Tales From Thistletop School - End Game #4


by Pettigrew <Pettigrew@hush.com>

Author's note. This is End Game #4. Fate can go either way for Smith.

When the coast was clear Aubrey and Beamish departed too. They went down the back stairs so that they didn't have to pass Smith's study. Each was too shocked to talk until they reached Aubrey's study.

The other prefects, who had remained in their studies, quickly assembled in Aubrey's room. Blenkinsopp and Pearson were sent for but nobody had to look far as the two sacrificial lambs were already heading toward the prefects' corridor.

The resilience of youth is remarkable. Though Blenkinsopp and Pearson both looked shaken and had the typical appearance of boys whose buttocks are on fire each managed a weak grin.

Aubrey congratulated them on their fortitude and, with total honesty, said he had never imagined they would have to endure anything so terrible. It should be noted that Wilkins in his letter to Aubrey had omitted some of the more catastrophically humiliating details of his own purgatory.

Blenkinsopp asked "Do we have to go back to Smith's dorm after tea?"

Aubrey replied "There is no way with any decency that I can ask that of you. Smith will miss you though and it might make him suspicious but we must take that risk."

Pearson said "You aim to have a master catch Smith at it after tea, don't you?"

"Yes" said Aubrey.

Pearson continued "So Smith won't be allowed to" pause "to" pause "to do his awful things for long?"

"That's right" said Aubrey.

Pearson turned to Blenkinsopp saying "After tea we might not be first. Even if we are it shouldn't be for long. I think we should see this through."

Blenkinsopp reflected for a moment, nodded and replied "Alright, I badly want rid of Smith now and if that is the only certain way then so be it."

Aubrey told the two boys to leave as it wouldn't be good if any of Smith's gang saw them hanging around near the prefect's corridor."

Aubrey and Beamish quickly summarised for the benefit of their fellow prefects the proceedings they had witnessed. There was shocked silence for some while. Eventually Carpenter cut across everyone's thoughts by saying "We really must approach Mr Dawson immediately. He must witness what happens after tea" a pause "for the sake of Pearson and Blenkinsopp if nothing else. Their sacrifice must not be wasted." Carpenter, a keen member of the Cadet Corp, was much into the ethos of sacrifice. Also, he always spoke in a pompous manner though it must be said that if ever you are in a tight corner you could have no better friend than Carpenter, he was as decent as they come.

It was agreed that Aubrey and Beamish should approach Mr Dawson as they knew first hand the abominations they would relate.

Beamish and Aubrey located Mr Dawson, some five minutes later, in the Masters' Common Room. They were fortunate to find him as on a Saturday afternoon he could have gone out and, being a master, he was under no obligation to attend tea at weekends.

Mr Dawson was puzzled when the two prefects requested a private talk. He asked them what they wanted to talk about but Aubrey had replied that he really couldn't say until he was certain they wouldn't be overheard. All he would say was that it was a very important matter touching on the well being of the school. To this Mr Dawson responded by pointing out that he was only a junior master and suggesting that it would be better for the boys to see Dr de Ville. Aubrey opened his mouth to try to clarify why they had approached Mr Dawson in the first instance but Beamish cut in with "Please Mr Dawson. We know that Dr de Ville must be involved soon but we would so much like your advice first."

Mr Dawson relented. However he had no private place. It would be improper to take boys, even prefects, to his bedroom. So he suggested they go to Aubrey's study.

When the three were seated comfortably Aubrey began his tale. He showed Mr Dawson the letter from Wilkins. He explained the doubts this raised in his mind and his reasoning thenceforth. He described what he and Beamish had seen and said that the fiendish, his actual word, proceedings were to continue after tea. He explained what he wanted Mr Dawson to do and why. When he finished Beamish added "I was there Sir and every word Aubrey has said is true. He may have missed a few details but the substance is correct, worse if anything than Aubrey has managed to portray."

Throughout the foregoing Mr Dawson had remained absolutely silent. His face betrayed nothing. When Aubrey had occasionally paused to give him a chance to respond Mr Dawson had merely nodded to encourage Aubrey to continue.

After the final remarks from Beamish Mr Dawson remained silent for a good three minutes. Forget the proverbial pin, you could have heard a feather drop. Aubrey and Beamish were almost holding their breathe lest they divert Mr Dawson's attention at this critical moment.

Mr Dawson had no clear knowledge of the circumstances of Wilkins' departure. Dr de Ville had vouchsafed no further information to the masters than had been imparted before the assembled school. He didn't know what to make of Aubrey's account. He knew Aubrey and Beamish to be reliable. He was aware that both prefects were friends of Wilkins, understood their reluctance to involve Dr de Ville without incontrovertible evidence, and recognised the prudence of their plan to get a disinterested person to back their story. If the account was true then it was a matter that his previous experience had ill prepared him for and a very bad day for Thistletop. If he went along with the plan then at worst he would waste some of his time in a cramped closet and look foolish. At best he could help put a stop to foul abuse. He decided to go along with Aubrey's plan.

Although only two could peer out on the dorm at one time it was decided that Mr Dawson should be accompanied by Aubrey and Standish. Standish would be an additional witness as it was unlikely that Beamish could learn anything more useful than he already had. Standish was summoned and put in the picture. Arrangements were made to meet immediately after tea, in fact a little before it finished, and go to the closet. Before leaving Mr Dawson asked Aubrey and Beamish independently to start making notes of the events they had witnessed whilst they were still fresh in the minds.

Thistletop was not in the top league of English public schools: it was no Eton or Rugby. Yet it excelled in many ways. The masters were all competent at their trade, some were outstanding, and a couple, including Dr de Ville, truly inspirational. Despite the current depredations centred on Smith, Thistletop was not brutal like Eton, Rugby and so many other both major and minor public schools. Sport and athletics were valued yet not made a fetish; boys who excelled in neither were encouraged to seek excellence elsewhere. Even in pursuit of excellence the Thistletop ethos, so largely based on the character of Dr de Ville, was not too concerned in raw competition, boy against boy, though champions in whatever field were suitably lauded. Dr de Ville wanted each boy to pit himself against himself, to do better, at whatever, than the boy himself imagined he could, to surprise himself and thereafter set his ambition even higher. When it came down to it Dr de Ville didn't much care whether a boy's excellence, if God had granted him but one talent, was in Latin, mathematics, rugby or making intricate model ships in the hobbies room.

There was one aspect in which Thistletop excelled above all other public schools, major and minor. This was in its food. Thistletop was no Dotheboys Hall, Dr de Ville no Wackford Squeers (or Mr Bumble, see below). There was no penny pinching over the proportion of the school fees used for feeding boys and masters alike. Mrs de Ville who took a keen interest in running the business side of the school knew that varied and attractive mass catering could be achieved on a reasonable budget if only one used imagination. She released that Thistletop School was a major local player in the purchasing of catering supplies; though the school didn't command monopsony powers it could demand advantageous bulk rates and be highly insistent about quality. Moreover, she was aware of the less tangible but important benefits in terms of pupil and staff morale; the turnover in masters and other staff was remarkably low. Thus she took great care in appointing the cook and the almost equally skilled assistant cook; she paid these two senior kitchen staff at a rate above that of other nearby schools and institutions, money well spent.

Thus Thistletop provided three square meals a day; this, of course, had become more easy since food rationing stopped but even in the dark days of the war Thistletop meals were varied, interesting, nutritious and filling. Importantly, the offerings were designed to appeal to adults and pupils alike; rarely was there a different meal for staff and pupils. Almost always second helpings were available; Oliver Twist would have been happy at Thistletop.

Breakfast invariably offered porridge, cereals, eggs, bacon, toast, etc. to set the boys and masters up for the morning. Lunch tended to be light, salad and the like, but nonetheless varied, interesting and filling enough.

In this context "Tea" should not be construed as a light meal. On weekdays it was always something with meat or fish (bangers and mash, and fish and chips being great favourites with the boys) followed by a pudding (Spotted Dick and Golden Syrup sponge having a large following). However, on Saturdays and Sundays tea was simpler, just a hot first course prepared by the kitchen staff before they went off duty and heated and served by Mrs de Ville and the three other "school wives" plus various daughters and volunteers from among the boys.

The final eating event of the day was supper which took place just before junior bedtime. It used to consist of cocoa and a bun. However the bun was replaced by an apple during weekdays after the PE master remarked that he was observing incipient corpulence among some of the boys; the general compulsory exercise regimen was increased too. The bun remained as a treat at weekends because there was no pudding at teatime, only an apple or whatever other fruit was in season.

On this particular Saturday the boys were beginning to assemble in the large dining hall (known as the refectory). There was much merriment and good natured banter.

The refectory was typical of those in public schools: an oak panelled room, long rickety foldable refectory tables and benches without backs. At the end of the room was the "High Table", a solid oak construction along one side of which the masters, Matron, other senior staff and occasional guests sat in high backed chairs facing the throng of boys. Unlike an Oxford College the table was not literally "high", that is not set upon a platform above the generality of tables.

The refectory shared one other feature with its counterparts everywhere: no matter how often the windows were opened there was, day and night, a reek of boiled cabbage. This puzzled Cook and Mrs de Ville because they took pride in the fact that Thistletop cabbage was not boiled into a soggy anaemic mass.

Mrs de Ville's helpers brought steaming vessels of shepherds' pie to each of the refectory tables. Dr de Ville was present this evening. It is noteworthy that though the Headmaster ate at home with his extended family four nights a week he insisted on being present in the refectory for Saturday and Sunday tea when everyone was mucking in to help in the absence of the usual catering staff. When the food had been distributed everybody stood up for Dr de Ville to say grace. In any school but Thistletop some of the boys would have been muttering under their breathe alternative graces such as "God forgive the cook, she knoweth not what she hath done", "God preserve us from that which we are bidden to eat, what hath we done to offend thee so?", "Son of God that loveth little children, smite thou the cook.", or more simply "God help us".

Grace said, on each table its "Captain", usually a prefect or sub-prefect, began dishing out the food, the plates being passed boy by boy toward the other end of the table until everyone had his helping. Every table held a cross-section of the boys of Thistletop, youngsters to seniors. The most junior sat at the far end of the table from the "Captain" and seniority increased thereon up. Thus the younger were served first; perhaps, a reflection of the soundly based army practice that the men must be seen to be properly fed before the officers retire for their, usually more sumptuous, meals.

Smith had contrived to have his entourage allocated to his table; there had been additions and substitutions as the number of his reluctant followers increased. Even so most of the juniors on Smith's table were not among his malign circle. Indeed, those youngsters had no idea of Smith's rapacious urge to torment; Smith seemed a charming, courteous and witty table "Captain"; Smith's winning smile blessed them all; they felt proud to sit at his table.

The shepherds' pie finished, the empty plates removed by a junior, Smith began dolling out apples. Movements caught his eye: Aubrey had stood up and was walking towards a door, and, as if in tandem, Standish, at a different table, did likewise. Moments later Mr Dawson rose from the High Table and made his way to the same door. "Odd" thought Smith. Usually everyone stayed until the very last morsel was eaten. Occasionally a master or boy would slip out early, perhaps to go to the toilet. That the Head Boy, a senior prefect and the junior master should depart, almost as if together, was decidedly odd.

This is a juncture in the tale from whence events can take two diverging paths. It is a critical point for Smith, Wilkins and the well-being of the pupils of Thistletop as a whole. It cannot be said that events careering down either pathway would affect in the slightest the comfortable existence of your author's favourite character, the school cat.

Smith was clever, he had insight, and, more often than not, he could read the intentions of others. Moreover, Smith did not scoff at intuition or supposed prescience; he knew that often it represented arcane inner reasoning of the mind the details of which, other than the conclusion, were temporarily opaque. Smith's intuition was nagging: something was up. The issue with respect to the divergent realities is whether or not Smith connects that intuition with his own wellbeing. Nine times out of ten, Smith being well versed in matters of his own self preservation, he would have, out of caution, linked the unusual event to himself and his planned after tea activities.

This is a dilemma for your author. On one horn is the possibility of allowing Smith to get away with his depredations, perhaps more mutedly in future as the prefects, though not Dr de Ville, would be aware of them. This is consistent with real life as baddies do, more often than not, get away with their crimes. It would not be the traditional happy ending (except for Smith) of uplifting literature dedicated to showing that the universe is ultimately moral, actually cares about cosmic midgets such as mankind, and deals the wicked their just desserts.

The other horn is to follow the "moral" route. I, Oliver Pettigrew, your author, the one who outranks the reader and all persons in his constructed universe (even Smith now), I alone must decide. I can divulge that my decision, whatever it shall be, will not be dictated by morality; it shall be decided solely by which course makes for the better story telling (taking into account the bizarre tastes of my readers.)

To be continued.


More stories by Pettigrew