and glanced round at the others. There were about twenty of them including five women. All of them looked younger than he did.

'I understand you were a Para,' said Jarvis as he and Avedissian sat down to eat together.

'A long time ago and only for a while,' replied Avedissian, wishing that people would stop referring to his military service.

'And then you became a doctor?'

'Yes,' replied Avedissian. So Jarvis knew about him, he thought. Perhaps he knew the reasons for his being there. 'You seem to know a lot about me,' he said. 'But I know nothing about you.'

There's not much to say really. I'm twenty-six, I have a BA in history from the University of Leeds and I'm a serving officer in the Royal Marines.'

'You're a commando?'

'Yes.'

'Then what on earth are you doing here? You can hardly need a 'bit of exercise', as they keep calling it.'

Jarvis smiled and said, 'I don't, but you do. That's why I'm here.' His smile became even broader when he saw the look that appeared on Avedissian's face.

Avedissian felt that his worst fears were being realised. He now had his own personal Marine Commando to put him through hell. This is all a bit ridiculous,’ he protested. 'I'm a doctor! I am thirty-seven years old!'

'So was James Bond,’ said Jarvis.

'Pardon?'

The Bond books. James Bond was thirty-seven.’

Avedissian could see that his chances of attracting any sympathy were remote. He changed the subject and asked, 'What's the purpose of all this?'

Jarvis replied, 'I'm as much in the dark as you are. All I know is that I have been seconded to a special mission. I was told that I would be working with a doctor, an ex-Para who might be a bit rusty, and I was to see that he should get back into reasonable shape.'

'Just what does reasonable shape mean?' asked Avedissian bringing his fears into the open.

'Don't worry too much,’ Jarvis smiled. 'No one is going to try to turn you into a cold-eyed assassin who can kill a man with one flick of his big toe. My instructions are to see that you can suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and occasionally hit back if necessary.’

When they had finished eating the major got to his feet again and said that they should all have an early night. He added that, before retiring, they should lay out their clothes in such a manner as to permit dressing in complete darkness. If an alarm should sound they should be 'on parade' in the hall within two and a half minutes. 'Any questions?' he asked.

Someone asked what time reveille would be at.

'Any time,’ came the reply.

The laughter had the thinness of new ice.

Avedissian said good-night to Jarvis, who had the room next to his, and closed the door. He went immediately to the bedside locker and reached inside for the gin bottle. It had gone. A momentary flare of anger subsided and he resigned himself with a wry smile. That, he supposed, was one problem taken care of.

He lay in bed and looked out of the window at the full moon, his hands behind his head. Sleep was going to be a long time coming but it did not matter for the sheets were clean and cool, the bed was firm and comfortable and, in the moonlight, he could see his clothes spread out in predetermined order. He closed his eyes and rehearsed where everything was. He opened them again and confirmed it.

As the moon dipped behind the window-frame Avedissian felt sleep creep up on him. The stars twinkled in the clear night sky over the dark shapes of the Welsh mountains and all was peaceful, save for the alarm that had just gone off.

'Boy Scouts!' muttered Avedissian as he got into his clothes in the darkness. The advantage of not having been asleep when the alarm had sounded and the fact that there was still some moonlight in the room made the exercise a smooth one. He clattered downstairs and joined the throng of people assembling in the hall. Jarvis was already there. He acknowledged Avedissian with a nod.

Several of the course members were standing stiffly to attention, eyes staring straight ahead as if fixed on some invisible Star of Bethlehem. Avedissian adopted a more leisurely stance and Jarvis hid a smile.

'Good morning,’ said the captain and checked his watch as the last of the stragglers came through the door, including one of the girls carrying her right boot. 'I couldn't get the knot out,’ she said sheepishly. It got a laugh.

'You'll find sweaters and anoraks by the door,’ said the captain. 'We're going for a walk.’

At first the walk was brisk but not unpleasant. Avedissian found himself enjoying it and was pleased to note that his circulation had improved to match the cold night air. Another two miles and the Captain said, 'Right, we'll run for a bit.'

Pleasure gave way to pain as Avedissian's lungs demanded more and more air and the fact that Jarvis beside him appeared to be breathing quite normally did not give him a psychological boost.

'Keep up!' yelled the sergeant as the party started to string out with Avedissian competing successfully for last place. The shouts of the NCOs and Jarvis egging him on spurred Avedissian to greater effort and he increased his pace to gain a little on the pack. He was almost back in touch when they were ordered to return to walking pace. Jarvis asked Avedissian how he was feeling but Avedissian was unable to reply. Oxygen was too precious to waste on mere words.

The outward leg of the 'walk' ended with a climb. The party followed a mountain track to reach the summit of a Brecon peak of sixteen hundred feet. By the time he reached the top Avedissian was feeling ill. He detached himself from the group and fell down on his hands and knees behind a rock to be sick. He stayed on his hands and knees till his stomach was empty and his breathing had returned to normal.

The sun came up. Avedissian had always found the dawn an intensely personal experience and, like most people, had not watched the sun come up that often in his life, so that he could recall clearly the occasions in his past when he had. He was glad that no one spoke for there was no need for anyone to say how beautiful it was. He stood alone on an outcrop of rock and let the red light bathe him in mellow sadness.

It was six-thirty when they got back to Llangern House to a hot shower and then breakfast. This was followed by a morning of lectures on navigation and map reading. Avedissian could not help but wonder about his fellow students. They all seemed to be familiar with the basics but varied a great deal in ability above that level. Were they civilians? Service personnel? What was more important, were they all there for the same reason? The fact that the members of the course split up in the afternoon to do different things seemed to suggest that they were not.

Avedissian and Jarvis were part of an eight-strong contingent, all male, who spent the afternoon in the gymnasium. There they were hounded by two NCOs in something called circuit training, in which they were required to complete a series of exercises in succession and then start all over again. After three circuits Avedissian had to void his lunch. His attempt to linger too long in the lavatory was headed off by one of the NCOs who had seen it all before. Avedissian was permitted to rest… after two more circuits.

The official day finished at seven and Avedissian was in bed by eight. He had not felt so tired since his basic training with the Parachute Regiment. Come to think of it, that had been in Wales too, he recalled.

A new day began at five a.m. and followed much the same pattern as the one before. Early morning exercise was followed by breakfast and lectures. Lunch was followed by afternoon exercise. This time the afternoon exercise for Avedissian and four others, including Jarvis, was in unarmed combat. Jarvis did not need it, as the instructors quickly recognised, but Avedissian did. He spent so much time in the air that he considered joining the Air Force. At least they would teach him to land properly.

'A bit rusty are we, Mr Avedissian?' inquired one of the NCOs, sending Avedissian into yet another ungainly heap. 'Never had much time for the Paras myself.'

Tumble crash.

'Bit overrated I always thought

Tumble crash.

'Crowd of nancy boys, some people reckon…'

Tumble crash.

Вы читаете The Trojan boy
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