The Dead School (22 page)

‘She’s trying to kill my school. She’s trying to ruin everything we’ve worked for.’

‘Ah now, Raphael, not at all. Sure she’s not the worst of them.’

‘She has had an abortion.’

Father Stokes went white. ‘For the love of God, Raphael!’

‘She has! And she’s in my school!’

‘Keep your voice down, man! Do you want to land us in court?’

‘I don’t care where I land us! She is interfering in the running of my school and you are supporting her. My boys are going to Kilmainham – do you hear me? My boys are going to
Kilmainham and I want you to tell her so. Do I make myself clear?’

Father Stokes lowered his head and when he looked again, Raphael was gone.

The school journey date was set for the 12th of February 1976. As they arrived with their packed lunches that morning, the boys were as giddy as could be with all the excitement. Especially
since this year they were going to Waterworld instead of boring old Kilmainham Jail. Not only because of that but because lots of the mammies and daddies were going with them! Mrs Evans clapped her
hands as they all piled onto the bus.

‘Come on, you guys!’ she cried. ‘Shake a leg!’ She was great fun. She was wearing a T-shirt with Goofy on it. As the bus pulled out the gates, she went up to the front
and before you knew it, had everyone singing. This was going to be the best school journey ever.

Raphael Bell wouldn’t be going however, so he wouldn’t know that. He was too busy lowering whiskies in the Harcourt Hotel on this, the first day, outside of sickness, that he had
taken off school in forty-three years.

That night, he fell in the door, muttering and mumbling the whole story about Evans and Father Stokes with a smell of whiskey off him that would knock a dog. Nessa had never
seen him like this before and she was livid. When he started muttering again, about what he was going to do to Father Stokes, and Evans too, when the time came, she told him to catch himself on and
could not believe her ears when she heard him swear at her. Nor believe her eyes when he caught a hold of her arm and squeezed it, asking her whose side was she on? She had never seen him like this
before in her life. His face was blood-red and his eyes were wild. He squeezed her arm again, even harder, and bellowed, ‘Do you hear me? Listen to me when I am talking to you! Whose side are
you on? Whose side are you on, Nessa Conroy?’

He was hoarse as he shrieked, ‘Tell me! Tell me!’ She cried out and pulled away from him, burying her face in her hands as she ran from the room.

That night in a drunken dream, a little boy came to Raphael, came floating up the stairs to smile and then went floating back down again as Evelyn Bell in a field of golden corn reached out to
her son and whispered softly, ‘It’s going to be all right, Raphael, Raphael, son, I promise you it’s going to be all right,’ and it made him feel so good, made him feel just
so peaceful except that when the words ‘Will it, Mammy? Will it?’ escaped his lips she didn’t answer him because she was gone.

Another little surprise for Malachy around this time was the mysterious return of our old friends Alec and the lads. Just standing by the harbour grinning away, as if they
hadn’t moved in years. Not quite real, of course, but not exactly unreal either, like a lot of other things lately. But they were in good form. As soon as they saw Malachy, they were all
smiles. ‘Ah, hello there, young Dudgeon,’ said Alec. ‘We were just wondering when you’d come along. It’s about time you’d show your face.’ When he said
that, all the lads started to laugh. Alec flicked his cigarette away and hooked his thumbs into his belt. ‘We only heard the news a while ago. Isn’t it daft the way things turn out
– first Packie and now you. Man but aren’t youse the pair of bollockses!’ Then he turned to the boys and said, ‘I say, boys – aren’t they the right pair of
fucking bollockses all the same!’ There was great laughing for a while and then Alec decided it was all a wee bit more serious. He smiled as he stroked Malachy’s cheek, ever so slowly
as he whispered, ‘You’ve really fucked it up now, haven’t you, Dudgeon? Not that it’s any big surprise or anything. But by Jesus you’ve really gone and done a good job
on it – I have to hand it to you. Can’t even handle a bunch of kids and now look what’s happened. She’s going to leave you. She’s going to do a Cissie on you and
there’s not a thing you can do about it! Do you hear me, you stupid dumb fuck? Do you hear what I’m saying? She’s going to leave you – can’t you see that! What
happened, son of Packie? Couldn’t cut the mustard, could you not? Was that it? Tell us the truth – tell us the truth now! It all got on top of you and you couldn’t cut it any
more! You weren’t able for it, were you not? Couldn’t give her the baldy fellow any more! Oho boy, but you’re a son of your father’s and no mistake! He’d have been
proud of you! Proud, boy!’ All he could hear was Alec’s voice, rising until it became a shriek. ‘Come on now – tell us! You can tell me and the boys! We’re your old
friends!’ he cried and you could tell that he was prepared to go on and on until Malachy went mad.

Which, by the look of things, would be sooner rather than later. The doctor gave him librium and tryptasol for anxiety and depression and said they would do the trick. Most likely they would
have, if he hadn’t had naughty boys to teach, who pointed at him and said, ‘Psst! Psst! Dudgy’s falling asleep at the desk!’ or remain on full alert in case a baldy
headmaster who seemed to have gone crazy lately would decide to launch one of his lightning raids and catch him on the hop.

So between all that and Marion wanting out, which she did, as was becoming more evident every day, it was hard to see how things could get much worse. But then, that was before he went and
organized his stupid walk in the park, wasn’t it?

Well, good morning, children, and how are you today? All feeling well, are we? Very good. Right now, what I want you to do is sit up straight in your seats and listen very
carefully because I’m going to tell you a little story. It’s called ‘A Walk in the Park’ and although it is just a teeny little bit sad I still think you should all hear it
because as we all know boys, sadness is part of life too, isn’t it? It certainly is, boys and girls, it certainly is.

Our story begins one beautiful spring afternoon when everything was covered in a soft white blanket of snow. The children were so excited they didn’t know what to do with themselves. They
were excited because they were going on a nature walk. Yes – off to the park to gather up some leaves and conkers and little bits of sticks and all sorts of nick-nacks for their nature table.
They just could not wait until it was time to go. ‘We’re going to the park! We’re going to the park and it’s snowing! Hooray! We are going to make snowmen! We are going to
make lots and lots of snowmen!’

They all had to make sure and wear their welly boots and duffle coats. They made sure to do that because they knew if they didn’t take precautions they might catch cold. That was what Kyle
Collins had said to his friends Stephen Webb and Pat Hourican as they walked across the playground that morning. He said, ‘My mammy says I can play in the snow as much as I like so long as I
have my gloves and my welly boots and my woolly hat on.’

Stephen smiled and said that that was what his mammy had said too. ‘And she said I could make snowballs and snowmen if I wanted to. She said I could make as many as I liked.’ Kyle
and Pat smiled when he said that. They smiled because they were looking forward to making them with him. Pat could hardly contain himself he was looking forward to it all so much. Stephen and Kyle
had been his best friends for as long as he could remember. Right back as far as their first day at school. Stephen and Kyle and Pat liked school. Sometimes they were a little bit afraid of Mr Bell
because if he saw you he might shout at you. If he saw you running he would definitely shout. He would call you back and make you stand outside his door with your hands down by your sides. Then he
would say to you, ‘Would you mind telling me what you were doing? Would you mind telling me what you were doing just now, boy?’

It was very hard to know what the correct answer to that question was. If you said, ‘Nothing, sir’, his spectacles would steam up and his cheeks would go red and he would say,
‘So you have nothing to do have you not? You have nothing to do except barrel along the corridors like some kind of wild animal, is that it? Very well then. Perhaps you’ll come inside
now to my office and we’ll see if we can find you something to do. Do you think that might be a good idea, Mr “Nothing, sir”?’

When he talked to you like that you had to hang your head and play with your fingers while your cheeks burned. But that didn’t mean you didn’t like Mr Bell. It didn’t mean that
at all. That was one thing about him. Even if he scolded you sometimes you still liked him. It was only teachers like Dudgy you didn’t like because they weren’t really like teachers.
They weren’t really like teachers because it was so easy to annoy them. If you wanted to annoy them all you had to do was keep putting up your hand and ask questions over and over again,
especially if you didn’t want to know the answers. Kyle and Stephen and Pat liked doing that. They liked it when they made Mr Dudgeon lose his voice. They sort of smiled when he lost it. It
was funny when they did that because it made him lose it even more. Which would then of course lead to another of Mr Bell’s investigations. Mr Bell didn’t like that, having to lead the
investigations. He said he had other things to do. He asked the class did they think he had nothing better to do than run in and out. ‘Is that what you think?’ he said. ‘That I
have nothing better to do than run in and out?’ Also of course it often proved quite difficult to find out exactly what it was that had happened. For instance if a ruler had been broken one
boy would claim that he had done it. And would appear quite convincing. But then another boy would put up his hand and say, ‘No, teacher.
I
saw what happened.
I’ll
tell
you.’ Then Mr Bell, quite relieved, would say, ‘Very well then – tell me.’ But almost as soon as he had said that yet another boy would say, ‘No – he
didn’t see it, teacher.
I
saw it. I can tell you exactly what happened.’

And so it would proceed like that until the veins in Mr Bell’s face showed up more than ever and he asked the class what was wrong with them. ‘What is wrong with this class?’
he would cry hoarsely. ‘What is wrong with it?’

Which was a silly question to put to the class because it was quite clear what was wrong. It was a rubbish class – that was what was wrong. It was plain to see. Even the juniors in the
playground were aware of that. Had been in fact for some time. Consequently they did not pay a lot of attention to what Mr Dudgeon said: If he told them not to do something they would simply go
ahead and do it. Even some of the pupils who were normally quite mannerly, even shy, found themselves becoming giddy and ill-at-ease in his presence. It was only really when Pat Hourican got it
into his head that he was a bit of a comedian that the situation began to deteriorate rather seriously. He liked pulling funny faces to amuse all the other boys. Particularly Stephen and Kyle. They
thought he was hilarious. Whenever they got the chance they rolled up pieces of paper into balls and played hand-tennis with them across the room.

So between that and a few other things, the class slowly but surely turned to rubbish. Which it most definitely was the day Kyle Collins looked up from his work to see Stephen Webb pointing to
the top of the class. Kyle was on the point of telling his friend to leave him be as he was busy but Stephen’s pointing only became more frantic and Kyle found himself quite interested after
all. At first he could not really believe it when he saw Dudgy crying. It was simply impossible to believe because you just did not see teachers crying. Crying! Hee! Hee! Kyle chortled behind his
hands and tried to catch Pat’s attention. He was afraid Dudgy might see him but he needn’t have worried because he didn’t. He was too busy blubbing like a baba. Like your little
baby brother. Stephen rolled up a paper ball and threw it at Pat. ‘Look!’ he whispered as Pat turned around.

But anyway, that is all by the by, boys and girls. What we are talking about now is the park, and the class’s visit to it on this beautiful spring afternoon. The children formed a
crocodile and followed Mr Dudgeon. Mr Dudgeon did not anticipate any trouble because he had warned the class. Pat Hourican in particular. He had told them if they misbehaved in the park and spoiled
it for everyone else he would see that they did not have another playtime for the remainder of the term. He was pretty sure that they had got the message this time. The park looked quite beautiful
in the snow. A high wall ran around it and there was a row of bare trees which Mr Dudgeon had asked some of the class to sketch. A man in a lumberjack shirt sat on a bench eating a sandwich and
reading a newspaper. An old lady with a shopping basket stopped to smile and say, ‘Off on your travels, boys?’ There were ducks swimming in the pond. Mr Dudgeon had done quite a lot of
preparation for this lesson. Each child had a special notebook and a pencil. The class was divided up into groups. Mr Dudgeon warned them to stay in the groups to which they were assigned. ‘I
want no boy to break away from the general body,’ he said firmly. Then each group set about its particular task. Everything was going swimmingly until a boy came over to him and said,
‘Teacher, Stephen Webb isn’t here.’ When he heard those words Mr Dudgeon went white. He snapped ‘What?’ and the boy repeated what he had said. It was just then that he
happened to see two figures at the far end of the park which he realized were Stephen Webb and Kyle Collins. They were trying to climb a tree. Climbing a tree if you don’t mind! Right, this
is it, he said to himself and ran as fast as he could across the park. When he got to them he was speechless with rage. Stephen and Kyle had never seen him so furious. Stephen even found himself
crying a little bit as his teacher snapped at him. Mr Dudgeon told him he had done it now. He had done it for good this time. He gave Kyle a little push and said, ‘Get over there as fast as
your legs will carry you, Collins! Do you hear me talking to you!’