Free The Light Years (The Cazalet Chronicle) by Elizabeth Jane Howard Page B

– he’s a prefect. As if you didn’t know,’ he added.
    ‘Well, it wasn’t any of your business, then, was it? Why don’t you just shut up?’
    ‘Why don’t you just boil your head? Why don’t you just tie two rocks round your feet and jump in the swimming pool? Why don’t you . . .’ He was on to a good vein now and would go on for hours, thinking of things that Simon might just do, if Simon didn’t stop him.
    ‘Psst!’ he said. ‘Someone’s coming!’
    They weren’t, but it shut him up because what Galbraith had said he’d do to both of them if Matron came and found he wasn’t there (cut off very small – unnoticeable to Matron – bits of them with his penknife to feed to his rat was the latest) had cowed them into perfect loyalty: Clarkson had bored (and frightened) Simon the whole term with his ruminations about what bits would hurt most and how long it would take them to die. So they both lay and waited a bit and Simon had just begun to have a lovely think about what he’d do the moment he got home – undo the crane he’d made with his Meccano last hols and start on the swing bridge like Dawson said he’d made (he’d let Polly help him undo the crane but not actually make the bridge), chocolate cake for tea with walnuts and crystallised violets on it and Mum would see to it that he got a walnut with his slice . . .
    ‘You know the other thing Galbraith said?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He said he’s got an aunt who’s a witch. And he could get her to cast a spell on us if we sneak on him. Do you think she could? I mean, could she actually turn us into something? I mean, look at Macbeth . . .’ They were going to do Macbeth as the play next term so everyone had been reading it in English. There was a pause while they both contemplated this possibility – much more frightening, Simon thought, than cutting bits off them which would be bound to show in the end. Then Clarkson said nervously, ‘What would you most like not to be turned into?’
    ‘An owl,’ said Simon promptly, ‘because then I’d have Galbraith watching me every night.’ Then as Clarkson let out a hoot of laughter, he added, ‘Look out. You’re beginning to sound like one!’ This reduced Clarkson to helpless giggles and Simon had to get up and hit him quite a lot with his pillow to get him to shut up. After Clarkson had pleaded pax a good many times, Simon let him go on condition that he shut up for the night. He wouldn’t have, but they heard Galbraith coming back up the drainpipe and at once both feigned sleep. Simon, however, lay awake for hours, wondering about Galbraith’s aunt . . .
    In a much larger dormitory at the other end of the house, Teddy Cazalet lay on his back praying, ‘Please, God, let her not come to the station to meet me. But if she does come, at least let her not kiss me in front of everyone. At least let her not do that. And don’t let her be wearing that awful silly hat she wore for Sports’ Day. Please, God. Best of all – just let her not come.’

     
    ‘Comfy?’
    ‘Mm.’ She felt his moustache feeling for her face in the dark. He made no attempt to kiss her mouth, but to be on the safe side she added, ‘Awfully sleepy. Delicious dinner Mary gave us, didn’t she? Didn’t she look lovely?’
    ‘She looked all right. Play was a bit wordy, I thought.’
    ‘Interesting, though.’
    ‘Oh, yes. He’s a clever chap, Shaw. Mark you, I don’t agree with him. If he had his way, we’d probably all be murdered in our beds.’
    She turned on her side. ‘Darling, I warn you, I’m off.’ But after a moment she said, ‘You haven’t forgotten about Bracken fetching Teddy? I mean, I’ll go, of course, but it does help to have Bracken with the trunk.’
    ‘Better if you don’t. I told Hugh we’d pick up Simon as well and that means twice the clobber.’
    ‘Teddy’ll be frightfully disappointed if I don’t meet him. I always do.’
    ‘He’ll be all right.’ He put his arm round her,