The Flyer Read Online Free PDF Page B

said. He took William’s crutch and leaned it against the wall. ‘Why don’t we leave this here, and then you’ll know where it is anytime you want it. Now, shall we have some tea before we get back to Virgil?’
    From that day, William began to take daily walks around the school grounds using his new cane. Though progress was initially slow, he endured the muscle cramps and blisters that formed on his feet, and ignored the cruel mockery of the other boys. At first it didn’t seem to make any difference. In fact the pain and swelling he suffered made walking more difficult than ever, but he persisted. Sometimes at night he cried silently in his bed, something that Yardley and Thompson and the others had never been able to make him do. The pain became so terrible that Mister Watson was afraid that he would do permanent damage to himself. He tried to persuade William that he should relent, at least for a little while, but stubbornly William refused. Eventually, by small degrees, he began to notice an improvement, though rather than welcome the easing of his discomfort, William’s response was to ask Mister Watson if he would give him permission to leave the school grounds so that he could lengthen his daily walks.
    ‘I want to see if I can get as far as Fotheringhay by the end of term,’ William explained.
    ‘But it will take you hours to walk that far,’ Mister Watson said. ‘Where will you find the time?’
    ‘I can go early in the morning,’ said William, having already thought it through.
    Mister Watson was dubious, concerned that William was pushing himself too hard on all fronts, but he agreed to speak to his house master. In the end, since physical ability was admired at least as much, if not more than academic prowess at the school, permission was given. For the rest of the term William got out of his warm bed at half past four every morning and went out into the freezing dark. He walked down through the town to the path along the river that led eventually to Fotheringhay, increasing the distance a little bit every day. He steeled himself against the frequent cold and the wind and rain. Since he was used to being alone the solitude didn’t concern him at all, and by degree he was rewarded as his leg became stronger with every passing week.
    Towards the middle of December, William received a Christmas card from his grandfather. Inside was a short note expressing the hope that William was working hard at his studies and reminding him that his mother would have wanted him to do his very best, and that he should endeavour to do justice to her memory. Before term ended and the boys went home for the Christmas holidays, Mister Watson gave William a copy of Homer’s Odyssey translated into English.
    ‘It’s the story of Odysseus. After the Trojan wars he struggled for many years against great hardships to return to his kingdom of Ithaca. I think you might enjoy it, William. It seems to me that you share Odysseus’s spirit.’
    ‘Thank you, Mister Watson.’
    Inside was written; For William, happy Christmas from your friend E. Watson . He turned the book over in his hands. It was bound in dark blue leather with gold lettering, the pages inside crisp and white. It had a distinct smell of libraries; of learning and history, and immediately the book became William’s most treasured possession. He vowed that he would keep it always, and that one day he would fill an entire room of the large house he would live in with other books just like it, though this one would always hold a special place. He felt that the packet of tobacco that he had bought for Mister Watson was a poor gift in comparison, though his teacher seemed very pleased and surprised.
    ‘Enjoy your holiday, William. I’ll see you when you come back,’ he said as they shook hands.
    The following day, William caught the train to Brixworth and was met at the station by his father, who hugged him tightly and said that he was glad that he was home. The