Death at St. Asprey’s School (6 page)

“No. They had to bring my car. I'd left it at the gate. I wonder they didn't find a charge to make about that. It was out there all night. It's that
push
I can't get over, though.”

“Really? Did you actually feel that?”

“Of course I did. The hell of a great thump in the small of the back. However, you want to know about these classes of mine.”

For twenty minutes Sime gave a resume of his programme and Carolus wondered how he had gained the reputation of a brilliant teacher for he seemed to be behind all his schedules and had very little understanding of his pupils' young individualities. He seemed to take it for granted that Carolus would be as little interested as he was in them. When he finished Carolus tried a more general approach.

“School seems in a bit of a mess,” he said.

Sime looked up quickly.

“In what way?”

“Atmosphere,” said Carolus vaguely. “Everyone seems half scared.”

“All a lot of nonsense. Some half-wit playing practical jokes.
I'm
the only one who has a right to be scared and I'm not at all.”

Suddenly Carolus dived forward from where he sat and pulled from under Sime's pillow a 22 revolver, the butt of which he had just seen protruding.

“Then why have you got this?”

He watched Sime's face. He saw an angry contortion of the features change almost instantly to a grin.

“It's no business of yours,” said Sime equably. “But I don't mind satisfying your curiosity. (Rather cheek, you know, pulling that out.) I like firearms. Got quite a collection at home. Bought that in a pub in London last holidays. I shouldn't be surprised if it had been used in hold-ups. But I did not want anyone to find it while I was laid up. That's all.”

Carolus thought it wise to appear to accept this. He wanted Sime's confidence and thought now that his own move had been ill-advised. So he did not mention what he had seen—that it was loaded. He handed it back.

“Sorry,” he said. “It
was
a bit cheeky, as you say. I like firearms myself.”

They talked amicably for a few minutes more, then Carolus asked if Sime was comfortable, right in front of a window.

“I don't mind, really. It was that bitch Matron who had my bed moved here. Said it was easier for the doctor. I suppose she thinks everyone is as inquisitive as she is. All I can see from here is that ridiculous archery.”

“You don't go in for it?”

“Kids sport. I'm not a blasted Red Indian. The rest of the staff has gone mad on it.”

“So it seems.”

“I hadn't time, anyway. I wanted to get a decent cricket eleven together. Young Mayring's quite good but I'm responsible for the cricket here. It takes time, coaching the little beggars.”

Carolus stood up to go.

“I say, would you do me a favour?” Sime asked. “I want a letter posted and can't rely on any of the lot here.”

“I'll certainly post it.”

Sime handed him a stamped and adressed envelope.

“Stick it in your pocket,” he said. “This inquisitive crowd we've got would want to know all about it.”

Carolus did so.

“You going in to staff tea? The common room's next door. You'll find them all there presently.”

When he was out of Sime's room Carolus looked at the letter. If this had been a murder case he would not have scrupled to read the contents but in the circumstances he did not feel justified in doing so. But he noted the name and address on it—Mrs. Ricks, 22 Sapperton Road, Cheltenham.

It was still to early for staff tea and wandering outside again Carolus met a genial-looking elderly man who was coming from the direction of the archery lawn. He guessed it was Jumbo Parker.

The Oldest Member of the staff greeted him in a friendly way, complained of the rheumatism which was causing him to walk in a stiff-legged way, and suggested that they should go in together and wait in the master's common-room for tea.

“It will be along in a minute,” he said. “I must say Mrs. Skippett's never late. You go in and I'll join you.”

The common-room had a well-worn look, curtains, chair-covers and some shreds of Axminster carpet were all near their end. There were armchairs but one was of creaking wickerwork and the springs in another had ceased to co-operate. The smell of pipe smoke, some piles of exercise books, a bottle of red ink on a stained table-cloth through which the deal of the table was visible—it was all in the narrowest convention of preparatory school common-rooms.

Carolus had to wait some minutes for Jumbo Parker but as he had predicted the tea soon came and Parker poured his own tea into a breakfast cup. The other cups were generous, but this was a giant mug and in a moment Carolus guessed that it was one of those privileges achieved by Jumbo Parker for his two decades at the school. Parker handed him one of the other cups then helped himself liberally to bread and jam.

“I guessed you were the new Man,” he said chuckling as though it were a joke. “In spite of your dashing motorcar. Then I saw you at lunch. I noticed that oaf Chavanne was pestering you with questions. You shouldn't allow it.”

“No?”

“You'll soon realize that,” said the jovial old boy with a touch of patronage. “If you give the little fiends an inch they take an ell. Especially this Satan's brood we've got here.”

“Worse than others?”

“Not really,” admitted Parker. “Only in the middle of term one is apt to think so. Do help yourself to more tea. The other Men will be here in a minute. I expect they're just shooting an end each before coming in.”

“An end?”

“I understand that's the correct term in archery.”

Young Mayring, in immaculate flannels, appeared and was introduced to Carolus. He would have been a good-looking young man if his eyes had not been set too close together.

“Finished with your delinquents?” asked Parker, smiling again.

“Yes. The hell-hounds were infuriating this afternoon. That moron Crestley…”

“Oh yes. Crestley. I have the cretin for French. Certifiable, isn't he?”

“He was trying to tell that imbecile Metcalf how to play an off-break…”

“You going to take Sime in his tea?” asked Parker suddenly and more seriously.

“I will, yes,” replied Mayring as though he were undertaking a sacred duty.

He got together bread and butter and some jam on a plate and took them, with a cup of tea from the room.

“Have you met Sime?” asked Parker.

“Yes. I've been chatting with him.”

Carolus saw that Parker was watching him, as if to gather something from his manner, but Carolus added no comment. Parker turned his attention to Mayring when he returned. He was evidently expecting a bulletin.

“Still raving about Stanley,” Mayring said. “It seems some of the little reptiles who came to his window today told him what Stanley is supposed to have said to that halfwit Thompson. Some other lunatic heard Matron telling Mrs. Sconer what Sime said when Stanley repeated Sconer's remark about Duckmore.”

Jumbo Parker semed able to follow this, even to enjoy it.

“It's a good thing Matron doesn't know what the little stinkers in the Lower Fifth told me when they heard what Mollie Westerly thought about it.”

Mayring made a sound indicating scorn and incredulity.

“‘Matron doesn't know'!” he said. “Famous last words.”

Duckmore came in. Prematurely bald and grey, with prominent eyes and a neurotic twitch, he seemed amiable but preoccupied.

“Where have you been, Ducks?” asked Parker. “Oh, you had the junior game this afternoon. How did the scum behave?”

“I had to send that clot Farraway off the field,” said Duckmore unhappily.

“Why? What did the monster do?” asked Mayring.

“Showing off again.”

“He's a mongol really, you know. The other animals in that crowd are bad enough but Farraway is beyond hope.”

Someone was at the door and the heads of all the Men immediately turned towards it. Carolus noticed this, then and thereafter. Everybody at St. Asprey's seemed to be waiting for something. Every movement, every approach caused curiosity, expectancy, even alarm. But it was only Jim Stanley, a nondescript man with prominent ears, but some pretension to good looks.

“I've just scored 35,” he said, before he noticed Carolus. “My very first arrow … oh, how d'you do? You're taking Sime's place?”

“Temporarily,” said Carolus.

“I wish it were for good,” Stanley said frankly and raised a little muted laughter.

“I'll see if he wants any more tea,” said Mayring and went out.

“What's Mayring being so obliging for?” asked Stanley. “Let him come and get his tea. Or why don't some of the little horrors who hang round his window get it for him? I saw that clod-pate Chavanne there as I came in with some other numskulls. I sent the whole crowd indoors. Who's taking Prep, tonight?”

“It's my turn,” said Mayring, who had returned.

“Will you see that blockhead Munson does his Latin prose, then? The little thug hasn't looked at it for three nights.”

“I certainly will. I was going to send that idle mooncalf to the study myself today.”

They were interrupted by a loud banging. Duckmore sat up straight and said—“What's that?” in a startled voice.

“Sime,” said Parker. “He wants something.”

“Run along, Mayring,” Stanley jibed. “You're his nurse, aren't you?”

Mayring flushed.

“Someone else can go this time,” he said.

The banging was renewed. Without a word, Duckmore left them. There was silence in the room as everyone waited. When he came back he was carrying a plate and empty cup.

“He wants to speak to you, Stanley,” he said nervously. “He's raging because you sent the boys away from his window.”

Stanley rose.

“I'll soon settle that,” he said ferociously and went out, leaving the door open.

“Oh God, another row,” said Mayring.

He was right, and most of it, the shouted part, was audible from the common-room.

“What do you mean by sending those boys away from my window? Of all the damned impudence!”

Stanley sounded cool.

“They had no business to be there. They were supposed to be getting ready for tea.”

“What the hell's it to do with you? You're not on duty today. You think just because you suck up to those bitches you can do what you like in this place.”

“You won't last long, Sime. You may not realize it but your days are numbered.”

“Oh
are
they? Then let me tell you something which you'd know sooner or later. I'm buying a partnership in this school. So we'll see who will last. If you think that you or any of your crowd will be about here after I get control, you're a bigger fool than I thought you.”

It sounded as though the shot had gone home.

“A partnership?” said Stanley.

“You heard. If not the whole shooting-match. Then you'll see if Mrs. Sconer can help you. And in future when I'm talking to any of the boys, you leave them alone.”

Stanley looked shaken when he returned to the common-room.

“Did you hear what he said?” he asked.

“I shouldn't take much notice of that,” said Parker equably. “I've heard these stories before. He hasn't got the money and if he had the Sconers would never sell.”

“He seemed very confident about it. I'm sure he's got some hold here we know nothing about.”

“Nonsense. It's the usual bluff. But you'd better not tell Kneller about it. You know what he is—believes everything. If he thought he might lose that cottage he'd go raving mad. It's the only place in which his wife can live and Sime can't bear either of them.”

Cigarettes were lit now and Jumbo Parker pulled at his pipe. There was a noise like a faulty wireless set at full blast outside which was explained by Parker.

“The zoo's loose,” he said. “The little savages were not long at tea today. Who's on duty before prep?”

There was no reply to this and Carolus guessed that it was Sime's turn and therefore, perhaps, his.

“Was it Sime's?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact it was,” said Parker. “But you can't go among those dregs yet. You must get to know the horrible little reprobates before chancing your life among them at this time of the day. They're always at their most villainous when they're let out after tea. It's supposed to be their own recreation time.”

“I don't mind,” said Carolus, rather amused.

The noise increased.

“Someone'll have to control the little devils,” said Mayring, “or they'll pull the place to pieces in front of Matron's
eyes. Not that much isn't in front of Matron's eyes and if it happened behind her back she'd manage to see it.”

“I'll go,” said Stanley. “I want to see none of the little sinners get round that window. Partnership! If it
is
true I I shouldn't dream of staying here, and if it isn't true Sime will be out at the end of this term. I can tell you that.”

He slammed the door behind him.

“And
he
should know,” Mayring said bitterly. “He was in Matron's room again today.”

The wild noise outside the window receded and the atmosphere in the common-room grew more confidential, if not more cosy.

“You must think this a strange sort of school,” said Jumbo Parker to Carolus. “It used not to be. There was a very pleasant atmosphere until a term or two ago. I'm afraid everyone's rather on edge at present.”

“Yes. I heard about some of the dark happenings. Have there been any more since Sime was laid up?”

Carolus saw that his disingenuous question had produced marked effect. The faces of all three Men were turned to him with startled expressions though whether their surprise was assumed or not he could not tell.