Read Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell for Free Online Page B

pillow is brick hard.’
    ‘Would you like to swap with me?’ Harry asked.
    ‘I think you’ll find they’re all the same,’ the boy said with a grin, ‘but thanks.’
    Harry took his bar of chocolate from under the pillow and broke it into three pieces. He handed one piece to Deakins, and another to the boy who’d given him the toothbrush and toothpaste.
    ‘I see your mater’s far more sensible than mine,’ he said after taking a bite. Another bell. ‘By the way, my name’s Giles Barrington. What’s yours?’
    ‘Clifton. Harry Clifton.’
    Harry didn’t sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, and it wasn’t just because his bed was so comfortable. Could it be possible that Giles was related to one of the three men who knew the truth about how his father had died? And if so, was he cut from the same cloth as his father, or his grandfather?
    Suddenly Harry felt very lonely. He unscrewed the top of the toothpaste Barrington had given him and began to suck it until he fell asleep.

     
    When the now-familiar bell rang at 6.30 next morning, Harry climbed slowly out of bed, feeling sick. He followed Deakins into the washroom, to find Giles was testing the water. ‘Do you think this place has ever heard of hot water?’ he asked.
    Harry was just about to reply when the prefect hollered, ‘No talking in the washroom!’
    ‘He’s worse than a Prussian general,’ said Barrington, clicking his heels. Harry burst out laughing.
    ‘Who was that?’ asked Fisher, glaring at the two boys.
    ‘Me,’ said Harry immediately.
    ‘Name?’
    ‘Clifton.’
    ‘Open your mouth again, Clifton, and I’ll slipper you.’
    Harry had no idea what being slippered meant, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant. Once he’d brushed his teeth, he walked quickly back into the dorm and dressed without another word. Once he’d done up his tie – something else he hadn’t quite mastered – he caught up with Barrington and Deakins as they made their way down the stairs to the refectory.
    Nobody said a word, as they weren’t sure if they were allowed to talk while they were on the staircase. When they sat down for breakfast in the refectory, Harry slipped in between his two new friends, and watched as bowls of porridge were placed in front of each boy. He was relieved to find there was only one spoon in front of him, so he couldn’t make a mistake this time.
    Harry gulped down his porridge so quickly it was as if he was afraid Uncle Stan would appear and snatch it away from him. He was the first to finish, and without a moment’s thought he put his spoon down on the table, picked up his bowl and began to lick it. Several other boys stared at him in disbelief, some pointed, while others sniggered. He turned a bright shade of crimson and put the bowl back down. He would have burst into tears, if Barrington hadn’t picked up his own bowl and begun licking it.

5
     
    T HE R EVEREND S AMUEL O AKSHOTT MA (Oxon) stood, feet apart, at the centre of the stage. He peered benignly down on his flock, for that was certainly how the headmaster of St Bede’s viewed the pupils.
    Harry, seated in the front row, stared up at the frightening figure who towered above him. Dr Oakshott was well over six feet tall, and had a head of thick, greying hair and long bushy sideburns that made him look even more forbidding. His deep blue eyes pierced right through you and he never seemed to blink, while the criss-cross of lines on his forehead hinted at great wisdom. He cleared his throat before addressing the boys.
    ‘Fellow Bedeans,’ he began. ‘We are once again gathered together at the beginning of a new school year, no doubt prepared to face whatever challenges should confront us. For the senior boys,’ he turned his attention to the back of the hall, ‘you don’t have a moment to lose if you hope to be offered a place at the school of your first choice. Never settle for second best.
    ‘For the middle school,’ his eyes moved to the