The Red Road (31 page)

“In the junior school, yes,” I
admitted.

Another understanding nod from
Martin. “We don’t like to admit it happens, but bullying is a
fact of school life. You can only stop the worst of it,
unfortunately. Do you ever fight back against them?”

“The bullies or the goblins?”

“Sorry, I mean the goblins in your
dreams?”

“Sometimes. I remember having
attacked them from time to time.”

“But it doesn’t work? You still
get the dreams?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Sometimes recurring dreams can be
stopped by getting to the root cause of the problem, either in the
dream itself or in real life. I used to have nightmares when I was
your age. They slowly went away as I got older. When you suffer the
nightmares, are you experiencing any stress from real life?”

I thought about it carefully. Now
that he mentioned it, I could see a correlation with what was
happening in real life. The first nightmare I had suffered was when I
had entered the senior school and been terrified of what might happen
to me there. I had been overwhelmed by the scale of the new
environment and the number of boys in my year and those above. The
other times I had suffered them had been whenever I had been facing
tests or exams, and, more recently, around the times of the murders.
I told him so.

“Stress and puberty,” Martin
nodded. “I am confident that your dreams will go away in a few
months, after you finish your GCSEs. If it’s something you’re
very worried about, I can give you some sleeping aids to help deal
with them.”

“Thank you,” I said. I felt
better knowing that. I suspected, as Martin said, that many of the
other boys in my year suffered nightmares. Most would certainly not
admit to them, especially if they were members of the Clique. That
would almost certainly be seen as a sign of weakness.

“The sleepwalking, on the other
hand, is a little more troubling,” Martin then said. “You could
harm yourself or one of the other students while doing it. When did
it last happen?”

“Last night,” I said. “I was
just walking about my dorm. Apparently my eyes were open.”

“They usually are. It can be very
unsettling for other people to see that.”

I thought of how much it had
bothered Anthony Simmons. He had looked quite afraid of me, as I
expect anyone would with been, finding someone looming over them in
the middle of the night, staring at them with a glassy look in their
eyes. Baz and Sam had been attempting to wake me, though they had
maintained a distance and looked equally bothered.

“Is there an easy cure that you
know of?” I asked.

“Not as such. It can quite often
be linked to other things, in this case your nightmares. Having
thought about it, both could probably be avoided simply by
maintaining a good sleep hygiene.”

“Sleep hygiene?” I asked.

“Getting the right amount of
sleep, avoiding caffeine and sugar just before bed, not using the bed
for anything other than sleeping – meaning don’t sit or lie on it
when you’re not intending to sleep – eating properly, exercising
regularly, changing your sheets often, and avoiding stress. I can see
that last one being a little more difficult, given your upcoming
GCSEs.

“But try not to let the thought of
that stress you out, either. Worrying about the nightmares and the
sleepwalking could simply
cause
them to happen.

“As I said, I can arrange with the
clinic to bring in some sleep aids for you, for use when you’re
feeling stressed. I’m very certain that this is just a temporary
thing. Start with the sleep hygiene and try not to do any schoolwork
just before going to sleep. Worrying about it will only stick in your
mind. Read a book, something fun and interesting to settle your mind.
Not
horror. If after all that you’re still suffering from
the nightmares, come and see me and I’ll arrange for you to receive
some sleep aids.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. Um
... this is just going to be kept between us, right? You’re not
going to let the headmaster or anyone know, are you?” I asked just
before leaving.

“It’s just between us for now,
Joe,” Martin said. “I would only advise the school nurse if I
thought it was something that needed further investigation.”

“Cool, thanks,” I said.

“Have a good day,” Martin
smiled.

I felt relieved that it wasn’t
something serious. I had wondered if I was going to sleepwalk for the
rest of my life. To hear that it was something that generally only
happened when you were younger (and wasn’t all that uncommon at
that time) was a great weight off my mind. The fear that the
thought
of the nightmares caused me was almost worse than the things
themselves, kind of like a negative feedback loop of sorts. I might
well have broken the chain.

Only one thing still bothered me, and
that was what Martin had said about my sleepwalking. One night I had
found myself in Tudor House, walking around the lower corridors. It
was clear to me why I had made my way over there.

I couldn’t really hurt someone
that way, could I?

~ ~ ~

I returned to Butcher, making plans
for which subjects I needed to tackle during prep that evening.

I halted outside the third year
dorm, seeing the door propped open by a large cardboard box. I had
suspected something was up as I had walked through the entrance to
the house and seen a car parked outside. Although staff cars dotted
the grounds, it was unusual to find a car parked in such a specific
place. It was a hire car, too, I could tell from the branding and
advertising plastered all over it.

I entered the dormitory to see two
somewhat heavy-set adults packing things into boxes. I had only met
them on a couple of occasions in the past, but knew immediately who
they were – Sam’s parents. His bed had already been stripped, the
duvet folded over and sitting on the bare mattress, alongside the two
pillows and a large case that was already quite swollen with clothes.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, unable to go any further.

“What’s going on?” I
eventually asked. The three turned around to me.

“I’m leaving,” Sam said
bluntly. His voice was a mixture of both apology and anger. “I’m
going back home to Texas.”

“And you were just going to sneak
out the door, without telling anyone?” I said, flabbergasted.

“I’m not going right away,”
Sam said. “But I’m not staying at the school after today.”

“We’re staying at a hotel in
town, while we arrange for Sam’s things to be shipped back to
America,” Sam’s father said.

“But ... you can’t,” I said.

Sam said nothing, only looking to
his parents.

“How long have you known?” I
asked Sam accusingly. A thought then occurred to me. “Is that the
phone call you got last week? You were called into the headmaster’s
office. Father Thomas came to get you from the Belfry.”

“Mom and Dad don’t want me
staying here any longer,” Sam explained.

“We don’t think this school is
safe any more,” Sam’s father added.

“So, your brother’s okay?” I
asked. It had been my very first thought as to why they might be
here, losing a son who was away in a foreign country and wanting the
other to now be closer to home.

“Cody’s fine. He’s just a bit
bored out there,” Sam said, again with an apologetic tone.

“This one ready?” Sam’s father
asked him. Sam nodded, and the big man began lugging the case out of
the dormitory.

I felt like blocking his way for a
moment, before moving aside. “So, you’re leaving tonight?” I
asked Sam.

“Sorry, Joe.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I’ll come back later in the
week to say goodbye properly,” Sam reassured me.

“After we heard about what’s
been happening here, we didn’t think it was appropriate for Sam to
remain at St Christopher’s any longer,” Sam’s mother said. “We
thought that England was a safe country, but if things like this are
going to keep on happening to the boys, then he’s better off back
home.”

“But you can’t go!” I said,
almost begging.

“Sorry,” Sam said, looking to
his mother, “but I think it’s for the best.”

I tried to remember his mother’s
name, but failed. “Look,” I said to her. “This school isn’t
dangerous. And Cody is in the Middle East for Christ’s sake! He’s
being
shot at
daily!”

“That’s not quite true,” Sam
said, as if trying to make things sound not quite so bad.

“Three murders in one year at a
single school make it dangerous to me,” Sam’s mother added. “I’m
surprised it’s not been closed down yet.”

“It almost has been. Nearly half
the boys didn’t come back this term,” I muttered. “What has the
school said? Have you spoken to Mr Somers or Father Benedict?”

“Mom and Dad have been talking to
them ever since the second closure,” Sam said. “Both said that
the school is safe, and that I should stay, but my parents don’t
agree.”

“It’s
not
safe, Sam,”
his mother told him.

“So, you decided to go now that
they’ve found out that it wasn’t the gardener that was doing it?”
I blurted out. I realised as I said it that Sam’s mother probably
wasn’t aware of recent developments.

“So, they no longer have a
suspect?” Sam’s mother said, looking to her son. “More reason
now that you should leave.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam,” I
said, not caring about swearing in front of his mother, “you can’t
go! What about your GCSEs? You’ve got to do those next term. You’ll
have to repeat the year over or whatever.”

“I’m going to try and take my
SATs this year, but I might have to repeat a few classes. SATs are
more or less the equivalent of GCSEs back home,” Sam clarified.

I was devastated. I had known Sam
only two and a half years, but he was my best friend. He couldn’t
leave. This was just stupid and unfair.

“But you’re not flying out
tonight?” I asked.

“No,” Sam’s mother said. “At
the weekend.”

“What day?” I insisted.

“Sunday.”

“What time?”

“My husband has the details. I
think it’s at six.”

“Morning or evening?”

“Joe, don’t worry,” Sam said.
“I’m going to come back on Saturday, to see everyone.”

“What are you going to be doing
before then?” I wanted to know. It was only Wednesday. There was no
reason I could see that Sam should have to go right
now
.

“Since we don’t come here a lot,
we’re going to go to London and see the Queen in Buckingham Palace,
the Tower of London, and visit Wimbledon, as well as a few other
places,” Sam’s mother answered. “I would quite like to see
Cornwall, but I don’t think we’ll get the opportunity.”

“Sounds like you’ll have a nice
time,” I answered a little soberly.

Sam’s father reappeared,
requesting that Sam and his mother give him a hand to carry more
items down to the car. I didn’t offer to help them do so. I would
rather be unpacking those cases. And other than standing in the
dormitory watching two people take my best friend away from me, there
was only one other place I needed to be.

“Back in a minute,” I said.
“
Don’t
go until I come back.”

I strode from the dormitory, down
the spiral stairs and to the housemaster’s office. With Sam’s
parents having arrived from America, I knew he would be in, wanting
to speak to them at some point. And there he was, sitting quietly at
his desk, pushing a pen across a piece of paper. I knocked on the
open door.

“Just a minute,” he said without
looking up.

I fidgeted impatiently for a time,
trying to control a mild rage that was building within me. I should
actually just go back to the dorm and find out more details of what
Sam would be up to over the next few days and when exactly on
Saturday he would be visiting, in case I was involved in some
sporting activity or other.

Mr Somers then looked up. “Yes,
Joe. What can I do for you?” he asked.

I entered the office, feeling the
rage rising, a part of me wanting to close the door so that I could
shout at the man. “Sir, why are you letting Sam leave?” I
demanded.

“Because, Joe, his parents called
the headmaster and said that they want to take him out of the
school.”

“And you said that that was okay
and just
let
them?”

“Joe, do not speak to me that
way,” my housemaster cautioned me. “I’ve told you once already
about your recently failing attitude.”

“Sorry, sir,” I said, forcing
the anger from my voice. “I’m just ... really annoyed right now.”

“Sam’s departure from the school
is none of your business, if I’m being perfectly honest,” Mr
Somers continued. “But if you must know—”

“Hold on,” I said, requesting he
hold that thought, before moving over to the door, removing the stop
and closing it. With the office door shut and with only my ears to
hear it, I was sure that my housemaster would be willing to share
more than he might otherwise.

“If you must know,” Mr Somers
continued, “we did talk to Sam’s parents a great deal about
keeping him at the school for as long as possible. Unfortunately,
they were more concerned about the incidents that have occurred of
late and thought it was best for them, as well as their other son,
that he return home to America. Sam is far from the first pupil we
have lost, as you know. You will be fully aware that there are a
number of boys from the first and second year in Butcher that have
not returned to the school, as well as a number of others from the
other houses. There are several entire dormitories in the junior
school that are now empty, as a result of the respective parents
having taken their boys back home.

“The headmaster and I, as well as
all the other housemasters and teachers, talk
daily
to
concerned parents about the well being of their boys. We did whatever
we could to stop Sam from leaving, but at the end of the day it is
his parents’ choice. His departure could well be the catalyst for
some of the other boys in your year to leave, as, again, their
parents have expressed similar desires.