Last Rites (14 page)

The headmaster nodded once more, a slight smile on his lips.

‘Excellent,’ he said, quietly.

‘Do you live here?’ Mason enquired.

‘My wife and I have quarters within the school. One of the perks of the job. Nine other staff members are also resident here. The remainder live in Walston itself. It’s a purely arbitrary selection process I’m afraid. Some positions come with residential quarters, it’s as simple as that.The English department and the history department have always had quarters inside the school. It’s something of a school tradition and has been for more than a hundred and fifty years. I’m not sure who initiated it. No doubt one of my predecessors with a predilection for those subjects found it prudent to offer a little more than just money to anyone teaching those particular subjects. Don’t ask me why. Your own position comes with additional residential quarters.’

Mason raised his eyebrows expectantly.

‘A small cottage in the grounds of the school,’ Grant explained.

‘Really,’ Mason intoned, genuine interest in his voice.

‘It’s nothing very grand, Mr Mason, but it’s very welcoming.’

‘Would it be possible to see it?’

‘If you’d care for a tour of the school,’ Grant said, getting to his feet. ‘I’m sure we could take a small detour to the cottage.’

They both headed for the office door.

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‘The school was built on the site of an old monastery that was demolished during the Reformation.’

Nigel Grant walked briskly, his tone as enthusiastic as his gait. The hand gestures he made were also animated as he warmed to his subject.

‘During Roman times, there was a Druid settlement here. The area round about has always been a prosperous one. The school itself wasn’t built until 1798,’ he continued. ‘Originally it was just intended to be a school for the local children, those who lived in and around Walston. It wasn’t until the 1850s that the whole place was extended and became a private school. It might interest you to know that it’s built on two ley lines. The confluence of two ley lines is supposed to signify fertility, rebirth and passion.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Mason grinned. ‘It sounds as if this area has quite a history.’

‘It’s colourful.’ Grant smiled and continued speaking as they walked.

Mason listened appreciatively, his gaze flicking over the buildings that comprised Langley Hill. The entire imposing edifice that made up the main building was shaped like an enormous letter X.The centre of the cross housed a gigantic hall, a small chapel and, on the first floor, the quarters of the teaching staff. The extended branches of the shape were the home of classrooms, three gymnasiums (all possessing the most modern equipment) and, on the first floor, the pupils’ living areas. A number of the rooms contained two single beds and were shared by pupils but Mason noted that the majority were singles.

‘Nine thousand pounds a term buys a certain amount of privacy,’ Grant informed him as they wandered along one of the corridors on the first floor.

‘How many of your staff have come from the maintained sector?’ Mason wanted to know.

‘Of the thirty-six full-time staff employed here, none. You’d be the first.’

‘What about you? Have you always taught in private schools?’

‘Yes, both myself and my wife.’

‘What does your wife teach?’

‘She used to teach French,’ Grant said, his tone softening. He sucked in a weary breath as if suddenly tiring of the conversation.‘Since her illness she can’t.’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.

‘I’m sorry. Is it serious?’

‘She suffered a stroke six months ago. It all but paralysed her on her left side and she lost most of her sight.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ Mason repeated, quietly. ‘Can nothing be done for her?’

‘The doctors say no and I’m not about to question them.’

Mason nodded.

‘I think the feeling of helplessness is unbearable,’ he said. ‘Seeing someone you love suffer but not being able to do anything about it.’

‘Have you had experience with that kind of thing?’

‘My daughter died of meningitis when she was five.’

‘That’s awful. I’m sorry.’

Mason nodded, surprised at how easily and quickly he had found himself willing to discuss the matter with a total stranger.

‘That’s one of the reasons I want to get out of London, to get away from my old life,’ he continued. ‘The memories are too painful. My wife says I’m running away.’ He grinned humourlessly. ‘We’ve been separated for four years.’

‘Yes, I noticed in your application that you were single. They say that many couples who lose a child split up. I suppose it’s just an unfortunate by-product of the suffering.’

‘Either that or you realise the only thing holding your marriage together was your child.’

Grant eyed Mason evenly for a moment then walked on along the corridor towards a set of wide stone steps that led down towards the main hall of the school.There were a number of smaller children passing through the hall, all decked out in their distinctive uniforms. They were being led by a blonde-haired woman in her mid-thirties who nodded amiably in the direction of the headmaster as she approached with her wards in tow.

‘Good morning, Headmaster,’ she said.

‘Good morning, Mr Grant,’ the children echoed, standing perfectly still behind the woman teacher.

‘Kate, this is Mr Mason,’ Grant announced. ‘He’s here about the position in the history department. Mr Mason, this is Kate Wheeler.’

Mason nodded in her direction, hoping that he was not making it obvious that he was transfixed by her. She was, he decided, little short of stunning. He wanted to take a more appraising look at her, to allow his gaze to glide slowly over her shapely legs and slim buttocks. He wanted to take more time admiring her perfectly chiselled features and her wide brown eyes.

‘Good luck,’ said the woman and Mason was sure that he could detect the hint of an accent in her soft tone. Irish, he thought.

‘Do I need it?’ he smiled.

She returned the gesture, holding his gaze for a moment longer than he expected. He noticed her eyes flicker briefly towards his left hand.

Checking for a wedding ring? Don’t kid yourself.

‘It’s good to meet you, Miss Wheeler,’ Mason said as she prepared to lead her children away. ‘Hopefully we’ll meet again.’

She raised her eyebrows and smiled once more before heading out of the hall with the children.

‘Geography and games,’ Grant announced. ‘Miss Wheeler, I mean. A number of the staff here are responsible for more than one subject.’

Mason nodded, surprised with himself at how much of an impact she had made upon him.

‘Shall we continue?’ the headmaster offered. They walked on.

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‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Mr Mason,’ Grant said as they left the confines of the main building and headed outside.‘It’s unusual for a school like Langley Hill to even interview a teacher who’s worked exclusively in the maintained sector, as you have. Normally our staff are drawn from other private schools.The other applicants who I’ve interviewed have all been from the private sector.’

‘What made you change your mind and offer me an interview?’ Mason enquired, slowing his pace to match that of his companion.

‘I’m trying to find a way of saying this without sounding either condescending, patronising or just downright insulting,’ Grant smiled.

‘Don’t worry about that, I’m very thick-skinned.’

The headmaster sucked in a deep breath, as if the words he was about to speak carried some intolerable gravitas.

‘It was felt that the school should broaden its scope,’ he began. ‘Embrace alternative teaching strategies and skills as well as those we already have here. Most of the staff here and at other private schools were themselves Oxford or Cambridge graduates.Your own degree, while no less worthy, was achieved elsewhere.Your path through the industry has been different.Your views and opinions are likely to be different and that’s never a bad thing.’

‘You wanted to see what it would be like slumming it?’ Mason grinned.

Grant laughed good-naturedly.

‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I have nothing but respect for anyone who works in the maintained sector. I would imagine it brings pressures and problems that are completely different from anything myself and my colleagues have encountered. I won’t beat around the bush. There are situations that you must have dealt with in your time that neither myself nor my staff have ever been confronted with. I think that kind of experience would be useful, even in this somewhat rarefied environment. Your adaptability is an admirable quality, Mr Mason, and one that I feel would be welcomed at Langley Hill. Both by pupils and by the other staff.’

‘That’s very kind of you to say but, as I said before, kids are kids. I’m sure the pupils here can be a handful sometimes.’

‘They require a firm hand occasionally but it isn’t always easy negotiating with children from such privileged backgrounds and who are used to having everything they want at the drop of a hat. Some struggle with the requirements of the school both intellectually and socially. Paying such high fees for the education of your child doesn’t guarantee they’ll flourish in a school like Langley Hill. You offer them a different perspective with your background.’

‘What about my predecessor? What was his background? ’

‘Mr Usher was recruited from another private school.’

‘Why did he leave? If you don’t mind me asking.’

Grant could only shrug.

‘He had his reasons,’ he announced, curtly.‘It’s just that those reasons weren’t extensively discussed. Certainly not with me.’

Mason wasn’t slow to catch the newly found iciness in the headmaster’s tone and, when he looked at the other man, he saw that his face was now set in hard lines.

‘Did he leave for a better job?’ Mason wanted to know.

‘No,’ Grant said, flatly. ‘As I said, I’m sure he had his reasons but he didn’t discuss them with me. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak about Mr Usher with any other members of staff. As far as everyone here is concerned, the matter is closed.’

Mason thought about pursuing the conversation but felt it might be better to just leave the subject alone now.

Grant strode on ahead of him towards a slightly overgrown hedge just off the main driveway.As Mason hurried to keep up with him, he saw that the headmaster was standing next to a wrought-iron gate set into the hedge. Beyond it was a path that led to the front door of a small cottage.

‘Should you accept the job, Mr Mason,’ Grant announced, ‘this would be your quarters.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Mason said, genuinely delighted by the look of the small property.

‘Would you like to look inside?’ Grant held the gate open and ushered Mason forward.

‘With all due respect,’ Mason said, quietly, ‘I think that might be tempting fate. I can’t see the point in looking at my proposed living quarters if I don’t even know that I’ve got the job or not.’

‘I see your point,’ Grant agreed, nodding. ‘Would you like the offer in writing or will a verbal proposition suffice for the time being?’

Mason smiled, hoping that he hadn’t misinterpreted either Grant’s words or his tone.

‘The job is yours if you want it, Mr Mason,’ the headmaster announced. ‘As per the terms we spoke of in my office. I knew within thirty minutes you were the man for the position and our conversation since has only served to reinforce that view.’ He extended a hand that Mason shook warmly.‘When would you be able to start?’

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For the first time in months, Mason felt elated. He could think of no other word to describe the air of ebullience that had enveloped him. As he drove away from the school, glancing at the majestic buildings in his rear-view mirror, he felt his heart beating faster. A combination of anticipation and delight that he hadn’t experienced for far too long. He felt as if he had been pumped full of adrenalin. His blood seemed to be on fire and it was a wonderful feeling.

When he felt he was close enough to the road, far enough away from the school, he shouted loudly. Triumphantly. If it had been safe to take both hands off the wheel he would have punched the air. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror and saw that there was a wide smile plastered across it. As soon as he got back to London he would ring Natalie and tell her his news. Tell her that he’d got the job. That he’d be leaving London. Leaving for ever.

He wondered about driving into Walston itself, having a look at the town that was going to be his new home.

The word sounded a little hollow at first.

Home.

He thought about the cottage. The tour that Grant had taken him on had been brief. Just enough to show him that the dwelling was welcoming and, to his relief, needed very little in the way of renovation.The bedrooms needed a new coat of paint but that could wait until he was settled in. Settled into his new home.

The word now had a slightly more impressive ring as he ran it through his mind.

He turned the car onto the road and followed the signs to the motorway. With any luck, he’d be back in the capital before five.

‘He’s perfect.’

Nigel Grant stood gazing out of his study window, watching the driveway down which Mason’s car had disappeared moments earlier.

‘Just the kind of man we need,’ the headmaster continued.

‘How can you be sure?’ another voice from inside the room asked.

‘Trust me, he’s what we’re looking for,’ Grant insisted.

‘That’s what we thought about Usher,’ a third voice added. ‘And look what happened with him.’

Grant was silent for a moment, still looking raptly out of his window, his hands clasped behind his back.

‘How many others applied for the job?’ the first voice wanted to know.

‘None of the others were suitable,’ Grant said, hurriedly. ‘Everything about Mason is what we were looking for.’

‘You’d better be right,’ added a last voice.

Only then did Grant turn, apprehensively, to look at the owner of that voice.

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