‘Marvellous story, sweetie,’ she said happily. ‘I do like to hear something interesting at the end of a day. Peter’s patients are all too boring to give a damn about, though I’m glad so many of them are private and pay well, of course. So, the repellent Mr Tully is dead or damned near it! Well, well. It just shows you what happens to chaps who read nasty sexy magazines and get boys into trouble.’
Hattie stared at her. ‘What on earth are you talking about Judith? David Tully and magazines?’
‘Isn’t he the chap you found with the boys under the buildings smoking pot and reading filthy magazines?’
‘Of course not! I just saw boys there — none of the staff —’
‘But I could have sworn you said the Tully creature was getting up to no good with the boys and that it was bothering you. I remember perfectly well saying I wouldn’t worry if I were you because as far as I can tell, from all I see in the papers and on the telly, everyone’s doing that these days. I mean, they’ve come out with such resounding explosions you wish sometimes they’d go back in again.’
Hattie shook her head in confusion and Judith said, ‘But didn’t you tell me that? Isn’t he the one who was messing about and you thought —’
‘Oh, I see!’ Hattie shook her head again. ‘You’ve got it all mixed up. Yes, I was bothered but not because of magazines. It was because I saw him kiss one of the boys out in the street, as public as you like. Sam thinks he was just showing off that day, wanted me to see him and be shocked. He says it’s not important. But David Tully certainly wasn’t with the boys who were smoking pot and who had the magazines —’
‘Sam?’ Judith said, after the scent like a pointer dog. ‘Since when Sam? You usually call them by their surnames, these men you work with.’
Hattie managed somehow to look relaxed and unconcerned. ‘Oh, Judith, don’t be so silly! He’s just one of the masters, Sam Chanter. Biology. And I call lots of them by their first names —’
‘Who?’
‘Well, Wilton for a start. He’s Edward.’
‘And when you talk about him here you call him Wilton,’ Judith said. ‘So it’s obvious you couldn’t care less about him. But you said Sam as though you were really interested in him —’
‘You’ve got a mind so deep in one rut that one of these days the sides’ll fall in on you and choke you,’ Hattie said, trying to sound amiable. ‘Honestly, Judith, there’s nothing in it. He’s just a teacher there, and he came with me tonight to Dilly’s —’
‘Explain, explain,’ Judith squealed and Hattie sighed and told her. And she listened carefully and grimaced.
‘How dreary.’
‘Dreary?’ Hattie was amazed; used as she was to Judith’s customary inconsequentiality, this was ridiculous.
‘No mystery,’ Judith said. ‘If it’s the way you say and this film shows no one could have pointed a gun at the man, it’s dull, isn’t it? Just a bullet bouncing off a wall or something.’ She sighed then, deep in gloom. ‘No one could have been sure it would ricochet, could they? I mean, a chap’d have to be a marvellous shot to aim at just the right spot and the right angle to be certain of hitting the bloke he wanted, wouldn’t he? So it has to be a real accident, I suppose, which is madly dismal. I’d much rather it was deliberate, someone trying to get rid of the horrible master who had drawn him into a life of unspeakable sliminess down among the sexual perverts …’ She rolled her eyes wickedly as she gave the words all the relish she could muster and Hattie had to laugh.
‘You live in a dream world, Judith, honestly you do. The problems we’re having at the school aren’t out of some TV soap you know. These are real people having real things to worry about. Maybe characters get hurt when villains ricochet bullets off walls or whatever at them on the box, but they don’t at the Foundation. You’re making it sound like a cross between the snooker and Death Wish umpteen.’
‘Well, it could have been,’ Judith said with some indignation ‘Some boy madly guilt-ridden by the disgusting things this master has made him do, horrified by the world into which he’d been initiated under threat of — oh, I don’t know, threat of something — decides to polish off the source of all his misery, but how to do so and stay out of prison? So he practises and practises and turns himself into a crack shot, a latter-day Robin Hood — or was it William Tell? Anyway, whoever, and on the day sees his mark in the crowd and wham! Gun aimed in opposite direction at correct angle, all worked out by trigonometry because of course the boy’s a mathematical genius, and hey presto! Said hateful pervert master hits the dust. Marvellous, that’d be. Your version’s much too boring.’
‘It might be boring for you, but I can assure you it isn’t for the people in the middle of it,’ Hattie said. ‘The school’ll be impossible for the next week or more, you see. Especially if Tully dies. Oh, my God, it’ll be awful if he does.’
‘Not if he’s a wreck for life,’ Judith said, brightening. ‘Come to think of it, that’d be better revenge than killing him. Marking someone for life with the scars of his evil — fabulous!’
‘Fabulous is right.’ Hattie got to her feet. ‘A tall tale, a thoroughly made-up version. As if anyone could count on ricocheting a bullet off a wall at one person in a crowd he wanted to hit! Ridiculous! It’s odds on anyone trying such a trick’d have hit someone else entirely unconnected.’
‘I suppose so.’ Judith got up too and stretched. ‘But it would have been fun if it was like that, wouldn’t it? I suppose we’ll have to settle for what it really turns out to be, even if it is just a boring old accident. Only be sure to let me know, won’t you? And about the fascinating Sam. No, I haven’t forgotten! Nor will I. I’ll be here when you get back from school on Monday — Oh, no, dammit, I won’t. I’m going to a new nail person. Very unusual, straight from LA. Does this nail-wrapping thing, makes even bashed-up talons like mine look terrific.’
And she kept Hattie at the front door for almost half an hour talking on about nail-wrapping and the possibility of having a face-lift, which was the source of her latest campaign to get extra cash out of Peter; but Hattie didn’t mind, weary though she was. At least when Judith talked of such matters she wasn’t producing ridiculous theories about what was going on at the Foundation.
Yet she lay awake for a long time after she had climbed into bed, thinking about it all. Had it really been an accident? Could there be a germ of something in what Judith had so wildly surmised? There couldn’t be, she decided, and then sighed, turned over in bed, and punched her pillow to get it into some semblance of comfort. If only it hadn’t been Tully it had happened to; then she’d have no trouble in dismissing Judith’s foolish notions, accepting it as a nasty and tragic mishap; but Tully was so eminently suitable to be shot at, that was the thing. She would, she had to admit, have every sympathy with the boy who felt himself driven to do what had been done to that sneering unpleasant face. Daniel Spero, she thought sleepily, if you were still at school I’d be very worried. So maybe it’s just as well you were expelled, or I’d start thinking the way Judith talks and that would be really silly.
Now in the light of a damp and very cold November morning, with the heavy reek of the river and diesel fumes filling her nose, Judith’s imaginings of Saturday night were even more obviously nonsense; when looked at in the prosaic light of day they could be seen for what they were. And she went in through the door that led to the Headmaster’s office corridor, grateful to get out of the icy dampness to stamp her boots clear of clinging dead leaves on the coconut matting and catch her breath in the warm fug that filled the air of the building.
It was odd how friendly it felt now, when once it had seemed so alien; the smell of ozone from the computer room and the disinfectant the cleaners used in the huge machines that scrubbed the stone floors of the corridors, mixed with the general odour of boy that was so much part of the place, filled her nostrils and helped her relax. This place had a rhythm of its own that it would take a great deal to disturb for very long. It would sort itse
lf out soon, she told herself optimistically. Today’s buzz of excitement would give way to the next drama and the waters of school gossip would close over Tully’s head and who would remember what had happened this time next term? It would be a bit like the boy Matterson who had died just before she had started here, she thought as she headed along the corridor on her way to the staff common room. Then everyone mentioned him; now no one did. It was as though he’d never existed. So it would be with Tully, and somewhere at the back of her mind a wicked voice murmured, ‘And serve him right!’ and, filled with guilt at so uncharitable a thought, she quickened her step till she was almost running.
Which was probably why the impact with Freddy, when it came, was so great. He came out of the Headmaster’s office door, carrying his machine in his arms, and she was so close to him he was unable either to swerve or stop and she went straight into him. He staggered, slipped and came down with a heavy crump on to his backside, but still clutching his machine firmly.
‘Oh, Mr Langham, I’m so sorry!’ she cried, horrified, and knelt beside him to help him to his feet. He was red in the face and grimacing in obvious pain, but still clinging to his machine as though it were a lifeline.
She got him to his feet and he stood there swaying a little and blinking. She held on to him and after a moment he caught his breath and peered up at her, for she was a couple of inches taller than he was, and managed a grin.
‘Well, that was a fair old purler,’ he said, wincing as he took an experimental step. ‘Wow, I did do myself a personal there, didn’t I? Give me a moment though. I’ll be all right.’
‘Come back into the Head’s office and we’ll find you a chair,’ she said, but he shook his head.
‘No time, really no time. He wants to show the whole school, you see, wants them all to see it.’
Again he winced and she bit her lip and said, ‘Well, at least let me take the machine from you. It looks heavy.’
‘You have to be very careful,’ he said. He let go with regret, and she took it from him, bracing herself to take its weight, which was greater than she’d have expected from its size, and he moved forward, a little experimentally, wincing again as he went.
‘I’ve got to get this to the hall, to set it up to show the school. Assembly day, isn’t it? He said it was a Big Assembly day.’
‘Yes,’ she said, remembering. The whole school, including the sixth, only met twice a week, an odd and old Foundation custom which pleased the sixth immensely. Their freedom from a daily assembly was one of their most jealously guarded privileges. ‘Why does he — I mean, I suppose I can see why —’
‘To show ’em it was an accident!’ He was hobbling along the corridor now, towards the end staircase which led to the gallery above the big hall, and she followed him. ‘The boys, they ought to see for themselves. Stop any problems. Gossip, you know. Very wise man, very. Communication’s the name of the game, isn’t it? And who should know better than I, having worked in media all my life?’ He sounded very pleased with himself, proud of his status, and polished it up happily. ‘Yes, all my working life I’ve been in media, mostly movies you know, but some print media along the way —’
‘Have the police seen it?’ she said hurriedly, more to stop his pontificating than for any other reason, not expecting an affirmative answer. She was surprised when she got it.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Saw it last night.’ He seemed for a moment to forget his discomfort as he basked in retrospection. ‘Very impressed they were, most impressed. Called in senior people to look, showed it to their lawyers, three of them! All sorts of people. Looked again this morning. Not wasting any time, you see. So early too, but they’ve been and looked again. And gone.’ He set his foot on the bottom step of the staircase and began the arduous climb, and she followed him, her muscles shouting protest at the weight of the heavy editing machine. ‘No case to answer, they say. If poor Mr Tully should pass on, which of course we all hope he won’t, and there has to be an inquest, there’ll be no problems, they say, definitely death by misadventure. I’d have to go to court, of course, very material witness, I’d be, the most important witness, in fact.’ Again pride blossomed in him. ‘The proof would be there, you see, as shown by My Film.’
They had arrived at the top of the stairs and he led the way into the small projection room that had been rigged up at the back of the gallery and gratefully she set down her burden on the table in the middle of it.
‘This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.’ He looked disapprovingly round at the assorted equipment in the room, some of it clearly very old indeed. That many films had been shown on it over the years was obvious from the battered state it was in. ‘Why they couldn’t do what other people would have done with such a set-up and fixed up a player and a big video screen down on the stage, I can’t imagine, but no, they have to do it differently — it’s all rigged up here so we have to use the player here. It’s daft. I told the Head and he quite agreed but as I’m sure you know, money’s a bit tight. Not enough cash flow at present to improve what they’ve got. So I’ll have to use it as it is.’
‘Won’t you be using this machine to play the film then?’ she asked, and he looked at her and laughed with an air of indulgence that infuriated her.
‘Oh, dear me no! That’s just an editing machine! That’s what I’ve been showing everyone my film on. Only of course it’s not a film as such. It’s videotape. I thought you’d have realized that, videotape, not film as such.’
‘I’m not an expert in these matters,’ she snapped and he looked happier than ever.
‘Well, there it is, not everyone can be, can they? But I’m here, so no need to worry. Never fear, Freddy’s here!’ And he laughed fatly, pleased with himself.
‘Well, if you’re all right, I’ll get on,’ she said and turned to the door. ‘Sorry I bumped into you that way. Let me know if you have any pain. I’ll give you some tablets.’
‘I’d be glad of some help if you can manage it,’ he said. ‘I need that more than pills! I can live with pain. Got to sometimes in my line of business.’ He looked very serious for a moment and then became businesslike. ‘I can’t sort it all out from up here and down there at the same time. If I set it all up here and then go down and fix the screen, will you stay here and let me know if it’s working all right? I have to get the focus right, the distance, for everyone to see easily.’ He began to fiddle with one of the newer-looking pieces of equipment in the small room. ‘I’ll set it up. All I need of you is to stay here and watch me through there’ — he pointed behind him to an aperture in the wall — ‘and then when I give you the word, press the button here, see? If necessary, this is the rewind and this is the fast forward, though I don’t think you’ll have to bother about that much. Anyway, I hope not. We haven’t a lot of time.’ He looked at his watch selfimportantly. ‘Yes, I’ll have to hurry.’ And he made for the door, holding his back with one hand.
‘Are you all right?’ she called after him, guilt-riven again. ‘Does it hurt much?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ he said bravely. ‘Don’t you worry about me, I’ll go on down and you wait for me to give you the signal to set it going. I’ll be about ten minutes. You might like to have a look at the film while you’re waiting. You haven’t seen it yet, have you? No? Well, there it is. In the editing machine. The earphones are there too. Have a look. I think you’ll be most fascinated. Just count the shots you hear as well as the ones you can see and you’ll understand why the police have gone away and why the Headmaster wants to show them all my film so that they’ll stop worrying and gossiping. It’s really not bad, though I say it as perhaps shouldn’t. Though as a professional I’d have to be falsely modest if I didn’t know when I’d done a good job, don’t you think? Yes — and don’t worry about my back. I can see my osteopath later if it gets any worse.’ With another brave smile he was gone. And as much to batten down her irritation at his behaviour — and at herself for having been so clumsy as to knock him over as
for any other reason — she turned to the editing machine and began for the first time to watch the film that was causing everyone so much excitement.
Twenty-two
The first time she saw it she wasn’t sure, and she rewound the tape as fast as she could and started to watch it through again, but Freddy signalled wildly from the hall below, bawling for her attention, and she had to do what he wanted. So she set the film going and then peered down through the small window and watched as the picture, greatly enlarged, appeared on the big screen below. Actually it might be clearer there, after all, and easier to watch, she thought, and certainly easier now she knew where to look.
She watched it very carefully this time, listening as best she could, though the sound came rather muffled at this distance, as Freddy, self-important still, fiddled with the screen, setting it at just the point he wanted to get perfect viewing all over the big hall. But she ignored that, concentrating entirely on what she could see on the screen.
And there it was again. Just out of shot, on the left of the picture, what appeared to be the muzzle of a rifle. It hardly showed at all, only an inch or two, and it was obscured by the leaves of a tree that framed the side of the shot, but she was sure it was there, and she kept her eyes fixed on it as the shooting started, listening as carefully as she could. It happened again; as one of the boys in the line-up fired, his gun recoiled and the muzzle there on the left seemed to recoil into the leaves and disappear as though it had been fired at the self-same moment. Had she heard a ghost of an extra shot? Or had that been her imagination? She’d have to watch and listen again …
Freddy waved with a wide expansive gesture and, understanding his elaborate signing, she rewound the tape and set it to ‘Play’ again and was about to start it off when she saw Freddy waving once more. He wanted her to wait and she stood there watching him as he went limping across the hall; clearly he was coming up to the control box.
Dangerous Things Page 23
