Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell (40 page)

Once again, he buried his head in his hands and didn’t speak for some time. When he finally looked up, he said, ‘If you wish to ask me any questions, I will do my best to answer them.’

Giles waited for his mother to speak first. ‘Were you responsible for sending an innocent man to jail for a crime he did not commit?’ Elizabeth asked quietly.

‘No, my dear,’ said Barrington. ‘I hope you know me well enough to realize I am not capable of such a thing. Stan Tancock was a common thief, who broke into my office and robbed me. Because he was Arthur Clifton’s brother-in-law, and for no other reason, I gave him back his job the day he was released from prison.’ Elizabeth smiled for the first time.

‘Father, I wonder if I might be allowed to ask a question,’ said Giles.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Did you have Harry and me followed when we travelled up to Scotland?’

‘Yes, I did, Giles. I was desperate to find out where your mother and Emma were so I could apologize to them for my disgraceful behaviour. Please try to forgive me.’

Everyone turned their attention to Emma, who hadn’t yet spoken. When she did, her words took them all by surprise. ‘You’ll have to tell Harry everything you’ve told us,’ she whispered, ‘and if he is willing to forgive you, you must then welcome him into our family.’

‘I would be delighted to welcome him into the family, my darling, although it would be understandable if he never wanted to speak to me again. But I cannot tell him the truth about what happened to his father.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Emma.

‘Because Harry’s mother has made it clear that she does not want him ever to find out how his father died, as he has been brought up to believe he was a brave man who was killed in the war. Up until this moment, I have kept my promise never to reveal to anyone what took place on that dreadful day.’

Elizabeth Barrington rose, walked across to her husband and kissed him gently. Barrington broke down and sobbed. A moment later Giles joined his parents and placed an arm around his father’s shoulders.

Emma didn’t move.

42

‘H
AS YOUR MOTHER
always been that good-looking?’ said Giles. ‘Or am I just getting older?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Harry. ‘All I can say is that
your
mother always looks so elegant.’

‘Much as I love the dear creature, she looks positively prehistoric compared to yours,’ said Giles as Elizabeth Barrington, parasol in one hand and handbag in the other, bore down upon them.

Giles, like every other boy, had been dreading what outfit his mother might turn up in. As for the selection of hats, it was worse than Ascot, with every mother and daughter trying to outdo each other.

Harry looked more carefully at his mother, who was chatting to Dr Paget. He had to admit that she was attracting more attention than most of the other mothers, which he found a little embarrassing. But he was pleased that she no longer appeared to be burdened by financial worries, and assumed the man standing on her right had something to do with that.

However grateful he was to Mr Atkins, he didn’t care for the idea of him becoming his stepfather. Mr Barrington may in the past have been over-zealous about his daughter, but Harry could not deny that he felt just as protective when it came to his mother.

She had recently told him that Mr Frampton was so pleased with her work at the hotel that he had promoted her to night supervisor and given her another pay rise. And certainly Harry no longer had to wait for his trousers to be too short before they were replaced. But even he had been surprised when she hadn’t commented about the cost of his travelling to Rome with the Arts Appreciation Society.

‘How nice to see you, Harry, on your day of triumph,’ said Mrs Barrington. ‘Two prizes, if I remember correctly. I’m only sorry that Emma can’t be with us to share in your glory, but as Miss Webb pointed out, her gels cannot be expected to take the morning off for someone else’s speech day, even if her brother is the school captain.’

Mr Barrington came across to join them, and Giles watched his father carefully as he shook hands with Harry. There was still a distinct lack of warmth on his father’s part, although no one could deny that he was making every effort to conceal it.

‘So, when are you expecting to hear from Oxford, Harry?’ asked Barrington.

‘Some time next week, sir.’

‘I’m confident they’ll offer you a place, although I suspect it will be a close-run thing for Giles.’

‘Don’t forget he’s also had his moment of glory,’ said Harry.

‘I don’t recall that,’ said Mrs Barrington.

‘I think Harry’s referring to the century I scored at Lord’s, Mama.’

‘Admirable though that might be, for the life of me I can’t see how it will help you get into Oxford,’ said his father.

‘Normally I would agree with you, Papa,’ said Giles, ‘were it not for the fact that the Professor of History was sitting next to the President of the MCC at the time.’

The laughter that followed was drowned out by the sound of bells. The boys began to move rapidly in the direction of the great hall, with their parents following dutifully a few paces behind them.

Giles and Harry took their places among the prefects and prize-winners in the front three rows.

‘Do you recall our first day at St Bede’s?’ said Harry, ‘when we all sat in the front row, quite terrified of Dr Oakshott?’

‘I was never terrified of the Shot,’ said Giles.

‘No, of course you weren’t,’ said Harry.

‘But I do remember when we came down for breakfast on the first morning that you licked your porridge bowl.’

‘And I remember you swore you’d never mention it again,’ whispered Harry.

‘And I promise I never will again,’ replied Giles not whispering. ‘What was the name of that frightful bully who slippered you on our first night?’

‘Fisher,’ said Harry. ‘And it was the second night.’

‘Wonder what he’s up to now?’

‘He’s probably running a Nazi youth camp.’

‘Then that’s a good enough reason to go to war,’ said Giles as everyone in the hall rose to welcome the chairman of the governors and his board.

The crocodile of smartly dressed men made their way slowly down the aisle and up on to the stage. The last person to take his seat was Mr Barton, the headmaster, but not before he’d ushered the guest of honour into the centre chair in the front row.

Once everyone had settled, the headmaster rose to welcome the parents and guests, before delivering the school’s annual report. He began by describing 1938 as a vintage year, and for the next twenty minutes he elaborated on this claim, giving details of the school’s academic and sporting achievements. He ended by inviting the Right Honourable Winston Churchill MP, Chancellor of Bristol University and Member of Parliament for Epping, to address the school and present the prizes.

Mr Churchill rose slowly from his place and stared down at the audience for some time before he began.

‘Some guests of honour begin their speeches by telling their audience that they never won any prizes when they were at school, in fact they were always bottom of the class. I cannot make such a claim: although I certainly never won a prize, at least I was never bottom of the class – I was second to bottom.’ The boys roared and cheered, while the masters smiled. Only Deakins remained unmoved.

The moment the laughter had subsided, Churchill scowled. ‘Our nation today faces another of those great moments in history, when the British people may once again be asked to decide the fate of the free world. Many of you present in this great hall . . .’ He lowered his voice and concentrated his attention on the rows of boys seated in front of him, not once looking in the direction of their parents.

‘Those of us who lived through the Great War will never forget the tragic loss of life our nation suffered, and the effect it has had on an entire generation. Of the twenty boys in my class at Harrow who went on to serve in the front line, only three of them lived long enough to cast a vote. I only hope that whoever delivers this speech in twenty years’ time will not need to refer to that barbaric and unnecessary waste of life as the
First
World War. With that single hope, I wish you all long, happy and successful lives.’

Giles was among the first to rise and give the guest of honour a standing ovation as he returned to his seat. He felt that if Britain were left with no choice but to go to war, this was the one man who should take over from Neville Chamberlain and become Prime Minister. When everyone had resumed their places some minutes later, the headmaster invited Mr Churchill to present the prizes.

Giles and Harry cheered when Mr Barton not only announced that Deakins was scholar of the year but added, ‘This morning I received a telegram from the Master of Balliol College, Oxford, to say that Deakins has been awarded the senior classics scholarship. I might add,’ continued Mr Barton, ‘that he is the first boy to achieve this distinction in the school’s four-hundred-year history.’

Giles and Harry were on their feet immediately, as a gangly, six-foot-two-inch boy with pebble glasses, wearing a suit that hung on him as if it had never left its coathanger, made his way slowly up on to the stage. Mr Deakins wanted to leap up and take a photograph of his son being presented with his prize by Mr Churchill, but didn’t do so, for fear it might be frowned upon.

Harry received a warm reception when he was awarded the English prize, as well as the school reading prize. The headmaster added, ‘None of us will ever forget his performance as Romeo. Let us all hope that Harry will be among those who receive a telegram next week offering them a place at Oxford.’

When Mr Churchill presented Harry with his prize, he whispered, ‘I never went to university. I only wish I had. Let’s hope you receive that telegram, Clifton. Good luck.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Harry.

But the biggest cheer of the day was reserved for Giles Barrington when he went up to receive the headmaster’s prize for captain of the school and captain of cricket. To the guest of honour’s surprise, the chairman of the governors leapt up from his place and shook hands with Giles before he reached Mr Churchill.

‘My grandson, sir,’ Sir Walter explained with considerable pride.

Churchill smiled, gripped Giles by the hand and, looking up at him, said, ‘Be sure you serve your country with the same distinction with which you have clearly served your school.’

That was the moment when Giles knew exactly what he would do if Britain went to war.

Once the ceremony was over, the boys, parents and masters rose as one to sing
Carmen Bristoliense
.

Sit clarior, sit dignior, quotquot labuntur menses:

Sit primus nobis hic decor, Sumus Bristolienses.

Once the last chorus had rung out, the headmaster led the guest of honour and his staff off the stage, out of the great hall and into the afternoon sunshine. Moments later, everyone else poured out on to the lawn to join them for tea. Three boys in particular were surrounded by well-wishers, as well as by a bevy of sisters who thought Giles was ‘just cute’.

‘This is the proudest day of my life,’ said Harry’s mother as she embraced him.

‘I know how you feel, Mrs Clifton,’ said Old Jack, shaking Harry by the hand. ‘I only wish Miss Monday had lived long enough to see you today, because I don’t doubt it would have also been the happiest day of her life.’

Mr Holcombe stood to one side and waited patiently to add his congratulations. Harry introduced him to Captain Tarrant, unaware that they were old friends.

When the band had stopped playing, and the captains and the kings had departed, Giles, Harry and Deakins sat alone on the grass and reminisced about things past, no longer schoolboys.

43

A
TELEGRAM WAS DELIVERED
to Harry’s study by a junior boy on Thursday afternoon. Giles and Deakins waited patiently for him to open it, but instead he handed the little brown envelope to Giles.

‘Passing the buck again,’ said Giles as he ripped it open. He couldn’t hide his surprise when he read the contents.

‘You failed,’ said Giles, sounding shocked. Harry collapsed back into his chair. ‘To win a scholarship. However,’ Giles added, reading the telegram aloud, ‘
We are delighted to offer you an exhibition to Brasenose College, Oxford. Many congratulations. Details to follow in the next few days. W.T.S. Stallybrass, Principal.
Not bad, but you’re clearly not in Deakins’s class.’

‘And which class are you in?’ said Harry, immediately regretting his words.

‘One scholar, one exhibitionist—’

‘Exhibitioner,’ corrected Deakins.

‘And one commoner,’ said Giles, ignoring his friend. ‘Has a nice ring about it.’

Eleven other telegrams were delivered to successful applicants from Bristol Grammar School that day, but none was addressed to Giles Barrington.

‘You should let your mother know,’ said Giles as they walked into the hall for supper. ‘She probably hasn’t slept all week worrying about it.’

Harry looked at his watch. ‘It’s too late, she’ll already have left for work. I won’t be able to tell her until tomorrow morning.’

‘Why don’t we go and surprise her at the hotel?’ said Giles.

‘I can’t do that. She’d think it unprofessional to interrupt her while she’s at work, and I don’t feel I can make an exception, even for this,’ he said, waving the telegram triumphantly.

‘But don’t you think she has a right to know?’ said Giles. ‘After all, she’s sacrificed everything to make it possible for you. Frankly, if they offered me a place at Oxford, I’d interrupt Mama even if she was addressing the Mothers’ Union. Don’t you agree, Deakins?’

Deakins removed his glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief, always a sign that he was deep in thought. ‘I’d ask Paget’s opinion, and if he raises no objection—’

‘Good idea,’ said Giles. ‘Let’s go and see the Page.’

‘Are you coming, Deakins?’ asked Harry, but then noticed that Deakins’s glasses had been returned to the end of his nose, a sign that he had been transported to another world.