Wilberforce by H. S. Cross Read Free Book Online
Authors: H. S. Cross
silence. Nathanâs knee jittered as he listened for sounds across the corridor.
Morgan couldnât understand how Nathan and Alex could have grown up in the same household. Summers on the Irish Sea, Alex wore piratical costume; Nathan, short trousers and bare feet. Alex mooched around the house reading penny dreadfuls and the novels their father had written; Nathan strode down the sand, long-limbed, wiry, peering at tide pools through his camera. Alex disliked the water, but Nathan went with Morgan thrice daily into the sea. Thrashed side by side in the heavy, gritty surf, knocked back, upside down, sand and salt churning up their noses, they fought the undertow, until Nathanâs hands closed around his arm and his hair, hauling him again into the air, onto the sand, leaning over him, flesh pink and lacerated by the sea, eyes bloodshot, lashes long, long enough toâ
The bell dispersed their lethargy. Morgan tossed his empty book onto Grievesâs desk and pressed through the crowd after Nathan and Laurie.
âWhatâs the point? Nathan grumbled. No oneâs going to copy that tripe.
âMakes him feel better, Laurie said. Heâll moan half the lesson tomorrow and then have it out of his system.
Across the cloisters, a cluster of juniors erupted into laughter.
âOi! Nathan shouted.
The cluster laughed louder as Alex burst from it and dashed past the three of them with a taunting curse. Before Nathan could react, Morgan and Laurie pulled him into the dim, empty chapel.
âYou canât let Alex needle you, Laurie said. If he wants to raise hell, on his arse be it.
âMendacious little sod! Iâm not stiff in my moral joints, and Iâm not a fainting virgin, thank you very much.
âPerhaps not fainting, Laurie breathed.
âThe point, Morgan said, is that Alex knows how to get you on the raw, and he loves to do it. Let me and Snail remediate him. If you try, itâll only give him more satisfaction.
âItâs easy for you to take the high ground, Nathan said bitterly. You donât have a brother making a fool of you, busting things up right and left, driving your mother into the grave with worry, andâ
Laurie kicked him. In a flush of embarrassment, Nathan stalked out of the chapel. Morgan followed, high tide of mothersâ youâre grand, a stórâ He yanked his bad arm until the pain cleared his head.
âSpeaking of rumors, he said, do you think itâs true about Spaulding and Rees?
Except he wasnât supposed to be asking about Spaulding.
âItâs rot, Laurie told him. Spaulding isnât even attainable.
âLarkspur says he is.
âBut by Rees? Laurie protested. I mean, what a loathsome specimen.
âLarkspur says Reesâs had half the House already.
âLarkspur told you this?
Heâd found Larkspur in the toilets during Chemistry, and as a connoisseur of changing-room gossip, Larkspur surpassed even Colin.
âIt came up, Morgan replied feebly.
âAt least, Nathan grumbled, we can be grateful Alex hasnât gone in for that.
Such remarks were precisely why Nathan could never know about The Pearl , and why Morgan had not invited him or Laurie to the Keys last night, because that would involve an explanation of his PE difficulties, which would not only involve Uncle Antonâs wretched magazine, but would also advertise that he, Morgan, had grown disordered in his personal habits and perhaps even in that regard gone off his dot. The reasons for lying to his friends last night were too complex to explain even to himself, but the point was that he wasnât planning on making a habit of it.
They strolled into French after the bell. As Hazlehurst had not yet arrived, they punted Reesâs belongings around the room while Rees gave chase, complaining in his high, irritating voice. Once their Housemaster turned up and moaned at them to take their seats, Morganâs chest began to tighten,
Morgan couldnât understand how Nathan and Alex could have grown up in the same household. Summers on the Irish Sea, Alex wore piratical costume; Nathan, short trousers and bare feet. Alex mooched around the house reading penny dreadfuls and the novels their father had written; Nathan strode down the sand, long-limbed, wiry, peering at tide pools through his camera. Alex disliked the water, but Nathan went with Morgan thrice daily into the sea. Thrashed side by side in the heavy, gritty surf, knocked back, upside down, sand and salt churning up their noses, they fought the undertow, until Nathanâs hands closed around his arm and his hair, hauling him again into the air, onto the sand, leaning over him, flesh pink and lacerated by the sea, eyes bloodshot, lashes long, long enough toâ
The bell dispersed their lethargy. Morgan tossed his empty book onto Grievesâs desk and pressed through the crowd after Nathan and Laurie.
âWhatâs the point? Nathan grumbled. No oneâs going to copy that tripe.
âMakes him feel better, Laurie said. Heâll moan half the lesson tomorrow and then have it out of his system.
Across the cloisters, a cluster of juniors erupted into laughter.
âOi! Nathan shouted.
The cluster laughed louder as Alex burst from it and dashed past the three of them with a taunting curse. Before Nathan could react, Morgan and Laurie pulled him into the dim, empty chapel.
âYou canât let Alex needle you, Laurie said. If he wants to raise hell, on his arse be it.
âMendacious little sod! Iâm not stiff in my moral joints, and Iâm not a fainting virgin, thank you very much.
âPerhaps not fainting, Laurie breathed.
âThe point, Morgan said, is that Alex knows how to get you on the raw, and he loves to do it. Let me and Snail remediate him. If you try, itâll only give him more satisfaction.
âItâs easy for you to take the high ground, Nathan said bitterly. You donât have a brother making a fool of you, busting things up right and left, driving your mother into the grave with worry, andâ
Laurie kicked him. In a flush of embarrassment, Nathan stalked out of the chapel. Morgan followed, high tide of mothersâ youâre grand, a stórâ He yanked his bad arm until the pain cleared his head.
âSpeaking of rumors, he said, do you think itâs true about Spaulding and Rees?
Except he wasnât supposed to be asking about Spaulding.
âItâs rot, Laurie told him. Spaulding isnât even attainable.
âLarkspur says he is.
âBut by Rees? Laurie protested. I mean, what a loathsome specimen.
âLarkspur says Reesâs had half the House already.
âLarkspur told you this?
Heâd found Larkspur in the toilets during Chemistry, and as a connoisseur of changing-room gossip, Larkspur surpassed even Colin.
âIt came up, Morgan replied feebly.
âAt least, Nathan grumbled, we can be grateful Alex hasnât gone in for that.
Such remarks were precisely why Nathan could never know about The Pearl , and why Morgan had not invited him or Laurie to the Keys last night, because that would involve an explanation of his PE difficulties, which would not only involve Uncle Antonâs wretched magazine, but would also advertise that he, Morgan, had grown disordered in his personal habits and perhaps even in that regard gone off his dot. The reasons for lying to his friends last night were too complex to explain even to himself, but the point was that he wasnât planning on making a habit of it.
They strolled into French after the bell. As Hazlehurst had not yet arrived, they punted Reesâs belongings around the room while Rees gave chase, complaining in his high, irritating voice. Once their Housemaster turned up and moaned at them to take their seats, Morganâs chest began to tighten,
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