Fall

Fall

by Iain Mackenzie-Blair

Published by Amolibros at Smashwords 2011

School Story

Volume III

Copyright © Iain Mackenzie-Blair 2005

First published in 2005 as part of School Story by Three Cats Press, Blair Cottage, Aultgrishan, Melvaig Gairloch, Wester Ross, IV21 2DZ

Amolibros, Loundshay Manor Cottage, Preston Bowyer, Milverton, Somerset, TA4 1QF

http://www.amolibros.com | amolibros@aol.com

The right of Iain Mackenzie-Blair to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted herein in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

With the exception of certain well-known historical figures, all the other characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely imaginary

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

About the trilogy (Drift, Blood & Fall)

Seven apprehensive thirteen-year-olds enter a famous Public School as members of Ansell’s, the most prestigious House. The reader is inducted with them into claustrophobic, arcane, degenerated traditions which educate them intellectually, morally and sexually into ruined senior boys who precipitate the shocking tragedy and its shameful aftermath which still haunts the narrator.

Frighteningly convincing, uncompromisingly explicit, this portrayal of an outwardly revered institution inwardly corrupt with misplaced loyalty, complacency and arrogance, makes us ponder the integrity of those who, educated like these boys, dominated Government and the Establishment during the last decades of the twentieth century

About Fall

1946-1946

A God sent opportunity to make the break, to repay, finally, his debt of honour to Singleton’s memory!

"……A new Housemaster!....."

Voices ebbed and flowed, indignant, regretful, even resentful at The Digger’s abandonment of them. Angus, conscious of the words, repeated them in his own mind with the very different intonation of sheer elation….

"…..So we’ll make next Half the best there’s ever been in Ansell’s….."

… filled with such rejoicing that that could hardly restrain himself from shouting out ‘Only one more half with The Digger? Bloody mar-vellous!’ He had nothing in common with cheering, stamping Ansell’s Men applauding Aston’s peroration…..

"….We’ll win everything! Every bloody thing!......"

..…in the New Year, a New Start. Only one More Half and, at last, he would be free!

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall

Frightful sheer, no man fathomed. Hold them cheap

May who ne’er hung there.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Sonnets (65)

Fall

1946-1946

Chapter One

Redemption. How tempting to leave you to imagine for yourself the happy ending which so providentially offers itself, as it always does in the archetypal school story. Redemption?

As I write these words, late winter afternoon fades into darkness. It is cold. For a few minutes there will be a marvellous sky against a rolling landscape which opens out before my window.

Is this the landscape of old age?

Let me pursue the metaphor. I know what this open, familiar, panorama I see before me will bring, because I know what it has brought in the past and I can detect, many miles away, the first tell-tale signs of sun or storm, of dawn or night. By contrast it seems to me that the landscape of my schooldays was different, more like Devonshire, where secret narrow lanes and high banks make it impossible to predict what might be around the next corner – menacing dark copse, or a breathtaking seascape; innumerable grey days and sudden, unexpected cloudy squalls, then suddenly, as if vouchsafed by some divine lottery, stunning idyllic, interludes of sun and small, unbelievably soft clouds.

Even after three or four years at Ansell’s there were still unbearable tensions; one was always waiting for something to happen. When it did, in my memory, it was rarely what had been anticipated. As a junior member of the House this sense of foreboding terrified me. Each day, on awakening, there was an instant of sickening dread which clutched at the heart. It happens even now and – have I told you this before? – I wake suddenly, back in Ansell’s, drenched in beads of perspiration.

You never knew what it would be. Perhaps it was good – you had been unexpectedly selected for a match away from Cranchester. Perhaps bad – summarily losing a team place so dearly cherished. Or some work handed in, neither much better nor much worse than usual, would be inexplicably deemed particularly unsatisfactory – worst of all, ‘slack’. That would mean facing the Div Pro. Possibly it would be necessary to show it up to the Housemaster, always a savagely painful interview in the case of The Digger.

Most often one had, quite unwittingly, offended against some arcane aspect of the Cranchester code or, even more venal, against the code of Ansell’s. On one occasion I did both. I had a loose button. It caught on the pew in Chapel and wrenched itself off as I rose from my knees. I put it in my pocket. On the way out of Chapel, Sanderson (fancy recalling his name after all this time) a Praefaector in Tortellier’s noticed. I can hear him now. ‘Only Classics [those in the Classical Sixth Form] may wear two buttons. Let Tennant know.’

Tennant was Head of House and I let him know before Late School. He said, ‘I know. Mansell (Head of Tortellier’s) has already told me Sanderson said you should report yourself. You should have told me at lunch-time. You’ll get two-up for the button and another two-up for not telling me earlier. At Curfew, in Big Study.’

ii

September

Ellerman said, ‘Do you all realise that we shall be part of a new era?’

Notting did not notice Angus standing behind him. ‘With Craigie it’ll not be much of an era. He’ll probably make AC Head of House and insist on Praefaectors wearing halos.’

Everyone laughed. Ellerman said, ‘No offence, AC.’ Notting reddened and continued hastily, ‘If I were Head of House, I’d give each of the new Election six-up on the eleventh night and tan their arses once a week thereafter. The new Election’s so wet it’s probably dripping! Have you seen Orton? It’s sickening the way he looks at Watson.’

Snider said, ‘You’re just jealous! You wish you were Watson!’

‘If I were, I wouldn’t let everyone know… . He can’t keep his eyes off Orton.’

Snider said, ‘The same can be said of half Cranchester.’

‘Anyhow, I wouldn’t stand for it if I were Head of Ansell’s.’

‘Well, you never will be, thank God, Ellerman’ll be Head of House after Ashton. Everyone knows that.’

Ellerman said smoothly, ‘It’s difficult to know what Craigie’s likely to do. Ashton’s been Head of House for Hell of a long time…because of Botting.’

‘Anyhow,’ Notting persisted with unpleasant intensity, ‘I think new Elections ought to have their arses tanned a damn sight more than it’s done nowadays.’

Into the pause Snider asked, with quiet mock-scientific enquiry, ‘I’ve always meant to ask, if it’s true that the first time you had to tighten-up you peed yourself in Big Study so that the rug had to be binned, Notting?’

Notting turned purpley-red; controlling himself with difficulty he spat, ‘You’d believe anything, Snider! Don’t forget that you’re the only one in Ansell’s who was beaten by the Housemaster for tossing himself off!’

Snider’s sallow skin paled. Eventually he said quietly, ‘At least I told the truth. A fault you don’t have, Notting,’ and walked out.

Into the silence Baker said gleefully, ‘Game, set and match to Snider, I think!’ Notting looked as though he would explode, then he too strode away.

There was a lull and Mawsom began placatingly, ‘Actually Notting’s quite shrewd, although he’s a turd.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You could be Craigie’s man, Angus. He’s always had his eye on you, ever since he took over our Division after Ellins.’

‘Bloody nonsense, Mawsom.’

‘No it isn’t, is it, Baker?’

Baker grinned. ‘When Craigie took over the Div, yours was the only name he knew.’

‘That’s only because he noticed me in the choir. He spoke to me after the duet with Dermott-Powell.’ Notting, recovered from the wounds received in his encounter with Snider, had sidled back. He added, ‘Well, after all, he is ordained and we know all about clergymen and choirboys from the News of the World.’

Mawsom said casually, ‘You have a very nasty mind, Notting.’

Ellerman added in a deceptively suave tone, ‘Because, being an oik at heart, my dear Notting, you can’t be expected to know any better.’

Notting flushed darkly.

‘Furthermore, Notting,’ Ellerman went on, ‘as you have obviously forgotten, The Digger was a clergyman too.’

‘I was only saying…’

Mawsom, peacemaking, cut him short. ‘It’s odd how one forgets The Digger has a dog-collar.’ It was a frequent comment amongst them.

‘That’s because The Digger’s a bloody good Housemaster. That’s what makes you forget. We’re never likely to forget it with Craigie. Which is why he’ll be a disaster for Ansell’s if we aren’t careful,’ Ellerman said forcefully. ‘It’ll be up to us to make sure he isn’t. This time next year we’ll be Senior Election. We’ll have a Housemaster to train as well as a new Election.’

‘I heard a rumour today that Ashton’s staying on an extra Half to see Craigie in,’ Baker said.

From the way Ellerman stopped suddenly it was clear that this was something he had not yet heard, but he recovered himself.

Angus said, ‘It’ll probably be Watson. After all, he’s Ashton’s year.’

‘Watson?’ Ellerman exclaimed. The utter scorn in his voice was echoed by the others.

‘Watson!’

Angus said mildly, ‘He seems nice enough to me.’

Ellerman retorted, ‘It’s not enough to be nice as Head of House. Harlow was nice enough if you remember. And Ansell’s was a bloody shambles.’

‘Not really,’ Mawsom began.

‘Not really? Come on, Mawsom!’

‘Well you seemed to enjoy it! So did Notting if I remember rightly. Even AC.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ Ellerman snapped. ‘We were allowed to get away with blue murder. If you remember, Carstairs spent a weekend in London and it was never discovered. I’m not having that when I’m …’ He stopped.

‘Head of House?’ Mawsom finished delicately and Ellerman coloured up; he had not intended to give himself away.

Angus said, ‘Don’t see why you need be embarrassed, Ellerman, it has to be you at some stage.’

Mawsom persisted: ‘I don’t think we should underestimate Craigie. We admit he’s very different from The Digger. I think he could go for Watson.’

‘My God!’ Ellerman threw up his hands dramatically. ‘Watson’s one of those who don’t even believe in tightening-up. You never heard such a load of crap as he argued in that debate about corporal punishment last year! Ansell’s will go downhill if we have him at the top. Look at Jonquil’s!’

Ellerman had a point. Jonquil’s had abolished all beating and all fagging on the first day of the Half. The liberal intentions of the Head of House had not been justified by any corresponding upsurge in morale. Three of Jonquil’s Praefaectors resigned in a dramatic gesture; the remaining two were well-intentioned, but quite ineffective.

Baker said, ‘Well, what can you expect! Loopy Longhurst probably votes Labour!’ Jonquil’s benign, but entirely disregarded, Housemaster, a notable Greek scholar had, for years, allowed his most senior boys to rule themselves as they wished.

Notting said, ‘Did you hear they burned all the switches!’

‘Tell us something new, Notting!’

Mawsom said, ‘Must’ve be fun for the Junior Election!’

‘They don’t have Juniors or Seniors in Jonquil’s any longer. Strawson made a speech on the first night of the Half. He said that any sort of hierarchy was all nonsense and that the youngest of the new Election had just as much right to have a say as he himself. They run it by a sort of parliament now,’ Mawsom ended, ‘or try to run it.’

‘Sounds rather a good idea to me,’ Angus said mildly.

‘You would think so, AC,’ Notting threw out. ‘But could even you see Ansell’s being run like that?’

‘No, not really. I wasn’t being serious.’

‘And,’ Ellerman added, ‘as we can all see, under that system Jonquil’s doesn’t run at all – in fact it hardly moves. We’d be as bad with Watson and Craigie.’

‘It’ll just have to be you, Ellerman,’ Notting said.

‘However,’ Mawsom demurred, ‘we seem to forget that Watson’s a Praefaector already, so are one or two others. Even you are not a Praefaector yet, Ellerman.’

‘Nor was Ashton when he was first appointed, I seem to remember,’ Snider interposed.

October

Within a month of the start of the Half, a notice went up in Corridor announcing that Ellerman had been promoted Praefaector. Although not entirely unexpected it was none the less sensational.

‘After all,’ Baker explained to anyone willing to listen, ‘there’s never been anyone made Praefaector whilst still in Little Study.’

‘That’s only because there’s a Big Study out of action since mice got at the wiring.’

Brownlow had joined the group round the fire in Libe: ‘Wasn’t there somebody called Maunder?’

‘Could be. He was Head of House when we arrived,’ Mawsom said. ‘I never heard he was a Praefaector early.’

Notting sniggered, ‘I wonder who’ll be first to tighten-up for Ellerman and when?’

Baker said, ‘It’ll be Arkell!’

Mawsom said, ‘Well, it won’t be Lawson!’ There was a laugh of agreement at the implication.

In the event, it was Lawson.

‘Who’d’ve believed it!’ Snider remarked. ‘What was it all about?’

‘Something to do with missing a tackle in the Colt’s match against Pettifer’s.’

‘Lawson’s Captain of Colts!’

‘Ellerman reckons he missed an easy tackle.’

Mawsom said, ‘It wasn’t that he missed. He just didn’t bother.’

Angus said, ‘I’m not surprised. The game was virtually over and Ansell’s were twenty-nine points ahead! What’s more, that Pettifer’s man weighs about four times as much as Lawson.’

‘Ellerman says no Ansell’s Man ever funks a tackle, no matter what the score.’

‘Lawson doesn’t seem too upset. Probably regards it as an honour to be Ellerman’s first victim.’

Snider interrupted almost primly, ‘Technically, I don’t think Ellerman had to be a Praefaector to punish for a rugger offence. As Ansell’s Captain of Rugger, he could have done it anyway.’

‘I never thought of that. What if he’d decided to beat Watson for cutting a tackle!’ Notting teased. ‘I mean earlier in the Half, before he was a Praefaector himself. That would have been fun.’

Although, by proposing this absurdity, Notting was merely trying to amuse, Snider said patiently, ‘You seem to forget that because of his asthma Watson does not play rugger.’

Baker said, ‘Let’s hope to God that Craigie doesn’t have a brainstorm and make Watson Head of House after Ashton leaves.’

The following day Ansell’s beat Jonquil’s by seventy-nine points to nil and came away from the match barely muddied. Ellerman said later, ‘A bloody disgrace! Why they even bother to field a team I don’t know!’

As they went into Little Change, Notting laughed, ‘I hear Jonquil’s abolished Tassels for Rugger now. That’s why the whole side were wearing Colours socks.’

‘In that case I’m only sorry,’ Ellerman retorted, ‘that we couldn’t have got a century against them.’

During a similar conversation at supper, Snider asked with tongue-in-cheek puzzlement, ‘Why should abolishing fagging and tightening-up be blamed for a weak rugger side?’ He had the irritating habit of posing questions which were difficult to answer.

Notting said, with exasperation, ‘Because, my dear Snider, if you don’t have discipline, then you can’t expect to play rugger well.’

‘Ah, I see! And I always thought,’ Snider continued provocatively, getting up for Grace, ‘that games were played for pleasure not discipline. I hadn’t realised that, apparently, nobody actually enjoys playing them.’

Infuriatingly there was not time to reply before Grace was read and Snider slipped away immediately afterwards without having to admit that, deep down, even he disapproved of the new regime at Jonquil’s.

November

In November, Angus decided, at the last moment, to run The Marathon. Unlike every other sport, it was an open event so, although it was mainly the senior part of the school who participated, the best of the younger runners also took part. For some reason lost in the mists of time it had become a tradition that Ansell’s never entered a team, in consequence very few Ansell’s Men even took part. News of Angus’ entry was greeted good-humouredly as another acceptable, almost expected, eccentricity.

It had rained for several days and, on the afternoon of the race, udders of cloud poured torrential cold drops from a heavy, leaden sky with monotonous continuity. It was therefore perhaps a smaller entry than usual; nonetheless there were over two hundred runners and a sparse collection of watchers under umbrellas. The starting gun went off in a flat, echoless manner, as though the wetness had got into that too. The conditions were atrocious, the worst within Cranchester memory.

Angus was thoroughly familiar with the course. During the last year or two he had run it every day, though Ansell’s indifference to the event meant he had never previously considered entering the race. His decision to run was, unconsciously, part of his shrugging off Ansell’s. He did not set out to compete. It never occurred to him that he might be better than anyone else. He had never even thought about that. Though excitement buoyed