‘Got an alarm clock?’
‘Why?’
‘Set it early, meet me downstairs at half six. My uncle Seb’s arranged a private visit for me to a workshop where they make the gondoliers’ oars. You like all that old craft stuff, don’t you? I saw you studying those picture frames in the Accademia.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘You’re my friend, aren’t you?’ Evan took one last puff, screwed the butt into the ground and flicked it away. ‘If King picks on you again, I’ll back you up.’
‘I told you, I won’t tell anyone,’ Phil said. ‘But be careful, Evan.’
But Evan hadn’t been careful enough. The moment they returned from the oar maker’s workshop and slipped into the breakfast room, Phil knew something was up. Voices were hushed, faces pale. It didn’t take long to piece the events together: the butt of a joint flicked an inch short of the edge of the balcony, the Latin teacher roused from his bed by a bout of heartburn, opening a window and smelling marijuana drifting down. Whispered voices told Phil the school was taking the matter extremely seriously. If a culprit did not confess, the others must not hesitate to report him anonymously. Someone knew who was breaking the school’s zero-tolerance policy on drugs. The reputation, the very future of Hillingdon was at stake.
* * *
Phil stood at the dorm window. It was less than a week since they’d flown back from Venice; his pale arms still showed a hint of golden brown. Three floors below, Raj dragged his trunk across the courtyard. His father hauled it into the boot of his Corsa. The Burton suit he’d sported so proudly at last summer’s prize-giving looked two sizes too big for him. Raj climbed into the passenger seat.
Evan sidled silently beside him. ‘I really didn’t think he’d be expelled; I thought they’d take him off the cricket team, make him spend Sunday afternoons helping the gardener weed the beds. Look at what happened to Jez.’
‘Raj isn’t Jez,’ Phil said. Raj didn’t have a father who’d paid for the new sports pavilion and who promised that his son would spend the holiday volunteering at a drug-prevention project.
‘I didn’t say it was Raj who did it, Phil, I swear.’
‘I know.’ Phil had seen one of Evan’s best buddies sneaking out of the headmaster’s study, guilt written all over his face. ‘I should have said something. Not to drop you in it, just to tell them it wasn’t him.’
The passenger window rolled up and closed. The car stood idling on the gravel as though the two occupants couldn’t quite believe they had to go.
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Phil bolted for the door. ‘I can’t let him leave like this. Not when I know?—’
Evan made a grab for him. ‘Please don’t say anything, Phil. If you tell them it wasn’t Raj, they won’t let it drop. They might even make us all take a drugs test. I’ll never forget you standing by me, Phil. It means everything to me, you being such a good friend.’
Phil pushed past him, took the stairs two at a time.
Mr King was leaning against the newel post at the bottom. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry, Philip?’
‘Raj… he…’
‘Best let him go. You wouldn’t want to get Evan into trouble now, would you?’
‘Evan? What do you mean?’
Mr King dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I don’t walk around with my eyes shut, Philip. Pretty stupid of Evan, don’t you think? But the school doesn’t want to lose a boy like him. Bad publicity, no good for business. Best for someone like Raj to take the fall, wouldn’t you say? One of your type, no one will miss him.’
‘But…’
‘Imagine how lonely and unpopular you’d be if Evan left. All the boys would blame you. There’d be no one to look out for you.’ Mr King’s hand strayed across Phil’s backside.
Evan was coming down the stairs, his usual swagger gone. ‘Oh, hello, sir.’
‘Hi, Evan! I’ve put you on the team sheet for Saturday against Eton. Maybe you should start coaching Philip. He was just telling me what good friends you are.’
Evan slung an arm over Phil’s shoulder. ‘I’m starving, let’s go to the tuck shop. Fancy some crisps?’
They walked out of the huge double doors and across the quad. The sky was a dull grey. Light rain was starting to fall. The green car had reached the far end of the long drive, two red spots fading into the distance.
40
Phil stared at the empty bottle of wine. ‘So now you know I’m not the man you thought I was,’ he said.
