Last Rites (21 page)

‘My name’s Coulson,’ the caller told him. ‘Frank Coulson. You knew my daughter, Amy.’

‘Did I?’

‘Don’t try to be a smartarse with me, sunshine,’ Coulson snapped. ‘You know bloody well who she was.’

‘I know a lot of people and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t swear at me over the phone. I haven’t done anything to you.’

‘You did plenty to my daughter though, didn’t you, you little bastard? You and your rich fucking friends.’

‘Now wait a minute, old man, I didn’t do a thing to your daughter.’

‘I saw the videos. I looked at what you put on the internet. I saw how you humiliated her. All of you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’grinned Latham.

‘I found your name on her computer and on her phone. I saw the flowers you sent to her funeral. I saw what you wrote on the card.’

‘I’d have thought you’d have appreciated the flowers.’

‘Why did you have to write a message like that?’

‘You saw the videos, I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘You little bastard. She killed herself because of what you made her do.’

‘I didn’t make her do anything. Now would you mind telling me why you’re bothering me at this time of night?’

‘I wanted you to know that you’re not going to get away with what you did. None of you.’

‘This is harassment you know. I could have you arrested for this. Now go away.’

‘This isn’t over, Latham.’

‘Am I supposed to be frightened?’

‘I couldn’t give a fuck who your father is and how much money he’s got. Those bloody teachers at that school might treat you and all your little friends like you’re something special, but not me. I want to talk to you. I want to know why you hurt my Amy. I’ll go to the police if I have to.’

‘And tell them what? That your daughter knew me and some of my friends? I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.’

‘Perhaps I’ll speak to that headmaster of yours, tell him what you’re like.’

‘I think he already knows,’ grinned Latham.

‘I told you, you won’t get away with this.’

‘Listen, I appreciate the call but it’s late and I’m tired.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘No, fuck you,’ Latham snarled. ‘And don’t blame me because your daughter was a slut.’

He snapped the phone shut and banged it down onto the desk.

It rang again almost immediately and he smiled to himself as he lifted it up and glanced at the number. Coulson calling again. Latham shook his head and slid the phone into one of the desk drawers, covering it with a sweatshirt so he couldn’t hear the buzzing as it vibrated against the wood.

He walked across to his bed and lay on it, gazing out of the window into the night.

The phone rang three more times before he finally drifted off to sleep.

52

Mason was standing behind his desk as he watched them file into the classroom.

Immaculate in their expensive uniforms, some carrying books in bags that cost as much as his monthly wage. They were the oldest pupils at Langley Hill and also the most senior that he’d taught on this first day. The other lessons had gone smoothly enough and Mason had been delighted at how well the lessons had worked out and at how polite the pupils had been. He’d had to raise his voice a couple of times to quieten some of the more excitable among them but, other than that, his first day had been uneventful. Enjoyable even.

Now as he watched the older pupils take up position behind their desks he regarded them evenly, nodding greetings occasionally when one of them smiled at him. He waited until the last one was in position, standing obediently behind their desks then he motioned for them to be seated. They did so with the minimum of noise, settling themselves until every one of them sat looking appraisingly at him.

It was a class of twelve, split evenly between girls and boys. Mason moved to the front of his desk and perched unceremoniously on it.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said.

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ they chorused in almost faultless unison.

‘My name is Peter Mason and, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m new here at Langley Hill so, if I get things wrong occasionally perhaps you’ll help me out.’ He looked at the class before him. ‘If you can tell me your names that would help.Then at least I’ll know who I’m shouting at.’

There were several chuckles and Mason smiled to himself.

‘Let’s start with you,’ he said, pointing at a boy seated near to the front of the room.

‘George Parry, sir,’ the boy told him.

Mason nodded and looked at the girl seated at the next desk. He recognised her striking good looks from somewhere and he was conscious not to gaze too intently at her.

‘Samantha Bell, sir,’ she told him. ‘But I prefer Sammi.’ Again Mason nodded.

‘I’ll remember that,’ he said.

‘Precious Moore, sir,’ the next girl told him.

‘Josephine Campbell, sir,’ the girl with the light brown hair informed him.

‘Or Jo, perhaps?’ Mason offered.This girl too was little short of stunning and, again, as with the blonde, there was something vaguely familiar about her.

You saw her and the blonde the day you came for the interview here.

The girl nodded and smiled.

The introductions continued until Mason came to the last figure in the room. Tall, shoulder-length hair and a swarthy complexion.

‘Andrew Latham, sir,’ the boy said, languidly.

Mason nodded again, hoping that his expression had not betrayed him when he heard the name.

So, you’re the one I’ve got to watch out for, are you?

‘Right, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, perhaps we should do some work,’ Mason said.

There were a few groans.

‘Unless there are any questions before we get started,’ he smiled.

‘What kind of questions, sir?’

The words came from Felix Mackenzie.

‘Anything you want to ask me?’ Mason told him. ‘Anything you’re concerned about. I know it’s not always easy for a class when a new teacher takes over.’

‘We call them masters here, sir,’ Mackenzie told him. ‘Not teachers.’

There were some subdued giggles.

‘Thanks for putting me straight on that, Felix,’ Mason said. ‘I’ll try to remember it.’

‘What did your pupils call you at your last school, sir?’ Mackenzie enquired.

‘Some called me Peter, some called me Mister Mason,’ the teacher informed him. ‘What they called me behind my back I’d rather not know.’

More good-mannered laughter.

‘Will you be picking up where Mr Usher left off with our work, sir?’ Sammi Bell enquired.

‘How far had he got? You were studying the rise of Napoleon, weren’t you?’ Mason continued.

‘We’d got as far as his coronation,’ Jo Campbell explained.

‘Anyone remember the date of that?’ Mason asked. ‘Without looking at your books.’

‘December the 2nd, 1804.’

Mason knew that the answer had come from Latham even without looking up.

‘Very good, Andrew,’ he said.

Latham looked back impassively at him.

‘That date is quite prophetic as far as Napoleon is concerned because one year later he would fight one of his greatest ever battles on the same date. Does anyone know which one?’

‘Austerlitz,’ Latham said, unhesitatingly.

‘Excellent, Andrew,’ Mason said. ‘Have you been practising so you can impress me?’ He smiled.

‘Do I need to impress you then, sir?’ Latham said, quietly.

‘Hopefully you’ll all impress me with your ability to learn,’ Mason told them. ‘Now, shall we get on?’

‘You said we could ask you some questions, sir.’

Mason turned in Latham’s direction when he heard the words.

‘What did you want to ask me, Andrew?’ he enquired.

‘How did you get this job here at Langley Hill, sir?’ Latham wanted to know.

‘The headmaster obviously thought I was the best man for the job,’ Mason told him.

‘Do you think you’re the best man for the job, sir?’ Latham continued.

‘I hope I’m as good as Mr Usher was,’ Mason said, smiling.

‘What makes you think he was any good, sir? If he was that good he’d still be here, wouldn’t he?’ Latham said, flatly.

‘How did you all get on with Mr Usher?’ Mason wanted to know.

No one spoke.

‘Did you like him?’ the teacher persisted.

‘Does it matter, sir?’ Latham offered. ‘We’re here to learn, not to make friends with our masters.’

There was some subdued laughter.

Smartarse little bastard,
thought Mason.

‘Some of us made friends with him, sir,’ said Felix Mackenzie, impassively.

There was more laughter.

‘Do you like living in his house, sir?’ Precious Moore enquired. ‘It must be better than having to live in the town.’

‘Walston seems like a nice place,’ Mason told her.‘Why don’t you like it?’

‘The people are common, sir,’ Precious Moore told him. ‘They’ve got no style.’

‘Or money,’ Jude Hennessey echoed.

The others laughed.

‘You can’t judge people on how much money they’ve got,’ Mason said. ‘Just because someone’s rich it doesn’t make them a better person than someone with nothing.’

‘Are you a communist, sir?’ Hennessey smirked. ‘That’s the kind of thing a communist would say.’

‘I believe that everyone should have a roof over their heads and a good job. Does that make me a communist? ’ Mason stated.

‘I suppose where you come from everyone is poor, sir,’ Felix Mackenzie offered. ‘You used to teach in a state school, didn’t you?’

‘Yes I did and the kids I taught weren’t that much different from you guys,’ Mason explained. ‘Their parents didn’t have as much money as your parents but they were still just kids.’

‘Do you mean chavs, sir?’ Mackenzie added to another chorus of laughter.

‘What do you mean by chavs?’ Mason challenged.

‘Council house and violent,’ Latham interjected.‘That’s what chav means.’

There was more derisory laughter.

‘You can’t brand everyone who lives in a council house with a tag like that, Andrew,’ the teacher said.

‘So, do you like Mr Usher’s house, sir?’ Precious Moore asked again.

‘It’s a very nice cottage,’ Mason told her. ‘But it wasn’t Mr Usher’s. It belongs to the school.’

‘He thought it was his,’ Latham stated. ‘He thought he owned it. He thought he was more important than he really was. Lots of people are like that, aren’t they, sir? They think they’re something but they’re really nothing.’

Mason regarded the boy evenly and Latham held his gaze. The remainder of the class were silent.

‘Do you think your wife would have liked it, sir?’ Latham asked, a slight grin on his lips. ‘If you’d still been together?’

Mason could feel his heart beating a little quicker, the anger building steadily within him.

‘I think that’s enough questions,’ he said, with an air of finality. ‘Time we did some work.’ He turned his back on the class for a moment and retreated behind his desk where he picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the blackboard.

‘Miss Wheeler liked the cottage, sir,’ Latham continued. ‘She must have, she spent enough time there.’

53

For a moment, Mason didn’t turn around. He heard Latham’s words but didn’t turn to face the boy, not wanting him to see the look of surprise on his face.

‘You know who we mean, don’t you, sir?’ Latham continued. ‘Miss Wheeler. She teaches geography. She’s Irish.’

Finally, forcing a slight smile, Mason stepped away from the board and faced the class.

‘I know who you mean,’ Mason said, quietly. ‘You shouldn’t be disrespectful about other masters and mistresses, Andrew.’

‘I wasn’t being disrespectful, sir,’ Latham opined. ‘I was just telling you something in case you didn’t know.’

‘Do you know Miss Wheeler, sir?’ Mackenzie interjected. ‘Have you met her yet? She’s very pretty.’

‘I know Miss Wheeler,’ Mason exclaimed. ‘But that’s not really any of your business, is it?’

‘I thought that masters weren’t supposed to fraternise,’ Latham laughed.

The other class members laughed as well.

‘What makes you think that Miss Wheeler and Mr Usher were friends?’ Mason asked, trying to control his irritation.

‘I think they were more than friends, sir,’ Sammi Bell offered.

‘Even if any of this is true, it’s got nothing to do with us, has it?’ Mason said, defiantly. ‘What masters get up to in their spare time is their own business.’

‘I don’t think Mr Grant would agree with you, sir,’ Mackenzie added. ‘He doesn’t like that kind of thing.’

‘Thanks, Felix, I’ll try to remember that,’ Mason sighed.

‘Do you think Miss Wheeler is nice, sir?’ Sammi continued, flicking at her blonde hair. ‘I think she is. She takes us for games. She’s got a gorgeous body. Sometimes in the changing room she just walks around barefoot in her top and shorts.’ She looked directly into Mason’s eyes and smiled. ‘I don’t think she wears anything under her top because when her nipples are hard you can see them clearly under the material. They’re really big. They must be so sensitive when she’s turned on.’

‘Sammi,’ snapped Mason. ‘That’s enough.’

‘You sound like a lesbian, Sammi,’ Jude Hennessey chided.

‘You wish,’ Felix Mackenzie added, grinning.

The rest of the class laughed.

‘She has got a great body,’ Jo Campbell added, glancing derisorily at the American. ‘I think so too. I can see why men find her so attractive. Her accent’s sexy too. I’d sleep with her and I’m not gay.’

Mason swallowed hard.

‘Prove it,’ Hennessey leered.

‘Let’s get back to work,’ Mason insisted.

‘Do you think her accent’s sexy, sir?’ Jo wanted to know.

‘Right, that’s it,’ Mason snapped, uncomfortably.

‘It’s a shame about her father, isn’t it, sir?’ Latham intoned.

Again Mason shot Latham a penetrating glance but found it returned almost unblinkingly.

‘I mean, he’s not going to get better now, is he?’ the boy continued. ‘They can’t cure Alzheimer’s. And it must be so frustrating for her, having to see him like that. His mind going a little bit more every day.’

‘I’m not going to tell you again,’ the teacher said, firmly. ‘There’s work to do. We’re not here to discuss other members of staff. Let’s get on.’ Again he turned his back on the class, the knot of muscles at the side of his jaw pulsing angrily.