Ribblestrop by Andy Mulligan Read Free Book Online Page B

today are escaping lives of poverty and misery. You see, a school is a living thing: it grows from a seed. The seed has to be watered, and—”
    â€œThrow him out, Gran! Let me call Crippen!”
    â€œCoeducation,” said Lady Vyner. She had balanced a thick pair of spectacles on her nose and had found a paragraph on the third page. “Wait a moment, Caspar, this is interesting. I was always under the impression that this was a boys ’ school—that’s what’s in the lease, of course. Which expires, very soon, you know.”
    â€œOnly the one girl at the moment, sadly, but a very interesting character.”
    â€œPsychopath or arsonist?”
    â€œI won’t deny she’s had a few difficulties. But, I like to think my school offers every child a new start. We take the children other schools reject—”
    â€œHow attractive you make it sound.”
    â€œWe take the children some schools give up on.”
    â€œYou take the rubbish the good schools discard. And it sounds like you’re now mixing it up with the detritus of the Third World. These are the folk you want my grandson to meet as your miserable seed . . . uncoils. You burn down half my home; you lose a boy—whose body might be buried out in the grounds for all weknow—and you bribe the police to stay out of jail— What the devil’s that noise?”
    â€œLady Vyner, those are serious allegations—”
    â€œCrippen! What is that noise?”
    The air all around the tower was filled by a hard, metallic throbbing. It seemed to hammer on the roof and, sure enough, a brick-sized lump of plaster crashed from above, smashing an ugly chord from the piano it struck. The headmaster ran to the window and heaved it open. “It’s a helicopter!” he cried. “It must be . . . Yes! It’s the Sanchez helicopter!”
    â€œCrippen!” shouted Lady Vyner again, and her elderly servant who was snoozing outside was jerked awake. “That thing is not landing in my garden! I never gave permission for helicopters!”
    â€œHe’s coming down! Look at that, he’s circling—he’s got . . . Bless my soul! One, two, three . . . they’re here!”
    The headmaster leaned out and waved frantically. Four boys he could count—they’d spotted him and were waving back, cheerfully. The craft was descending expertly, its tail upraised like a scorpion. You could see the grass shivering in the downdraught as Mr. Sanchez selected his spot.
    â€œPerfect landing! What a pilot!”
    The noise was deafening.
    â€œLook here, Headmaster. Listen to me!” Lady Vyner pulled at the man’s gown, but Dr. Norcross-Webb couldn’t hear her. Four children scuttled from helicopter to steps, and he heaved himself back into the room, tears in his eyes.
    â€œYou must excuse me,” he said. “I must attend to my students.”
    â€œListen to me, Doctor!” She stood in the doorway, her fists clenched into tight little balls.
    Caspar had the pistol ready, and the servant was in the doorway, covering his ears.
    â€œListen!” shrieked the old lady. “Your school is a failure because you are a failure. Give it up, while there’s dignity!”
    â€œPlease, Lady Vyner, I have to go . . .”
    â€œThe school was a mistake from first to last . . . Listen to me!Your children are noisy, without respect! Don’t you push Caspar, don’t you dare! Come back here!”
    But Dr. Norcross-Webb was leaping, dizzying himself down the south tower’s spiral staircase, until he emerged, staggering, into the late sunshine. Four children stood on the terrace, their hair flowing in the gale from the helicopter as it rose again. They looked around them, taking in the grandeur of the parkland, the house, the dream that was Ribblestrop. And as they stared—what was that coming into view? A