‘No doubt,’ he said frostily, and went to the door. ‘Well, see to it that he is told all that transpired here this evening.’ And he went, almost slamming the door behind him.
‘You’re too good to be true,’ Wilton murmured as he passed her to follow the Headmaster out and Hattie made a face at him as Sam came across the room to join her.
‘You’re silly, Hattie, covering up for people, I don’t for a moment suppose Dinant had anything at all to do with it, but all the same —’
‘He asked me to cover for him and I said I would,’ Hattie said wearily. ‘Where’s the harm? It was a stupid meeting anyway.’
‘Not entirely. It showed us even more clearly just how far the Head of this establishment will go to keep it running. Even curling up all cosy with a bunch of people so right wing they ought to wear black shirts. The Potemkin Trust — I ask you! He’ll do anything to keep things smooth and quiet to make sure he gets his hands on their moneybags. I wonder, if wholesale slaughter of the staff started, would he go on covering up? It’s an extraordinary performance. You have to admire his diligence.’
‘Do I? I just see a selfish bastard who doesn’t care about anything except the things that matter to him personally.’
‘You couldn’t be more right. He’s after Uppingham, you know.’
‘He’s what?’
‘The gossip is that the Headmastership there’ll be up for grabs soon. He wants it. He’ll do anything to keep this place smelling sweet until he does.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Hattie said. ‘I should have expected him to be that way. But can he keep it quiet like this? Won’t the kids talk, won’t the parents get agitated, take their kids away?’
‘He’s gambling they won’t,’ Sam said. ‘And you know, the chances are they’ll pay no attention. The parents need this school as much as the Headmaster needs them. There aren’t that many major public schools in London, and certainly not many for the less capable, like the ones we have here. We get abysmal exam results, you know. It’s not that we’re bad teachers. It’s just that the kids aren’t up to scratch in examinations.’
‘The ones I meet seem bright enough.’
‘It’s not intrinsic brightness that matters. It’s the ability to jump through hoops that they want in the kids here. Programmed exam-passers, not the sort that do something interesting with their lives after they leave school. And university. Just exam-passers to learn how to make other exampassers —’
‘Like you?’
‘Touché. Yes, like me. I’m a teacher. And there was a time when I put myself through the hoops. That’s how I know about them, and how stupid they are. If I’d known then what I know now I wouldn’t be here.’
‘I’m glad you are,’ she said, without stopping to think, and he smiled down at her.
‘Are you? Good.’
‘I really must be getting home,’ she said then, and got to her feet, as awkwardly as a child. ‘The girls’ll be wondering where I am. So will Judith.’
‘Judith?’
‘My friend. Next-door neighbour. Helps amazingly with the children.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ he said. ‘I’d love to see them all.’
‘Well, I dare say they’ll come to school again some time, like they did for the autumn fair.’
‘Why wait till then? Let me come home with you this evening and cook dinner for you. I’ve got some stuff I picked up at lunchtime. Chicken breasts. Do you have a wok? I’m a dab hand with a wok.’
‘Oh, no!’ she said, horrified, thinking of Judith. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Oh? Do your children bite? Or is Judith the sort of next-door neighbour who disapproves of followers?’
‘No, it’s not that. I mean, the children are fine, and she’d love to talk to you.’ She made a face then. ‘She’d like it a bit too much, to be honest. She’s always making guesses about how I get on with people here. No, it’s —’
‘It’s nothing at all but out-of-date girlishness,’ he said firmly. ‘I have to explain things to you and that’ll be the best way to do it. No rush, no interruptions.’
‘No interruptions? You don’t know my girls!’
‘What’s wrong with your girls? I doubt they’re all that different from other people’s kids. I imagine they go to sleep eventually.’
‘Well, of course, but…’
‘But what? Are you scared of me, Hattie? Still thinking I’m a potential gunman?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said quickly and he shook his head.
‘That wasn’t a reasoned response. Do you? Is there a little worm of doubt still lingering?’
She shook her head at him. ‘I honestly don’t know, I truly don’t. What you said makes sense, but all the same, someone shot at Tully.’
‘You don’t believe the ricochet theory either.’
‘No, I don’t. It’s too — too easy. Too convenient.’
‘Easier than imagining someone managed to pick out Tully and fire a bullet at him without anyone else noticing?’ Sam said.
She grimaced. ‘That’s what makes it all so complicated. I can’t think how it happened and —’
‘I think someone did fire at Tully,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I don’t know who and I don’t know why. I don’t even know if it was Tully who was really his target.’
She lifted her chin, alert at that. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t it occur to you that whoever it was might have been a lousy shot? That maybe he was after someone else who was near Tully, but he missed?’
She was silent for a while and then made a face again. ‘I’ve been rather silly, I think.’
‘Not at all. I think you’ve been the same as everyone else. Knowing Tully was much disliked, you took it for granted that he was the object of someone’s loathing, a loathing strong enough to make the someone use a gun on him. But there could be someone else who’s just as loathsome.’
‘I can’t work this out,’ she said. ‘I’m too tired.’
He was all compunction. ‘Oh, hell, I’ve been thoroughly selfish. Of course you are. And me trying to impose on you for the evening as well. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘And the evening might have been nice, as long as Judith isn’t around.’
‘Why not?’
‘I told you. Because her favourite exercise is jumping to conclusions,’ Hattie said. ‘And I’d rather she didn’t.’
‘Maybe there’s a conclusion worth jumping to, when she does it,’ Sam said as she made for the door, pulling on her coat as she went, and she shook her head.
‘I’m too tired for fencing. Some other time, Sam. I still think there are things to be talked about, but —’
‘Yes,’ he said and caught up with her at the door, because he’d been collecting her bags and now brought them to her. ‘There are. I have to explain why I behaved so badly.’
‘There’s no compulsion.’
‘There is. I feel compelled. It was … Can I just say it was because I liked your company too much?’
She looked at him sideways. ‘You can certainly say that. It’s a compliment, after all.’
‘It’s the truth,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly rough. ‘I had it all worked out. Another term at the outside in this dump and I’d have the book finished and then for good or ill, I was going to take the plunge. I believe I can get a publisher and make a living in a way that won’t make me feel as lousy as this place does, but even if I can’t get published right away, I’m still going to do it. I can get by on what I’ve saved and my legitimate dole. That was the plan. Then you turned up.’
‘Why should that alter your plan?’ she said as steadily as she could.
‘I like you too much.’ He stood there, not attempting to touch her, speaking as though what he was saying was the most ordinary thing in the world, as commonplace as talk of the weather. ‘You came in between me and my book, in between me and my work here. I just couldn’t think properly. So I thought I’d bett
er try to wean myself.’
She stood there, looking at him very directly, not sure how she felt about what he was saying.
‘I see. Wean yourself. It’s an odd metaphor.’
‘Not at all. You were starting to feel like — well, the stuff of life. I don’t like being that dependent. I was once before and when she died it was such hell, I didn’t think I could ever cope again. So I started to wean myself away from you.’
‘I don’t think I could ever cope again,’ she said after a long moment.
‘No doubt. That’s how you feel now. It’s how I felt for a long time. I’m just talking about me now, not you. I had to try to break away from what was becoming an uncomfortable dependence. That was why I behaved as I did. I didn’t intend rudeness. Oh, God, anything but —’
‘There was nothing else it could feel like,’ she said, and suddenly yawned hugely. ‘But it’s all right. I do understand. And I think perhaps …’
‘Yes?’ He was looking very intently at her.
‘I think it might be better to go on with the weaning process,’ she said steadily. ‘I’m not as far along the road as you are, you see. My husband died only a year ago.’
‘I’ve no intention of hurrying you,’ he said. ‘But I have to stop being rude. Don’t I?’
‘You can — Oh, please Sam, I’m so tired I can’t think straight. Please, leave me be for a while. I really do have to think.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course. But I can still take you home. You’re in no state to go on your own, are you? I won’t be a pest. Not now I’ve explained.’
‘I think I really should try on my own,’ she said, and rubbed her face. She was feeling very strange; lightheaded, as though a small part of her were sitting high on a corner of the battered old staffroom staring down at her and jeering softly. ‘A taxi, perhaps. It’ll be expensive but I think maybe —’
‘I’ll find one for you,’ he said. ‘There’s a mini-cab firm locally which aren’t as costly as a black cab would be. I’ll phone for you.’
She was grateful, and let him lead her out and along the corridor towards the stairs. It was very dark there, with only one light burning at each end, and she was glad of his grip on her elbow as he took her along, letting her mind swim comfortably, not bothering to think. She felt agreeably warm inside her weariness and knew at some deep level it was because of what he’d said. She hadn’t taken it all in, nor worked out all its implications, but what he had said had been good to hear. She knew that; and listened to the slap of their footsteps along the corridor and down the stairs into the lower corridor. Friday, she found herself thinking absurdly. Poets day, the boys call it: Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll think about Sam and what he said tomorrow — me and Scarlett O’Hara. And she wanted to giggle, but was too weary.
‘Wait here,’ Sam said firmly and pushed her gently into a chair. They’d reached the Headmaster’s office and were in the ante-room. The Head’s room was locked, but the secretary’s section was always left accessible outside school hours in case anyone needed to use the phone, and anyway no important documents were kept there, being locked safely inside the Headmaster’s room.
It was as arid and dull a room as the secretary herself, and Hattie sat staring owlishly round at it, imagining it the way it might look if the secretary was a different sort of woman, one who went in for flowers and pictures, perhaps.
She was staring at the half-open door as Sam, standing with his back to the door, dialled the phone and held on, listening for an answer, and she wasn’t sure at first she’d seen anything; she shouldn’t have, for the cleaning staff didn’t come in on Fridays, leaving the work of preparing for the next working day until Sunday, and with the performance of Taming of the Shrew cancelled, of course, there was no cause for any pupil to be about; but then she was out of her chair and halfway across the room before she realized she’d moved. Someone had definitely gone by and she was too alarmed not to find out who it was. The unknown seemed to her suddenly to be infinitely more frightening than whoever might have slipped past the door so silently.
Outside the corridor was dark and cold, and suddenly became even darker as the light at its far end was switched off, and then Sam was behind her, leaving the phone dangling on the desk, and shouting, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Someone’s just gone down the corridor,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t see who it was, he switched off the light. There shouldn’t be anyone here, should there?’ And Sam was gone in a headlong gallop into the darkness that made her squint in fear after him, almost as though she were the one running full pelt into a barrier she couldn’t see.
There was a sudden yelp and then a scuffle and as she peered into the dimness the light at the end of the corridor went on again and she saw Sam had hold of someone by the arm. Someone fairly small and bent over as he struggled to escape Sam’s grip.
‘Keep still, you bloody fool,’ Sam panted, and dragged whoever it was back up the corridor towards Hattie. ‘It’s all right,’ he called. ‘Have a look for yourself.’
She looked and then caught her breath. Suddenly the weariness had gone and the sleepiness with it. Her senses were as sharp as she had ever know them to be, and she stared at the bedraggled figure Sam now pulled in front of him, holding him firmly by both shoulders, and said, ‘Arse? Not again! Arse, what are you doing here at this time of night? You should have been gone ages ago. Why are you still hanging around?’
Thirty
‘But why should you be interested in what went on at a staff meeting?’ Sam said. ‘That’s the most feeble excuse for an explanation I’ve heard in a hell of a long time! You’ll have to do better than that. It makes no sense.’
The boy said nothing, sitting staring down at his outstretched feet which were crossed at the ankles, his hands thrust into his jeans pockets and his hair flopping over his face. Sam made a noise, half snort and half grunt, clearly exasperated beyond speech.
‘If you can explain what you needed to hear,’ Hattie said reasonably, ‘it’ll be easier for us to understand. We don’t want to make a fuss unless we have to. Just explain why, Viv, can’t you?’
He looked up at her then, his chin up. ‘Oh, so it’s Viv now, is it?’
She bit her lip. ‘Oh, hell I’m sorry. I did call you by your nickname before, didn’t I? And I shouldn’t have done.’
‘It’s not a nickname,’ he said roughly. ‘Nicknames are friendly. Picked by your mates. That’s an insult they used for me, and he encouraged them. It was his idea in the first place …’ And then he went red and bent his head again in an attempt to hide it.
‘He? What he? Who encouraged them?’ Hattie said, and crouched beside him to put one hand on his knee. ‘You’ll have to explain, you know. It’s obvious, isn’t it, that we aren’t going to let you go just because you won’t talk to us? There’ve been too many unpleasant things happening to make that possible. If you don’t talk to us, we’ll have to pass the matter on and you’ll have to talk to someone else. We’d be more comfortable for you, I think. Don’t you?’
He seemed to think about that, then sighed softly and looked up at her. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘If it’s the only way I can get out of here, what else can I do? And anyway —’ he lifted his chin again but this time there was a sort of exultation in the movement rather than the mulish anger he’d chosen before — ‘anyway, it’s easier now.’
‘Why?’ Hattie said, diverted, and sat back on her heels. Her knees were beginning to ache from the posture she was in and Sam, seeming suddenly aware, fetched a chair to her and she sat in it gratefully, smiling up at him.
‘Dilly,’ the boy said simply, and Hattie, understanding at once, nodded.
‘It makes a difference when there’s someone else around to share it with?’
‘Yes.’
There was a silence and then Sam put a warm hand on Hattie’s shoulder and she felt the meaning almost as though he spelled it out. They were sharing now too. ‘Well?’ Sam said a li
ttle roughly, looking at the boy.
Again he sighed. ‘I wanted to know what was being said about the acid and him,’ he said. ‘What you knew. I heard Mr Dinant talking to you about the meeting and I thought — well, that was why I hung around after the rest of the school had gone. I wanted to see if you knew who had put the acid there.’
‘I want to know something about the acid and you,’ Hattie said, remembering. ‘Why were you there that evening? You had nothing to do with the play. Why were you at the rehearsal?’
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and sat up straight. ‘It’s hard, this. I have to start somewhere at the beginning, don’t I? If you’re to understand it. And I can’t be doing with all this question-and-answer stuff. It’s so boring.’
‘Well, poor you!’ Sam said caustically. ‘We, on the other hand, are positively riveted and thoroughly enjoy nagging at you like a pair of third-degree policemen.’
‘Well, I dare say it is as tough on you,’ he said consideringly, and looked up at Sam and then suddenly grinned. ‘Tell you what, I’m flush this week. I’ll buy you both a drink and we can talk then. No questions and answers, I’ll just tell you all about it. How’s that?’
‘Are you out of your tiny mind?’ Sam roared. ‘Do you think we’d —’
‘Hey, just a minute,’ Hattie said. She got to her feet and put a hand on his arm. ‘Listen, Sam, he has a point —’
‘A point? This snivelling little —’
‘Stop acting like a schoolmaster,’ she said, and shook his arm.
‘You can do better than that.’
He turned and looked at her and then at the boy. ‘What the hell else am I supposed to sound like? We find a boy skulking round here engaged in some sort of villainy — and we’ve had a fair bit of that already — and you expect me to be all sweetness and light?’
‘We could try talking to him like a person instead of as a schoolboy,’ she said. ‘It’ll be easier to do that outside the school. And this room is hardly …’ And she looked round at it and then at him, her brows raised.
Dangerous Things Page 32
