Author's note
This is the third part of the third segment of the tale. Smiths evil plot materialises.
It was Saturday and Smith could command the attention of his willing and less willing, but resigned to obedience, acolytes for most of the day.
Smith demanded that a shoe box be found and brought to him. He assembled his acolytes and other youths, including the three lower sixth formers and another more recent addition, over whom he had a hold. Each was ordered to write a new undated confession. Smith took trouble to ensure that these confessions contained matters that Dr de Ville would quite likely think deserved a thrashing but nothing that individually or collectively would lead to truly dire consequences: that is, all were within the bounds of usual teenage exuberance and none indicated malignant delinquency.
That done, he had several of his dragooned conspirators (not that he had told any of them more than they need know) report to his study one by one. In every case he inflicted pain and various humiliations upon them but this time not for personal pleasure. Each one was told what had to be done and that it was a contribution to a greater scheme. What he did to each was carried out in a matter of fact manner, the boy concerned knowing that this was just a necessary step toward removing Wilkins (not that any of them, except Dobson, harboured any real grudge against the Head Boy but they all knew that any grudges of Smith's were perforce theirs too.)
Smith spent a long time with Dobson. Smith was the producer and director, and Dobson the lead player. Smith had chosen Dobson for his role because Dobson could act. Dobson was a member of Thistletop's drama club. He had taken part in every school play since he joined Thistletop. Some of these plays were solely for internal amusement but Dobson had also taken part in the annual school plays given before parents and various local worthies. Dr de Ville was a traditionalist: every play had to be Shakespeare, no dalliance with modern playwrights such as J. B. Priestly or earlier moderns such as Shaw and certainly not, however amusing, the works of that pervert Wilde.
In his first two years Dobson had played female parts, in true Shakespearian tradition (and of necessity as there were no female pupils at Thistletop). His portrayal of Juliet in his second year was acclaimed by Dr de Ville, the teaching staff, parents and the local worthies though it engendered sniggers from the junior school. Dobson was a natural actor, though he would not follow that as his vocation in life (he became an Anglican priest with, much to the dismay of his Bishop, a penchant for spanking young teenage boys – happily such matters could be covered up in those days.) The point is that Dobson could play a range of emotion (which is more than can be said of most recent Hollywood actors who barely manage the gamut of emotion from A to B); Dobson could reach H, and this was without formal training. Indeed, in modern terms he could be compared with the late River Phoenix in both ability and appearance. Incidentally, Smith looked similar to the, yet to be born, teenage Leonardo di Caprio but, unlike his comparator, wasn't a natural actor except in the sense that he could put on a good face in a tight situation.
Anyway, setting aside these minor, yet fascinating (at least to the author, who after all is the eminence grise behind this narrative and must be indulged), digressions to our tale, the upshot was that Dobson could feign tears and general emotional upheaval; it must be mentioned that whenever Dobson was oppressed by Smith his visible emotions were genuine: what you see is what you get, so to speak, when Smith is in the driving seat.
The observant historical commentator on this literary sado-erotic masterpiece will note it is at this point that the narrative begins to drift into the surreal. Our scholarly analyst will, to impress similar such desiccated scholars, his only readership, note a parallel with Lindsay Anderson's "If" and, hopefully, record an opinion that Anderson's opus is by far the lesser work. Of course if, as I Pettigrew, your author, who is just about managing to retain command of this tale, suspect, the alleged "scholar" is an English lecturer at the University of Luton hopeful of making his reputation then my work shall forever remain in obscurity.
That evening a boy went missing from Thistletop – a runaway.
Drummond who had a confirmation class with the local vicar managed to worm into the conversation that he was concerned about a fellow pupil who had claimed that he could take no more of some, unspecified, abuse and planned to run away. He "accidentally" let drop the boy's name while feigning that he could not break a confidence.
Later, the vicar, after discussing the matter with his wife, felt obliged to inform Dr de Ville that something might be amiss.
Dr de Ville replaced the telephone receiver, pondered for a while, sent for Wilkins and asked for Dobson's whereabouts to be ascertained as matter of urgency.
Dobson could not be found. It was long after gate closure.
Dr de Ville was walking in a distracted state toward his car when he ran into Mr Dawson, the new master. He thought to himself "Dawson's a reliable chap and he can drive. Its best I stay on the premises in case there is a telephone call."
He quickly apprised Dawson of the situation and requested that he take de Ville's car to check the vicinity of the railway station. Dr de Ville knew that the next train for London, indeed the next train for anywhere, would not depart for another hour. Apart from trains there was no other way out of there tonight and the closest township by road was twelve miles away; thus, logically, start with rail transport before scouring the roads.
Mr Dawson reached the railway station in seven minutes. Having parked the car he approached the station. All was in total darkness apart from desultory patches of light emitted from feeble station lamps. Yet, Dawson made out a hunched figure on a bench at the far end of the platform. He walked towards Dobson.
He sat down beside the boy, saying nothing. Dobson was sobbing quietly. Dawson recognized the boy, put his hand on his shoulder, and said "What is the matter Dobson?"
Nothing for a while, the sobbing continued. Dawson waited patiently.
Finally, "I can't take any more Sir."
"More what?" asked Dawson gently.
"I mustn't say Sir." He sobbed again.
"Please Sir, I can't go back!"
"Alright Dobson, you need not say anything now. But you can't stay here. Come with me back to the school and let's see if we can sort this out later. Whatever you problem is I am sure it seems enormous to you now, but, take it from me, sharing a problem is nine tenths of the way to solving it (modern "counsellors", of hapless victims of events they would have been able to shrug off if not interfered with by "professionals", would have been proud of Dawson.)
Reluctantly Dobson followed Mr Dawson to his car. Mr Dawson installed Dobson in the front passenger seat then told him to stay put whilst he phoned the school to inform Dr de Ville that Dobson was found and unharmed.
Mr Dawson padded across to the bright red, newly painted, telephone call box near the station entrance. The car was well in sight from the box and Mr Dawson kept an eye out lest Dobson tried to leg it. He knew Dobson wouldn't though as the boy was emotionally all in; he was sitting on the passenger seat of the car quietly sobbing.
Old British phone boxes were a wonder of the civilized world; red, as you now know, and topped by Her (just, a few months previously His) Majesty's Post Office crest. Mr Dawson opened the door and faced the telephone apparatus.
In those days telephone boxes were clean, no sign or smell of urine, and there were no cards from hopeful prostitutes plastered all around. Mr Dawson inserted two pennies into the slot and lifted the receiver.
A moment later an operator with a bored Post Office voice said "Number please."
Mr Dawson gave the school's number and waited. Shortly after, the operator said "Connecting sir" whereupon Mr Dawson heard matron saying "Thistletop 134". He pressed Button A on the phone apparatus and his coins jangled noisily into the device's innards. Immediately he was able to speak to Matron.
Matron said to bring Dobson straight to her so that he may be given hot soup before being interviewed by Dr de Ville.
An hour earlier, just as everyone, including the prefects, was assembling for tea, Smith carrying a concealed package hurried in to a study that was not his, moments later he emerged empty handed and went off to join the throng seeking their places at table. Wilkins said grace and Smith smirked inwardly.
After the inner Dobson was thoroughly warmed by nourishing thick chicken and vegetable soup, he was ushered in to Dr de Ville's study by Matron. Matron departed and the two were left alone.
Dr de Ville was anxious. Runaways were very unusual. Usually they were boys who had done wrong and feared the consequences, consequences they invariable received with interest added. Dobson, despite such enquiries among his teaching staff as Dr de Ville was able to make in the time available, was not known to be in trouble for anything. Dr de Ville ushered Dobson into a comfortable armchair and sat opposite him. The boy looked distraught and about to sob again.
Dr de Ville asked questions very patiently. This went on for some time and the replies were elusive, something was obviously being held back, the boy feared something or someone. Then Dobson, seemingly accidentally, let slip the phrase "couldn't stand the pain again." The Headmaster grasped this like a dog's jaws locked on to a postman's ankle and would not let go.
It became clear that Dobson had been physically hurt and Dobson was eventually persuaded, amid more tears, to point to the general region of his hurt. Dobson pointed vaguely to his lower body.
Dr de Ville said "I need to examine you to judge the nature of your hurt and to see whether you need medical attention."
A couple of minutes later, after more sobbing, and a show of reluctance Dobson's entire lower body was exposed to view. Dr de Ville was shocked.
The first thing that struck him when Dobson lowered his underpants was that the youth's crotch seemed to be a black void. Closer examination showed that the entire region had recently been coated with soot or something similar. The second noticeable feature was a total absence of pubic hair. More detailed examination showed minor lacerations on Dobson's penis and testicles. When the boy was made to turn round it became clear that he recently had been sorely beaten with a cane or other stick. On intuition Dr de Ville bade Dobson bend over. The fundament that stared back at him was definitely similar to the specimens that had aroused his curiosity a few days ago.
What had been done to Dobson was clear, but by whom, and why?
When Dr de Ville tried to press the point about who, all he got back was "I mustn't say, the others will suffer."
"What others?" asked the Headmaster.
Dobson appeared to accidentally let slip "Petreson, Smith, Atkins .... my friends.
Dr de Ville knew there were more "And who else?"
Reluctantly Dobson said "Drummond, Melrose, Thorpe and other friends of Smith."
Dr de Ville said forcefully, "Who did this, I command you not to hold back."
Dobson looked as though he was going to sob again but instead muttered "You wouldn't believe me Sir, you would think I was lying and punish me, I have had enough punishment."
"So you have" said the Headmaster gently. Then he added "I must know, now!"
After a long pause Dobson stuttered "W W W Wilkins Sir" then averted his gaze toward the carpet in front of him.
At first, Dr de Ville thought he had heard wrongly, but he knew he had not. He was astounded. Wilkins was the most trustworthy boy in the school. This impudent scoundrel was telling a pack of lies. Yet he had physical signs of abuse that he could not have faked. Was he covering for someone else he was terrified of?
To be continued.