back of the form- room and trying to lose himself in the crowd, but Biffen called him back.
'Aren't you forgetting something, Healey?'
'Sir?'
'You owe me an explanation for your unpunctuality, I think.'
Adrian approached the dais.
'Oh yes, sir. The thing is, sir, I was going to be late anyway - only a bit, but I bumped into Dr Meddlar.'
'He kept you for twenty minutes?'
'Yes, sir - or rather no, sir. He was very rude to me. He upset me, sir.'
'Rude to you? The Chaplain was rude to you?'
'I'm sure that's not how he would put it, sir.' Adrian had a shot at his pure but troubled expression. It was particularly effective when looking up at someone, as he was now. It was loosely based on Dominic Guard's Leo in the film of
'He ... he made me cry, sir, and I was too embarrassed to come in blubbing, so I went and hid in the music- room until I felt better.'
This was all terribly unfair on poor old Biffen, whom Adrian rather adored for his snowy hair and perpetual air of benign astonishment. And 'blubbing' . . . Blubbing went out with 'decent' and 'ripping'. Mind you, not a bad new language to start up. 1920s schoolboy slang could be due for a revival.
'Oh dear. But I'm sure the Chaplain must have had good reason to be . . . that is, Dr Meddlar wouldn't speak sharply to you without cause.'
'Well I admit I was cheeky to him, sir. But you know what he's like.'
'He is, I am sure, a scrupulously fair man.'
'Yes, sir. I - I wouldn't want you to think that I've been lying to you, sir. I'm sure Dr Meddlar will tell you his side of the story if you ask him.'
'I won't do that. I know whether a boy is telling me the truth or not.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Did he hell. They never bloody did.
'I don't want to lecture you, Healey, and I don't want to keep you from your morning break, but you must face the fact that many members of staff are beginning to lose their patience. Perhaps you feel they don't understand you?'
'I think the problem is that they do understand me, sir.'
'Yes. You see that is exactly the kind of remark that is guaranteed to put certain masters' backs up, isn't it? Sophistication is not an admired quality. Not only at school. Nobody likes it anywhere. In England at any rate.'
'Sir.'
'You're the cleverest boy in my French set. You know that perfectly well. But you've never worked. That makes you the stupidest boy in the school.'
Parable of the talents next, what was the betting?
'What are your university thoughts?'
'Oh, well sir . . . you know. After 'A' levels I think I'll've had it with education, really. And it will probably have had it with me.'
'I see. Tell me, what do you do on Friday afternoons, Healey? I take it you're not in the Cadet Force.'
'Threw me out, sir. It was an outrage.'
'Yes, I'm sure it was. So it's Pioneering, is it?'
'Yes, sir. There's a little old lady I visit.'
'Well,' said Biffen filling his briefcase with exercise books, 'there's a little old lady and a little old man in the Morley Road you might also find time to visit one day. My wife and I always give tea on Fridays, you'd be most welcome.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'You don't have to let us know in advance. We shall expect you when we see you. Off you go then.'
'Thank you, Mr Biffen, thank you very much.'
Adrian instinctively offered his hand which Biffen took with tremendous firmness, looking him straight in the eye.
'I'm not Mr Chips, you know. I'm perfectly well aware that you feel sorry for me. It's bad enough from the staff, but I won't take pity from you. I won't.'
'No sir,' said Adrian, 'I wasn't . . .'
'Good.'
III
Tom and Adrian and Pigs Trotter, an occasional hanger-on, were walking into town. From time to time tracksuited boys ran past them, with all the deadly, purpose and humourless concentration of those who enjoyed Games. Juniors twittered along, running sticks against palings and whispering. Adrian thought it worth while trying
