by B M Gill
He read it. "Would you understand me if I told you that I would like to see the school razed brick by brick?"
So the boat was being pushed out and the waters were stormy.
"You hold the school responsible?"
"Of course. I sent him there in good faith. They killed him." All vestiges of Jenny's defence of the school had cleared from his mind. If his hatred of the school were paranoid then he accepted the fact of his paranoia. He, on David's behalf, stood in the arena.
Thirza had been trained not to let her astonishment show. "You mean – you don't think it was an accident?"
He told her about the blindfold. And then he took the sketch out of his pocket, and put it on the desk. She noticed that as he explained about that, too, he kept his eyes carefully averted from it as if it were an obscene thing that sickened him. "I want you to keep it and use it at the inquest – if it can be used – to show David's state of mind."
She doubted if it could be used. Without professional psychiatric backing it carried little weight. "Death due to failure of contractual care- might bring you damages. I can't do any forecasting on that without the full facts."
Jenny's words about setting a price on David come back to him. "Damn it, I don't want damages. If any money comes my way, then it goes directly to charity." He tried to explain. "If the school, or someone in it, can be proved responsible for killing David, then I have every intention of taking an eye for an eye. One child dying is one child too many. Especially when that child is mine. The school lives on its reputation. If it can be proved to have stepped out of line, in any way whatsoever, then I shall see to it that it won't live long."
"You're capable of a lot of hate, John." She added before he could answer, "Inversely proportional, I suppose, to your love of David. It's a pity this happened in so short a time after Ruth."
"You think my reaction is abnormal?"
"No – under the circumstances, perfectly normal."
"Then you'll represent me at the inquest?"
"Of course – but in my own way. You'll have to leave it to my judgment. I'll use the sketch if it seems relevant. Have you any idea what an inquest is? It's simply an enquiry held in a coroner's court. Afterwards it may go further. The extent of your pain won't bend or influence the course of the law. You can't be clear-minded, but everyone else will be – including me." She put the sketch in a manilla envelope and put it in the top right-hand drawer. "Now tell me about it again. All of it. Every small detail. I'm switching on a tape-recorder, but don't let that inhibit you. Just pretend it isn't there."
After some preliminary awkwardness and hesitancy he began his account. For most of the time she didn't look at him and only occasionally prompted him. When he had ended it she knew that he had invited her to fight a lost cause.
It was politic not to say so. "Well?"
"Hammond could have treated you with more courtesy."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"I could sing a duet of hate with you – and I will if it will make you feel better. But legally – well, I don't know. I'll give you all the back-up I can."
If she couldn't show more enthusiasm for the case, he thought, then she might as well unfurl her banner on the other side. That she would do her best he had no doubt. She was basically honest and highly qualified. No-one else, he supposed, would show any enthusiasm either. The emotional involvement was his. He couldn't expect anyone else to share it.
She took him to a small Austrian restaurant. The whole set-up was very elegant and extremely expensive. Jenny's tablecloth, like her skirt, had a loose hem. Her kitchen was shabby and comfortable and the sun shone in it.
Thirza, disconcertingly, cut across his thoughts. "These days – have you anyone?"
He hedged. "I'm not living with anyone."
"Neither am I. Where permanent relationships are concerned, I'm disaster-prone. I find the single state extremely peaceful." She held her wineglass up to the light. "Have you noticed the sediment in this? Should we send it back, do you think?"
"Are you changing the subject – or do you seriously want me to send it back?"
She put the glass down and smiled. "It's hardly worth the bother. I'm changing the subject. You seemed embarrassed when I asked you that question just now. Will you be staying in London tonight?"
"No, I hadn't planned to. I shall be using this afternoon to call in at the main office. I walked out of the Bombay office with no notice whatsoever. They'll cope, of course, but they'll need to be informed of what's going on and when I'm likely to be going back."
"And when will that be?"
"The funeral will be some time next week."
"If my being with you at the funeral will help…?"
"It's kind of you." It was neither an acceptance nor a rejection.
"How did you cope on David's holidays?"
"He travelled with me most of the time And I've kept a small flat here in London Most of his clothes and belongings are there They'll need to be packed "
She suggested that they might meet early that evening m his flat and pack them away together After the funeral, she knew, would be soon enough, but if she were to help him at the inquest then a deeper knowledge of him and events was necessary and this was one way of gaming that knowledge They would have an hour or so together Seeing David's possessions would loosen him up emotionally If she were to get anywhere she needed a gut response It wasn't just a case of representing him at the inquest, it was a case of finding out how best to ease him through it He arrived at the flat in Marylebone half an hour before her It was on the second floor of a Victorian house and David's first reaction to it hadn't been enthusiastic He had been used to a garden and a green outlook Once he had a permanent base, he had told David, he would get a house for the two of them again In the meantime this had to do David had asked how long was temporary and he had answered a year or two A year or two, David had said, was survivable He could put up with most things – even this – for a year or two The memory of the conversation was surprisingly clear Since Ruth's death David had done a great deal of putting-up The flat The school And always the promise of a future that never happened It was bitterly ironical that a permanent appointment to the Pans office had been offered him that afternoon He had surprised Thomson by asking for time to think about it Yes, he told Thomson, he knew he had put in several applications for a non-travelling job – and yes, he liked Pans But he wanted time to think Thomson had"given him a week He hadn't added "Until after the funeral," but it had been implicit in his tone of voice "By then." the look in his eyes had said, "you'll be rational enough to pluck the plum that's offered you " The job earned a substantial rise m salary Had it been offered him as short a time as a few months ago he and David would have been settled into a comfortable environment by now and David would have been attending a local lycee He would have been alive The flat had a stale empty smell and was veneered over with dust He went into all the rooms and opened the windows David's bedroom was festooned with model aeroplanes Three balsa-wood Spitfires suspended from the ceiling with white thread caught the breeze from the open window and became entangled A fragile, red-painted propeller tore off the framework and spiralled to the floor. He bent and picked it up They had spent a wet Sunday making this one David had had glue on his hands and had struck a match to melt some sealing wax The glue had ignited and the palm of his hand had been burnt It had taken a couple of weeks to heal During the couple of weeks the finer, more precise areas of model-making had been taken over by him under David's direction The Messerschmitt on the chest-of-drawers had been almost entirely his own work David had got bored in the middle of it and had gone off to read a book "Not bad for a beginner," had been his comment when he saw it finished His suppressed grin had sparked up in his eyes as if laughter were light suddenly blazing He wished that Thirza wasn't coming This was a private place His and David's But when she came he accepted her intrusion and buttressed himself behind a polite seemingly casual facade He took the large pigski
n suitcase from her and put it on David's bed "It's his winter clothes, in the chest-of-drawers and wardrobe The rest of his stuff is at the school " He couldn't bear to watch her and told her he was going to buy an evening paper "I'll be back soon "
He gave her an hour.
When he returned, the suitcase was standing in the hallway, locked and strapped. He repressed an urge to touch it. She called out to him from the sitting room. "I've a couple of drinks poured. Bourbon. You don't seem to have anything else."
He thought of Jenny's whisky.
He wished Jenny had packed the suitcase. Hers wouldn't look like this. It would be battered and bulging and everything in it would have been put away with love.
"Thanks. I'll be with you in a minute." He went into the bedroom and saw with irrational relief that the aeroplanes were still there. She followed him. "You'll need a large cardboard box for those. I didn't think of bringing one."
"I'll see to it."
She moved past him, slim and elegant in the white trouser suit she had changed into, and opened a bedside cupboard. "There's a microscope here. It looks a good one. Would you like me to sell it for you?"
"For Christ's sake!"
She couldn't understand why that should penetrate his armour when nothing else seemed to. It was a pity he had gone out while she had done the packing. She had imagined him sitting on the bed talking to her while she had done it.
She said equably, "The clothes will go to a children's charity. They could use the money from the microscope, too, if you agree."
He agreed. He wished she would stop talking about it.
"And there's a stamp collection. I don't know if that's valuable or not?"
"Not."
"The microscope – what was he going in for? Your line?"
"Scientific research – spelt with a u." And nobody knew what line.
He suggested they should have the drink. Dinner hadn't been planned, but under the circumstances it would be churlish not to invite her. She had been kind. She was representing him at the inquest. She was a friend of longstanding.
The thought flashed into his mind that he had known Jenny for two days.
Time was a clown that stood on its head and made rude gestures. He was offered the Paris posting – now. David had lived twelve years. Jenny's warm familiar flesh had been warm and familiar for a few hours only.
He needed her.
In the middle of his shock and grief he needed her.
He should have no thought for anyone but David, but he walked a behavioural maze and struggled through to her at the centre of it. If anyone could lead him out into sanity again, then she would lead him out.
Thirza said, "I found this in David's anorak pocket." She handed him a snap, dog-eared at the edges. It was of Ruth standing in a winter garden with snow on her boots. Boris, the red-setter puppy they were looking after for a neighbour, was pawing at her fawn mackintosh and leaving wet marks on it. On the back David had written in blue crayon, Mum cross with Boris. It wasn't a particularly attractive snap of Ruth, but it had caught the moment. Remembered laughter. David had been using up the last two snaps on the reel. The other one had been of him and Ruth together after Boris had been banished to the house. David had focussed it badly and it had come out blurred.
Thirza commented, "Not a good one of Ruth."
"A happy one."
"She's scowling at the dog."
"Afterwards she laughed."
"Talk about her to me, John. And about David, too. I need to know to understand You've given me facts – as you see them If you believe that David was unhappy, I've got to know more about him – about you – about his reaction to losing Ruth I think you may be making the school a scapegoat I've got to know more "
He looked at her helplessly "He was recovering Up to this last term – he was recovering Then something happened He drew that bloody sketch to show that it was happening "
"And gave it to the school matron ' It was dry "Who cared about him '
"As a mother substitute?"
Surely she was too young – even in David's eyes? "I don't know "
"But you might know by talking about it "
"I can't" It came out flatly Ruth David Jenny They were like three portraits in his mind A private room housed them and Thirza had no entry to that room She would have to represent him at the inquest as best she could He put the snap in his pocket "If the time is too short for you – or if you don't honestly feel you want to go on with it She interrupted him "I want to help you If the school is to blame we'll know soon enough and I'll take it further But if the school isn't to blame – then you must accept that, too Whichever way it goes, stop blaming yourself No father could have done more "
She refused the invitation to dine, saying she preferred something casual and easy at the pub on the corner The conversation had been casual and easy, too, and she had failed to break through to anything deeper Understanding her motives he had drunk lightly, making the drive back an excuse tor not over-indulging She was not enemy-territory, far from it, but he didn't want her kindly probing either She had the facts, but if she were hoping for an emotional outburst then she could sit here until closing time and not get it Jenny had seen his agony and his rage – and felt the brunt of both He couldn't let go with anyone else It was Thirza's suggestion that she should spend the following night at Marristone Port "Even though the inquest isn't until the afternoon, I don't feel like risking heavy traffic on Friday morning and being delayed "
He agreed "But The Lantern is hardly your style The Strand on the west side of the Port looks more comfortable "
In a shy, awkward gesture she touched the back of his hand with her index finger "If it's not too squalid for you, I'm sure I'll find it perfectly acceptable Book me at The Strand if The Lantern's full, but try The Lantern first"
He promised he would and that they would have dinner together at The Lantern either way He hoped he had put some enthusiasm into the invitation She was an extremely attractive, kindly woman If Ruth had been master-minding his present campaign she would have spirit-smiled her approval He wondered, fleetingly, what she would have thought of Jenny It was ten o'clock when he took his leave of her at her flat in Knightsbridge The June night was prematurely dark and a light rain fell By the time he reached the outskirts of Marristone Port the rain had become intermittent and the moon shone on the dark country roads He didn't notice the child, Corley, pressed up against the wall as the car passed Corley had pulled his school cap across his face and buried his hands in his mack pocket so that no white skin showed It wasn't until Corley was well clear of Marristone that he ditched his cap and began looking out for a lorry going in the opposite direction To hitch a lift in a private car would probably result in his being returned to the school or murdered He regarded both with equal horror But to climb on to the back of a lorry travelling more or less m the general direction of Somerset – without the lorry driver knowing he had climbed on to it – shouldn't be particularly hazardous. Provided he could find a parked lorry – or a lorry toiling slowly up a hill. He trudged on in the darkness discovering as the night wore on that parked lorries and slow lorries weren't exactly thick on the ground. And the only one he could have boarded was going the wrong way.
Seven
CORLEY'S ABSENCE, AS Corley himself had anticipated, wasn't discovered until breakfast-time. Travers, one of Sherborne's senior prefects, brought the news to Sherborne. Sherborne, after a quick search of the premises went over to the school house and informed Brannigan.
Brannigan, still breakfasting with Alison, exploded, "Christ, that's all I need!" He had spent a restless night trying to reassure an insomniac Alison that all would go well at the inquest on Friday.
At Sherborne's news her face took on a yellow pallor and she sat silently looking at him, her breakfast plate pushed to one side. Brannigan tried to control his own reaction. "He said to her abruptly, "He can't be far." And to Sherborne, "I'll walk back, to school with you." In passing Alison he
dropped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, "Just a prank, probably. Stop worrying."
On the way over to the main building Sherborne gave him all the details as he knew them. "My wife and I went to bed shortly after eleven. She had made the dormitory check at ten – it didn't seem necessary to do it again. All the lads were in bed then."
Brannigan said sharply. "Or perhaps seemed to be – you know the old trick with the pillow."
"Well – damn – she didn't go round prodding the lads.
This isn't a Borstal, Headmaster. What is there to escape from?"
"That's what we have to find out." Sherborne's tetchiness began bordering on belligerence.
"I may be in loco parentis, but I'm not God the Father. My wife and I have never spared ourselves in caring for the boys.
There isn't a better run House in the school. I have been here longer than anyone else. Experience counts for something.
Corley couldn't have had better care."
They walked up into the main hallway. Brannigan said, "I'm not criticising you. If he's gone, he had a reason for going. It's a pity he didn't confide in you, or Mrs. Sherborne." He remembered Mrs. Sherborne's deafness. Sherborne wasn't a 'particularly approachable housemaster, from the boys' point of view, and his wife, well-meaning as she undoubtedly was, was hard work getting through to. On the whole she was better than Mollie Robbins in Hammond's. Alison's father would, no doubt, have had no qualms about re-staffing more suitably. The incompetent and the deaf would have been told to quit. Sherborne, at nearly sixty, would have gone too, of course. In the few minutes it took to cross the main hall and go into his study he had re-staffed the school in his mind with the young, the brilliant, and the caring. In his pipe-dream there was always money to pay them, and the school building itself rose strong and uncracked on solid un-subsiding foundations.
He sat behind his desk and made Sherborne go through it again. "Did he leave a note?"