Best Kept Secret

try a cigarette during the holidays,’ admitted Sebastian, ‘but it made him sick, and to my knowledge he hasn’t indulged since.’ Well, not since last
night, he was tempted to add. The headmaster looked unconvinced. ‘And I did see him drink a glass of champagne on one occasion, but only after he’d been offered a place at Cambridge.
And he was with his father at the time.’
    What Sebastian didn’t admit was that after Mr Martinez had driven them back to school in his red Rolls-Royce that evening, Sebastian had smuggled the bottle into his study, where
they’d finished it off after lights out. But Sebastian had read too many of his father’s detective novels not to know that guilty people often condemn themselves by saying one sentence
too many.
    ‘I am obliged, Clifton, for your frankness in this matter. It can’t have been easy for you to be questioned about a friend. Nobody likes a sneak.’
    This was followed by another long pause, but Sebastian didn’t break it.
    ‘Clearly there is no reason for me to trouble Kaufman,’ the headmaster eventually managed, ‘although I will need to have a word with Martinez, just to ensure he doesn’t
break any school rules during his last few days at Beechcroft.’
    Sebastian smiled, as a bead of sweat trickled down his nose.
    ‘Nevertheless, I have written to your father, explaining why you will be returning home a few days early. But because of your candour and evident remorse, I shall not be informing the
admissions tutor at Cambridge that you have been rusticated.’
    ‘I’m most grateful, sir,’ said Sebastian, sounding genuinely relieved.
    ‘You will now return to your study, pack your belongings and prepare to leave immediately. Your housemaster has been forewarned, and will sort out your travel arrangements to
Bristol.’
    ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Sebastian, his head bowed, for fear the headmaster might see the smirk on his face.
    ‘Do not attempt to contact either Kaufman or Martinez before you leave the school premises. And one other thing, Clifton, school rules will still apply to you until the last day of term.
Should you break even one of them, I will not hesitate to reconsider my position concerning your place at Cambridge. Is that understood?’
    ‘Absolutely,’ said Sebastian.
    ‘Let us hope you have learnt something from this experience, Clifton, something that will benefit you in the future.’
    ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Sebastian, as the headmaster rose from behind his desk and handed him a letter.
    ‘Please give this to your father as soon as you get home.’
    ‘I most certainly will,’ said Sebastian, placing the letter in an inside pocket of his jacket.
    The headmaster thrust out his hand and Sebastian shook it, but without a great deal of enthusiasm.
    ‘Good luck, Clifton,’ the headmaster said unconvincingly.
    ‘Thank you, sir,’ Sebastian replied, before closing the door quietly behind him.

    The headmaster sat back down, well satisfied with how the meeting had gone. He was relieved, though not surprised, that Kaufman had not been involved in such a distasteful
incident, especially as his father, Saul Kaufman, was a school governor, as well as chairman of Kaufman’s Bank, one of the most respected financial institutions in the City of London.
    And he certainly didn’t want to fall out with Martinez’s father, who had recently hinted that he would be giving a donation of £10,000 to the school library appeal if his son
was offered a place at Cambridge. He wasn’t altogether sure how Don Pedro Martinez had made his fortune, but any fees or extras were always paid by return of post.
    Clifton, on the other hand, had been a problem from the moment he had walked through the school gates. The headmaster had tried to be understanding, in view of all that the boy’s mother
and father had been through, but there was a limit to how much the school could be expected to tolerate. In fact, if Clifton hadn’t been likely to win that open scholarship to Cambridge, Dr
Banks-Williams wouldn’t have hesitated to expel him some time ago. He was glad to have finally seen the back of him, and only hoped he wouldn’t join the Old Boys.
    ‘Old Boys,’ he said out loud, jogging his memory. He was due to address their annual dinner in London that evening, when he would present his end-of-term report; his last, after
fifteen years as headmaster. He didn’t much care for the Welshman who had been chosen to succeed him;