A Thousand Cuts

by Simon Lelic

  Who? the headmaster says. Who did you see? Calm down, for pity’s sake, man.

  You have to help me, says Samuel. You have to do something. They’ll come after me, I know they will.

  The poor headmaster, I can tell he’s losing his patience. What are you talking about? he says. Who did you see?

  Who? says Samuel. You know who. Donovan. Gideon. The two of them and their mates.

  Donovan Stanley, Inspector. One of the boys who was shot, as things turned out. I assume that’s who Samuel meant. Donovan and his best friend Gideon. Always causing mischief, those two. Just silly stuff, usually, just boys’ stuff, nothing for Samuel to make such a fuss about. I mean this was exactly the type of thing Samuel and the headmaster had been through before. This was exactly the type of thing. And I thought Samuel had got a grip on things but clearly he hadn’t. He was out of his depth: that’s the plain truth of it. Working in a school: it’s not as easy as people assume.

  I don’t have time for this, Mr Szajkowski, the headmaster says and he didn’t. I could vouch for the fact that he didn’t. There was a big meeting that morning, you see. With the governors and some special guests. A very important meeting for the future of the school. The headmaster was excited. Truly, I’ve never seen him so excited. So it was very reasonable, really, that the headmaster should show Samuel to the door.

  Samuel says, please, Headmaster. Please.

  Mr Szajkowski, the headmaster says. Get a grip on yourself. You can’t go behaving like this in front of the children. You’re a teacher, man. Set an example.

  And now it sounds like the headmaster is over by the door, and Samuel, Samuel’s shuffling around in front of the headmaster’s desk. Then there’s silence for a moment, neither one of them says anything. Until the headmaster speaks again. He says, well, Mr Szajkowski, I really must be getting on. And Samuel doesn’t reply. He doesn’t say anything, nothing that I can hear. He leaves, I suppose. I don’t hear him leave but I suppose that’s what he does because the door clicks and there’s quiet again and then the headmaster appears in my office.

  So that’s it. I mean it’s not very helpful, I don’t suppose but, yes, that’s just about it. That was the last time I saw Samuel.

  No. Wait a minute. I saw him later. Of course I saw him later. How silly of me. I saw him later to send him home. The headmaster asked me to, you see. After the police arrived. After they left, actually; after they’d told us about Elliot Samson.

  Elliot’s a first-year here. Year seven we call them now. He was attacked, Inspector. Beaten up quite badly, by all accounts. It happened after school on the Friday but we didn’t hear about it until the Monday morning. Your colleagues arrived at about ten. Price, one of them was called. I didn’t catch the other one’s name. That’s when they told the headmaster. That’s when he and I found out. This was after the business with Samuel but before the governors’ meeting, although in the end that had to be postponed.

  The headmaster and I are in my office. The police have just left, as I say. We’re both a little shocked, I suppose. I mean the headmaster, he looks dreadfully pale. And I say to the headmaster, what a terrible thing to have happened. Because it was. Terrible, just terrible. And the headmaster nods and doesn’t say anything and we’re both just looking at the floor.

  Then the headmaster says, Janet. Have you heard any more from Samuel?

  I say, no, Headmaster, not a thing. Nothing since first thing.

  And the headmaster looks at me. He says, first thing? You mean you heard all that this morning? He’s looking at me like suddenly I’ve done something awful but I could hardly help overhearing, could I? And I’m standing there not knowing what to say and I say, no, well, yes, I mean the walls are very thin. And he sort of frowns. He says, what did you hear? What did you make of it?

  I say, make of it, Headmaster? I couldn’t very well make anything of it. It was just Samuel. Just Samuel being Samuel.

  And the headmaster says, yes. Well. Quite. Still, he says, and then he’s thinking. He says, Janet. Do me a favour, would you?

  Of course, Headmaster. What is it?

  He says, send Samuel home.

  I say, home, Headmaster, and he says, home. Let’s see, he says. It’s almost lunchtime. He should be in the new wing, classroom three or four. Catch him there and send him home. Tell him to take some time off. The police, they’ll be back this afternoon to follow up on this Samson business. They want to talk to the children. To the staff too. I don’t think Samuel’s really up to that. Not in the state he’s in.

  I say, no, Headmaster. You’re probably right.

  Good, he says. Good. Oh, and Janet.

  Yes, Headmaster?

  What did you tell the governors? Did you reschedule?

  I told them something urgent had come up. I told them I was waiting to talk to you.

  See if you can set it up for tomorrow morning. Send my apologies and tell them what’s happened but make it clear that the assault took place outside of school. I don’t want them worrying. I don’t want them distracted.

  Yes, Headmaster. I’ll do it right away, Headmaster.

  After you’ve dealt with Samuel, he says.

  I say, of course. After I’ve dealt with Samuel.

  One more thing, he says. I suppose we should schedule an assembly. Better make it Wednesday. First thing. All the pupils are to be there. All the staff too. No exceptions, Janet.

  And I say, yes, Headmaster. Will there be anything else, Headmaster?

  But there isn’t anything else so that’s when I go looking for Samuel. He’s in classroom three, just as the headmaster said he would be. Although I could have found him without directions because the classroom, it’s utter chaos. The new wing – we call it the new wing but really it’s not so new any more, it must be ten years old at least – the new wing is right at the northern end of the building but I can hear Samuel’s class from the dining hall. He’s teaching year sevens. I say teaching but when I look through the glass he doesn’t seem to be doing very much of anything. He’s at his desk. He’s leant forwards on his elbows and he’s got one hand on his head. The children, they seem to be doing whatever they feel like doing: just chatting, most of them, but one or two are running about and there’s even one little girl standing on a chair, over by the window, I mean she’s virtually falling out. And I probably should have interrupted but I don’t. I just wait outside until the bell.

  After a minute or two it goes and it’s barely finished ringing before the children are out the door. The ruckus seems to nudge Samuel from his daydream and slowly he gets to his feet. I’m waiting for him by the door.

  I smile at him but he doesn’t smile back. He would have walked right past me if I hadn’t said his name.

  Janet, he says. What do you want?

  Which is not the way to talk to someone, is it? It’s not the way to talk to one of your colleagues and not what I would have expected of him. So I was rather brusque, I’m afraid. I say, the headmaster says to go home. He says to take some rest. He doesn’t expect you here this afternoon, nor tomorrow I assume.

  Is that all? says Samuel and he’s already walking away.

  I say, yes. I’m rather taken aback. I say, yes, then I say, no. Because I forgot to tell him about the assembly. So then I say, you’re to be here on Wednesday morning. The headmaster will be addressing the school, to talk about what happened to Elliot Samson. And Samuel can’t know what I’m talking about but he doesn’t even wait for me to explain. He just leaves. He looks at me, he looks me in the eye, and then he leaves.

  And that, Inspector, was the last I saw of him. It was the very last time I saw him. I don’t suppose I’ve been very helpful but I don’t know what else I can tell you. I saw Samuel in the morning and he was upset about something but I couldn’t say what. It was unusual, his behaviour, but not that unusual, not for Samuel. Then the police arrived and there was this business about Elliot, which was terrible of course, truly dreadful. Although he is getting better, so I’
m told. He’s in hospital but he’s doing fine, which is one piece of good news at least. But yes, the police arrived and then I spoke to the headmaster and we agreed it would be best if we sent Samuel home. So I found him and I did. And that’s it. That’s everything. I mean, if there’s anything else, I can’t think of it. Because I’d tell you if there was, of course I would. Because I do tend to talk, Inspector. I do tend to prattle on. You’ve probably realised that for yourself. Most people have to stop me. It’s not always easy once I get going but most people have to stop me from saying too much.

  .

  It was the hottest day.

  Ever, said the headlines. Since records began, ran the small print. It was like labouring up an incline, Lucia thought, and finally reaching the summit. Although it occurred to her too that it in fact felt no hotter than yesterday, than any other day since the heatwave had begun.

  She entered the lobby and nodded a greeting to the staff at the desk. A facilities worker wheeled up a trolley beside her as she waited for the lift, and when the doors to the elevator shuddered open, she gestured him in ahead of her before squeezing in behind. Lucia pressed button three. The facilities worker pressed six. The doors closed and a motor whined and the winch strained audibly to hoist them upwards. Lucia focused on her distorted reflection in the chipped brass panelling of the doors, her thigh pressing against the metal handle of the trolley and the aroma of coffee from the urn on top making the air seem thicker and more humid than it already was.

  The whole cast was assembled. Harry was there, Walter was there, his two goons huddled beside him. No court appearances today. No suspects to interrogate, no crime to solve. No reason to be anywhere but as close to centre stage as possible.

  Lucia caught Harry’s eye and offered him a glimpse of a smile. She crossed the office and stopped at Cole’s door. It was closed so she knocked and she waited. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She breathed.

  ‘Come in,’ a voice called.

  Lucia glanced at Harry again, then levered down the handle and stepped inside.

  ‘Lucia,’ said Cole. He was behind his desk, half standing, his weight on the heels of his hands. He was smiling. She had not expected him to be smiling.

  ‘Guv,’ Lucia said. She closed the door behind her.

  ‘Come. Sit. Coffee? You don’t want coffee. It’s too damn hot for coffee. Water?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucia said. ‘I’m fine.’ She crossed the office and lowered herself into the chair her boss had indicated. Across from her, Cole sat down too. He was still smiling.

  ‘This isn’t formal,’ he said. ‘This isn’t official.’

  ‘No. I realise that. But before you say anything—’

  Cole held up a hand. ‘I need some help, Lucia. I need your help.’

  ‘Guv—’

  ‘Please, Lucia. Give me a moment.’

  Lucia fell silent. Cole reclined in his chair. His hand drifted to his upper lip but stopped short when he noticed Lucia watching.

  ‘The toothpaste,’ he said. ‘It didn’t work. It burnt like hell, if you want the truth.’

  Lucia shifted. The chair, plastic and unyielding, was scraping the backs of her knees. The rest of her felt sticky, starved of air. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It was just something I read. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

  Cole waved a hand. He leant forwards, folding his arms and propping his elbows on the desk.

  ‘Mr Travis,’ he said. ‘The headmaster. He received a letter.’

  Lucia had not intended to allow the conversation to get this far. Now that it had, she found herself curious about where it might go. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know he did.’

  ‘And you know too, presumably, what that letter contained?’

  Lucia held Cole’s gaze. She nodded.

  The chief inspector studied Lucia. He drummed his fingers against the surface of the desk. Behind a bulging cheek, his tongue occupied itself with something that had caught in his teeth.

  ‘It’s a problem,’ he said. ‘You can see, can’t you, that it’s a problem?’

  ‘I would say that it was a problem for Mr Travis, Chief Inspector. Wouldn’t you?’

  Cole bobbed his head. ‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Certainly it’s a problem for Mr Travis. But I’m hoping that you and I might find a way to make that problem disappear.’

  ‘I see,’ Lucia said. ‘And that’s why I’m here. That’s why you think I’m here.’

  Cole did not reply. Instead he hoisted his smile, as though mindful suddenly that he had allowed it to droop. He stood up and crossed to the water cooler. ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ he said. When Lucia did not respond, he drew himself a cup, then returned to his position behind the desk. He did not sit down.

  ‘A court case,’ he said. ‘A civil prosecution. Perhaps you’d explain to me, Lucia, just what it is you are hoping to achieve.’

  ‘That’s not for me to say, Chief Inspector. It’s not my business, after all.’

  Cole laughed. He laughed and for the first time betrayed his impatience. ‘I think we’re past pretending, Inspector. Don’t you?’

  Lucia made to stand. ‘I’m not sure this conversation is going to accomplish anything, Guv. If you don’t mind—’

  ‘Sit down, Inspector,’ said Cole.

  Lucia held still.

  ‘Please,’ Cole said. ‘Sit down, Lucia.’

  Lucia sat. She folded her arms.

  ‘From what I understand, the Samsons have a grievance. They are lashing out, it seems to me, in the only way they can.’

  ‘No,’ said Lucia. ‘That’s not—’

  Cole cut her off. ‘They are lashing out at the school and they are lashing out at its headmaster. Wait, Lucia. Just wait a minute.’ He smiled again. The smile did not reach his eyes. ‘It’s understandable,’ he said. ‘Of course it is. They lost their son. Elliot, isn’t it? That was his name, am I right? They lost their son and no one was punished. Why wouldn’t they be angry?’

  ‘They are angry,’ Lucia said, struggling now to keep her voice steady. ‘They’re furious. And they’re not alone.’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ Cole said again. ‘I sympathise. We all do. Even Mr Travis, as hard as you may find that to believe.’

  Again Lucia tried to interrupt. Cole spoke over her. ‘But what if something could be arranged? I mean, that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? Retribution. Revenge. Payback for what happened to Elliot.’

  Cole finally granted Lucia the opportunity to speak. She found that her throat was clogged with words.

  ‘Arranged?’ she managed to say. ‘What do you mean, arranged?’

  Cole gave a shrug. He prodded at the edges of a pile of papers on his desk. ‘Gideon, isn’t that his name? His friends. The ones who attacked Elliot. There’s nothing we could do, obviously. The investigation is closed. But Mr Travis… Well. It’s his school, after all.’

  ‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector, but I thought our position – I thought the headmaster’s position – was that no one had witnessed the attack. Isn’t that what the Samsons were told?’

  ‘We’re talking openly, Lucia. I thought we were talking openly.’

  Lucia shook her head. She found herself smiling in spite of herself.

  ‘This case,’ said Cole, his tone more abrupt now. ‘No one wants it. I know you’ve got a problem with Travis and maybe you can live with ruining one man’s career but what about the school? What about the other teachers, the other pupils?’

  ‘You’re missing the point. You’re completely missing the point. It’s because of the teachers and it’s because of the other pupils that the Samsons are doing what they’re doing.’

  ‘And the force, Lucia? What about the force? Don’t think this won’t touch us. Don’t think we won’t be implicated too. Because your friends are going to be standing up in court and telling the world that the police failed them. That the police failed their son. Do you think that’s going to make our job any easier next t
ime? Do you think that’s going to make this country safer? Because I don’t. I do not.’

  Lucia stood. ‘I’ve heard enough,’ she said. ‘I really think I’ve heard enough.’ She turned away and took a step towards the door.

  ‘Okay, Lucia. Okay.’

  Lucia glanced behind her. Cole was standing with his arms raised, less a gesture of surrender, more an indication that Lucia had forced on herself whatever was coming.

  ‘Forget the school,’ Cole said. ‘Forget Travis. Forget about your own fucking colleagues. What about you? What do you think is going happen to you if you decide to go ahead with this?’

  ‘I told you. It’s not my decision. The Samsons have made their own choice. All I’ve done is give them the information that no one else would. The information they deserve.’

  ‘Exactly, Inspector. Exactly. You’re already on suspension. What good do you think all of this is going to do for your career?’

  ‘My career,’ Lucia echoed. She turned back to face her boss. ‘I almost forgot.’ She took an envelope from her bag and held it out. ‘This is for you. This is the reason I came. It’s only a line or two but you’ll find it covers the important points.’

  Cole frowned. He took the envelope from Lucia and checked each side, as though unsure of what it was he was holding. ‘You’re resigning?’

  ‘I’m resigning.’

  ‘You’re giving up. You’re quitting.’

  ‘Call it what you like. This job isn’t what I thought it was. It isn’t what it should be.’

  ‘That’s crap, Lucia. That’s idealistic crap. And this,’ he said, brandishing the envelope, ‘doesn’t get you off the hook.’ He tossed Lucia’s letter on to the desk. It skidded across the surface and off the other side. ‘What you did,’ he said. ‘What you’ve done. You could face charges. Criminal charges. You used privileged information from the Szajkowski investigation to incite Elliot Samson’s parents into launching a civil prosecution against the school. It’s abuse of office, Lucia. Mr Travis has every right to go straight to the IPCC.’