The Eunuch's Ward (The String Quartet) Read Free

invariably ended up in the school’s next year’s charity collections or were given to local women who came occasionally to help clear up after a major party or with spring cleaning at our Hartsfield House.
    Another peculiarity of the Queen Matilda’s summer fêtes was presence of boys. Baby boys, young boys, young men, old men, and of course the fee-paying fathers, they were all allowed to attend as long as they were in some way related to a student. The practice was generally described as the entry point into the marriage market. Having watched locally grown talent for a few years I had some doubts about that.
    But, I was wrong.
    Lily Merchant was in my class. A large, loud, horsey girl, the youngest daughter of Sir Alec Merchant, a high court judge. She must have been lonely because she was always inviting me over for sleepovers, trips to the cinema and birthing of foals. I didn’t mind Lily all that much. Once she’d start talking she couldn’t stop and that meant that I didn’t have to listen at all. And I did enjoy horse riding and grooming, while giving wide berth to foaling.
    That summer before my 13 th birthday I was put on the ‘Ask Me’ duty at the fair. It involved wearing a bright yellow tabard with ‘Ask Me’ printed in dark green on the back and front, and making myself as visible as possible around my designated area, on that occasion around junior labs, toilets and the arts suite, all on the ground floor of the school. Over the two hours of my tour of duty I was partnered by Rosebud Munro, another student from my own class. Rosebud was a pretty blonde with cheeks and lips that suited her name. Her parents Lucinda Dwyer and Michael Munro were occasionally billed as the new Olivier and Plowright, a line of publicity that earned them more respect than money and limited their appeal to those who actually knew who Olivier and Plowright were. Surprisingly, my mother said ‘wow’ and looked impressed, my father said nothing until he found out everything worth finding out. Which was very little. What money there was, it was in the hands of Mrs. Munro, Michael’s mother, and what fame there was mattered only to those with more sense than money. Leon Ganis had no interest in his thespian neighbours but didn’t object to my association with their daughter.
    Which was just the way I liked it.
    That Sunday the two of us had very little to do, there were no new parents or guest celebrities to take around, and everyone else knew the place better than they’d ever wanted. Still, it was with a sense of relief that after two hours of smiling encouragingly at anyone who’d strayed our way, we pulled off the tabards and handed them over to the next shift.
    That was when Lily Merchant cantered over.
    ‘Follow me, chickens. You’ll have the time of your life.’
    Rosie and I looked at each other. Following in Lily Merchant’s footsteps wasn’t exactly cool, but then neither were the most likely alternatives on offer, like pony rides or the game of rounders against a girls’ choir from Alton. So, we both shrugged and, with as big a show of indifference as we could muster, followed where she led.
    Little did we know just how life-defining that casual decision really was.
    No matter how expensive and posh the school, and no matter how large or small, new or dilapidated the actual building might be, every school has a bike shed and the same things are happening behind it world over. Ours was in a pretty good shape, as it goes. No idea what its original purpose might have been, a gardener’s cottage some said. That sounded likely because the taps and other fittings that had survived suggested domestic use. It would have also been appropriate because currently it was used by our two lady gardeners Liz and Lizzie, Lezzies for short, which they may or may not have been. Anyway, that was where Lily was heading, recruiting more followers in her stride.
    ‘C’mon, boys. All your birthdays and Christmases have rolled