The Brave Read Online Free PDF Page B

ninety minutes running around in the mud and hurting one another and being constantly hectored by Mr Brent.
    It seemed more like years than days since he'd stood on the gravel forecourt, waving goodbye to his parents and Diane. He could still see his sister's distraught face looking back at him through the rear window as the Rover pulled away down the driveway. She had been more upset than any of them, even Tommy. The new boys had been told to report to school an hour earlier than the older boys. Tommy had helped his father and Diane haul his trunk and tuck box into the hall, where Mr and Mrs Rawlston, the headmaster and his wife, stood chatting with the other new parents. When it was their turn, his father gave his customary hard handshake (perhaps even a Masonic one) and Tommy noticed Mrs Rawlston wince a little. Diane didn't shake hands because she was crying too much.
    "Righty-o then, Tommy," his father said. "We'll be off now."
    He held out his hand and Tommy braced himself for the squeeze. "Good luck, old chap."
    There were tears in his mother's eyes now too. He'd never seen her cry before. She kissed him on the cheek. Tommy was biting his lip. His father had told him several times that to be seen blubbing wasn't a good idea.
    "Matron's got the logs," his mother whispered. "Don't let her forget."
    "I won't."
    It was the way Diane hugged him that finally put him over the edge and turned on his own tears. She was sobbing and her face was streaked black from her eye make-up.
    "Come on, old chap," his father said, glancing around. "Let's have none of that."
    When the parents had all gone, the newbugs were shepherded into the dining hall for tea with Matron. There were about twenty of them, some still snivelling, some simply wide-eyed with shock. They were all told to stand around a long table laid with plates of sandwiches and lurid yellow fruitcake. Miss Davies, the matron, was short and wide and wore a blue uniform and round glasses whose lenses were so thick they made her eyes appear huge and fierce. This, along with the starched white wings of her headdress, made her seem like an overweight bird of prey preparing to swoop. She took her place at the head of the table, bowed her head and clasped her hands together. Tommy noticed she had long whiskers on her chin.
    "May the Lord make us truly grateful," she said in a broad Welsh accent. "Amen."
    One or two of them muttered Amen. But clearly not enough for Matron. She made everyone repeat it.
    "And say it as if you mean it."
    They did and she told them they could be seated.
    "Tuck in now, boys."
    There was a choice of water, milk or tea from a huge metal teapot. Tommy chose milk.
    For about five minutes nobody, not even Matron, uttered another word. She kept checking the time on the small stainless steel watch pinned to her bosom. Outside in the corridors they could hear the voices of the older boys arriving. They sounded happy to be back, which Tommy found both perplexing and slightly encouraging. He studied his fellow newbugs. Nobody seemed hungry. They were mostly just staring at their plates. The only one still crying was the boy sitting next to him. He had a podgy pink face and dark curly hair and glasses with pink frames in which the left lens was frosted so that you couldn't see his eye. The name tape on his sodden handkerchief said WADLOW. P. His crying was so loud and vigorous that it was soon the focus of attention for the entire table.
    "Hush now, boy," Matron chided gently. "That's enough. Eat your sandwich."
    Wadlow obeyed but it didn't stop his crying, merely modified its tone. Tommy noticed the boy sitting opposite him was grinning. He had freckles and a shock of dark red hair and was the only one at the table who seemed to be enjoying himself. He was by now on his fourth sandwich. He gave Tommy a wink and Tommy, who had never been able to master the art of winking, gave him a forced little smile instead. He was just starting to think he might have found a