The Hostage: A gripping up-all-night psychological thriller by Jon Rance

Author:Jon Rance [Rance, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-21T23:00:00+00:00

24

Upperton School, Oxfordshire, 2007

It was a still, ashen morning at Upperton School. A blanket of misty fog lay across the playing fields and stretched all the way down to the woods. It was the sort of morning that made the boys want to stay cuddled up under the warm covers of their beds. But they knew it wasn’t going to happen. One of the school traditions was the morning run. Come wind, rain, or snow, they would be called from their beds at seven o’clock sharp and forced to go on the school run. It was one lap around the playing fields, through the woods, which often meant running through thick, sticky mud, and then back around to the front of the school. Then it was inside for showers, get dressed, and down for breakfast. It was the same tradition that had been happening at the school for over two hundred years. The boys were told in great detail the sort of people who had done the same thing every morning during their time at Upperton. Boys just like them who had gone on to have incredible careers and lives, as if it was all down to running through gale force winds at seven o’clock in the morning.

Jamie Grant pulled back his bedcovers and stretched. The last thing he wanted to do that morning was run, but like all the other boys, he had no choice. At least he was a decent runner. He always felt like getting it over quickly was better than dawdling and taking his time. Plus, if he got back first, it meant longer in the showers. Jamie pulled on his running shorts, socks, and t-shirt. It was another of the antiquated rules. No matter the time of year and the temperature, every boy would run in shorts and a t-shirt. They were handed out at the beginning of the year. Standard issue. Jamie also had a quick shot of his inhaler. Another pre-run morning tradition.

‘You’d better get up, Carver, or they’ll have your guts for garters,’ Jamie said to the lump on Henry’s bed that hadn’t yet moved.

‘I’m coming,’ said Henry, dozily trying to force himself awake.

Unlike Jamie, Henry wasn’t a natural runner, and he hated being woken up every morning so early just to run. He didn’t see the point in it and couldn’t keep up with Jamie who was always amongst the first to finish, while Henry would end up with the stragglers at the back. It meant he’d have to rush his shower, but it was the best he could do.

He eventually got himself up as Jamie bounded out of their room. Henry wondered if that sort of thing was just in his DNA. Boys like Jamie Grant were born to wake up early and go for a run in the same way they knew what sort of cutlery to use and how to behave in every social situation. It was something intrinsic to being upper class, and something that no matter how hard he tried, Henry would never possess.

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