Mark's Out of Eleven

By Will Stebbings

It’s September 1960. Mark Barker has passed his eleven-plus and has followed his brother into Parkside Grammar School for boys. Having two sons at a Grammar School places a huge burden on his working class family and he is already wearing his brother’s hand-me-down blazer, while all around him are wearing brand new uniforms.
The Headmaster at Parkside likes to run the school with an iron discipline and frequently punishes miscreants with the cane, putting a tremendous fear into this sensitive young boy. The pupils also fear Mr Tucker, the evil Sports Master who is not aversed to physical violence to instil discipline.
Having been split from his old primary school friends, Mark now seeks to forge new friendships and is reasonably successful, but he is unable to shake off the annoying Jarvis who is forever trying to crack silly jokes. He gets Mark into bother with his strict Form Master when he passes him pictures of nude ladies. Mark also receives his first detention when Jarvis snitches on him.
At first, Mark is pleased that there are no girls at his school, but when puberty strikes, he finds himself discovering new sensations. His encounters with girls are few and far between, but when they occur, it leaves him perturbed and frustrated. However, if encounters with the opposite sex cause him anguish, those with the same sex confuse him even further. His new softly-spoken friend Lenny talks in sexual innuendos and when Mark discovers the truth about Lenny and his friend Toots, he has to tackle his prejudices head on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Stebbings
• Release date: Feb 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463571170

Will Stebbings

Will Stebbings is rapidly gaining critical acclaim for his insightful novels, encapsulating nostalgia for the sixties and seventies, whilst adding a fair smattering of humour. His first novel 'Off the Mark' received so many plaudits that he felt compelled to write 'Further Off the Mark' which continues the rites of passage for its main character, Mark Barker, who left an all-boys' school with no experience of girls or the adult world in general. 'Completely Off the Mark' is about Mark's further exploits in the early 1970s, while 'Mark's Out of Eleven' takes us back to 1960 and his days at an all boys' Grammar School, when educational institutions were as much about discipline as they were education.'Tess of the Dormobiles' is a comedy thriller and is not part of the Mark Barker quadrilogy, being set firmly in the 21st century and featuring a female lead character.Will's love of soul music features heavily in his work, where he often used sixties and seventies soul records as the chapter titles.All of Will's novels are set predominately in Norfolk, which is where he was born and raised.

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Will Stebbings

Off the Mark

Further Off the Mark

Tess of the Dormobiles

Mark’s Out

Of Eleven

Will Stebbings

Copyright © 2018 Will Stebbings

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Janet Veasey for once again proof reading my work and preventing me from printing numerous gaffes.

I also wish to show my gratitude to Georgina Beresford for a brilliant job with the drawing of the schoolboy which I have used for part of the cover design.

Contents

1 First Day

2 Form 1A

3 Milk and Football

4 Pie and Maths

5 Sausage and Maths

6 Rhyme and Punishment

7 Keep Off the Grass

8 A Hairy Moment

9 The Longest Day

10 The Weekend Starts Here (Almost)

11 Have Your Cake and Eat It

12 Writing and Fighting

13 Waugh and Peace

14 Retribution

15 March in October

16 My Family and Other Domestic Concerns

17 A Testing Time

18 Breaking Up Is Easy to Do

19 New Terms and Conditions

20 A Good Reception

21 Ups and Downs

22 Form 2A

23 Puberty

24 Reddened Fingertips

25 Times Are Changing

26 Would You Like to Swing on a Bar?

27 Hunger Games

28 Seems Like a Nice Boy

29 Pride and Prejudice

30 Mark’s out of… It!

1

First Day

September 1960

‘Conkers…’ said the Headmaster in a loud, authoritive voice which easily carried to the back of the large assembly hall. He had paused after the first word because he wanted to gain everyone’s attention and he was an experienced orator. ‘…are at their biggest and hardest when allowed to fall naturally from the trees. If you try to dislodge them by sending missiles into the trees, you will not only receive an inferior product… but you will also receive the cane.’ The last word was spoken several decibels higher than the rest of the sentence, with the intent of instilling fear into his young audience. All his words were spoken slowly and clearly, unlike the boy who had just earlier mumbled the day’s lesson from the Bible.

‘Last year,’ he added, ‘I had the unpleasant task of taking a young boy to the hospital to receive treatment for a wound to the head. This wound was caused by a missile launched into one of our trees by another stupid boy. Take heed!’

The only time that Mark Barker had previously heard the word ‘missile’ was in reference to a guided missile, so he imagined someone launching a toy rocket at the conkers. Mark was still only eleven years old and had led a sheltered life.

Mr Ashley, the Headmaster, was ready with his next announcement and was gripping the edges of his well-worn gown. ‘I shouldn’t have to say this,’ he said in a tone that indicated impatience, ‘but smoking is totally banned by all pupils – in or out of school – and the only place on the school premises where masters are permitted to smoke is in the staff room.’ With that, he turned quite deliberately and stared at one particular master who was sitting at the edge of the hall at a right-angle to the stage. Mark couldn’t see who was receiving the stare as his view was curtailed by the masses of older boys in front of him, but he could tell from the length of the stare that the recipient would have been in no doubt who had incurred the Headmaster’s displeasure. It seemed as though even the masters would have to fear the ’beak.’

As the Headmaster continued with his announcements, Mark allowed his eyes to wander around the magnificence of the assembly hall. The Head was speaking from behind a wooden lectern on a raised stage which stretched almost across the width of the hall. Behind the Head, sat about twenty masters, mostly dressed in their gowns and all looking particularly stern. To Mark’s disappointment, none of them wore a mortarboard. The gowns were an assortment of colours – nearly all of them black, but with different coloured facings – greens, purples, greys. Only one gown looked clean and its wearer was introduced by the Head as the new Geography master, Mr Warnes, who acknowledged his introduction with a nod, but other than that his expression remained, like all the other masters – stern.

The Head also introduced Mr Warrener, the new Senior History master. Mark had no idea what Senior History was. He’d heard of ancient History, but never senior history.

One of the masters looked even more forbidding than the rest. He was constantly surveying the audience below as though looking for miscreants. He was not wearing a gown. Instead, he wore a navy blue blazer with a large motif on its top pocket. His hands were firmly placed on the knees of his immaculately pressed grey flannel trousers and he wore a white t-shirt with the top button open. His thick neck supported a bullet-shaped head, which was close cropped and he sat bolt upright. Mark knew who this was, as his elder brother Brian had warned of his fearful reputation. He was Mr Tucker, the P.E. teacher and apparently, he struck terror into pupils of all ages, as well as many of the masters.

To the left of the stage, sat more masters, whilst to the right, sat a number of pupils – boys would not be an apt term for them, because many were bigger than some of the masters, but they wore school uniforms, so Mark correctly assumed that these were the prefects.

This was Mark’s first day at Parkside Grammar School for Boys, in the West Norfolk town of Sanford. It was September 1960. He had followed in his brother’s footsteps by passing the eleven-plus at the first attempt. Having a brother already at the school was a great advantage. Brian had been able to accompany Mark to school on this first day and shown him which of the two gates to use in order to go straight to the bike-shed. Brian also pointed out the location of the toilet block and told Mark where to present himself at the back of the assembly hall until he had been allocated a Form Master. However Brian had also pointed out that third-formers did not mix with first-formers, so from that point on, Mark was on his own. First-formers were regarded by everyone else at the school as silly little immature children. Even second-formers would avoid them. This was totally at odds with what Mark had encountered at Melville Primary School, where boys happily mixed with other boys one or two years older or younger than themselves, but seldom with the girls. Here at Parkside, there were no girls – and no female teachers either. The only females permanently on the premises were the Headmaster’s secretary and the matron for the boarders. Brian had never seen the latter, as the boarders’ quarters were off limits to the day boys. There were also a handful of dinner ladies who cooked and served in the canteen, which was in a separate building. They never came into the actual school building.

The lack of girls at the school was not a hardship in Mark’s eyes. He had seldom spoken to those at Melville Primary. At playtime, the boys played football or cigarette cards, whilst the girls would usually play silly skipping games to silly nursery rhymes or something similar – games that no one ever won! Mark did, however, admit to a soft spot for Annabelle Wilson, who was seen by all as the prettiest girl in the class. Like Mark, she had passed the eleven-plus first time and she would be attending the Girls’ High School. She and Mark were unlikely to cross paths again. In any case, Mark wore horn-rimmed National Health spectacles, so a pretty girl like Annabelle would never be interested in him and he couldn’t see the point of girls. She was one of the few girls in his class who had never called him four-eyes, but then, she had hardly spoken to him either. He would certainly be glad to see the back of Louise Thompson, who used to come top in practically every test. She would also be attending the High School, even though her elder brother had been sent to board at Wymondham College.

Despite Brian’s guidance for his first day, Mark was still very apprehensive. Everything was on a much grander scale than Melville Primary. The building was much bigger. The assembly hall was much bigger. There were far more pupils with a proportionately larger number of masters and the pupils themselves were mostly much bigger than Mark, who felt very insignificant at the back of the hall.

‘THAT BOY!’ a voice boomed from behind the Headmaster. Mark looked up apprehensively as he realised that his mind had started wandering, but the shout was not directed to the back of the hall. ‘THAT BOY IS CHEWING. YES, YOU, BOY!’ Mr Tucker was pointing to some unfortunate soul out of Mark’s line of sight. The Headmaster was looking a little annoyed. He didn’t appreciate people chewing in assembly, but neither did he enjoy being interrupted so rudely by Mr Tucker.

‘STAND UP AND REMOVE THAT ITEM FROM YOUR MOUTH. SEE ME AFTER ASSEMBLY. Sorry, Headmaster. Please continue,’ he added the last two sentences in a much quieter voice.

The Headmaster cleared his throat and grasped his gown again ready to continue with his announcements.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Downey. Sit down,’ he said to the miscreant, not caring to hide his impatience at both parties. He cleared his throat a second time. ‘We have a new head boy this year. It is E. Alsop.’ The Head turned to his right where the new head boy sat with the other prefects.

As the Head prepared for his next topic, he became aware of a quiet murmur around the hall, which Mark assumed was the result of Mr Tucker’s intervention.

‘Silence!’ the Head called, not as thunderously as Mr Tucker’s outburst, but every bit as commanding. Silence was instantly granted and Mark could sense the fear in the air. He himself sat absolutely still, in case Mr Ashley for some reason might suspect Mark of some misdemeanour. The silence continued for a full minute and the Head was not going to hurry while he knew he exuded such power over his audience. He knew how to instil fear in his charges and, although he couldn’t show it, he enjoyed the sensation.

Mark had already anticipated this day with much trepidation, but now his anxiety was greatly increased. This was a daunting environment for a young boy. All the masters and the prefects exhibited such an air of hostility that Mark felt he could only expect five years of misery. His brother Brian had already warned him of the effort required to keep out of trouble and to avoid unnecessary punishment. He’d also warned that some masters enjoyed the power to inflict such punishment – either mental or physical.

At the primary school, the Headmaster did have the power to use the cane, but Mark had never seen it used. Mr Greig, who was Mark’s last teacher in Class Four, had, however, used a plimsoll to punish three people during Mark’s time with him – all boys. In Mark’s experience, this had only happened when Mr Greig’s temper had been stretched to the limit, and it had always been frightening for all the pupils. Fortunately, Mr Greig seldom lost his temper.

Brian had told Mark that some of the masters at Parkside also used a plimsoll, but far more regularly than Mr Greig. Others would issue punishments in the form of extra homework or detentions. A lesser form of detention was called a punishment parade. Detentions were served on Tuesday afternoons when other pupils could be indulging in inter-house football or cricket matches. They lasted one hour and could only be issued by masters, but parades, which lasted thirty minutes, could be given out by prefects as well and had to be served at the end of a normal weekday. In the early days of the school, the parades had involved military drill on the quadrangle, but in more recent times, the activity was left to the discretion of the supervising prefect, some of whom issued lines and some allowed the miscreants to make a start on their prep. James Arnold, a prefect and a boarder, whose father was in the army, still conducted drill when the weather conditions were agreeable.

Brian had also pointed out to Mark that there was no such thing as playtime – there was a mid-morning break of twenty minutes and a dinner break of fifty minutes, but no break in the afternoon and nobody talked of playtime. Mark couldn’t imagine a whole afternoon without a break. He had a very short span of attention and even with regular breaks, his mind had always been inclined to switch off when a lesson went on for more than an hour. And now, in this assembly, he was already losing interest in what the Headmaster had to say – until, that is, he heard his name called out.

‘As this is the start of a new term,’ the Headmaster was saying, ‘there will be no detention tomorrow. However…’ he paused again for effect ‘… M. Barker already has a detention to be carried out next week. Yes, Master Barker, you may have thought you’d escaped by not turning up last term, but you’re mistaken. You now have double detention next week.’

Mark realised that the Head was looking at someone near the front and therefore could not possibly be talking about him. There must be another M. Barker at the school. Well, Barker was a fairly common name, but hearing his name called out had certainly woken Mark from his daydreaming. A few of his ex-schoolmates had turned to look at him, but he just stared straight ahead, hoping that no one would realise that his hands were shaking.

The Head was coming to the last of his announcements.

‘As this is the first day of a new academic year, we have 97 new pupils joining us today. 95 of them are first year students; no doubt all embarking on a brilliant academic career. We also have McAllister, H, who will go into Form 4B – and McAllister, D, who will go into 2B. It was 2B or not 2B. I don’t suppose most of you will get that.’

Mark didn’t get the joke. He supposed that the McAllisters were brothers recently moved into the area.

‘All the new first years can stay where they are for now. The rest of you – dismiss!’

Suddenly, all the older boys sitting in front of Mark stood up and blotted out his view while they hurried off to their respective classrooms, but among the second formers, he did catch a glimpse of Danny Watkins, who in his last term at Melville had commenced a campaign of bullying against Mark. In fairness, this campaign was of Mark’s own making. Mark had always liked to tease people, particularly boys older than himself and he had been conducting an offensive against Danny for nearly two years. Danny was not the quickest boy around, neither physically nor mentally, so Mark would make fun of him and run away, but one day, Danny got hold of him and sat on him. ‘You’ve been asking for this,’ he said and smacked Mark around the side of his head. ‘Not so brave, now, are you?’

Before Mark could receive further punishment, little Teddy Boyd, who was a year younger than Mark, came up and pushed Danny, giving Mark time to squirm away. Danny was then torn between chasing Teddy or Mark and in his indecision, gave them both time to scuttle off. However from that day on, Danny didn’t wait for Mark to initiate the teasing. He would try to grab Mark whenever he got the opportunity, although he consistently failed to do so, even when on two occasions, he had lain in wait behind the toilet block. Mark was always too nimble, but from that point on, Mark lived in fear of retribution and was relieved when the end of term arrived and Danny was off to the Grammar School. This had given Mark a year of relief, but would it re-commence now that they were both at the same school again?

Danny didn’t seem to notice Mark. Perhaps the intervening year had dulled his memory of the events. Mark decided to keep out of his way so as not to remind him. He had never bullied anyone. Admittedly, he had made fun of Fatty Collins, but then so did everyone else. That wasn’t bullying, was it?

Mark was sitting next to his old friend Podge. Podge also had an elder brother at the school, but John Clancey was a year older than Mark’s brother. The Clanceys lived in the next street to Mark and the four of them had been good chums for many years, but once John moved into the second form, he stopped associating with Brian who was then a mere first former, and so, it was left to Mark and Podge alone to continue the friendship, which had always been constrained by the fact that Mrs Clancey was a snob and didn’t like her boys playing with the Barker boys. Podge, whose real name was Roger, received his nickname because, in his early years, he had carried a small amount of puppy fat.

Mark was still feeling a little shaken from hearing his name called out in assembly, so it was Podge who spoke first. ‘Do you think we can ask to be in the same form?’

‘No,’ replied Mark. ‘They won’t take any notice of our wishes. Brian says they always split the various Primary Schools up, so my class will probably have a few from Melville’s and a few from yours, so we might be lucky.’ The Clancey boys had attended St. Thomas’ Primary School, which was half a mile away from Melville. This meant they had further to travel to school, but it was a Church Of England School which ran a Sunday school, something Melville didn’t. Melville preached the same faith, but it was a parish school. Podge’s mother insisted on regular attendance each Sunday morning.

There were several primary schools in the Sanford area and each of these fed the Grammar School, except for St. Bernadette’s. That was a Catholic school for girls – sister school to St Saviour’s, which catered for boys only. Mark recognised a few more of the new boys as he had played football and cricket against all the other boys’ schools in and around Sanford. The largest of these was St Thomas’ who won nearly all their games, much to Podge’s delight. He had taunted Mark when Melville had lost 6-0 in the away fixture. Mark told Podge that they would reverse that result when St Thomas’s visited Melville and he was absolutely correct – the score was 0-6 to St Thomas.

A few of the new first formers had stood up while they waited for something to happen. Mark did likewise. The wooden floor was very hard and he had been starting to feel uncomfortable. Brian had already worn out two pairs of shorts and was now the proud owner of his first pair of long trousers. Mark was still wearing the shorts he had worn at primary school, but he didn’t think they would last very long after sitting on this floor.

Over to his right, he could see Alex Strawbury, who had also attended Melville. It was a constant wonder to Mark that no one had yet given Alex a nickname based on his unusual surname. Derek Jarvis had tried to call him his ‘old fruit,’ but that was hardly a nickname. In any case, Derek, who had also attended Melville, was a bit of an idiot. He was unable to take life seriously and was forever trying to crack jokes, most of which either didn’t work or were wasted on an audience that didn’t understand them since many of these jokes originated from his elder brother Jake. Jake was nineteen years old, so many of his offerings were adult in nature, but that didn’t stop Derek from using them, even though he didn’t always understand what he was saying.

Derek had heard Jake calling one of his mates a ‘homo.’ Derek didn’t know what this meant, but it sounded reasonably derogatory, so he started using it. He knew that a hobo was an American word for a tramp, so he assumed it was something similar. No great harm was done as long as the recipient of this insult was unaware of its meaning, but when he tried to use it on an older boy, Derek had ended up with a beating.

He had one joke that he regularly repeated. ‘If they’re jeans, what’s Jean wearing?’ He claimed to have created it and used it whenever he saw someone wearing jeans. Mark had to admit to himself that some of Derek’s jokes could be quite amusing, but he never laughed because Derek was such an annoying idiot. He was useless at all sports except swimming where he excelled. That was because his father was a swimming coach and had taught Derek from a very young age. That was something else that annoyed Mark, since he could still only doggy-paddle a few yards.

Eventually, the hall cleared of the other pupils and the Headmaster approached the apprehensive first formers, who had all resumed the seated position on the hard floor. As he drew nearer, Mr Ashley appeared even more formidable. He was at least six feet tall and for anyone sitting on the floor, he looked extremely imposing. His receding hairline demonstrated a large bulbous forehead that showed signs of many hours in the sunshine enjoying his favourite pastime of watching cricket. He sported a facial growth that looked dangerously close to a Hitler moustache. Mark wondered if that was deliberate to engender fear and respect from his charges. He was accompanied by three other masters who stood beside him.

‘Your parents and guardians will have received a letter informing of them of the dress code for Parkside. You will do well to heed those instructions yourselves. First of all, the school uniform will always be worn to and from school. This consists of charcoal grey or light grey trousers or shorts and black shoes of sensible design – no winkle pickers! A school blazer in the correct shade of maroon and a school cap of the same colour, which is to be worn outside of school premises whenever you are in school uniform. If you meet a master whilst outside, you will raise your cap respectfully. A tie is compulsory. This can be either school colours or House colours. You will be informed later which House you belong to. If you have a brother already at Parkside, you will join the same House.

For P.E., you will wear a white singlet, white shorts and plimsolls. You will provide your own football kit for the winter months. If you are selected to play for your House, you will need your shirt to be in the colour of that House. If you are selected to play in any of the school teams, shirts and socks will be provided.’

Mark knew all of this. The purchasing of additional kit and clothing had caused considerable hardship in the Barker household, but somehow Mark was fully equipped just in time for the new term, although he’d had to sacrifice some out of school clothing which meant if he went out at the weekend, he would have to wear parts of his new uniform. To make matters worse for his parents, his father had just been told that he was to be made redundant and had just two weeks to find another job. Frank Barker had been working for a local road haulier, painting lorries, vans and signs, but his employer was switching to spray painting and stencilling. Frank didn’t have the necessary skills to continue in his current position. The atmosphere at home was decidedly gloomy, not helped by the need to clothe two pupils at Parkside Grammar. Of course, there had always been a need for some expenditure while both boys were at the primary school, but there, the school uniform was a little more relaxed and never compulsory. P.E. for example was conducted in the playground (when weather permitted) and most pupils used their normal school wear. A boys’ grammar school threw up much more pressure to conform.

Mark’s elder sister was working, but although she contributed a small amount to the housekeeping, she herself was saving up to get married. That was another worry, because in 1960, it was always understood that the father of the bride stood all the costs for the wedding. Frank needed to win the pools. ‘£75,000 will do us nicely,’ he would say. That was the maximum that anyone could win on the pools at that time. ‘I’ve put an ‘X’ for no publicity,’ he would add. ‘Begging letters can be a nuisance… but I’ll probably keep sending them.’

The Headmaster moved on to his next topic. ‘You have all been allocated into one of three forms – Form 1A, 1B and 1C. In your first year, these form numbers do not reflect your ability. That will be assessed towards the end of term three, when the brightest boys will move up into 2A and the rest into 2B or 2C as appropriate. So if you want to succeed, you will have to work hard. Anyone who doesn’t reach an acceptable standard will be told to leave. This school has a reputation for high academic achievement and I won’t allow anyone to devalue that reputation.’ At no time did he allow even the merest semblance of warmth in his voice. Mark already knew that the Head placed a lot of emphasis on GCE grades, which he believed reflected on his own well respected performance as Head.

‘So I’m now going to read out each of your names with your form allocation. Please respond when you hear your name called out. I will be dealing with Form 1A first. This form is under Mr Beresford.’ The Head gestured towards one of the masters standing next to him.

‘Andrews C.’

‘Here sir,’ came a quick response.

‘Askey T.’

‘Please sir, yes sir?’ Mark thought that sounded like a strange response, but before he could dwell on it any further…

‘Barker M.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Mark replied.

The Head looked at him. ‘Are you related to M Barker in the fifth?’

‘No, sir. I don’t think so. My brother Brian is in 3A.’

Mark was inclined to mumble when talking to teachers, so what the Head heard was ‘No, sir; mumble mumble brother mumble 3A,’ but he was used to first formers mumbling and so after giving Mark a cold stare, he moved on.

‘Cuthbertson G.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Mark realised that if the names were in alphabetic sequence, Podge wouldn’t be in the same form.

Another boy answered ‘Please sir. Yes sir?’ Again Mark thought that sounded rather weird and after two more had answered in the same manner, he realised that they must have been all from St Thomas’ school, because he recognised a few of them.

Mark was disappointed at the number of old school mates who were not in his form, but regrettably, Derek Jarvis was and after the Head had completed Form 1A, Mark realised that Andy Vincent was also in another form. Andy had always been Mark’s closest friend from Melville, so that was another disappointment.

Before moving on to Form 1B, the Head urged all the 1A pupils to stand up and follow Mr Beresford to their new form room.

2

Form 1A

Mr Beresford was not especially tall, but he took exaggeratedly large strides as he led 1A along the connecting corridor to his room which was in the North Wing off from the main building.

‘Keep up!’ he called, but then as several of the pupils broke into a trot, he added ‘No running,’ thus making it impossible to obey both instructions. After being restricted to absolute silence in the assembly hall, it was a matter of seconds before 1A had started twittering like a gathering of nervous finches. Mark who had no one nearby with whom to converse could see why his brother likened first formers to ‘silly little immature children.’ He imagined that some of them would be looking forward to a game of Cowboys and Indians at playtime. Soon Mr Beresford issued another instruction – this time to be quiet and have consideration for those who were working. Mark thought it unlikely that anyone was actually working so early in the new term, but the noise ceased almost immediately.

He was anxious to be among the first to the new Form room so that he could pick a good seat – not at the very front, but also not right at the back so that he couldn’t see or hear properly. He had been wearing his National Health horn-rimmed spectacles for almost 2 years and he clearly remembered the problems he had experienced before his short-sightedness was diagnosed, particularly when it came to copying something from the blackboard and for a while, his learning had suffered. So he was well to the fore of the group following Mr Beresford, until Derek Jarvis nudged him while attempting to edge past. In doing so, Mark’s satchel was dislodged from his shoulder and some of the contents were scattered on the dusty floor. Mark had been carrying his satchel over one shoulder and his duffel bag over the other. Brian had warned that there was the chance of P.E. or even football on the first day, so Mark had brought both sets of kit in his duffel bag. He quickly gathered up the fallen articles which included a new pencil case and a protractor. Fortunately, his bottle of ink was still in its box and hadn’t suffered any damage. He re-joined the group, but now at the very back and as the corridor dog-legged and a set of narrow stairs faced them, he was unable to make progress.

Mark was one of the very last to enter the room, which was on the second floor. After a fierce scramble for places, he found himself forced to sit at the very front and in the middle, next to complete strangers. He felt very exposed as Mr Beresford scowled at them.

‘Before you get too comfortable,’ he said in a rather sarcastic tone, ‘we’ll just make some adjustments. In my