had walked all the way from Butcher to Tudor
without being seen. Was he making this up perhaps? I hadn’t seen
any sign of monks or staff, either. I wondered next how Scott Parker
had been murdered? How had they failed to spot something like that?
Had the killer watched and waited patiently? Or was the killer
actually one of the monks themselves ...? The fleeting thought left
my head as quickly as it had entered.
“You shouldn’t have opened that
door,” Father Thomas said, nodding back to the way I had left the
main building. “It’s locked for a reason – to stop anyone from
getting into the school.”
“I would’ve seen them going in,”
I said, trying to reassure the man.
“That’s not the point, Joe.
You’re not to open any doors after they’ve been locked at night.”
The monk looked at the cigarettes in his hand and then back at me. “I
didn’t know you smoked,” he said, sounding both surprised and
disappointed.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “And
I suppose you have a list of everyone at the school who does?”
“Actually, we do,” the monk
answered, his expression deadpan. “The trouble is that you need to
catch them in the act, and it’s not always that straightforward.
Otherwise, you’re just making false accusations.”
True. “I don’t smoke very
often,” I said. “That’s the first one I’ve had this year, and
I can’t remember the time before that. I wasn’t sure if the
cigarettes would’ve even lasted to be honest.”
“That doesn’t excuse you, and
most parents don’t like finding an extra twenty-five pounds added
to their bill at the end of term, on account of their son breaking the
rules.”
My heart sank. I was hoping Father
Thomas might actually just confiscate the cigarettes and let me off
with a warning. “I know, I’m sorry,” I tried. “It’s not
like I do it a lot.”
“Again, that’s not the point,”
Father Thomas said, “and, as I’ve already told you, you shouldn’t
be out of bed. So that’s three things you’ve done wrong in my
eyes. I’ll have to have a word with your housemaster in the
morning. Could you remind me what house you are in again, please?”
I considered lying, but what good
would that do me? “Butcher,” I admitted.
“Thank you. I expect Mr Somers
will have a word with you tomorrow. Now, please get back to bed. I
don’t want to catch you out of your dorm again tonight.”
Great. I could end up being gated, I
knew. I didn’t relish the thought of sitting in a classroom all
Sunday, in detention, a second blow after having to endure church in
the morning. I walked back through the door I had unlocked, Father
Thomas following me in and securing it behind us.
“Joe, just a moment,” the monk
then said. “Weren’t you recently involved in some trouble with a
couple of sixth formers?”
“Three sixth formers,” I said.
“They attacked me in the shower. Completely unprovoked.” Not
entirely true, as I had provoked one of them.
“Hmm, I heard about that. Didn’t
you also find Scott Parker when you were out running on the Red Road,
last term?”
“I did. I was the first to find
him and reported it to Mr Rod. I had to see the headmaster and give a
witness statement to the police, and have a chat with a
psychologist,” I added.
I knew I was playing the sympathy card
pretty strongly now, but I would rather avoid a letter home to my
parents reporting my misbehaviour. That would practically seal my
fate to remain at the school, my parents not trusting me to live at
home. To my relief, Father Thomas’ face took on the sympathetic
expression I had been seeking.
“Hmm,” he said. “That couldn’t
have been a very nice experience. You’ve not had an altogether
pleasant year so far, have you?” He looked at the cigarettes and
lighter in his hand. “Okay, I won’t report you to your
housemaster ...”
Excellent
, I thought, unable
to keep my smile down.
“... but, instead, I will
recommend you be put on the
Murga List
this Friday.”
Oh, holy fucking shit, no! That was
worse!
“Uh... couldn’t we just forget the whole thing?” I
ventured, my heart thumping just as hard as it had when Father Thomas
had first loomed up beside me.
“No, Joe,” Father Thomas said.
“I’m sorry, but I need you to learn that smoking and walking
around the school at night are against the rules. Now, please go to
bed before I change my mind.”
Like I was going to sleep now. I
said nothing further and trudged back off to Butcher, making my way
up the Marble Stairs and wending my way along the various corridors.
The darkness and the shadows no longer bothered me, as I was now
about to experience something one hundred times more terrible.
~ ~ ~
I came to my dormitory, opening the
door quietly and padding softly over to my bed.
Click!
I spun about as the lights came on,
seeing Anthony Simmons standing by the switch, grinning. Most of the
other boys were awake, too. Only Sam was still asleep, stirring
slightly in his bed. The opposite of me, he had always been quite a
heavy sleeper.
“What are you doing?” I asked
absurdly. “Why are you all awake?”
“Ha, ha! Busted!” Simmons
cackled.
“What?”
“Where’s the tape, Crotty?”
Charlie Smith, sitting up in his bed, wanted to know.
“Tape? What tape?” I genuinely
had no idea what either of the two were on about.
“Kerry Oldman’s porno tape!”
Simmons said excitedly.
“Everyone knows about it,”
Darren Smith said.
“What?” I asked, completely
baffled.
“The porno that Oldman brought in
from home. Where is it?”
I had no idea what the three were on
about. “From what I’ve heard, Kerry Oldman has a copy of
Return
to the Blue Lagoon
,” I said, looking between the three grinning
boys, “but I’ve not heard about anything else.”
“No, not
that
shit. A
proper porn,” Simmons repeated. He was actually starting to sound a
little frustrated that I wasn’t forthcoming with all the details he
wanted.
“Someone stole it from Oldman’s
dorm,” Darren Smith jumped in.
“And why do you think it was
me
?”
I asked incredulously.
“Because we heard you get up and
open your tuck box! You’ve obviously been hiding it in there and
went to watch it and have a wank!” Simmons said.
“What? No!” I spluttered. It was
the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.
“So, what were you getting from
your tuck box?”
I hesitated at that point. They had
heard me open my tuck box and retrieve something inside. I couldn’t
admit to them that I smoked, as that would lead to all sort of
complications, including being pestered constantly for cigarettes.
Sure, I might now smell vaguely of smoke, but no one seemed to have
noticed.
Simmons looked about my person.
“Where is it, Crotty?”
“I don’t have it,” I said,
shrugging and patting at my clothes to prove I wasn’t concealing
anything.
“It’s under his dressing gown,”
Charlie Smith said, clearly unconvinced.
“Yeah, take off your dressing
gown, Crotty,” Simmons ordered.
“Okay, fine,” I growled at them,
taking off my dressing gown and throwing it on the bed, standing
before them in my pyjamas and showing everyone in the dorm that I
truly had nothing concealed.
“He probably knew we’d be
waiting for him and hid it somewhere else, so he can get it
tomorrow,” Darren Smith remarked.
“Where did you put it?” Charlie
Smith wanted to know.
“Did you go to the classrooms?”
Simmons said.
“No, he’s left it in the film
room, where they have the World Film Club, because he knows only the
saddos go in there,” Darren Smith then theorised.
“Guys, seriously,” I said. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything
about a tape. I went for a walk because I can’t sleep. I took a
torch out of my tuck box so that I wouldn’t have to turn on the
lights.”
“Where is it, then?” Simmons
said. He was absolutely insistent that I had somehow acquired
Oldman’s porno tape and would stop at nothing to get it. It was
becoming increasingly clear to me who it was that was desperately in
need of masturbating.
“I threw it away because it’s
crap and doesn’t work any more. But I was just caught by Father
Thomas, who’s doing the rounds.”
“What?” Simmons asked. The three
members of the Clique suddenly looked a little concerned.
“Father Thomas is patrolling the
school grounds. He’s going to report me to Mr Somers in the morning
for being out of bed. The teachers and monks now patrol the grounds
in shifts at night, apparently.”
“Really?” Simmons asked.
“Yes, really! After what happened
to Scott Parker, the school—”
“Parker?”
“The boy from the junior school,”
I informed him. “After they found him dead, the staff have decided
to turn this place into Fort Knox. Now, switch off the light before
we all get into trouble.
The B.F.G.
is probably going to come up here
in a minute, to make sure I’m in bed. Seriously, turn off the
light!” I said as I got into bed, pointing at the switch by the
door.
Charlie Smith and Simmons looked to
one another before the two got into bed and Darren Smith made his way
over to the door, to turn the main lights off. The dormitory door
opened a minute amount at the same moment he reached it, a black hand
snaking in through the gap, and groping around until it located the
switch.
“Go to sleep, boys,” Father
Thomas’ voice came before he clicked the light off.
Darren quickly returned to bed, and
through the darkness, I could see all eyes on me.
Told you so
, my own answered
them.
Chapter Sixteen
“
W
hat
did he say?” Baz asked as I returned to the third year dorm.
“He said no,” I grated.
“He’s still going to make you do
it?” Sam asked incredulously.
“Yeah, the bastard,” I said.
“Make you do what?” Brian
Donald, an uninvited member of the Tudor House Clique, asked. He was
sitting at Simmons’ desk, copying some of Simmons’ CDs onto tape.
“Father Thomas put me on the
Murga
List
for being out of bed on Monday night, and Mr Somers is
refusing to let me off,” I told him.
“He put you on the
List
for
being out of bed?” he asked.
“Yeah, apparently we’re not
allowed any more.”
“Shit,” Brian said, stopping the
CD from playing so he could turn the tape over and resume copying
onto the other side. “Why didn’t you tell him you were just going
to the toilet?”
“I was outside.”
“Why?”
“Long story,” I said
dismissively.
“Because he went to watch Oldman’s
porno tape,” Baz chuckled.
I shot him an annoyed look. I didn’t
want
that
conversation to start up all over again.
“How have you got it?” Donald
wanted to know. “I heard that Goodman confiscated it off some of
the second years, who he caught watching it.”
“Seriously?” I said.
Donald nodded. “They’re all
going to get gated for it, apparently. They want Oldman to fess up,
but he just keeps laughing about it. He says it’s not his.”
“They’d have a hard time proving
it, I guess.” I looked at Baz, whose bed and desk area was a
complete mess, drawers, binders and textbooks all over the place.
“Still not found your
Tricolore
, then?” I asked.
“No,” Baz said, a little
angrily. “I think someone’s nicked it.”
“Did you put your name in the
front?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, but they’ll probably just
rip the front page off. I wanted to start writing that essay on La
Rochelle
,
too.”