Free Not My Blood by Barbara Cleverly

can be bothered to ask about they’ll tell you—a fanatic about education. And I won’t deny it. I can think of no more urgent cause. It is the duty of our country to produce a generation of scientists and thinkers. The only way we shall uphold our position in the world to come.”
    Joe thought uneasily that he could only wait for the revelationthat was undoubtedly hovering in the air. Into the space he had been left for comment, he muttered disjointed phrases including the words: “Patriot? Of course. Aren’t we all? See what you mean.… Cause for concern.…”
    “I thought as much. I thought I recognised a man who would put his country before the personal aspirations of a single renegade.”
    Joe guessed he was talking of Truelove and waited for more.
    “Truelove! Minister for Reform? Minister for Mischief, more like! The man’s eyes gleam with naked ambition—did you see it? He’s a man who’ll use anything and anybody to further his own career. He doesn’t care much whose reputation he smirches in his climb to the top. He’s using this new free-wheeling post of his to snatch at and absorb areas of interest that should rightly be the preserve of other departments. Education, as you’ve just seen demonstrated, is one. Watch out—he may next have his sights on law and order. Indeed, I know that he has.”
    “One small prep school on the southern coast of the country would seem to be a very small target, Anderson. I can’t see how a scandal there might advance his assault on the premiership,” Joe said bluntly.
    “Truelove wants to make his mark with a root and branch reform of the English school system, both fee-paying and state establishments, and—am I being fanciful here?—I’m guessing that if he can hold up one rotten apple as an example it will justify his case. He’s obviously not going to take on—say—Rugby or Eton, but a tiddler amongst schools, a small country prep school—that’s a much more likely candidate. This man has a nose for publicity. He frequently stoops to manipulating the press. He has the barons in the palm of his hand already.”
    “What headlines are you imagining in the
Daily Mirror
if his plans come to fruition?”
    “Oh, something on the lines of:
Murder and corruption rife inEnglish schools. Are our children safe?
The article worded so as to make tongues wag and voices call out demanding to know how widespread the problem is. The next thing will be an impassioned speech to Parliament. Truelove is an inspired orator. He’ll make use of any scandal you can uncover to fuel public outrage. To put out a fire in a heroic way, Sandilands, you first have to start your fire. He’s set it, I do believe, and you are being sent in to locate the blue touch paper and put a match to it for him. Mind you don’t get your fingers burnt.”
    W HEN J OE RETURNED at noon, he answered a bellow from Alfred’s room.
    “We’re all in here!”
    “Great Heavens! You’re throwing a party, Alfred?”
    The room was humming with heat and noise. Three small boys were scrambling about on their stomachs on the carpet, organising the railway. His sister Lydia, watching their antics, rolled her eyes at Joe from over their heads, conveying acute boredom.
    “If you wouldn’t mind stepping into the hall, sir?”
    Puzzled, Joe followed him.
    “Seemed the safest way—keeping them all together under my eye. Your Jackie.…” He grinned. “… or ‘Andy,’ as we’re calling him for the duration, is getting on well with my two. I popped a pinny on him, seeing as he was a bit lacking in the clothes department like. And they can get a bit mucky rolling about on the rug. Hard to tell one from t’other. Peas in a pod. But you were right to be concerned, sir. Someone did try to get at your sister—or your lad.”
    Joe stiffened. “I see that all’s well but—Alfred—who? How?”
    “No idea. I thought I’d better keep hold of him for you to take a look at.”
    Jenkins took a small fuse