Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(55)

‘You don’t look too bad to me, Giles,’ said Hugo once Matron had left the room.

‘I’m fine, Papa. In fact, I was rather hoping Matron would let me out on Saturday morning so I can play football.’

‘I’ll have a word with her before I go.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’

‘So, how’s the work coming along?’

‘Not bad,’ said Giles. ‘But that’s only because I share a study with the two brightest boys in my class.’

‘And who are they?’ asked his father, dreading the reply.

‘There’s Deakins, he’s the cleverest boy in the school. In fact, the other boys won’t even talk to him because they think he’s a swot. But my best friend is Harry Clifton. He’s very clever too, but not as clever as Deakins. You’ve probably heard him singing in the choir. I know you’ll like him.’

‘But isn’t Clifton the son of a stevedore?’ Hugo said.

‘Yes, and just like Grandpa he doesn’t hide the fact. But how did you know that, Papa?’

‘I think Clifton used to work for the company,’ Hugo said, immediately regretting his words.

‘It must have been before your time, Papa,’ said Giles, ‘because his father was killed in the war.’

‘Who told you that?’ said Hugo.

‘Harry’s mother. She’s a waitress at the Royal Hotel. We went to tea there on his birthday.’

Hugo would have liked to have asked when Clifton’s birthday was, but feared it might be one question too many. Instead, he said, ‘Your mother sends her love. I think she and Emma plan to visit you later this week.’

‘Yuk. That’s all I need,’ said Giles. ‘Chicken pox and a visit from my dreadful sister.’

‘She’s not that bad,’ said his father, laughing.

‘She’s worse,’ said Giles. ‘And Grace doesn’t look as if she’s going to be any better. Do they have to come on holiday with us, Papa?’

‘Yes, of course they do.’

‘I was wondering if Harry Clifton could join us in Tuscany this summer. He’s never been abroad.’

‘No,’ said Hugo a little too firmly. ‘Holidays are strictly for the family, not to be shared with strangers.’

‘But he’s not a stranger,’ said Giles. ‘He’s my best friend.’

‘No,’ Hugo repeated, ‘and that’s an end of the matter.’ Giles looked disappointed. ‘So what would you like for your birthday, my boy?’ Hugo asked, quickly changing the subject.

‘The latest radio,’ said Giles without hesitation. ‘It’s called a Roberts Reliable.’

‘Are you allowed to have radios at school?’

‘Yes,’ said Giles, ‘but you can only play them at weekends. If you’re caught listening after lights out or during the week, they get confiscated.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Will you be coming home on your birthday?’

‘Yes, but only for tea. I have to be back at school in time for prep.’

Then I’ll try and drop in,’ said Hugo. I’ll be off now. I want a word with Matron before I leave.’

‘Don’t forget to ask her if she’ll let me out on Saturday morning,’ Giles reminded him as his father left the room to carry out the real purpose of his visit.

‘I’m so glad you were able to drop by, Mr Barrington. It will perk Giles up no end,’ said Matron as he walked into her office. ‘But as you can see, he’s almost fully recovered.’

‘Yes, and he’s hoping you’ll let him out on Saturday morning so he can play in a football match.’

‘I’m sure that will be possible,’ said Matron. ‘But you said there was something else you wanted to talk about?’

‘Yes, Matron. As you know, Giles is colour-blind. I just wanted to ask if it was causing him any difficulties.’

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ said Matron. ‘If it is, it certainly doesn’t stop him hitting a red ball across a green field until it reaches a white boundary.’

Barrington laughed before he delivered his next well-prepared line. ‘When I was at St Bede’s, I used to be teased because I was the only boy who suffered from colour-blindness.’

‘Let me assure you,’ said Matron, ‘no one teases Giles. And in any case, his best friend is also colour-blind.’





Hugo drove back to his office thinking that something had to be done before the situation got out of control. He decided to have another word with Colonel Danvers.

Once he was back behind his desk, he told Miss Potts he didn’t want to be disturbed. He waited until she’d closed the door before he picked up the telephone. A few moments later the chief constable was on the line.

‘It’s Hugo Barrington, Colonel.’

‘How are you, my boy?’ asked the chief constable.

‘I’m well, sir. I was wondering if you could advise me on a private matter.’

‘Fire away, old fellow.’

‘I’m looking for a new head of security, and I wondered if you might be able to point me in the right direction.’

‘As a matter of fact I do know a man who might fit the bill, but I’m not sure if he’s still available. I’ll find out and give you a call back.’