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    The Officer's Whistle
    The Officer's Whistle
    The Officer's Whistle
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    The Officer's Whistle

    By Matthew Howorth

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    About this ebook

    Simon is in his last year at prep school and always seems to be in trouble. Falling foul of the teachers, his mother and finally his best friend, Simon finds solace in the History lessons, losing himself in tales from World War One. A homework assignment leads to his father digging out an old trunk that holds secrets of a distant relative who fought in the Great War. Looking through it, Simon and his father find an old whistle. What story does it hold? Together, they trace the story of Tom Beal, who was only a few years older than Simon when he volunteered and signed up in 1914.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMatthew Howorth
    Release dateMay 29, 2014
    ISBN9781310002380
    The Officer's Whistle
    Author

    Matthew Howorth

    I have loved reading since I was a little nipper and devour books of all shapes, sizes and content! The broad spectrum of styles is reflected in my own writing, as I enjoy dipping into a number of styles and genres...children's books, both novels and picture books; teenage/young adult and adult; plays and scripts. So please have a look...there may be something that makes you stop and read for a few minutes...and if I can do that, if only momentarily, then it is all worthwhile.

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      Book preview

      The Officer's Whistle - Matthew Howorth

      THE OFFICER’S WHISTLE

      A NOVELLA

      by Matthew Howorth

      Copyright 2014 Matthew Howorth

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      About Matthew Howorth

      Other titles by Matthew Howorth

      Contact Matthew Howorth

      THE OFFICER’S WHISTLE

      A NOVEL

      by Matthew Howorth

      Chapter 1

      He looked up and saw the centre-back veer towards him. Simon feinted to his left, dropping his shoulder to fool the lumbering defender, who snarled as he moved in for the tackle. Got him! Simon kicked off in the opposite direction, deftly keeping the ball on the end of his foot as he dragged it clear. He glanced up. Only the goalkeeper to beat. He steadied himself, but his breathing became ragged as the exertion and pressure took its toll. He was aware of one of his team-mates, probably Tucker, yelling, ‘Man on!’ and knew he had to shoot before he got caught. The final minute of normal time, 2–2 the score, this was surely the last chance for Newcastle to win, and the opportunity for sporting immortality fell to their young forward, Simon Robertson.

      The roar of the crowd had dulled and he could hear his breathing, heavy in his ears. Should he blast or caress it? There was no time to choose, as the keeper was already racing out to narrow the angle. He picked his spot and, mid-stride, smashed the ball as hard as he could with his left foot. The keeper made a despairing dive, but the ball had already gone past him. Simon saw its trajectory in slow motion, as it thundered towards its target. He saw the back of the net bulge as it desperately tried to contain the cannonball threatening to burst it, and the final whistle sounded. But instead of hearing the crowd’s roar lift the stadium, he felt a team-mate tap him on the shoulder. He turned around and was surprised to see that it was his mother. His mother!

      ‘Simon! Simon! Time to get up. It’s seven forty.’

      ‘Ngggzzz.’

      His mother walked across to the curtains and threw them back, flooding the room with light and noise. Simon awoke instantly.

      ‘Mum! What are you doing?’

      ‘It’s seven forty.’

      ‘So it’s seven forty. Why are you doing this to me?’

      ‘I’m doing this to you, Simon,’ she said as she walked around to his wardrobe and checked his neatly pressed clothes hanging there, ‘because it’s time to get up.’

      ‘Time to get up? You’re kidding. Why?’ he asked, genuinely puzzled.

      ‘School, Simon. Remember that? Big day ahead of you. Year 8 today. It’s an important year for you, this year. Make sure you wear one of the ironed shirts.’

      School! How could this be? How had it suddenly arrived, with no warning? One minute he was planning his endless summer holiday, and then . . . this!

      ‘Now don’t go back to sleep once I’ve gone, will you?’ This was not so much a question as an order.

      ‘School? No! Mum, I don’t feel well. I’m ill . . .’

      His mother snorted as she exited the room, but not before flicking the light on, extinguishing any lingering hopes of sleep, as the room lit up even further, making him blink. The first day of school after the summer holiday. Always the hardest.

      The morning bell rang, a familiar sound that signalled the end of catching up with old friends whilst eyeing up any new pupils. Simon walked across the cloisters with Harry Tomkinson, his best friend. Harry was the rugby captain and very popular with the rest of the class, which made Simon the envy of others, although they would never dare say anything aloud in case it got back to Harry. He had just been telling Simon about his holiday in Thailand over the summer. Simon listened, whilst hoping Harry wouldn’t ask him where he had gone on his holidays. Devon.

      ‘They’ve got these awesome taxi-type things out there, called . . . um . . . crikey, I’ve forgotten!’ Harry laughed.

      ‘What did they look like?’

      ‘Oh! Tuk-tuks!’

      ‘They looked like tuk-tuks? What are they?’

      ‘No, that’s what they’re called. Tuk-tuks.’

      ‘What do they look like?’ he tried again.

      ‘You sit in a sort of carriage, but a small one, and are pulled by some dude on a motorbike. They really fly around the place; I thought we were going to crash like millions of times!’

      ‘Tuk-tuks.’

      ‘Yeah. The best part is, you can haggle over how much it costs to go in one.’

      ‘Haggle? What’s that?’

      ‘Basically, you argue over the price of something until you’re both happy. Let’s try it.’

      ‘OK.’

      ‘OK. Er . . . OK, got it! Hey, nice bag, Simon! I’ll give you five pounds for it.’

      ‘OK,’ Simon shrugged and started to take his bag off his shoulder.

      ‘No, you’re meant to try and get a higher price.’

      ‘Er . . . make it six?’

      ‘No, start at ten.’

      Another boy ran over to them and started talking excitedly to Harry, who waved him away. He didn’t like being bothered when he was talking to Simon. The new arrival shouted, See you later, in a good-natured way and ran into the school building. The two friends stopped outside the door leading into the main building and tried to make themselves heard over the noise as people pushed past them through the blue door.

      ‘You can have it for ten pounds,’ Simon said tentatively.

      ‘No. Six.’

      ‘OK.’

      ‘No, it’s worth more than six.’ Harry sighed.

      ‘It’s not.’ Simon laughed.

      ‘Look, let’s try it the other way. Let’s pretend it’s my bag and you want to buy it off me, OK? So offer me five pounds for it.’

      Simon was puzzled, but decided to give it a go and handed his bag to Harry. ‘I’ll give you five pounds for my bag, Harry.’

      Harry looked shocked. ‘Five? Five? No, this is worth at least ten pounds.’

      ‘How about six then?’

      ‘Six? Just look at the quality. Feel it.’ With that, Harry offered the bag for Simon to touch, which he did with a chuckle. ‘Nine.’

      ‘But it’s not real leather. And it’s got some weird marks on it. I’ll give you seven for it.’

      ‘I bought it for seven! Listen, for you my friend, for you I will take eight, and no less.’ Harry made a convincing salesman, but Simon was getting the hang of it.

      ‘I don’t have eight pounds.’

      ‘Come on, it’s just one more!’

      ‘It may be just one more, but seven is all I have.’ Simon started to walk away towards the blue door. Harry panicked and ran over to Simon.

      ‘OK, OK! Seven pounds. You can have it for seven. Jeez, you’re good at this. Are you sure you haven’t been to Thailand before?’ Harry said. But before he could answer, they were cut off by a gruff voice.

      ‘You two!

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