Chapter Text
12th January 1968
Pictures of Matchstick Men - Status Quo
The familiar bellows of the prefects echoed over Aubrey and Navjot's heads.
"Stop running in the halls"
"Are you snivelling again Taylor? Thought you'd grown out of that last term"
"What are you looking at Chadha, nothing better to do?" that one was directed at Navjot and he looked away before the prefect decided to do something more than shout.
"I did not miss this place," Navjot sighed as he dragged his case behind him. It was only his second term at St Benedict's and as far as he was concerned, it was already a term too many. His father had said that plenty of boys went away to boarding school at 11 and got on just fine. Navjot didn't think he was to be one of those boys.
"There's Bradley," Aubrey nudged him and pointed out the older boy. Bradley was three years senior to them but known by every boy in the school courtesy of his prowess at almost any sport he turned his hand too. Which would have been enough to get his name known but he was also highly regarded for being one of the few boys happy to help train the younger boys.
"Bradley!" Aubrey shouted and waved but Bradley didn't seem to hear them and began to head upstairs.
"Come on," Aubrey pulled Navjot by his arm and they raced after Bradley. Except he seemed to have completely vanished by the time they got up to the floor with all the dorms.
Aubrey looked around, "Where's he—"
Navjot nudged him in the side and hushed him. They listened and followed the low murmur of voice from a little further down the hall. As they reached the corner, they recognised the voices as Bradley and Mr Portmaine, their English teacher.
"—my services to tutor you in English," Mr Portmaine was saying.
"I think I've improved over the hols, sir, so it might not be necessary," Bradley said.
"Nonsense, I don't mind at all," Mr Portmaine insisted, "Can't have you missing out on chances because your English grades let you down."
"I thought Mr Barnes said—"
"Mr Barnes doesn't see past this place. So first session will be on Thursday afternoon, I look forward to seeing you," Mr Portmaine spoke as though there were no more to discuss and his footsteps faded off into the opposite direction.
Aubrey waved for he and Navjot to sneak back to their dorm instead of speaking to Bradley.
"What do you think that was about?" Aubrey asked once they were unpacking their trunks.
"Not a clue, say if Jason's left does that mean I won't need to sleep next to the window anymore?" Navjot asked.
4th April 1968
"What's going on?" Aubrey asked as Mr Barnes locked the door behind him, locking the entire first form in their dorms. They could all hear utter chaos breaking loose outside and the boys looked to each other for answers, even though none of them could possibly have any.
Then the door opened against and Timothy Beaumonte was unceremoniously shoved inside so hard that he stumbled and fell onto the nearest bed. As the door locked behind him, he bounced back to his feet, his face animated in knowledge and fear. The other boys knew he had answers and information for them. Timothy had an uncanny ability to be able to slip out of anywhere and find out things he shouldn't do, much to the boys' delight and the teachers' despair.
"Go on then, what's going on?" Pavel asked as they crowded around Timothy.
"It's Bradley," Timothy whispered, his face going awfully pale and gaunt as he spoke. "They found him in the showers."
"Found him doing what?" Aubrey asked and he and Navjot both shivered when Timothy looked at them, the horror in his eyes was so tangible.
"They're saying he hung himself," Timothy said, "Bradley's dead..."