A Boy Without Hope by Casey Watson

Author:Casey Watson [Casey Watson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-09-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

After security had taken us through a small reception area, we emerged into a grand hall. It was oak-panelled, and in the centre was an enormous chandelier; it had several rooms leading off it. The man who greeted us (no less imposing – so very obviously the headmaster) introduced himself as Mark Hammond.

He smiled and shook my hand. Then Tyler’s. Then Miller’s. ‘Welcome to our humble abode,’ he boomed as he led us to a room off to the right. ‘I’ve been head here for just over ten years now,’ he added conversationally, ‘and by the time you’ve seen the whole place I hope you’ll understand just why I’m so proud of this school. And, of course, who wouldn’t want to work in these beautiful surroundings?’

He swept his arm around the room we were currently entering. ‘This is the library,’ he said as I took it all in; luxurious leather Chesterfields, set on deep patterned rugs and surrounded by walls of towering book cases. ‘The boys here enjoy a minimum of an hour a day in here, reading –’ He grinned at Tyler. ‘Obviously quietly. Though it’s so relaxing and peaceful here that they often stay longer. Which we don’t mind at all,’ he added. ‘Indeed, it’s a matter of some pride that many parents feed back to us that being here has resulted in their boys reading the first entire book of their lives. Do you read, Miller?’ he then asked.

‘A bit,’ Miller mumbled.

Mr Hammond placed a hand on his shoulder, as if knighting him. ‘Well, then, I’ll consider it my personal mission to change that to “a lot”. Anyway, come along, everyone. Let’s get on with the tour.’

And tour it was. Mr Hammond marched us along a dizzying array of corridors, up staircases, down stairwells, along various landings. You could get lost here, I thought. And not be found for days. I hoped that wouldn’t end up being the case with Miller.

But I knew I mustn’t get ahead of myself – he didn’t even have a place yet. For all Mr Hammond’s bonhomie, and regular use of the term ‘when you’, rather than ‘if you’, I knew this wasn’t a done deal quite yet.

Oh, but, if he did get a place, what a place for him to be. Every wall was adorned with huge framed historical pictures, each of which (we were told, via the ongoing commentary) had been crafted by both alumni and local artists, many of them going back generations. And it did feel as if we’d stepped back in time; reliving a golden age in this magnificent building, which seemed more like a grand museum than a school. In fact, the only thing that gave the game away that this was a place of education were the many, many photographs of smartly dressed boys, singly and in groups, receiving various awards. For sporting achievements, or for work in the community, or for making outstanding contributions to this subject or that subject. The very quantity of them was incredible in itself.

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