The Escapist (8 page)

Oscar couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in Piggy’s mood over those few days and it comforted him slightly.  But he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t too little, too late.  The neglect Piggy had suffered over the past weeks had scarred very deep, even though perhaps the harsh environment had been beneficial in making him tougher.  It would take more than a pat on the back and kind words of encouragement to recover from it: he would need a big change. And with Edmund’s regime still so strongly in place at the Institute Oscar thought that change couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter 7

Seldom did any children leave the Institute, though occasionally new children would arrive, cramming even further into the overflowing dorms.  To Oscar’s recollection only a handful had ever legitimately left, him being included the first time he was adopted – and even that was only because he was too young to be of any use in the workshops.  It was not because the children were unruly or deliberately unwanted, though there were some exceptions to that as well.  It was more a case of there being a lack of homes or families to provide support.  

And so the arrival of an electrocart and horse carriage convoy sparked much excitement from the children.  Although initially a cause of only passing interest, once it was clear there were no newcomers about to depart from either vehicle, the excitement became palpable.  It could mean only one thing – the convoy was here for some sort of collection.  Although carts and steam lorries came to deliver and collect the repaired wares from the Institute, rarely had they been seen at this time of day.

It had been during another tediously slow afternoon’s work session that the convoy arrived.  Fortunately, the workshops were perfectly situated to look out onto the long drive stretching from the Institute gates up to the main entrance.  A murmur rippled around the room calling the children to attention, so that they all craned their necks to see through the windows trying to observe the commotion.  Wide eyed they watched as the silver, humming electrocart pulled up the drive, tailed contrastingly by the noisy clop of a horse drawn carriage. 

The respective drivers of each vehicle when they emerged showed the same dissimilarity to each other in physical appearance as their modes of transport had done.  Alighting from the electrocart was a tall slender man of middling age, possibly later as indicated by the emerging balding spot which was visible when he turned his head.  His clothes were finely tailored and he carried an ivory handled walking stick; clearly he was a man of substantial wealth.   Conversely, the other fellow was a stout bearded chap with thick set arms.  He wearily dragged himself down from the carriage behind and placed the reins to one side, before stretching his back and adjusting his flat cap over his messy hair.  He did not seem to have found much comfort in his surroundings, reminding Oscar more of one of the new additions to the Institute than one who might be responsible for lifting that burden from others.  Despite the discomfort he looked to the other man, clearly his superior, and moved away from the carriage without further ado. 

The men proceeded towards the front of the building, where the Master awaited them at the steps to the main hall.  After formally shaking hands, the gentleman nodded to his assistant as the two men were ushered through the main entrance and out of sight.  There was a long pause of silence and blank faces as the children realised there was no other activity taking place outside.   But an idea sparked simultaneously through several of those who had been craning towards the windows.  Looking around the room at each other now the stimulus had been removed, realisation dawned: possibly someone had come to adopt a lucky few.

“Right yer lazy brutes get back ta work, before I smack the lut o’ yer.” Matron Mckay hollered.  Even she had been temporarily distracted by the goings on outside.

For every child the remainder of the work session passed agonisingly slow, these hours only further feeding their imaginations and anticipations of what the future could hold. 

“Psst, Osc.” Piggy said as the matron briefly passed out of earshot.  “Do you reckon we could be in with a chance of leaving?”

“I don’t know Piggy, we don’t even know what they're here for.”  he said seriously before seeing the hopeful look in his friend’s eyes.  He relented to Piggy’s optimism.  “But I suppose we have as good a chance as any one else.”  Oscar knew this wasn’t truth but he didn’t have the heart to dispel Piggy’s hopes.  After all, if the decision had anything to do with the matrons he would stay in misery forever.

“Yeah we do.” Piggy said, seemingly content by the response. “But I hope we go together, right?”

“Right Piggy.” Oscar dutifully replied.

“Osgerr, quit tha chat b’fore I put me boot in yer mooth.”  Matron Mckay saidm having come up behind them unnoticed.  Some of the other children stifled a giggle in response, but Mckay was quick to diffuse the amusement. “An that goos fir tha rest ot yers too.”

The rest of the session passed in hard work and undisturbed silence.  The only interruption was from another of the matrons, bringing a note to McKay.  Oscar watched as she read it, glared around the room, then frowned and turned back to the note.  Finally, as the session drew to a close, Matron McKay cleared her throat to speak.

“Right well, as yer all knoo, a gen’lemun arrived earlier, and it turns oot he wishes to take on sum ot yoos to go work fer 'im.”  Spittle sprayed forth as she spoke, her accent becoming stronger with every word so that by the end of each sentence it was thick as sludge.

“Noo, I got 'ere a list ot names fer those ot yoo to be considered.”  Mckay said.  The children all leaned in closer to the speaker, inching to the edges of the workbenches, their bodies tense with excitement.  It was hard not to be infected by the hopes.

“Na don’t yer all go gettin' ye hopes up, it’s only tha oolder boys who are ta be put forth.” A groan erupted from the younger children. “I knoo, I knoo. Tough eh?”  Uncertain whether the sympathy was genuine, it still came as little comfort to those shunned.

“Right well, ere’s the names: Edmund Blake.  Flynn Harding.  Doyle Smythe…” The names continued, listing a number of others until finally they heard the ones they had been waiting for:  “George Lesker and...Oscar Wyndham”.  Those rejected merely contributed a harmonious groan.  Twelve in total had been called – not bad odds, thought Oscar wryly; assuming a level playing field of course.  Oscar looked across at Piggy seeing the elation written all over his face.  Maybe Piggy was right, Oscar mused, allowing himself the smallest sliver of hope.  Perhaps they could both escape. 

As the boys whose names were called all teemed with excitement and the children who had been rejected trudged away, the matron continued to detail their instructions.   They were all to head to the dining hall for an early supper before going to the dorms to ready themselves for a group inspection at six o’clock.

The twelve boys all sat around a table in the canteen where food had been laid in advance.  Despite the various prior feuds, the atmosphere was mixed with a tinge other than hostility as each boy contemplated his personal futures.  Even Edmund sat quietly stewing in his own thoughts, though with his jutting jaw and furrowed brow this contributed more to an expression of confusion than anything else.  Oscar pointed this out to Piggy and both of them sat chuckling on the edge of the table, surreptitiously mimicking the look and feigning ape like expressions.

“What’s so funny Ossscar?” Edmund demanded of the two boys.

“Nothing you would understand, Edmund.” Oscar said in a devil-may-care tone, the recent events instilling - perhaps unwisely- a more fearless attitude.  Edmund eyed the two boys menacingly for a while before, uncharacteristically, dropping the matter and returning to his thoughts.

“Nearly, mate.”  Piggy whispered to Oscar, with a barely suppressed grin.

It was a peculiar mood, twelve silent heads bowed over their bowls of slop, spooning up the vile mixture in unison.

“I tell you what” Piggy said aloud. “I’ll be glad to be shot of this rubbish.”  Eleven stunned faces turned to the speaker in shock, before one boy, Doyle, chirped up.

“Really?  Out of everyone here it seemed like you enjoyed it the most.”  All of the boys laughed including Piggy, though he flushed slightly despite his smile.

“Yeah, we better hope the new place we're going to is well stocked, or they’ll have a fit when Piggy arrives.”  Flynn put in, to another round of laughter.  The mood of camaraderie was shattered; Piggy was no longer laughing, just trying to hide his bright red face.

“Don’t worry Piggy” Oscar whispered while the others continued to laugh. “They’re only messing with you.  They just want to put you off so you don’t beat them for the chance to get out of here.”

“I can’t expect they would want that useless fat idiot.” Edmund said aloud over the laughter.  Silence fell over the table.

“He’s got just a good a chance as anyone, even you Edmund.” Oscar said, knowing Piggy’s spirit would have been knocked and by now was probably well trodden into the mud.

“You think so do you, Osscar?  Well you know what?  I don’t really fancy leaving anyhow.  Things seem pretty good around here for me at the moment, so I don’t care whatever the outcome.”

The boys all finished what could for some be their last meal here.  Having stomached as much as possible they set out for the dorms.  With twenty minutes left before the inspection the boys made last ditch attempts to tidy themselves or run mangled combs through their hair.  For Oscar it was strange to see these older boys, with the exception of Edmund, dropping all pretence of toughness and nonchalance as they dwelt on their own chances.

After a brief tidy up on his own part Oscar used the rest of his time to help Piggy scrub his shoes with a torn rag and some sink water.  It was a futile exercise if the aim was to get them looking new but hopefully the intention would be noticed.  Inspecting himself in the reflection of a window, Piggy turned to Oscar.

“Cheers mate.  You know, I think I could be in with a chance.”

Edmund who was sitting casually on his bunk whittling, caught wind of what had been said.

“Don’t get cocky just yet boys.  Either way you still might end up with me.”  Flashes of the knife clearly visible in his hands, Edmund’s sinister expression reinforced the threat. 

Matron Clarke strode into the dorm a couple minutes ahead of the inspection. “Right then boys.”
she barked “The Master and a couple of gentleman will shortly be arriving to inspect you and see if you are fit for purpose.”  Her beady eyes fixed on each boy in turn, wire-rimmed spectacles resting on her beak-like nose.

“I needn’t remind you to be on you best behaviour - after all, I’m sure you are as keen to be rid of this place as we are to see the back of you.  Nonetheless, those who show signs of disobedience will be stricken from the inspection.”  Oscar had the distinct feeling that this comment was specifically directed at him.  It was almost as though she were daring him to disobey. 

“Well? Stand in front of your bunks, legs together” Walking up the aisle the matron scrutinised each of them. Whacking slouched shoulders, shoving up drooping chins.  Satisfied eventually, she glared at them all before standing back against the wall of the room to wait.

The Master shortly entered followed by the two gentlemen, the intermittent tap of the tall man’s cane growing louder as the men approached the line of potential workers all standing to attention.  The whole affair seemed like a military parade.  After a quick word with the tall gentleman the Master turned to address the boys.

“As I’m sure you are aware, you have been called here to be inspected for permanent placement.” The Master paused, glancing over his troops.  “Very good.”  He mumbled, as not one of them stirred.  “Mister Rigby here owns the electrostation in town.  He requires workers to help burn coal and hence supply the town’s electro needs.  He hopes we have such capable workers here.”  Still the boys stood firm and disciplined and the Master’s bushy moustache formed a slight smile.  They had not let him down by getting overly excited.

“Now, I will pass you on to Mister Rigby and his foreman Cid.”  The Master stepped back, allowing the tall gentleman and his stout accomplice to each address the young men gathered before them.

“I am in need of six able hands.”  The tall gentleman dived straight in, the sneer in his voice hinting at an over-inflated ego. “The job is basic labour and you will be over seen by my foreman, Cid, here.”  he said, pointing to the stout man.

“’Ello.” Cid said, removing his cap.  He had quite a jolly demeanour, the bushy beard and bright blue eyes a warming contrast on such a bulky and imposing man. “I look forward to makin’ your acquaintance.”

“Yes, well.”  Mr Rigby interrupted.  “In return for work, we will house and feed those chosen.  We also provide clothing and ensure you are kept to a reasonable level of health and comfort.”  The finely dressed man paused, fondling the lapel of his quilted jacket as he stopped to consider if anything had been missed.  Oscar did not much like the man.  He had a snooty attitude and seemed to view this as much like selecting cattle as it was choosing employees.  The speech he had made had been delivered like a performance.  One Oscar suspected was more for the benefit of the Master and matrons than to enlighten the assembled boys.  Cid however seemed like a breath of fresh air, a friendly adult who did not look down upon his juniors.  Having him rather than the matrons as a supervisor would certainly be a welcome change.

Striding down the line, Mr Rigby continued “Well without further ado, I will speak to each one of you in turn and see how fit you are for the task.”  Turning to Doyle, on his right he began.  “Turn out your hands…” 

Mr Rigby went through the boys asking them to open their hands and to show their teeth.  He checked their eyes and asked a few questions regarding health and the extent of their limited education.  Piggy stood fifth in the queue, eyes focused straight ahead and his back stiff, as he tried to give the impression of a reliable worker.  “And you are?” Mr Rigby enquired.