“The wind howled across the moor that night, raking the last few resilient leaves from their branches. Gillespie lay awake, watching the moonlight phantoms play over the ceiling. He was aware in the back of his mind that tonight marked the end of his first month at the school and his first month since his father had packed up the farm and moved to London, leaving the boy here to, as he said, make a better man of himself t...