The Flyer Read Online Free Page B

for mankind, and emphasising that it was the duty of all men to do unto others as they would have others do unto them. William had quickly realised that God and duty were themes that often cropped up at Oundle.
    The masters sat apart from the boys, and as the Reverend’s sermon continued, William’s thoughts wandered. He found himself watching Mister Watson, who was the youngest master at the school. He taught English language and literature and came from Edinburgh, though you wouldn’t have guessed it from looking at him. Though he was British by birth it was rumoured that his father was Indian, from Calcutta. His skin was quite dark.
    Mister Watson was unlike his fellow masters in ways other than his appearance. He was quietly spoken and seemed to enjoy teaching. During his classes he encouraged the boys to ask questions and was happy to wander from the text of whatever they were studying if a discussion arose, something Mister Norris would never have done. He told them that he wanted them to learn the skills required for intelligent debate, an idea which he had once joked was quite probably considered anathema to some people. William had looked up the word anathema in the dictionary later to see what it meant, and when he found it he wondered if Mister Watson might have been talking about Mister Norris.
    William had noticed that Mister Watson was hardly ever seen with the other masters outside of the necessities of his school duties. He had the feeling that the other masters regarded Mister Watson with vague suspicion, as if he was a slightly exotic but unpredictable curiosity.
    The sermon ended and the reverend announced that they would sing hymn number forty seven. The first dusty notes of Come All Ye Faithful wheezed from the organ, but as the congregation rose to their feet the boy next to William shoved him with his elbow so that William staggered and almost fell. As William steadied himself, Mister Norris glared at him, an angry flush rising in his cheeks.
    After the service, the boys trooped outside into the cold. The masters stood with their wives, chatting pleasantly in small groups, though Mister Watson lingered on their periphery. As the boys filed past, Norris fixed his eye on William, limping along the path towards the gate. Norris waited until William had almost reached it before he called out to him.
    ‘Reynolds!’ he barked. ‘Come here, boy!’
    Slowly, William limped the twenty yards back along the path, past the smirking grins of the other boys.
    ‘Why were you were playing the fool during the service,’ Norris demanded.
    ‘Excuse me, sir, but I weren’t playing the fool, sir,’ William replied.
    ‘Wasn’t, Reynolds! The subject is singular. Your grammatical butchering aside, however, you certainly were playing the fool. I saw you with my own eyes, or do you think I’m blind, you impudent oaf?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘No sir, what?’
    ‘I don’t think you’re blind, sir.’
    ‘Indeed?’ Norris said scathingly. ‘Then you think I’m a fool?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘But you must think I’m a fool if you believe you can deceive me when I clearly saw you larking about with my own eyes.’
    William felt trapped, certain that whatever he said would be twisted and used against him.
    ‘Answer me, boy! Do you think me a fool?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Then you are calling me a liar!’ Norris declared with glittering malice. ‘But I suppose we should expect no better from you. It seems to me that we cannot make a gentleman out of a turnip. Nevertheless, we must do our best. You will translate the first one hundred lines from book one of Virgil’s Aeneid by tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ William replied with his eyes downcast.
    As Norris returned to join his fellow masters, William followed the other boys back to the school. He knew he was incapable of carrying out the task he’d been set, though he would spend the only free day of the week trying, and in the morning his failure would