The library monitor read the next lesson. Harry had already coached him through St Mark's words several times. Deakins had tried to get out of the chore, as he described it to Giles, but Mr Frobisher had insisted; the fourth lesson was always read by the librarian. Deakins wasn't Giles, but he wasn't bad. Harry winked at him as he shuffled back to his seat next to his parents.
The choir then rose to sing In Dulci Jubilo while the congregation remained seated. Harry considered the carol to be among the most demanding in their repertoire, because of its unconventional harmonies.
Mr Holcombe closed his eyes so that he could hear the senior choral scholar more clearly. Harry was singing Now let all hearts be singing when he thought he heard a slight, almost imperceptible, crack in the voice. He assumed Harry must have a cold. Miss Monday knew better. She'd heard those early signs so many times before. She prayed that she was mistaken, but knew her prayer would not be answered. Harry would get through the rest of the service with only a handful of people realizing what had happened, and he would even be able to carry on for a few more weeks, possibly months, but by Easter another child would be singing Rejoice that the Lord has arisen.
An old man who'd turned up only moments after the service had begun was among those who weren't in any doubt what had happened. Old Jack left just before the bishop gave his final blessing. He knew Harry wouldn't be able to visit him until the following Saturday, which would give him enough time to work out how to answer the inevitable question.
'Might I have a private word with you, Clifton?' said Mr Frobisher as the bell sounded for the end of prep. 'Perhaps you'd join me in my study.' Harry would never forget the last time he'd heard those words.
When Harry closed the study door, his housemaster beckoned him towards a seat by the fire, something he had never done before. 'I just wanted to assure you, Harry' - another first - 'that the fact you are no longer able to sing in the choir will not affect your bursary. We at St Bede's are well aware that the contribution you have made to school life stretches far beyond the chapel.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Harry.
'However, we must now consider your future. The music master tells me that it will be some time before your voice fully recovers, which I'm afraid means that we must be realistic about your chances of being offered a choral scholarship to Bristol Grammar School.'
'There is no chance,' said Harry calmly.
'I have to agree with you,' said Frobisher. 'I'm relieved to find you understand the situation. But,' he continued, 'I would be happy to enter your name for an open scholarship to BGS. However,' he added before Harry had time to respond, 'in the circumstances, you might consider that you'd have a better chance of being offered a bursary at, say, Colston's School, or King's College Gloucester, both of which have far less demanding entrance examinations.'
'No, thank you, sir,' said Harry. 'My first choice remains Bristol Grammar.' He'd said the same thing to Old Jack just as firmly the previous Saturday, when his mentor had mumbled something about not burning your boats.
'So be it,' said Mr Frobisher, who had not expected any other response, but had still felt it was nothing less than his duty to come up with an alternative. 'Now, let's turn this setback to our advantage.'
'How do you suggest I do that, sir?'
'Well, now that you've been released from daily choir practice, you will have more time to prepare for your entrance exam.'
'Yes, sir, but I still have my responsibilities as - '
'And I will do everything in my power to ensure that your duties as school captain are less onerous in future.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'By the way, Harry,' said Frobisher as he rose from his chair, 'I've just read your essay on Jane Austen, and I was fascinated by your suggestion that if Miss Austen had been able to go to university, she might never have written a novel, and even if she had, her work probably wouldn't have been so insightful.'
'Sometimes it's an advantage to be disadvantaged,' said Harry.
'That doesn't sound like Jane Austen,' said Mr Frobisher.
'It isn't,' replied Harry. 'But it was said by someone else who didn't go to university,' he added without explanation.
Maisie glanced at her new watch and smiled. 'I'll have to leave now, Harry, if I'm not going to be late for work.'
'Of course, Mum,' said Harry, leaping up from the table. 'I'll walk with you to the tram stop.'
'Harry, have you thought about what you'll do if you don't win that scholarship?' said his mother, finally asking a question she'd been avoiding for weeks.
'Constantly,' said Harry as he opened the door for her. 'But I won't be given much choice in the matter. I'll just have to go back to Merrywood, and when I turn fourteen I'll leave and look for a job.'
10
'DO YOU FEEL READY to face the examiners, my boy?' asked Old Jack.
'As ready as I'm ever likely to be,' replied Harry. 'By the way, I took your advice, and checked over the examination papers for the past ten years. You were right, there's a definite pattern, with some of the same questions coming up at regular intervals.'
'Good. And how's your Latin coming on? We can't afford to fail that, however well we do in your other papers.'
Harry smiled when Old Jack said 'we'. 'Thanks to Deakins I managed 69 per cent in mocks last week, even if I did have Hannibal crossing the Andes.'
'Only about six thousand miles out,' chuckled Old Jack. 'So what do you think will be your biggest problem?'
'The forty boys from St Bede's who are also taking the exam, not to mention the two hundred and fifty from other schools.'
'Forget them,' said Old Jack. 'If you do what you're capable of, they won't be a problem.'
Harry remained silent.
'So, how's your voice coming along?' asked Old Jack, who always changed the subject whenever Harry fell silent.
'Nothing new to report,' said Harry. 'It could be weeks before I know if I'm a tenor, a baritone or a bass, and even then, there's no guarantee I'll be any good. One thing's for certain, BGS aren't going to offer me a choral scholarship while I'm like a horse with a broken leg.'
'Snap out of it,' said Old Jack. 'It's not that bad.'
'It's worse,' said Harry. 'If I was a horse, they'd shoot me and put me out of my misery.'
Old Jack laughed. 'So when are the exams?' he asked, even though he knew the answer.
'Thursday week. We start with general knowledge at nine o'clock, and there are five other papers during the day, ending with English at four.'
'It's good that you finish with your favourite subject,' said Jack.
'Let's hope so,' said Harry. 'But pray there's a question on Dickens, because there hasn't been one for the past three years, which is why I've been reading his books after lights out.'
'Wellington wrote in his memoirs,' said Old Jack, 'that the worst moment of any campaign is waiting for the sun to rise on the morning of battle.'
'I agree with the Iron Duke, which means I won't be getting much sleep for the next couple of weeks.'