Page 78 of The Unlikely Pair
I’ve never told anyone these details, even Prunella. Even with my contemporaries who experienced the same thing as me, we’ve adopted a certain grim humor when discussing boarding school.
There’s a cathartic feeling in laying it all out bare now.
And Toby’s attention doesn’t waver from me for a second.
The light from the flames flickers on Toby’s face as I talk through everything. His expression is filled with a mix of horror and compassion. When I mention the particularly brutalpunishments, his hand twitches on his knee as if he wants to reach out to touch me, but he holds himself back.
“Holy fuck, Harry,” he says when I finish.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience. But I survived it.”
“You shouldn’t have had to survive it.”
My throat feels clogged. Toby’s weight is leaning into me even heavier now, more supportive. I lean back against him.
We sit there for a few heartbeats in silence.
“My father…he took a stand that could have ended his political career. He knew the headmaster had connections that reached into the highest echelons of the Conservative Party, but he didn’t let that deter him. He faced smear campaigns and political pressure to drop the matter, but he refused to be silenced. In the end, his persistence paid off. The headmaster and several teachers were not only fired but faced criminal charges. It was a watershed moment in addressing abuse in elite educational institutions.”
“I’m glad he did that for you,” Toby says, his voice quiet.
A noise comes from the forest behind us.
Toby is on his feet in a second, grabbing one of my sharpened sticks and whirling around.
I turn around but remain sitting.
The noise comes again.
“I think it’s just an owl,” I say.
Toby’s body is rigid, his muscles coiled tight like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
I reach up and tug him back down to the ground.
“Relax, Toby.”
Toby’s face is a canvas of fear and exhaustion. His eyes dart back to the forest, his grip on the sharpened stick turning his knuckles white.
When he looks at me, there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes me want to reach out and touch him.
“It’s going to be all right,” I say.
The firelight casts dancing shadows across his face that accentuate his worry lines.
“I’m so scared, Harry,” he whispers. “I’m so scared my life is going to end out here. That I’ll never get back home. That I’ll never get to achieve the things I want to achieve.”
He slumps back to the ground, digging his stick into the dirt, not looking at me.
“I’m scared too,” I say quietly. “It wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t scared in this situation, Toby.”
“But you never show that you’re scared,” Toby says. “It’s lonely feeling like I’m the only one terrified.”
“I do show I’m scared,” I say.
“No, you don’t. That boarding school really did a number on you, didn’t it?”
Suddenly, my breath leaves me. I feel almost dizzy.
