Read The Flyer for Free Online Page A

wall. When they saw William they stopped what they were doing.
    ‘I thought you were livin’ at that posh school,’ Jim said.
    ‘Yes I am, but everybody goes home at the end of term.’
    The boys all looked at him silently. He wondered what was wrong with them because they were so quiet.
    ‘Where’s your crutch then?’ Jim asked.
    ‘I can manage without it now. For a bit anyway.’ He demonstrated by walking a little way along the lane. When he turned around the boys were smirking and nudging one another.
    ‘I say chaps, I can manage without it now,’ Jim suddenly said, parodying William’s new way of talking. He began to walk with a grossly exaggerated limp, one shoulder down, the knuckle almost trailing on the ground. The others laughed cruelly, and in a moment they were all trying to outdo one another while William’s face burned with confusion and the pain of being rejected by boys he thought were his friends. When Jim came close to him, all the humiliation William had endured over the past months erupted in anger. He lashed out with his fist and caught Jim in the mouth, splitting his lip. In a second they were rolling on the hard, cold ground, throwing punches and kicking one another while the other boys crowded round egging them on.
    ‘Get ‘im, Jim!’
    ‘Garn, smash ‘is face!’
    Finally, a woman came out of her house and chased them off. Jim and the other boys ran away. They called William a ‘snot-nosed bastard’ and threatened to get him if they caught him in the village again.
    ‘Bugger off back to yer posh school.’
    William remembered how they used to climb the chestnut tree by the manor wall and shout the same insults at the boy and his sister when the boy threatened to set the gardener on them.
    After the fight with Jim Coleman, William spent the rest of the holiday with his father. He helped him in the forge and went for long walks in the woods. They set snares for rabbits and shot pigeons and pheasants to cook for their supper, and in the evenings while his father smoked his pipe, William read The Odyssey, or studied Latin grammar.
    When it was time for William to return to school his father hitched the horse to the cart, and they drove to the train station in Brixworth. Neither of them spoke very much. On the platform they hugged one another tightly. When the train pulled away, William opened the window and waved until his father was out of sight. He felt as if he was leaving one life behind and returning to another, but he was no longer sure to which of them he really belonged. As the carriage swayed and the wheels rattled on the tracks with a hypnotic rhythm, he wondered what it would be like to stay on the train and never get off. And then before long he saw the spire of St Peter’s, and apprehension formed a tight ball in the pit of his stomach.     
    In the dorm, on the evening of the boys’ return to school, Yardley grew bored with tormenting Carmichael, who had quickly become a victim because he could be relied on to blub and beg for mercy. When William went to the bathroom, Yardley was sitting on one of the basins as if it were a throne.
    ‘I think we neglected you a bit last term, Reynolds, you despicable little peasant,’ he said unpleasantly as two other boys grabbed William’s arms. ‘We don’t want you to forget your place, after all.’ He slid down and adopted an arrogant pose, his hands in his pockets. ‘By the way, what is your place, Reynolds?’
    As always William refused to speak, which did not surprise Yardley, who expected nothing more. Yardley grinned. ‘I say, you chaps, it seems we’re just in time, Reynolds has forgotten already.’
    ‘Gosh, we’d better remind him then hadn’t we?’ Thompson piped up, taking his cue.
    They began to drag William towards a toilet cubicle, and though he struggled as much as he possibly could it was no good. He lashed out with his feet, but they had learned to keep well clear of him now and his attempts were