Hidden Depths

Chapter 16 - The School on the Hill

'Well, I know I said we stock all sizes on the phone, but you were right to pre-order the Bluer, sir.  Young sir's blessed with the broadest shoulders I've ever seen on a boy his age.'

Rich had not felt so ridiculous in his entire life.  He had never worn such formal clothing before, and he wasn't too happy about the fact that he had to learn all of the crazy school jargon they called Harrow Speak.   The Bluer jacket and the Greyer trousers that the slimy man had picked out for him, although a perfect fit, were uncomfortably tight compared to the sports gear he was used to wearing.  Patrice and his old friend were sat behind where Rich was standing, both of them beaming at him in the mirror as the tailor placed the straw hat on his head as if it were a cherry on top of a cake.

Patrice had been true to his word and, after just three months of enforced exposure to Parisian 'high culture', Rich again found himself on the Eurostar.  Travelling in First Class this time, Rich hurtled back under the English Channel towards his new life as a pupil at one of the world's most eminent educational establishments.

To Rich's great relief, Patrice had not tried to treat him like a son, but it was clear from the outset who was in charge.  As part of his preparation for boarding school, Patrice had insisted that Rich read 'just enough to bluff' his way through the entrance exam.  He set him a gruelling workload that included abridged versions of classic literature, daily visits to the Louvre and an almost unbelievable mountain of maths.

On top of his school work, Rich also had to plan a nightly excursion and was responsible for selecting, booking and navigating their path to ballet, opera and theatre performances throughout the city.  Despite the intensity of the education, Rich never felt like he was being taught.  It was more like he was being set challenges and provided with the means to achieve them. 

He was given an allowance that almost matched his old income from the club, but he soon came to realise that he would have to use the money to fund the trips in their entirety.  Patrice would not buy so much as a coffee.  There was no doubt that Rich was well prepared for the new challenge, but, although he had done more than any of those who had joined the school in year nine, he still felt nervous about fitting in with a bunch of posh boys who had already spent their year as Shells together.  

'Mon Dieu, Richard, you look like you have an appointment with Madame Guillotine!' Patrice said. He had learned to read Rich well over the summer.

Patrice's friend, Mr Abdullah, was equally surprised.  'Really Richard,' he said, 'after all you've been through, this is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.' 

Mr Abdullah was of medium height, with a slim yet muscular build.  The guy had set Rich's alarm bells ringing the moment he'd laid eyes on him.  He shared Patrice's calm confidence, but had a too-bright look in his eye that Rich had only ever seen in his most wired opponents.  Either this man was trying to hide near uncontrollable excitement, or he was in fear for his life.  Thinking of how Trixy would have responded, Rich just smiled back politely.

'Honestly, sir, I'm just thrilled to bits to be here.  I can't begin to thank you enough for recommending me for the Al-Farabi scholarship, it's such an honour.' 

Rich's fake smile turned real as his impersonation of a public schoolboy seemed to be hitting the mark.

'No, no, Richard, you're by far the most deserving candidate we've seen in years,' Mr Abdullah replied. 

'Yes, they don't make 'em like they used to, eh?' chipped in Patrice with a knowing smile. 

Rich learned that Mr Abdullah and Patrice were both old Harrovians, both Al-Farabi scholars, and, although a year apart, were both in the house Rich had been selected to join.