Jeffrey Archer - Only Time Will Tell

Giles’s mother made no attempt to conceal her surprise at her husband’s behaviour, but she said nothing. Harry never took his eyes off Mr Hugo as he left the room, while Deakins, having finished his cake, turned his attention back to the smoked salmon sandwiches, clearly oblivious to what was going on around him.

Once the door was closed, Mrs Barrington continued to chat as if nothing unusual had happened. ‘I’m sure you’ll win a scholarship to Bristol Grammar, Harry, especially considering everything Giles has told me about you. You’re obviously a very clever boy, as well as a gifted singer.’

‘Giles does have a tendency to exaggerate, Mrs Barrington,’ said Harry. ‘I can assure you only Deakins is certain of winning a scholarship.’

‘But doesn’t BGS offer grants for music scholars?’ she asked.

‘Not for trebles,’ said Harry. ‘They won’t take the risk.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Mrs Barrington. ‘Nothing can take away the years of choral training you’ve been put through.’

‘True, but sadly no one can predict what will happen when your voice breaks. Some trebles end up as basses or baritones, and the really lucky ones become tenors, but there’s no way of telling in advance.’

‘Why not?’ asked Deakins, taking an interest for the first time.

‘There are plenty of treble soloists who can’t even get a place in their local choir once their voice has broken. Ask Master Ernest Lough. Every household in England has heard him sing Oh, for the wings of a dove , but after his voice broke no one ever heard from him again.’

‘You’re just going to have to work harder,’ said Deakins between mouthfuls. ‘Don’t forget the grammar school awards twelve scholarships every year, and I can only win one of them,’ he added matter-of-factly.

‘But that’s the problem,’ said Harry. ‘If I’m going to work any harder, I’ll have to give up the choir, and without my bursary, I’d have to leave St Bede’s, so…’

‘You’re between a rock and a hard place,’ said Deakins.

Harry had never heard the expression before and decided to ask Deakins later what it meant.

‘Well, one thing’s for certain,’ said Mrs Barrington, ‘Giles isn’t likely to win a scholarship to any school.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Harry. ‘But Bristol Grammar isn’t likely to turn down a left-handed batsman of his calibre.’

‘Then we’ll have to hope that Eton feels the same way,’ said Mrs Barrington, ‘because that’s where his father wants him to go.’

‘I don’t want to go to Eton,’ said Giles, putting down his fork. ‘I want to go to BGS and be with my friends.’

‘I’m sure you’ll make a lot of new friends at Eton,’ said his mother. ‘And it would be a great disappointment to your father if you didn’t follow in his footsteps.’

The under-butler coughed. Mrs Barrington looked out of the window to see a car drawing up at the bottom of the steps. ‘I think the time has come for you all to return to school,’ she said. ‘I certainly don’t want to be responsible for anyone being late for prep.’

Harry looked longingly at the large plate of sandwiches and the half-finished birthday cake but reluctantly rose from his place and began to walk towards the door. He glanced back once and could have sworn he saw Deakins put a sandwich in his pocket. He took one last look out of the window and was surprised to notice, for the first time, a gangly young girl with long pigtails who was curled up in the corner reading a book.

‘That’s my frightful sister, Emma,’ said Giles. ‘She never stops reading. Just ignore her.’ Harry smiled at Emma, but she didn’t look up. Deakins didn’t give her a second look.

Mrs Barrington accompanied the three boys to the front door, where she shook hands with Harry and Deakins. ‘I do hope you’ll both come again soon,’ she said. ‘You’re such a good influence on Giles.’

‘Thank you very much for having us to tea, Mrs Barrington,’ Harry said. Deakins just nodded. Both boys looked away when she hugged her son and gave him a kiss.

As the chauffeur drove down the long driveway towards the gates, Harry looked out of the back window at the house. He didn’t notice Emma staring out of the window at the disappearing car.

THE SCHOOL TUCK SHOP was open between four and six every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.

Harry rarely visited the ‘Emporium’, as it was known by the boys, since he only had two shillings’ pocket money a term, and he knew his mother wouldn’t appreciate any little extras appearing on his end-of-term account. However, on Deakins’s birthday, Harry made an exception to this rule, as he intended to purchase a one-penny bar of fudge for his friend.

Despite Harry’s rare visits to the tuck shop, a bar of Fry’s Five Boys chocolate could be found on his desk every Tuesday and Thursday evening. Although there was a school rule that no boy could spend more than sixpence a week in the tuck shop, Giles would also leave a packet of Liquorice Allsorts for Deakins, making it clear to his friends that he expected nothing in return.

When Harry arrived at the tuck shop that Tuesday, he joined a long queue of boys waiting to be served. His mouth watered as he stared at the neatly stacked rows of chocolate, fudge, jelly babies, liquorice and, the latest craze, Smiths potato crisps. He’d considered buying a packet for himself, but after a recent introduction to Mr Wilkins Micawber, he had been left in no doubt about the value of sixpence.

As Harry ogled the Emporium’s treasures, he heard Giles’s voice and noticed that he was a few places ahead of him in the queue. He was just about to hail his friend when he saw Giles remove a bar of chocolate from a shelf and slip it into his trouser pocket. A few moments later, a packet of chewing gum followed. When Giles reached the front of the queue, he placed on the counter a box of Liquorice Allsorts, 2d, and a bag of crisps, 1d, which Mr Swivals, the master in charge of the shop, entered neatly in his ledger against the name of Barrington. The two other items remained in Giles’s pocket, unaccounted for.

Harry was horrified, and before Giles could turn round, he slipped out of the shop, not wanting his friend to spot him. Harry walked slowly around the school block, trying to work out why Giles would want to steal anything, when he could so obviously afford to pay. He assumed there had to be some simple explanation, although he couldn’t imagine what it might be.

Harry went up to his study just before prep, to find the pilfered bar of chocolate on his desk, and Deakins tucking into a box of Liquorice Allsorts. He found it difficult to concentrate on the causes of the Industrial Revolution while he tried to decide what, if anything, he should do about his discovery.

By the end of prep, he’d made his decision. He placed the unopened bar of chocolate in the top drawer of his desk, having decided he would return it to the tuck shop on Thursday, without telling Giles.

Harry didn’t sleep that night, and after breakfast he took Deakins to one side and explained why he hadn’t been able to give him a birthday present. Deakins couldn’t hide his disbelief.

‘My dad’s been having the same problem in his shop,’ said Deakins. ‘It’s called shoplifting. The Daily Mail is blaming it on the Depression.’

‘I don’t think Giles’s family will have been affected much by the Depression,’ said Harry with some feeling.

Deakins nodded thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should tell the Frob?’

‘Sneak on my best friend?’ said Harry. ‘Never.’

‘But if Giles is caught he could be expelled,’ said Deakins. ‘The least you can do is warn him you’ve found out what he’s up to.’