Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(19)

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.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Harry. ‘But in the meantime I’m going to return anything Giles gives me to the tuck shop without letting him know.’

Deakins leant over. ‘Could you take my stuff back as well?’ he whispered. ‘I never go to the tuck shop, so I wouldn’t know what to do.’

Harry agreed to take on the responsibility, and after that he went to the tuck shop twice a week and placed Giles’s unwanted gifts back on the shelves. He had concluded that Deakins was right and that he would have to confront his friend before he was caught, but decided to put it off until the end of term.





‘Good shot, Barrington,’ said Mr Frobisher as the ball crossed the boundary. A ripple of applause broke out around the ground. ‘Mark my words, headmaster, Barrington will play for Eton against Harrow at Lord’s.’

‘Not if Giles has anything to do with it,’ Harry whispered to Deakins.

‘What are you doing for the summer hols, Harry?’ asked Deakins, seemingly oblivious to all that was going on around him.

‘I don’t have any plans to visit Tuscany this year, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Harry replied with a grin.

‘I don’t think Giles really wants to go either,’ said Deakins. ‘After all, the Italians have never understood cricket.’

‘Well, I’d be happy to change places with him,’ said Harry. ‘It doesn’t bother me that Michelangelo, Da Vinci and Caravaggio were never introduced to the finer subtleties of leg break bowling, not to mention all that pasta he’ll be expected to wade through.’

‘So where are you going?’ asked Deakins.

A week on the Riviera of the West,’ said Harry with bravado. ‘The grand pier at Weston-super-Mare is usually the high spot, followed by fish and chips at Coffins cafe. Care to join me?’

‘Can’t spare the time,’ said Deakins, who clearly thought Harry was being serious.

‘And why’s that?’ asked Harry, playing along.

‘Too much work to do.’

‘You intend to go on working during the holidays?’ asked Harry in disbelief.

‘Work is a holiday for me,’ said Deakins. ‘I enjoy it every bit as much as Giles does his cricket, and you do your singing.’

‘But where do you work?’

‘In the municipal library, clot. They have everything I need.’

‘Can I join you?’ asked Harry, sounding just as serious. ‘I need all the help I can get if I’m to have any chance of winning a scholarship to BGS.’

‘Only if you agree to remain silent at all times,’ said Deakins. Harry would have laughed, but he knew his friend didn’t consider work a laughing matter.

‘But I desperately need some help with my Latin grammar,’ said Harry. ‘I still don’t understand the consecutive clause, let alone subjunctives, and if I don’t manage a pass mark in the Latin paper, it’s curtains, even if I do well in every other subject.’

‘I’d be willing to help you with your Latin,’ said Deakins, ‘if you do me a favour in return.’

‘Name it,’ said Harry, ‘though I can’t believe you’re hoping to perform a solo at this year’s carol service.’

‘Good shot, Barrington,’ said Mr Frobisher again. Harry joined in the applause. ‘That’s his third half-century this season, headmaster,’ added Mr Frobisher.

‘Don’t be frivolous, Harry,’ said Deakins. ‘The truth is, my dad needs someone to take over the morning paper round during the summer holidays, and I’ve suggested you. The pay is a shilling a week, and as long as you can report to the shop by six o’clock every morning, the position’s yours.’

‘Six o’clock?’ said Harry scornfully. ‘When you’ve got an uncle who wakes up the whole house at five, that’s the least of your problems.’

‘Then you’d be willing to take on the job?’

‘Yes of course,’ said Harry. ‘But why don’t you want it? A bob a week is not to be sniffed at.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Deakins, ‘but I can’t ride a bicycle.’

‘Oh hell,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t even have a bicycle.’

‘I didn’t say I didn’t have a bicycle,’ sighed Deakins, ‘I said I couldn’t ride one.’

‘Clifton,’ said Mr Frobisher as the cricketers walked off the ground for tea, ‘I’d like to see you in my study after prep.’





Harry had always liked Mr Frobisher, who was one of the few masters who treated him as an equal. He also didn’t appear to have any favourites, while some of the other beaks left him in no doubt that a docker’s son should never have been allowed to enter the hallowed portals of St Bede’s however good his voice was.

When the bell rang at the end of prep, Harry put down his pen and walked across the corridor to Mr Frobisher’s study. He had no idea why his housemaster wanted to see him, and hadn’t given the matter a great deal of thought.