The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (27 page)

Sudden voices from the farmhouse startled them and they turned to see Mrs Sedley on the doorstep.

‘Time to come in!’ she called.

The Turnarounders looked back to where Urk Fitch had been but he had melted back into the darkness.

Valen shivered. ‘That man so gives me the creeps.’

‘He’s living right next to a Fall,’ said Ralf. ‘More than one, maybe. Out there all alone, with strange shadows appearing, odd sounds and ‘ghosts’ popping up every few days. I’m surprised he hasn’t cracked up completely.’

Val gave him a look. ‘But he has cracked up, hasn’t he?’ she said, witheringly.

Leo nodded. ‘How long will it be before everyone else does as well?’

The next day Seth looked tired and drained again. He was deep in thought on their walk from Short Face Cross Station to school and all Ralf’s attempts at conversation were met with one-word answers.

‘It’s all chat, chat, chat with you this morning isn’t it, motor-mouth?’ Ralf tried, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Seth gave a weak smile over the top of his scarf, but said nothing. They plodded on in silence for a while but, as they passed through the school gates, Ralf made a final doomed attempt to get his friend talking.

‘You sure you’re alright, mate?’ he asked. ‘Feeling okay?’

‘I’m fine. A lot of catching up to do is all. I’ve got stuff tonight as well as Latin with Asinus on Tuesday.’

Ralf frowned. He thought Seth was clever enough to manage without extra lessons but who was he to stop him?

‘What’ve you got, tonight? Choir with Weedy Green? Origami with the Head?’

Seth mumbled something then spotted Will Tomkins in the quadrangle. ‘I better go and see if he’s alright. He probably had detentions all last week without me checking his trigonometry for him.’ He rushed off and Ralf was left, frowning, in the shadow of the clock tower in the centre of the quad. As the bell rang the first few flakes of snow began to fall.

By lunchtime the playing fields were covered in a thick white blanket. As they finished their sponge and custard at a long table in the refectory Ralf and Seth were anticipating a grim afternoon of outdoor Games but suddenly:

‘Look out, everyone!’ cried a gleeful fifth year, from one of the tall windows. ‘Lance has gone for a Burton!’

Boys rushed over to press their faces against the glass but there was still enough room to
see the Games Master, sprawled in a heap on the snow, surrounded by rugby balls. There followed an amusing ten minutes as staff members tried to haul him to his feet. Eventually, Asinus realised that Mr Lance’s screams were of pain, not anger as they’d all supposed, and they had to stretcher him inside.

‘Looks like Mr Lance’s Games lesson is cancelled. Second Form to the gym straight after lunch!’ Winters called over the boy’s sniggers.

Ralf arrived in the gymnasium to find the History Master handing out fencing masks, plastrons and foils. He grimaced. He was rubbish at fencing and Seth, he noticed, looked ashen.

‘Right,’ said Winters, when they were all tooled up. ‘The partners you had last time, please!’ He pointed to Seth, ‘Goldberg, you can swap in and out with Alloway and Childs.’

The boys hurried to obey and Ralf was left hesitating by the wall. King strode over, foil whipping the air in a series of intricate moves. He had the confidence of Zorro.

For a second Ralf was paralysed. This was going to be little short of murder, he thought. But then he noticed King’s expression. Surprisingly, he looked quite friendly.

‘It’s alright, Ralf,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to gut you. Aston gave me your message. Let’s get this over with and then we can talk, suit you?’

Ralf nodded.

‘Splendid. Let’s just continue as we were before. I’ll come in on the attack and you work on that riposte.’

As they put on their masks, Ralf’s mind was whirling. Yes, King had been helping him with his fencing last year! And, aside from speaking to him like he was a five-year old moron, he’d actually been quite a good teacher. He picked up the foil, weighed it in his hand and got into the correct stance.

King nodded behind the mask. ‘Ready? En garde!’ He lunged at Ralf but slowly, the move exaggerated so Ralf would know exactly where it was aimed. Ralf parried easily.

‘Excellent,’ said King. ‘Again!’

Warily Ralf prepared for King’s next move but again the lunge was deliberately obvious and half the speed it could have been. He parried the stroke and smiled inside. Maybe this was going to turn out alright after all?

The sound of foil on foil filled the gym and all around them pairs of fencers battled but Ralf did not see or hear them. He was completely focused on his own moves and King.

‘A bit faster now?’

Ralf parried the next few strokes, concentrating hard and was surprised at his success. It was coming back, now. That back foot needed adjusting a bit but, there, that was better!

Well done both of you!’ Winters exclaimed. ‘How about you have a real assault now and we can see what we need to work on next?’

Behind his mask, Ralf smiled. This was great! It would be brilliant not to have to worry about King or Tank and his other cronies on the corridors again. If they were on speaking terms
, he might even be able to speak to him about Seth. Get him to lay off...

‘En garde!’ said Winters.

King attacked immediately. Ralf quickly parried his thrust, following it with a hesitant riposte that King counter-parried with ease. King feinted to the left and Ralf fell for it, leaving his target area open long enough for the other boy to strike. The foil jabbed Ralf’s stomach, making him gasp.

‘Touché!’ Ralf panted, acknowledging the hit.

King nodded. Then ‘En garde!’ from Winters and they began again. Ralf was forced back several steps, he parried two strokes and then felt the circular movement of King’s foil as the taller boy disarmed him. Ralf’s foil clattered to the floor.

He felt his face flush and was glad of the mask. He picked up his weapon and straightened.

‘Concentrate on the lines, Osborne,’ said Winters encouragingly. ‘Try to anticipate where the next attack will come from.’

Ralf nodded. He saw the flash of white teeth as King grinned behind his mask and they began again.

The attack was quicker this time – and harder. Ralf’s grip tightened. He managed to hold on to his weapon – just. His heart thumped. He couldn’t anticipate what King was going to do and think about his feet at the same time and so he stopped thinking altogether.

This, it transpired, was what he should have done from the start. His instincts took over. The foil was a feather-light extension of his arm that seemed to move with a will of its own. His feet danced across the floor. He felt like he was flying and he had a sudden, intense rush of delight at the ease with which he fought. He could do this, he thought with wild joy. He was good at this!

King hesitated and their blades locked. Ralf looked up to see King’s shadowed smile falter. He could feel King’s press and he pushed back all the harder. The foils sang apart, King’s arms flew wide and Ralf lunged. He hit King squarely in the chest.

‘Touché!’

‘Oh, Bravo Ralf!’ called Winters. ‘You’ve been practicing!’

Behind the mask King’s expression changed from disbelief to angry determination. The last assault was a flurry of foils. The tall boy was extremely good. But, Ralf felt like he’d done this a thousand times before and realised, gleefully, that in his previous lives he probably had.

As King and Ralf fought on, the other boys lost interest in their own bouts and drifted towards them. Soon they were standing in a loose circle around the duelling figures, most cheering King on, but the odd voice every so often calling Ralf’s name.

Ralf did not hear them. He was in a different pla
ce entirely, noiseless and calm – a place where only his body and the foil existed. King, on the other hand, did hear. Enraged, he began a complex compound attack, feinting first one way and then the other. His lunges were fierce now and he cut wildly. Ralf flicked his foil in a circular motion, throwing King off guard. He recovered enough to parry and their blades locked again but the mood in the room had changed,

‘Put up!’ Winters called but neither boy heard. King slashed and thrust, his foil whirling in a frenzy. Ralf just managed to keep him on the back foot, but it was getting dangerous.

‘Put up, I said!’ Winters shouted. ‘Osborne! King! Foils down!’

King was hacking at him now. This would have been disturbing enough but each violent slash was accompanied by a rage filled cry.

‘STOP!’ A slight figure was running towards them, foil raised. ‘What do you think you’re doing, you idiot? WOLF STOP!’

The spell was broken. Out of the corner of his eye, Ralf saw Seth try to step between them, arms raised. He could not follow through his riposte for fear of spearing his friend and had to pull up short. King’s thrust went unchecked and Ralf watched helplessly as it stabbed into his own shoulder. The foil bent in a sharp arc then snapped. The capped tip sprang away but the broken foil jabbed into his padded plastron making him wince. Meeting no resistance, and with a foil six inches shorter than it had been a second ago, King slammed into Ralf knocking his mask off and sending his head, closely followed by the rest of him, crashing to the floor.

The room fell silent. A stunned circle of boys stared in disbelief and anticipation. Winters had never looked so angry. He turned a furious glare to Ralf who, pain boiling through his head, couldn’t have met his eye if he’d wanted to. He started to say something to King but the other boy tore off his mask, glared at Ralf, and stormed from the gym.

Ralf’s head felt like it had been prodded with a red-hot poker and he cupped his hand over his left eye.

‘Touché!’ he whispered.

He was slow changing and by the time he’d put his equipment away and was properly dressed he found himself alone in the locker room. Why hadn’t he just let King beat him? If he’d handled it differently they might be on speaking terms again now. Instead he’d made things worse with King and he’d made Seth and Winters angry with him too. Well, he could do something about that, at least.

Winters was in an armchair in the corner of the staffroom
rapidly checking off clues in The Times crossword when Ralf knocked tentatively on the open door. Weedy Green started to get out of his chair but Winters waved him back down and joined Ralf in the corridor.

‘Well?’

‘I came to apologise, sir,’ said Ralf. ‘I behaved stupidly.’

‘Quite,’ said Winters
, tartly. ‘You do realise how dangerous all that was, don’t you?’

‘Yes
, sir. Sorry, sir.’

‘I’ve always had you pegged as one of the more sensible sorts, Osborne. What I can’t understand is what on earth you thought you were doing!’

‘I wasn’t thinking at all, sir, I’m afraid,’ Ralf confessed honestly. ‘I was so surprised at how well I was doing I pretty much forgot everything else.’

‘Well, at least one of you has had the manners to apologise.’

‘King was pretty upset, sir. I’m sure –’

‘Ridiculous of him to lose his temper like that,’ said Winters.

‘I think Seth’s pretty hacked off with me now as well.’

‘Why don’t you go and patch things up, then? He’ll be finishing OTC in about half an hour. You can talk to him then.’

‘OTC? Officer Training?’ Ralf couldn’t have kept the shock out of his voice if he’d tried. The thought of Seth in uniform, mucking around with guns and playing soldiers was just too weird to be believed.

‘I thought it was out of character too,’ said Winters. There was a movement in his cheek, not quite a twitch but a flicker of concern. ‘It’s what he wants, though. He spread his hands helplessly.

‘Are you sure, sir? I knew he was staying behind but...’

‘Quite sure.’ Winters drew the staffroom door closed behind him. ‘He had a letter from his
grandfather, Osborne. Disturbing news from home.’

Ralf blanched. An awful thought hit him. ‘His parents? Gosh, they’re not – not dead are they sir?’

‘No – no, they’re not dead.’ There was a definite twitch that time.

‘But what’s happened?’

He took his pipe out of his pocket and tapped it meditatively against his palm. He seemed to be considering something. Evidently he decided one way or the other because then he drew in a deep breath. ‘Not for me to say.’ He put a hand on Ralf’s shoulder. ‘Things are difficult for him at the moment. Just leave him be for a while, Ralf. Give him time. He’ll come right again soon enough.’

Unable to truly believe what Winters had said without witnessing it for himself, Ralf said goodbye then hurried from the staffroom to the main quad to peer through one of the windows into
the Hall. Sure enough, Asinus, holding a stopwatch and dressed in a pristine uniform, was standing at the front of a group of twenty or so similarly clad boys who were assembling rifles. Hardly daring to breathe, he watched Seth, somehow smaller than the others, his face a stark mask of concentration, snap a final clip into place and stand to attention – the first to finish.