by Daisy Waugh
‘Well, Miss Mozely?’ says the vicar. She jumps. ‘If I may begin with you?’ She gazes back at him blankly. ‘In summary,’ he prompts, ‘do you believe, as I now do, that young Dane should be allowed another chance, that – with some supervision, that is to say full-time supervision, of course – he should be reintegrated into the school as soon as possible, in order to continue his studies. Until such a time, that is, as the courts have actually tried him?’ Reverend Hodge offers a small, dreary chuckle. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, Ms Mozely, were you to make such a choice it would, without doubt, bring a swift ending to our current legal difficulties, thereby, I imagine, allaying what I believe to be a genuine threat to the life of our beloved school.’
‘Hmm,’ says Kitty. Louis had said he was on his way to a job in the village of Kidstead-St-Vincent to photograph – she can’t quite remember what. He’d left her bed earlier that afternoon with a kiss on the end of her nose (which had infuriated her) and a regretful smile on those lips. He’d looked into her eyes and muttered something about ‘never wanting to hurt Fanny’, about ‘maybe putting a check on all this’, which Kitty had carefully pretended not to hear. ‘Because, Kit – you’re such fun,’ he’d said. ‘Honest to God. You’re wicked. You’re just adorable…But Fanny…’ And these were the words he had left her with, and they had ripped at her pickled old insides: ‘Well, I love her, you see. Fan’s my best friend in the world.’
‘Miss Mozely?’ the vicar asks again.
‘What? It’s awfully bloody hot in here,’ says Kitty irritably, fanning herself ineffectually with a puffy hand. ‘Do we have to have that heater on?’ The Reverend Hodge inclines his head; a polite but stubborn yes. She glances across at the General, who appears to have fallen asleep, and then at Robert, sweltering happily in his polo-neck.
‘What I don’t understand is why the little shit was ever granted bail,’ she snarls.
‘Ahh,’ smiles Reverend Hodge. ‘Yes. If only. But he has two very skilled advocates on his side.’
‘You know,’ Robert White interrupts peevishly, ‘Fanny is actually over thirty-five minutes late at this point. I do think it’s a little inconsiderate. Perhaps we should telephone. Find out what the problem is exactly.’
Just then they hear footsteps pelting up the street towards them. ‘Everyone! Everyone!’ she yells out. ‘I was wrong! I got it all wrong! We all did! We just assumed. But he didn’t do it! The police have dumped the charges. Everyone, DANE GUPPY IS INNOCENT!’ The hall doors burst open and Fanny tumbles in, grinning from ear to ear. ‘He didn’t…do it! ’ she says again.
‘He didn’t?’ says the vicar incredulously. ‘But how do you know?’
She stands a moment, recovering her breath. ‘Russell Guppy just signed a statement – I’ve just come from his place. And he’s told the police. He says the fire was already roaring by the time Dane noticed it and he rushed out straight away to take a better look, and then…’ Fanny shrugs. ‘Well, Dane obviously realised what a selfish b—man his uncle was. Russell Guppy obviously hadn’t called the fire brigade, so he went to the call-box in the village and called them himself…’
‘Slow down,’ demands Robert irritably. ‘What makes you think Russell Guppy’s suddenly telling the truth? It all sounds very convenient, Fanny.’
‘Because he is,’ Fanny says. ‘Because Russell Guppy—’ She stops, glances cautiously around the room. ‘Where’s Geraldine Adams? Not here?’
‘Unfortunately not,’ says the vicar. ‘But Fanny, dear. This is marvellous news! And we’re certain, are we, that Dane had nothing to do with it?’
‘Russell Guppy’s not named anyone, though I get the impression he knows. He’s known all along…But he’s come up with a whole load of evidence which for reasons best known to himself he hasn’t wanted to share until now. So—’
‘So who was it?’ asks Kitty. ‘Do we know?’
Fanny shakes her head. ‘Not at the moment. I spoke to the police. They say they’re “following new leads”, whatever that means.’ She shrugs. ‘They sounded pretty confident they know who it is, I thought. But they wouldn’t tell me…And that’s all I know. I feel terrible. Poor little Dane…’
‘Intriguing,’ mutters the General, arms folded across his chest, still in sleep mode, eyes still mostly closed. ‘I imagine what stirred Russell Guppy’s stumps was seeing his dreadful brother and that fat wife being lionised on the box last night. Did you see it? Infuriating. Must have driven him wild.’ He chuckles. Sits up. ‘Well. That’s excellent news. Good for Dane. We all owe him an almighty apology.’
‘Don’t we,’ agrees Fanny, rolling her eyes. ‘God. Don’t we just.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Robert says pettishly. ‘I wasn’t the one trying to kick him out of school.’
‘Not because you thought he was innocent,’ retorts Fanny. ‘God knows what your reasoning was, Robert. But you certainly weren’t doing it for Dane.’
‘No doubt,’ interrupts the General before Robert has a chance to respond, ‘we shall discover the genuine culprit in the fullness of time. In the mean time, can we go? It’s awfully hot in here.’
‘We certainly can!’ shouts Fanny, laughing, throwing her arms open. Kitty notices the easy, fluid way she moves, the wonderful haphazard way she tosses her head back when she laughs. It reminds her of Louis. Of Fanny and Louis. Kitty notices the whiteness of her teeth, the wonderful pertness of her flesh. ‘And of course, it goes without saying, Dane’s welcome back to school any time. As I’ve already told him.’ She laughs again. ‘I told him I owed him more than an apology. I owe him a—’
‘By the way, Fanny,’ Kitty says suddenly, ‘did Louis tell you what he was doing in Kidstead this evening? He told me – barely an hour ago. And I feel such a fool because I simply can’t remember…’
Fanny double-takes. Louis, she remembers guiltily, had called her mobile during lunch and she hadn’t picked up. Hadn’t even, what with all that was happening, got around to listening to his message. ‘You saw him this afternoon, did you?’ she says stupidly.
Kitty beams. ‘Certainly did!’
‘Certainly did,’ repeats Fanny. ‘Well…Great. Did he say when he’d be back?’
Suddenly, Kitty turns to the vicar. ‘Reverend Hodge,’ she says, ‘I was wondering earlier this afternoon – what is the Anglican line on circumcision?’
‘What’s that?’ snorts the General.
‘I was asking the vicar – since he was here, and the question just sprang to mind – but he’s looking blank. Perhaps you can help me, General. Are you circumcised?’
‘What?’
‘I was wondering what was the Anglican line on circumcision. Is there one? Because I think there should be. I think it should be compulsory for everyone. Robert, what about you? Are you—’ She breaks off, gazes at him. Robert’s thin body is crunched in mortification, his thin, white face folded in, hidden somewhere between chest and thighs. ‘Oh. He’s embarrassed,’ she says blandly. ‘Silly billy.’ And turns back to the General. ‘Only, I recently came to the conclusion that there is probably nothing on God’s earth,’ she gives a nod to the vicar, noting the religious reference, ‘more beautiful than a nicely proportioned and circumcised penis. Don’t you think, Fanny?’
‘Has she gone mad?’ asks the General.
‘Perhaps we could move on?’ murmurs a weary Reverend Hodge. ‘I don’t really see what this has to do with anything. In fact, I’m not certain we have anything further to discuss. So! Many thanks, everyone, for turning up at short notice. And perhaps,’ he turns to send a small, scolding look towards Kitty, ‘we all might take a moment to remind ourselves of how blessed we are in having such a wonderful, dedicated head teacher. Who cares so much for her students, who gives so freely of her time, who has done so much for the school and over such a short period. Fanny. Thank you, my dear. From all of us. Not least for being the messenger of such felicitous news—’
‘Oh, but wait one moment,’ says Robert, qu
ietly uncoiling himself. ‘Before we get too carried away. As I mentioned to Reverend Hodge earlier, there is just one other thing I would like to discuss…’
70
An inaudible, resentful sigh passes over the stifling room. Robert feels it; feels a pop of glee; can’t prevent those lips from curling slightly as he waits, patiently, for all eyes to be turned towards him. ‘It’s a worry which I’ve had for some time now, and which one or two parents have also voiced concerns about. I feel, as deputy head of the school, it’s my responsibility to draw it to all the governors’ attention—’
‘Well, get on with it,’ snaps the General.
‘It’s about Fanny’s conduct. There have been one or two incidents involving – I feel – highly inappropriate behaviours towards the kiddies.’
The General thuds himself back against his chair, rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, bilge!’ he mutters. ‘Here we go.’
Robert turns to Fanny. ‘On 4 May, Fanny, I believe you kept Scarlett Mozely back from school – without any advance warning to her or to her parent/guardian. Am I right?’
‘What?…’ She thinks about it; remembers the occasion. ‘Well, yes, I did, but—’
‘As guidelines require us so to do.’
‘They do, but—’
‘But of course guidelines aren’t for the likes of you, Fanny, are they? At one point I believe you pulled the young lady towards you, entirely against her will. You pressed her head to your – breasts, and held her there…bore down on her with open lips, while she struggled as best she could to get away. I believe she very nearly lost her balance.’
Fanny laughs. ‘Robert, what are you trying to imply? I gave her a kiss! A tiny little kiss! She’d never shown me any work before, and—But I would never want to upset her. Has Scarlett complained about this?’
‘I saw you,’ says Robert; whispers Robert. ‘I saw you!’
‘You were spying on me!’
‘And on 22 May, can you deny that you physically and verbally abused and humiliated young Oliver Adams on the stairs outside your office?’
‘What? No!’
‘Didn’t you, as punishment for bringing an unsuitable object into the playground, point a finger between his eyes and prod him, hard, on the forehead, inflicting damage to his ocular, auditory and cognitive facilities?’
‘What damage did I inflict? It was harmless.’
Robert nods at her. ‘His mother has lodged a complaint, you know.’
‘Has she? Who to?…Not to me, she hasn’t.’
He hesitates. He also has been unable to reach Geraldine since yesterday. Since she knows nothing about the prodding incident (so far as he knows) she hasn’t had a chance, yet, to lodge a complaint. But she will. When he tells her. He feels confident. ‘Wild flowers we may be, Miss Flynn. Out here in the back of beyond. Or rare flowers. Or garden weeds. Whatever you and your little friend so patronisingly choose to call us. But we still have to abide by the law. And I saw you!’
‘Because you’ve been spying on me!’
He tilts his head. Doesn’t deny it. ‘I felt I needed to,’ he says simply.
‘Well, fuck you, Robert.’
‘Incidentally,’ he says, ‘I’ve been wondering – you said Scarlett was the rare orchid, didn’t you, and her mother was the Deadly Nightshade. Isn’t that right?’ He smiles, enjoying the shock on her face. ‘So what does that make the rest of us, Fanny? What does that make me?’
‘Nothing,’ she says, too stunned to come up with anything clever. ‘You’ve been spying on me,’ she says again.
‘As I said—’
‘Fuck you!’
‘Really, Fanny,’ clucks the vicar. ‘That’s not quite…I must say, Robert, I’m certainly unaware of any complaints being lodged. However, these are serious allegations, Fanny…Really, physical—’
‘Sexual abuse,’ spits out Robert. ‘Sexual abuse of a defenceless little kid, of a physically challenged little kiddie…whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time…Don’t, Reverend, whatever you do, attempt to trivialise this…’
The vicar licks his lips. He glances nervously at Kitty who sits there relishing every minute of it. His mind spins, imagining the telephone calls from the diocese, the LEA…‘I presume you deny it?’ he asks Fanny hopefully.
‘What? Of course I deny it!’
‘Well. That’s all right, then.’
‘How can she deny it?’ demands Robert, pointing at Fanny. ‘She’s already admitted to it! We heard her!’
Fanny glances from one to the other. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I mean – no. I deny what he’s calling it. I don’t deny I gave Scarlett a hug. And, yes, as for Oliver Adams…I mean, no. Maybe I prodded him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I certainly didn’t do him any harm…I just…Christ, he hardly even noticed.’ Mistake. She sees the look of victory on Robert’s face and falls silent.
The vicar gives a deep sigh. ‘But Fanny, there are rules,’ he says sadly, shaking his head. ‘You know it as well as I do.’
‘I know, but—’
‘There are systems, processes, guidelines, regulations…All of which have to be put in place for allegations such as these.’
‘Really,’ crows Kitty, ‘little did I know when I entrusted my daughter’s care to you—’
‘Oh, shut up!’ snaps the General.
‘And I must say,’ continues Kitty, ‘I’m extremely grateful for your vigilance, Robert. I shall certainly be pressing charges, or whatever one does. At this stage. Vicar, what does one do? Scarlett has already complained about the incident. I’ve been meaning to mention it. Actually she’s been complaining about it for weeks.’
Fanny struggles, for a moment, to control herself. ‘I don’t believe you, Kitty,’ she says at last. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Kitty shrugs.
‘And furthermore, I don’t believe you believe it either.’
Kitty guffaws. ‘What?’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’ Fanny’s voice wobbles. She swallows.
‘Of course you haven’t!’ says the General.
‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ soothes the vicar. ‘There’s not a doubt in my mind. However, protocol…’
Fanny shakes her head. ‘I’m doing a good job. Reverend, you said so yourself. The school’s come alive. The children are happy. Ask them. Ask them! And I can’t understand. Why would you all want to ruin that?’
‘I don’t!’ cries the General. ‘Fanny Flynn, if I may say so, you’re the best thing to have happened to this village in years.’
She smiles at him gratefully, then looks around the room; at Kitty and Robert, staring back at her, their gloating faces brimming with hostility; and at the vicar, staring at his hands, unhappy, annoyed, disappointed, maybe even a little suspicious…‘If you don’t believe me, read the inspectors’ report. They’ve never—It says in there that they’ve never—’ She frowns, to pull back the tears. But she can’t remember the exact words. ‘I’ve done a good job! I’ve done a bloody good job!’
‘Nevertheless, Fanny,’ says the vicar kindly, ‘if you really won’t deny it—’
‘How can she?’ asks Robert smugly. ‘When she’s already admitted it? Not once but twice, now. In front of all of us! She can’t deny it.’
‘Well then, I’m forced to admit that under the circumstances—’
‘This is absurd,’ splutters the General. ‘This is appalling!’
Robert raises an eyebrow, says nothing. Doesn’t need to.
‘As I say,’ perseveres the vicar, ‘these are – will be – considered serious allegations. Made,’ he glances at the General, ‘by the school’s deputy head, and substantiated, or so it appears, by one of the victims’ parents. They are unfortunately allegations which we’re simply not permitted to ignore. And I’m sorry, Fanny, I have no choice. As you know. Pending further inquiries, a move will have to be made for temporary—’
‘Suspension?’ Fanny laughs in disbelief. ‘After all this? You can’t d
o it!’
‘Unfortunately, I must,’ says the vicar, not daring to look at her. ‘I believe these things can take several months. After which, of course, there are various appeals procedures—’
‘Reverend Hodge, you know as well as I do,’ interrupts the General, ‘the school won’t stay open for appeals. They’ll close it down. And the only person to benefit will be,’ he leans forward, jabs a finger at Robert, ‘that gentleman over there. To whom the public purse will no doubt have to fork out some phenomenal sum. For doing nothing. Except single-handedly wrecking a perfectly charming 150-year-old village school. Actually, thanks to Fanny, a bloody good 150-year-old village school.’
‘Steady,’ mutters the vicar, agreeing with every word. ‘Steady on, General. I don’t think we can quite say that.’
‘He’s the winner, Reverend! No one else!’ The General’s face is very red. Fanny puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘General. It doesn’t matter,’ she says.
‘Yes, it bloody well does! If that bugger persists with his repulsive allegations, they’ll close the school down. Mark my words. Within a month they’ll find some excuse, and they’ll—’
‘Please, General,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself. Nothing’s going to go to court. I’m resigning, that’s all.’
‘Certainly not!’
Fanny looks at him, sends him a crooked smile. ‘You know my track record. I’m a very restless person…’
‘Absolutely not!’
‘We-ell, General,’ says the Reverend, ‘given the circumstances, I think it might be the best option. If we can just make a smooth transition…’
‘In that case, I would like to put my name forward to be the new head,’ says Robert. A glimmer of a smile at the vicar, at Fanny, at the General. They all hear the implied threat. ‘I hope that’s acceptable?’
