[August 2021]
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Chapters: 3
Word Count: 17,022
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Warnings: Angst, violence (minimal),
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INTO THE FIRE
by
Eleanor Ward
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The young Heyes and Curry decide the time has come to try and find a better life.
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* * *
Authors Notes:
This story was inspired by accounts written by two men, detailing the regime at an orphanage, in the West, during the time they spent there as children, as well as from accounts by former personnel who confirmed the harsh routine they were employed to distribute.
[The timeline is slightly different to that implied in AS&J but, since not everything that was written/said in the show was wholly accurate, I figured a little artistic license was justified.]
“It wasn’t Jed. It was me.”
Mr. Brown, the Assistant Superintendent of the Valparaiso school shifted his gaze from the young blonde haired boy, cowering before him, to meet the dark eyes of eleven year old Hannibal Heyes, eying him sceptically.
“I knocked my glass of water off the nightstand.” said Hannibal, his level gaze daring Mr. Brown to call him a liar.
Mr. Brown rolled his eyes and bent to sniff the bedsheet, recoiling at the pungent smell of urine.
“Since when did water smell like that?” he growled.
“Like what?” said Hannibal, innocently, “I can’t smell anything.”
With surprising quickness for a man of his advancing years, Mr. Brown grabbed Hannibal by the scruff of the neck and pushed his face down to the sheet.
“Still can’t smell anything.” said Hannibal, after Mr. Brown released him.
“One of you is a bedwetter.” said Mr. Brown, his intense stare going first to the young Jed Curry, who looked away, before shifting to Hannibal who held his gaze unwaveringly.
“You know what happens to bedwetters, don’t you?” he continued, his face hard and expressionless.
Hannibal said nothing, continuing to stare levelly at him.
Mr. Brown shifted his gaze back to Jed, “Don’t you?” he repeated, his tone harsh.
Jed gave a small nod, his gaze on the floor.
Mr. Brown reached out and grabbed hold of Jed’s arm, pulling him to his feet, intending to take him to the Superintendent’s office for punishment.
“It wasn’t Jed.” Hannibal said, firmly.
“This is his bed, isn’t it? If it wasn’t him, who else was it?”
Hannibal sighed, and lowered his gaze. “I got into bed with him, to comfort him, ‘cause he was feelin’ homesick. I was going to go back to my own bed once he was feeling better, but I fell asleep… I had a nightmare…” He lifted his gaze back to Mr. Brown’s, “It was me who did it.”
Mr. Brown eyed him, doubtfully, not believing a word. But it was obvious the boy was going to stick to his story, so, as far as he was concerned, he could take the beating on behalf of his young friend. Even if he was lying about who had wet the bed, he had admitted to getting into bed with the boy and that was expressly against school rules, so he could get an extra beating for that too.
“Very well.” He said now, grasping the shoulder of Hannibal’s shirt and hauling him towards the door of the dormitory.
Jed cowered by the side of the bed watching them with anxious eyes, feeling guilty that his friend was going to take a beating for him, but at the same time relieved.
“Come!” Called Edward Warner, the school Superintendent, in response to three knocks on his door.
The door opened and Henry Brown entered, towing the young Hannibal Heyes alongside him.
“Yes, Henry?” Warner peered at him over the top of his round spectacles.
“Bedwetter.” was all Henry Brown said.
Warner pulled off his spectacles and turned to regard Hannibal with an irritated expression, his eyes, even darker than Hannibal’s, boring into him and causing a shiver of fear to run through him, although outwardly his demeanour remained composed.
“How old are you, boy?” he demanded.
“Eleven, sir.”
“Eleven? You’re a little old to be bedwetting aren’t you?”
Before Hannibal had chance to answer, Henry Brown said, “May I have a word with you outside, Edward?”
Warner got up and, with a warning for Hannibal to stay exactly where he was, followed Brown outside into the corridor where he explained that he believed the boy was lying about having wet the bed, to protect his friend, but that he had openly admitted to having got into his bed with him.
“I think a double punishment should be administered.” Brown suggested, “Perhaps it might make him think twice in the future.”
Warner nodded, thoughtfully. “I’ve had to punish this boy on numerous occasions. He always seems to be getting into trouble for something. I think you’re right. Perhaps a harsher punishment might make him think twice before getting into any further trouble.”
Brown nodded.
“Wait out here, and when I’ve finished you can take him and lock him in the storeroom until supper time. That will give him time to think about his actions.”
Brown nodded again, and Warner returned to his office.
“So, Master Heyes, you are claiming you wet your friend’s bed?” he enquired, as he strode around to the other side of his desk and opened a drawer.
“Yes, sir… It was an accident.”
“Perhaps it was,” said Warner, doubtfully, “but you will be punished for it regardless.”
“Yes, sir.” muttered Hannibal.
“You will also receive an additional punishment for getting into bed with your friend. You know that is expressly against school rules.”
Hannibal looked at him, a glint of fear coming into his eyes. A double punishment? Just one was bad enough.
“Drop your pants and bend over this desk.” Warner instructed, taking a wooden paddle and some rope out of his desk drawer.
Hannibal eyed the rope anxiously, wondering what the Superintendent planned to do with it.
“Drop your pants!” bellowed Warner.
Hannibal quickly did as he was told, unbuttoning his pants and dropping them to his ankles before bending over the Superintendent’s desk.
Warner grasped his hands and quickly bound his wrists together, stretching his arms across the desk and securing the rope to one of the drawer handles on the other side, effectively immobilising him.
Hannibal was scared. He’d had plenty of beatings during his time at this school but he’d never been tied down for one before.
Warner disappeared behind him and with a yank pulled his long johns down and then commenced to spank his bare backside, vigorously, with the paddle.
Normally, the Superintendent dished out twenty blows, which was painful enough, but this morning he continued hitting him way past twenty, by which time Hannibal was in so much pain he was beyond keeping count of the strokes.
Hannibal had never once cried, or uttered a sound, during previous beatings, determined not to let them see his pain or have them believe they had cowed him into submission. But, today, although he managed to keep from crying out, by the time the Superintendent reached forty strokes, his face was streaked with tears of pain.
It seemed like an eternity before Warner put the paddle down and moved to untie his wrists from the desk.
“Get dressed.” he instructed, as he coiled up the rope and replaced it, along with the paddle, in his desk drawer.
Wiping his face on his sleeve Hannibal sullenly pulled up his long johns and pants, biting his lip to prevent himself from yelping with pain, as the fabric touched his painful rear end, and keeping his eyes averted from the Superintendent.
“Hopefully you will think twice, in future, before breaking school rules and lying, to protect your friends.” said Warner, “Unless you want more of the same treatment?”
Hannibal shook his head, refusing to meet the Superintendent’s eyes.
Warner crossed to the door.
“You will spend the rest of today in the storeroom, to give you time to evaluate your behaviour.” he said, nodding to Brown to take him away.
Brown grasped his shoulder and steered him downstairs to the basement and along a secluded dark corridor at the end of which was a door, which opened onto a small storeroom.
Hannibal had been locked in this room on several occasions, and hated it. It was so small he could touch both sides if he outstretched his arms and, once the door was closed, it was completely dark, the only light being a faint chink under the door if, which rarely happened, someone came down here carrying a lamp. Mostly they never did and it was as black as night and as silent as the grave in there. Sometimes he would hear skittering and would wonder if it was mice, or rats, that were sharing the room with him.
The room had once been a storeroom for the mops and buckets and other paraphernalia used to clean the school but now it had been cleaned out, obviously so it could be used for the purpose of punishing the boys, and was just an empty, cold, dark room.
Hannibal faltered at the door, unwilling to enter, but was pushed forcefully inside and the door locked. He ran to the door, rattling it in a futile attempt to get out, straining his ears to listen as Mr. Brown’s footsteps faded away down the corridor. Then, it was silent.
Hannibal covered his face with his hands in an attempt to convince himself that it wasn’t totally dark in the room, that it was just himself covering his eyes that made it so, but, when he removed them, it was as black as when he’d covered them.
He’d never been afraid of the dark before he came to this place, but now he hated it, and especially being confined in this small space which brought him out in a sweat and made his chest feel tight and caused him to feel short of breath.
He felt for the side of the room and then made to sit down against the wall, but yelped in pain as his backside touched the floor.
Manoeuvring himself into a slightly less painful position, on his side, he curled up into a ball, burying his face in the crook of one elbow. Only now that he was alone did he finally allow himself to give in to the pain and humiliation of the beating, his, at first silent, tears giving way to gut wrenching sobs.
He almost wished he hadn’t taken the blame for Jed wetting the bed, but Jed was already struggling with being in this place and he couldn’t let his younger friend suffer for something that was beyond his control.
Jed had suffered many nightmares, about the murder of their families, by bushwhackers, during the year since they’d been sent here, and these were what had caused the occasional bed wetting. But, however justifiable the reasons for it might have been, bedwetting was severely punished and those punishments had just made things worse as Jed fretted over doing it and earning himself another beating. This time, Hannibal had decided to take the blame, to spare his friend, thinking it would just be another in a long line of beatings he’d received, some for his own misdemeanours, others to protect Jed.
But today had been different. The Superintendent had never beaten him for that long, or that hard, before and nor had he tied him down to do it. Hannibal realized now that he wasn’t prepared to go through that again, but then that would mean Jed getting it instead and he wasn’t prepared to allow that to happen either. So, what were they to do?
Suddenly, the answer sprang into his mind. They would run away!
His tears began to subside as the idea sprang into his head. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
A wave of euphoria washed over him at the thought of escaping this place, and being free, before it was replaced by despondency. How would they do it? Where could they go? They had no family left alive who could take them in, no money, and finding paid work, at their young age, would be pretty much impossible. Anyone who might give them a job would probably only do so only to use them as free labour, with perhaps just food and a place to sleep offered in return – if they were lucky - making them little more than slaves, and Hannibal was determined that he and Jed weren’t going to be used like that.
He sighed as he tried to think of a plan but found every idea thwarted by obstacles. But he had to find a way. He didn’t think Jed would survive for too much longer if they stayed in this place, and he wasn’t even sure if he himself would. He’d heard the stories of boys who had suddenly disappeared, with vague explanations about sudden illnesses or unexplained accidents that had caused their untimely demise, or claims of previously unheard of relatives allegedly coming to give them a home.
Some of those boys had been considered ‘troublemakers’ by the staff and it hadn’t been long before rumours began to circulate that it was the staff who were responsible for disposing of those who caused trouble. One boy, who had run away but had later been brought back by someone he had tried to beg some food from, had claimed to have seen a field full of graves, beyond the limits of the school, and had recognized some of the names marked on them. Hannibal knew that he was considered a troublemaker, by the staff, for stepping in to stick up for Jed, when he was bullied by the older, bigger, boys, and for getting into fights, and he was concerned that he might be on a list of troublemakers that the staff intended to get rid of. If they didn’t get away from this place, he thought it was unlikely that either Jed or himself would survive to reach the age of fourteen when the school would discharge them into the world to fend for themselves.
He would be twelve in a few weeks time, only two years shy of the age for discharge. Of above average intelligence, and with a quick mind, he felt that he would be able to manage just as well, in the world, as any fourteen year old he knew. But what of Jed? Small for his nine and three-quarter years, and somewhat shy and nervous, how would he manage out in the world? Hannibal dismissed that thought. He would take care of the two of them. But first he had to think of a way for them to escape.
* * *
The sound of the door being unlocked roused Hannibal from a fitful sleep.
He squinted, as Mr. Brown opened the door and held up a lamp, dazzled by its dim light after hours in total darkness.
“Come on, boy, time for supper.” Brown said, sourly.
Hannibal clambered to his feet, wincing at the stinging pain in his backside, and began to walk slowly along the corridor.
“Don’t dawdle, boy!” Mr. Brown put a hand on his shoulder and propelled him towards the Dining Hall, wanting to get to his own supper as soon as possible.
They entered the Dining Hall, which was full, as all of the other boys ate their meagre supper of broth and bread. A glance through the windows showed Hannibal that it was just growing dark outside. A whole day, wasted! he thought, angrily.
Mr. Brown escorted him to get his food and then ushered him to a free seat at the end of one of the long bench tables, before moving to chat to the man who was serving the food, all the time keeping one eye on Hannibal, who carefully folded one leg under him, on the bench, and then balanced on one hip, across it, to keep pressure off his painful backside.
As he ate, Hannibal looked around, surreptitiously, for Jed, finally spotting him sat at another table on the opposite side of the room.
Looking up from his food, Jed met Hannibal’s eyes across the room.
Forcing a casual smile, Hannibal gave him a wink before returning his gaze to his bowl. Jed’s worried expression changed to one of relief. He’d fretted all day about what punishment his friend had received on his behalf, worried, when he hadn’t reappeared by lunch time, that something bad had happened to him.
It wasn’t until they returned to their dormitory, after supper, that he finally had chance to talk to him. The boys were allowed an hour, after supper, for recreational pastimes, before lights out.
“Did they give you a whuppin’?” he asked, anxiously.
Hannibal nodded. “Yeah,” he said, casually, choosing not to reveal the details, “and then they locked me in the storeroom all day.”
“I’m sorry, Han. It’s all my fault.” Jed looked close to tears.
”No, it aint.” Han said, firmly, “It’s theirs. ’taint right they should beat you for something you can’t help.”
Jed looked at the floor, embarrassed.
“Listen,” Han took his arm and pushed him down to sit on the edge of his bed and then perched himself carefully on the edge of the bed, alongside him. “I’ve been thinkin’, while I was locked in the storeroom. We can’t stay here, we need to leave.”
Jed’s eyes grew wide. “You mean… run away?”
Han nodded.
“But, how are we gonna do that? We got nowhere to go… and how will we get out without someone seein’ us?”
“I’m going to tell ya.” said Han, “It’s Monday today, right? Well, on Fridays the wagon comes in that brings all the food for the week, so the kitchen’ll be full of stuff. We’ll wait until the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep, and then sneak down to the kitchen, pack us up enough food to last us for a week or so, and then we can climb out through the pantry window.”
Jed contemplated that for a while before saying, “But, when Matron comes round, in the night, to check on us, she’ll see our beds are empty an' start a search of the school to find us.”
“Not a problem.” Han dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand, “We’ll put our pillows longways in the beds so it’ll look like someone’s in them. She never looks that close. Nobody’ll notice we’re gone until the next morning and we’ll be long gone by then.”
Jed thought about it some more. “But where’ll we go?” He asked anxiously. He hated this place but at least it gave them a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat. Despite the harsh regime, it was familiar. Venturing out into the world alone was a scary thought.
“You let me worry about that.” said Han, brightly, knowing what his friend was thinking, “Just think how great it’ll be just to be away from this place. No more beatings, or detentions. Nobody to tell us what to do.”
Jed’s expression brightened slightly. “Are we gonna go this Friday?” he asked presently, won over by his friend’s positivity, his worries about where they would go, and what they would do after they ran out of food, temporarily forgotten.
“Yup. This Friday.” grinned Han.
Jed’s face broke into a smile.
“Just make sure you don’t say anythin’, to anybody.” Han warned, “We don’t want anyone guessin’ what we’re plannin’ or we’ll be in trouble.”
“I won’t.” Jed said, solemnly.
Han smiled. He hoped that by giving Jed something to look forward to, he might not be plagued with as many nightmares.
The next couple of days passed relatively uneventfully, for Han and Jed at least, both of them managing to avoid the wrath of the teachers.
Unfortunately, the same wasn’t true for all of the boys. One of the punishments for bad or insolent behaviour was to hang culprits, by the back of their jackets, on the coat hooks outside the classrooms, leaving them dangling feet above the ground with no way to get down by themselves, and where they would have to stay until a staff member decided to release them. Any attempt, by the other boys, to help them down was rewarded with the same treatment for them, and so the other boys were forced to walk past their friends, afraid to offer any assistance for fear of the same treatment.
As Jed and Han headed to their lessons with the other boys, on Wednesday morning, they discovered two of the boys, who slept in beds opposite to them in the dormitory, suspended from the coat hooks.
“What did you do?” Han stopped to address them.
“Nothin’. We just tried to go back round to the back of the queue for breakfast, to try an’ get a second helping. But we got caught.”
Han shook his head, disgusted by the unfairness of it. The school gave them barely enough food to keep them alive. It was hardly surprising that growing boys would try to find ways to get more.
“Help us down?” said the second boy.
“I wish I could, but you know the rules.” said Han, “If I let you down, you’ll get twice the time and I’ll get put up there with you.”
“Please.” pleaded the first boy.
Han hesitated briefly, wanting to help them but unwilling to end up in the same situation. He hated having to refuse but, after a moment, he shook his head.
“Sorry, I can’t.” Then, grabbing Jed’s hand, said, “Come on, Jed, we don’t want to be late.” pulling him along the corridor while the boys continued to plead for him to release them.
He felt bad about it all day, reinforcing his resolve to get him and Jed away from this place.
The incident must have played on Jed’s mind too because he had a nightmare that night and once again wet the bed.
“What am I gonna do?” he wailed. He knew he would be in for a beating, when it was discovered, and he was terrified.
“Let’s put the sheet on the radiator. Hopefully it’ll dry before anyone comes.” suggested Han.
However, while they were in the process of taking the sheet off the bed Mr. Brown entered the dormitory.
Crossing to the bed he stood looking down at it before shifting his gaze first to Jed and then to Han.
“Another ‘accident’?” he sneered.
When Han didn’t reply, he turned his gaze to Jed.
“Then you must be the culprit.”
Jed opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, afraid to admit the truth.
“You know what happens to bedwetters.”
Jed shook his head, wringing his hands in fear.
Mr. Brown grabbed hold of his nightshirt and began to pull him towards the door.
“No!” Han was moved to action, “This isn’t fair. He can’t help having nightmares.”
“Hold your tongue.” warned Mr. Brown, but Han followed them as they left the dormitory and headed upstairs to the Superintendent’s office.
“He don’t do it on purpose.” he said, as he followed them up the stairs, “It’s not right to beat him for something he don’t even know he’s doing.”
“You’d better be quiet, and get to your classes, unless you want a beating too.” growled Mr. Brown.
He reached the top step and turned towards the Superintendent’s office.
“Beating him just makes it worse. Let him go!” yelled Han, grabbing hold of Jed and trying to pull him free of Mr. Brown’s grip.
“Get away!” snapped Mr. Brown, turning and giving Han a backhand blow to the head.
Momentarily dazed, Han lost his balance and the next thing he knew he was pitching head first down the stairs to whirl into black oblivion.
“Han!” screamed Jed, looking in horror at his friend’s motionless body at the foot of the stairs.
He tried frantically to get free of Mr. Brown’s grip, to go to him, but Mr. Brown dragged him to the Superintendent’s office and banged on the door, not waiting for permission to enter but flinging the door open and rushing inside.
“There’s been an accident.” he gasped, still holding onto the struggling Jed.
“An accident?” frowned Edward Warner.
“That boy, Heyes, he’s fallen down the stairs?”
“Fallen down the stairs?”
Brown nodded. “He was trying to talk me out of bringing his friend, here, for punishment. One minute he’s yelling at me and the next… he’s at the bottom of the stairs. He must have missed his footing.”
“He didn’t fall. He shoved him!” yelled Jed, pointing up at Brown while still trying to free himself from his grasp.
“You hold your tongue, boy, unless you want a double beating!” growled Brown, shaking him. Then, turning to Warner, “He’s just trying to cause trouble. The boy fell.”
Ignoring his comment, Warner left the room and hurried down to where Han lay.
There was a deep gash on the side of his head, and he was bleeding from the nose.
“Can you hear me, boy?” called Warner, slapping his face. When he received no response he put two fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse.
“Lock the boy in my office.” he told Brown, who had returned to the top of the stairs still holding onto Jed, “I’ll deal with him shortly. Then help me carry this one to the Infirmary.”
Brown nodded and hauled Jed back to the Superintendent’s office.
“Sit down there,” he pointed to a chair, “and don’t move until we return, do you hear?” Then, taking the door key he left the room and locked the door.”
Jed sat, staring at the door, trembling with fear, the promised beating forgotten, for the moment, in his concern for Han. Was he alive? He’d looked dead, laying so still on the floor that way. A wave of nausea washed over him at the thought. What would he do if he was dead? Without Han, he would be stuck here, with no-one to look out for him.
He suddenly remembered that they were supposed to be running away tomorrow night. What bad timing that this should happen now, the day before they were due to leave.
Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of having to stay at this place one day longer, especially if his friend was badly injured, or worse, dead.
“Please, don’t be dead, Han.” he whispered, over and over, as the tears spilled over onto his cheeks.
* * *
“He’s alive.” Warner told Brown as he returned from locking Jed in his office, “But he has a nasty head wound. Help me carry him.”
Together they picked him up and carried him to the school’s Infirmary.
“What happened?” asked Matron as she pulled back the sheets on one of the four beds, for them to lay him down.
“He fell down the stairs.” said Henry Brown.
Matron bent to examine him, frowning at the wound on his head. Usually she dealt with minor cuts and grazes, colds, upset stomachs and the occasional broken bone, and that was where her medical knowledge ended. Anything more serious required a visit from the town doctor, and experience told her that this was one of those times.
“What’s his name?” she asked.
“Hannibal Heyes.” Edward Warner replied.
Matron began to slap Han’s face and call out his name in the hope of rousing him, but he remained unconscious.
“You’d better fetch Doctor Braithwaite.” she said presently.
“Is that really necessary? Can’t you just treat the wound and wait for him to come to his senses?” Warner said, doubtfully, not keen to fetch the doctor, who might ask some awkward questions about how the boy had become injured.
“He could have a fractured skull, for all we know. I’m not qualified to make a diagnosis and I don’t want to be responsible if he should die due to lack of proper medical care.”
Warner exchanged covert glances with Henry Brown before saying, “Clean and dress the wound and if he hasn’t come round in half an hour I’ll send for the doctor.” Then he nodded for Brown to follow him outside.
“Did you push the boy?” he asked, as they headed back towards his office.
Brown thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “He followed me upstairs and tried to pull the boy away from me. There was a bit of a tussle. Then, the next thing I know he’s falling backwards down the stairs... He must have missed his footing during the scuffle.”
Warner eyed him intently, “I’m prepared to back you up, Henry, but if the other boy insists you pushed him, there could be trouble, and the last thing we need is to have the Board breathing down our necks and asking questions.”
Brown nodded agreement, “Perhaps we should keep the boy... isolated… until we see what happens with his friend. Then we can decide on a course of action?” he suggested, “No-one else but him saw it happen. If we keep him isolated he won’t have chance to tell any of the other boys.”
Warner nodded, thoughtfully. If the boy recovered, his friend would likely forget about his accusations – or could be persuaded to. If the boy should die, they could decide what to do with his friend then.
“I think that’s a wise idea.” he said now, “We’ll put him up in the attic room, and he can have his meals up there.
Brown breathed an inward sigh of relief. The less people the boy was able to tell about what had happened the easier it would be to discredit his version of events.
Arriving back at Warner’s office they unlocked the door and went inside.
As they entered, Jed jumped to his feet.
“Where’s Han?” Is he alright?” he asked, his blue eyes wide with fear.
“He’s being treated in the Infirmary.” said Warner.
“I want to see him.”
“You don’t get to make demands, boy. You’re in enough trouble already, what with wetting the bed and then making accusations, against my staff, of violence towards a pupil.”
Jed just stared at him.
“Telling lies about staff members is a serious misdeed. You will be kept in detention, while you consider your behaviour—“
“I didn’t tell no lies!” yelled Jed, “He hit him!”
Warner and Brown exchanged glances.
“As I said, you will be kept in detention until you reconsider your accusations.” Warner continued, before nodding to Brown to take him away.
“No—“ Jed shook his head.
“Be quiet.” snapped Brown, as he grasped Jed’s nightshirt and towed him towards the door, while Warner looked on, anxiously.
Once they’d left the room, he headed back down to the Infirmary, where Matron had just finished bandaging Han’s head wound.
“Has he come round yet?” he asked, anxiously.
Matron shook her head, “No. Doctor Braithwaite needs to examine him.” she said, eyeing the boy anxiously, “I’m very concerned. He took a hefty blow to the head. Who knows what damage may have been done.”
Warner sighed, “Very well. I’ll send someone to fetch him.”
Upstairs, Henry Brown opened a hidden door that revealed a small staircase.
Propelling Jed up the steps Brown unlocked a door, at the top, that opened into an attic, in the eaves of the building.
Pushing him inside, Brown said, “Your meals will be brought to you up here.”
Before Jed had time to say anything, Brown left, locking the door after him.
Jed looked around him. There was a cot, covered with dusty blankets, a chamber pot, and a small wooden chair. The attic had two small windows high up in the eaves, but they were too high for him to see out of even if he stood on the chair.
A shiver shook him. There was no heating up here and, clad only in his nightshirt, not having had chance to get dressed before Mr. Brown had come in and discovered the wet bedsheet, he was cold.
He walked slowly across to the cot and lay down on it, pulling the dusty blankets around him for warmth.
“What’s your diagnosis, Doctor?” Edward Warner asked, as the physician finished his examinations.
“The head wound looks to have been sustained by hitting a hard edge, such as the edge of one of the stairs, but I don’t see any evidence of a skull fracture, or any other injuries. I would expect him to regain consciousness within the next six to twelve hours, after which time he needs to rest for a few days. He’ll probably be stiff and sore when he wakes up, but children are pretty robust. They bend, rather than break, at this age.” The doctor took off his stethoscope and put it in his bag,“I’ll come back tomorrow to see how he’s doing. If he should take a turn for the worse before then, send for me.”
“We will, Doctor.” said Warner.
The Doctor departed and Warner headed thoughtfully back to his office.
Despite Brown’s denials of having touched the boy, Warner was fairly sure his friend had been telling the truth about what had happened. But the Board had investigated the school on previous occasions, following the demise of some of the school’s pupils, and Warner was concerned for his position should word of this incident reach their ears.
The doctor had said the boy would recover. The question was, would he too insist that Brown pushed him? They would have to wait and see before deciding on a course of action.
​
* * *
It was well into the afternoon before Matron saw signs of consciousness returning to her patient, rolling his head from side to side, a frown creasing his brow.
Moving to the side of the bed, she took the boy’s hand, calling out his name.
A soft moan escaped his lips before his eyes fluttered open, gazing blankly up at her.
“It’s alright,” Matron told him, “you had a fall and hit your head. Just lie still.”
Han blinked, trying to focus his blurred gaze on the face belonging to the voice.
Gradually, his vision cleared and Matron smiled as she saw the flicker of recognition that lit in his eyes as he looked up at her.
“Does your head hurt?” she asked.
Han tried to nod but gasped as pain sliced through the side of his head.
“Try not to move.” Matron told him.
“Wh-where… am I?” he croaked.
“You’re in the Infirmary. The Doctor came out to see you and he says you’re going to be fine, but you need to rest for a few days.”
Han tried to get his thoughts into some kind of order.
“Jed.” He said presently, “Where’s Jed?”
“Jed?”
“My friend, Jed… He was with me…”
Matron shook her head. “I don’t know…”
“I want to see him.”
Matron patted his hand. “Just relax.” she told him, “I’ll ask if he can come and visit you. Now, would you like a drink of water?” she enquired, rising to get a cup of water, returning and lifting his head to help him sip it.
A short time later, Edward Warner entered the Infirmary and approached the bed.
“So, you’re back with us, Master Heyes.” he said, his voice devoid of expression, “Would you care to explain what happened?”
Han looked into the man’s cold, dark eyes. He didn’t want to tell him anything, and certainly not before he’d spoken to Jed. His memory was still a bit fuzzy and he needed him to confirm what had happened before he said anything that might contradict anything Jed had said and get them both into more trouble.
“I – I’m… not sure.” he said presently.
“He’s been asking for his friend, Jed.” Matron said now, “He says he was with him at the time. Perhaps he can shed some light on what happened?”
Warner thought for a moment, before saying, “He can see you tomorrow.”
“But…”
“You need to rest for the time being.” Warner cut off his protest, before turning away and drawing Matron over to the other side of the room where they spoke quietly for a moment before he took his leave.”
Matron returned to Han’s bedside, “Think you can manage a little broth?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“I’ll go and get you some.” she told him.
Han watched her leave the room, wondering if he could perhaps sneak out and go and find Jed while she was gone, but as he saw her pick up the key to the Infirmary door and then heard it lock behind her as she left, he realized that wasn’t going to be an option.
He attempted to sit up in the bed, but was overcome by pain and dizziness and lay back down again.
Matron returned, some minutes later, with a bowl of broth which she spoon fed to him. After he’d eaten it he felt full, and tired, and, despite his best efforts to stay awake, soon fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Jed was woken from a fitful slumber by the sound of the door being unlocked.
He scrambled into a sitting position, pulling the blanket around him to keep out the chill, and watched as Henry Brown came into the room carrying a tray on which was a bowl of broth, a piece of bread and a glass of milk.
He placed the tray on the floor at the side of the bed and straightened up, regarding Jed disdainfully.
“Where’s Han? Is he alright?” Jed asked anxiously.
“He’s fine. He’s resting up in the Infirmary.”
“Can I see him?”
Brown shook his head, slowly, “As Mr. Warner told you, you’re being kept in detention for telling lies about what happened.”
“I didn’t tell lies.” said Jed, “You hit him and knocked him down the stairs.”
“You’re mistaken. He slipped and fell, and you’ll be held in detention until you remember that.” Brown glared at him.
Jed looked at him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. His parents had always whupped him if he told lies, and he didn’t want to lie about what had happened, but unless he did they might never let him out of here. He needed to see Han. He would be able to tell him what to do.
Mr. Brown turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.
It was growing dark outside now, so Jed ate the broth, while it was still light enough to see, and then curled up on the cot and pulled the blankets around him, wishing, for the thousandth time, that their parents were still here to take care of them and they didn’t have to be in this horrible place.
* * *
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