I'm the King of the Castle: Chapters 1-3

But his father's affairs had been left in disarray, he was ashamed of the paraphernalia of death.

But his father's affairs had been left in disarray, he was ashamed of the paraphernalia of death.

'That is the history of Warings,' the present Joseph Hooper had told his son, Edmund, taking him solemnly around. 'You should be very proud.’

He had planted the rhododendrons, too, not at all for their brief, dramatic show of colour in May and June, but for their dark green, leathery leaves and toughness of stem, their substantial look.

For he knew himself to be an ineffectual man, without any strength or imposing qualities, a man who was liked and humoured but little regarded, a man who had failed – but not dramatically, as one falling from a great height, who attracts attention.

For he knew himself to be an ineffectual man, without any strength or imposing qualities, a man who was liked and humoured but little regarded, a man who had failed – but not dramatically, as one falling from a great height, who attracts attention.

A narrow path led down between the yew trees into a small copse.

He went forward quite deliberately, being sure of his way, and unafraid.

He tried to salvage a little conscience by teaching his own boy.

But he understood, looking at the boy, a little of how it had been with his own father, he felt the need to make some kind of reparation.

For he knew that he had failed, from the very beginning, to ingratiate himself with Edmund.

Above the wooden panelling of the Red Room were the animals, the stag's head with antlers branching out over the doorway, and the cases of grey fish, against their painted backgrounds of weed and water, the stuffed bodies of weasel, stoat, and fox, glass-eyed and posed in stilted attitudes.

After a second, Hooper bent down slightly, and took the picture. He had expected someone different, courageous-looking, interesting. But it was only a bald, cadaverous man with a mole on his chin.

Kingshaw wondered whether there might now be some sort of truce between them, whether he might somehow have won his right to stay here.

In one corner, there was written:
Green = Napoleon’s infantry
Blue = Napoleon’s cavalry

But more than anything, it angered him to see his son’s careful map, he wanted to say, this is nothing, nothing, this tight, neat, careful little plan, he wanted to tell the truth of the matter, to impart a vision of men and blood and horses, the boom and stench of gunfire and the noise of pain, the terrible confusion of it all.

Edmund Hooper stood, watching, sullen.

Perhaps I should strike him, Joseph Hooper thought, for speaking to me in that way, perhaps it is very foolish to let him get the upper hand, to allow such insolence.

I do not like his supercilious expression. I should assert myself. But he knew that he would not.

I do not like his supercilious expression. I should assert myself. But he knew that he would not.

Hooper added two more circles, meticulously, to a triangular block of them, on the right of his map.

He had found Kingshaw in the conservatory, poking into the geranium pots with a cane.

The grass was thick with clots of sorrel and thistles that pricked his feet, through the sandals.

The crow circled a few times, and then dived into the thick foliage of the beech trees.

Hooper came up close to him suddenly, pressing him back against the wall and breathing into his face, ‘You're getting a very rude little boy, aren't you, you're very cocky all of a sudden. Just watch it, that's all.'

Hooper straddled a chair beside the bed. ‘All right,' he said, in a menacing, amiable voice, ‘O.K., go in there, I dare you. And I'll watch. Or into the big wood, even. Yes, you daren't go up into the big wood. If you do, it'll be O.K.'

Kingshaw bent down and began to fiddle with his sandal strap. He had never been faced with such relentless persecution as this.

If he could make a galleon model it would last a long time, they were difficult.

Turville had seen that he was afraid of the water, not just because he could not swim, but for other reasons, quite inexplicable.

He held it gingerly, and rather away from his body.