Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell Read Online Free PDF Page A

the bedroom he shared with Uncle Stan, where, with the aid of a candle, he studied for hours that until then he hadn’t realized existed. There were even occasions when his mother found Harry sound asleep on the floor, open books scattered around him.
    Every Saturday morning he continued to visit Old Jack, who seemed to know a great deal about St Bede’s, and continued to teach Harry about so many other things, almost as if he knew where Mr Holcombe had left off.
    On Saturday afternoons, much to the disgust of Uncle Stan, Harry no longer accompanied him to Ashton Gate to watch Bristol City, but returned to Merrywood, where Mr Holcombe gave him extra lessons. It would be years before Harry worked out that Mr Holcombe was also forgoing his regular visits to support the Robins, in order to teach him.
    As the day of the examination drew nearer, Harry became even more frightened of failure than of the possibility of success.
    On the appointed day, Mr Holcombe accompanied his star pupil to the Colston Hall, where the two-hour examination would take place. He left Harry at the entrance to the building, with the words, ‘Don’t forget to read each question twice before you even pick up your pen,’ a piece of advice he’d repeated several times during the past week. Harry smiled nervously, and shook hands with Mr Holcombe as if they were old friends.
    He entered the examination hall to find about sixty other boys standing around in small groups, chattering. It was clear to Harry that many of them already knew each other, while he didn’t know anyone. Despite this, one or two of them stopped talking and glanced at him as he made his way to the front of the hall trying to look confident.
    ‘Abbott, Barrington, Cabot, Clifton, Deakins, Fry . . .’
    Harry took his place at a desk in the front row, and just moments before the clock struck ten, several masters in long black gowns and mortarboards swept in and placed examination papers on the desks in front of each candidate.
    ‘Gentlemen,’ said a master standing at the front of the hall, who had not taken part in the distribution of the papers, ‘my name is Mr Frobisher, and I am your invigilator. You have two hours in which to answer one hundred questions. Good luck.’
    A clock he couldn’t see struck ten. All around him, pens dipped into inkwells and began to scratch furiously across paper, but Harry simply folded his arms, leant on the desk and read each question slowly. He was among the last to pick up his pen.
    Harry couldn’t know that Mr Holcombe was pacing up and down on the pavement outside, feeling far more nervous than his pupil. Or that his mother was glancing up at the clock in the foyer of the Royal Hotel every few minutes as she served morning coffee. Or that Miss Monday was kneeling in silent prayer before the altar at Holy Nativity.
    Moments after the clock had struck twelve, the examination papers were gathered up and the boys were allowed to leave the hall, some laughing, some frowning, others thoughtful.
    When Mr Holcombe first saw Harry, his heart sank. ‘Was it that bad?’ he asked.
    Harry didn’t reply until he was certain no other boy could overhear his words. ‘Not at all what I expected,’ he said.
    ‘What do you mean?’ asked Mr Holcombe anxiously.
    ‘The questions were far too easy,’ replied Harry.
    Mr Holcombe felt that he had never been paid a greater compliment in his life.

     
    ‘Two suits, madam, grey. One blazer, navy. Five shirts, white. Five stiff collars, white. Six pairs of calf-length socks, grey. Six sets of undergarments, white. And one St Bede’s tie.’ The shop assistant checked the list carefully. ‘I think that covers everything. Oh, no, the boy will also need a school cap.’ He reached under the counter, opened a drawer and removed a red and black cap which he placed on Harry’s head. ‘A perfect fit,’ he pronounced. Maisie smiled at her son with considerable pride. Harry looked every inch a St Bede’s boy.