Last Rites Read online

  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.

  33

  ‘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?’

  34

  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.

  35

  North London

  Natalie Mason lifted her coffee mug in salute and managed a smile.

  ‘Congratulations,’ she intoned.

  ‘It should be something stronger than coffee,’ Mason said, nodding at her. ‘This is the best bit of news I’ve had for Christ knows how long.’

  ‘Better than hearing you weren’t going to be brain damaged by your beating?’ Natalie offered.

  Mason raised his eyebrows quizzically.

  ‘All right, one of the best bits of news I’ve heard for a while,’ he conceded.‘Thanks for meeting me like this, Nat,’ he continued.‘But I wanted to tell someone about the job.’

  ‘And I was the only one?’

  He nodded.

  ‘We’ve probably seen more of each other since you came out of hospital than we have in the past two years,’ Natalie reminded him. ‘I don’t think we came out for coffee like this when we were married.’

  ‘Circumstances change things.’

  ‘Some things, Pete. Like the man said, seasons change, times change but people don’t.’

  Mason regarded her across the table for a moment. ‘This is a new start for me, Nat,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘For you, Pete.’

  ‘Come with me.’

  She looked surprised for a moment then a slight smile spread across her lips once again.

  ‘I don’t think that would be wise,’ Natalie murmured.

  ‘But things are going to change, I know that. Things between us can be the same again,’ he insisted, reaching towards one of her hands.

  Natalie felt his fingertips sliding gently over her skin and, when she looked into his eyes, she saw that he was looking at her almost imploringly.

  ‘We can start again,’ he told her.

  She drained what was left in her mug, put the receptacle down and drew one index fingernail slowly around the rim.

  ‘Once you’ve left London there’s no sense in you keeping in touch with me,’ she told him. ‘If this is going to be a fresh start for you then you need to make that move completely, Pete.’

  He was still touching her hand softly.

  ‘And this is what you want? You’re sure?’ she asked.

  Mason sat forward, excited even by conversation about his new position.

  ‘Nat, it’s perfect,’ he told her.‘Even down to the cottage in the school grounds. I won’t have to scramble around looking for somewhere to live. I won’t have to worry about shit like that. I’ll be able to concentrate on the job and nothing else.’ He looked around him, his eyes flickering to the large plate-glass windows at the front of the café. ‘And I’ll never have to see this fucking city again.’

  ‘What about Chloe?’

  Mason looked puzzled.

  ‘I know that visiting her grave was never high on your list of priorities, Pete.’

  Mason raised a hand to interrupt her.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how many times I visit the grave, Natalie,’ he said, flatly. ‘It’s not going to bring her back, is it? Once a year. Once a month or once a week.What’s the difference? It doesn’t mean I think about her any less.’

  ‘Well, once you start this fantastic new job perhaps you won’t even have the time to think about her,’ Natalie said, acidly.

  Mason met her gaze and held it.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ he murmured.

  ‘Don’t do what? Don’t spoil your big day? Don’t ruin your new start?’ Natalie got to her feet. ‘Don’t worry, Pete. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  He stood up and shot out a hand to prevent her leaving. He gripped her arm and pulled her close to him, pushing his face towards hers, his lips brushing her cheek.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she rasped.

  ‘I want you,’ he hissed. ‘Now.’

  ‘Get off me,’ she insisted.

  His fingertips clutched at the material of her coat but slipped off.

  ‘Natalie,’ he said as she turned away from him. ‘Not like this.’

  She looked back at him once then marched briskly towards the door. The couple on the next table looked at Mason who shot them an angry glance.They continued to gaze at him.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ he snapped and they both looked away, returning their attention to their drinks.

  Mason hesitated a moment. He thought briefly about pursuing Natalie but instead he just sat down again, staring into the depths of his coffee mug.

  It was another ten minutes before he left.

  36

  Walston, Buckinghamshire

  Nigel Grant was breathing heavily by the time he got back to the car.

  He wasn’t, he insisted to himself, exhausted but just a little short of breath. After all, he had been running and, for a man of his age, he thought he’d covered the ground with admirable speed.

  The wooden box he was carrying hadn’t helped. Sure enough it was only about a foot square but it was difficult to run as quickly while carrying something and the box had slipped from under his arm a couple of times as he’d made his way across the darkened field.

  He had run for a number of reasons. Obviously he wanted no one to see him. Despite the fact that he was in quite heavily wooded surroundings, Grant still feared some prying eye. He had also run because it was getting chilly and he was feeling the cold. But, most of all, he was anxious to be back inside the car and away from this place.

  Grant had parked, he guessed, just over half a mile from his destination. Half a mile of slopes and inclines that would have sapped the strength of a man half his age.The ground was slippery too which made his passage more laborious and slowed his pace. He hadn’t run all the way back to the car but the last few hundred yards had been downhill and, perhaps lulled into a false sense of security by the slope, he had increased his pace over the last stretch, his eyes on the dark outline of the car as he’d drawn closer. When he’d reached the bottom of the slope he’d paused, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, touching his chest with one hand to feel his rapidly beating heart. For a split second he wondered if he was going to have a heart attack but the pain passed as quickly as it had come and Grant hauled himself carefully over the wooden fence that formed the perimeter of the field.

  He almost slipped as he climbed, careful not to drop the wooden box. Once over, he paused again, checking in both directions before walking slowly back to his waiting car.

  At any time of the day it would have been unlikely that much traffic would have been passing along the stretch of country road where he was parked but, at this hour, it was virtually ce
rtain that the thoroughfare would be deserted. Even so, Grant peered cautiously to his left and right before advancing towards his car. A thin mist was hanging over the hills like fallen cloud, stirred occasionally by the breeze that had sprung up in the past few minutes. The branches of some nearby trees rattled noisily as he walked beneath them and Grant shivered slightly, holding the box more tightly now as he reached the car. After coming all this way he wasn’t about to drop his prize.