the waving hand of the Master.
“The matron is correct in that you should not have been playing around the pond in the first place, but nonetheless I see no reason for you to fabricate a story just to accuse Edmund. It is quite possible Edmund is the liar and only sought to help because he realised that his actions had gone too far.” The Master stated calmly, as Matron Clarke jutted her chin in protest. “However, it is only Oscar’s word against Edmund’s.”
It seemed Matron Clarke could not keep the inevitable outburst contained any longer.
“Surely you are not going to side with this wretch? The boy has a history of causing trouble!” Veins were now clearly showing at the matron’s temples and her back stiffened as though in reaction to the gravity of the point.
The Master looked sharply at her, with a sternness Oscar had never witnessed
“And I hear many things about young Edmund that aren’t too favourable either. Unfortunately they never get brought to light because it seems none of the matrons are ever witness to his crimes.”
The tension in the room was palpable and Oscar felt he was now an observer on something he never had any intention of being.
“I do not know what you mean.” Matron Clarke protested. “Edmund has never shown himself to be anything but obedient”.
Despite the atmosphere Oscar could not help but let loose a slight cough of amusement at the last comment, though this unfortunately caused the matron to turn and focus those black beady eyes onto her victim.
“This boy!” she said, her finger pointing mere fractions of an inch from Oscar’s face “He must be punished!”
“Enough!” the Master said coldly, though a redness in his cheeks had begun to show. “I decide who will or will not be punished, not you. I want Edmund monitored for the next week and any misbehaviour directly reported to myself. I will also be having a private word with Edmund on this incident. Oscar you may go.” The old man was clearly flustered and breathed heavily to calm himself.
Without needing to be told twice Oscar hastily made his way through the door. He avoided any eye contact with Matron Clarke, for fear of being eaten alive. Once through the door he paced quickly down the corridor, his heart fluttering with nerves. Nonetheless, it had been interesting to see the struggle between the two adults, though he could not help but feel that despite the Master’s clearly good intentions he would never make much headway with the matrons. He had heard them talking amongst themselves before and much was clear from their manner – they thought he was too old and too soft on the children. They knew full well that if they pushed hard enough he would not stand up to them, and so they humoured him. Why else had Edmund managed to get away with it all these years, when the Master so obviously suspected him for what he truly was?
Although Oscar respected the Master he knew that he would never be more than a faint comfort to him, as he couldn’t wield the authority over the matrons to do anything more. Sighing, he headed for the lunchroom, knowing full well that the chances of Edmund being remotely punished for what he had done were no better than his own chances of truly escaping his situation at the Institute for once and for all.
Upon entering the food hall Oscar was again greeted by a barrage of stares from the surrounding children and a thinly concealed smirk from Edmund. However this time the admiration seemed somewhat lost and there was a new uncertainty in the eyes of those who considered him. Oscar strode quickly across the room, his bandaged head bowed as he slid into an empty place at the end of a row of benches. A bowl of steaming slop was thrown down before him and like a spark to a fuse, Oscar’s mind detonated as the threads of memory came together. Images of his comatose dream engulfed his mind: rancid slurry pouring down into a gigantic
“The matron is correct in that you should not have been playing around the pond in the first place, but nonetheless I see no reason for you to fabricate a story just to accuse Edmund. It is quite possible Edmund is the liar and only sought to help because he realised that his actions had gone too far.” The Master stated calmly, as Matron Clarke jutted her chin in protest. “However, it is only Oscar’s word against Edmund’s.”
It seemed Matron Clarke could not keep the inevitable outburst contained any longer.
“Surely you are not going to side with this wretch? The boy has a history of causing trouble!” Veins were now clearly showing at the matron’s temples and her back stiffened as though in reaction to the gravity of the point.
The Master looked sharply at her, with a sternness Oscar had never witnessed
“And I hear many things about young Edmund that aren’t too favourable either. Unfortunately they never get brought to light because it seems none of the matrons are ever witness to his crimes.”
The tension in the room was palpable and Oscar felt he was now an observer on something he never had any intention of being.
“I do not know what you mean.” Matron Clarke protested. “Edmund has never shown himself to be anything but obedient”.
Despite the atmosphere Oscar could not help but let loose a slight cough of amusement at the last comment, though this unfortunately caused the matron to turn and focus those black beady eyes onto her victim.
“This boy!” she said, her finger pointing mere fractions of an inch from Oscar’s face “He must be punished!”
“Enough!” the Master said coldly, though a redness in his cheeks had begun to show. “I decide who will or will not be punished, not you. I want Edmund monitored for the next week and any misbehaviour directly reported to myself. I will also be having a private word with Edmund on this incident. Oscar you may go.” The old man was clearly flustered and breathed heavily to calm himself.
Without needing to be told twice Oscar hastily made his way through the door. He avoided any eye contact with Matron Clarke, for fear of being eaten alive. Once through the door he paced quickly down the corridor, his heart fluttering with nerves. Nonetheless, it had been interesting to see the struggle between the two adults, though he could not help but feel that despite the Master’s clearly good intentions he would never make much headway with the matrons. He had heard them talking amongst themselves before and much was clear from their manner – they thought he was too old and too soft on the children. They knew full well that if they pushed hard enough he would not stand up to them, and so they humoured him. Why else had Edmund managed to get away with it all these years, when the Master so obviously suspected him for what he truly was?
Although Oscar respected the Master he knew that he would never be more than a faint comfort to him, as he couldn’t wield the authority over the matrons to do anything more. Sighing, he headed for the lunchroom, knowing full well that the chances of Edmund being remotely punished for what he had done were no better than his own chances of truly escaping his situation at the Institute for once and for all.
Upon entering the food hall Oscar was again greeted by a barrage of stares from the surrounding children and a thinly concealed smirk from Edmund. However this time the admiration seemed somewhat lost and there was a new uncertainty in the eyes of those who considered him. Oscar strode quickly across the room, his bandaged head bowed as he slid into an empty place at the end of a row of benches. A bowl of steaming slop was thrown down before him and like a spark to a fuse, Oscar’s mind detonated as the threads of memory came together. Images of his comatose dream engulfed his mind: rancid slurry pouring down into a gigantic
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