Last Rites Read online

  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 wantin
g 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.

  Behind him, Latham smiled triumphantly.

  54

  The staff room at Langley Hill was cavernous.There was no other word to describe it, Mason thought.The ceiling was high and vaulted, the beams exposed like the ribs of some prehistoric monolith. The walls were lined with bookshelves all creaking under the weight of tomes that seemed to date back as far as the origins of the building itself.

  There was a large oak table in the centre of the room around which several high-backed seats were arranged. There were armchairs and two old sofas in the rest of the room, some worn and faded, others recently re-upholstered. The air smelled of stale coffee, old books and polished wood.

  ‘Went the day well?’

  The voice startled him and he turned to see who’d spoken the words.

  There was a portly man standing behind him. He was dressed in a baggy grey suit and a bright-yellow knitted waistcoat that clashed horribly with the pink shirt and striped tie he also sported. He had short black hair and large eyes that reminded Mason of a wounded Labrador.

  ‘Your first day?’ the man repeated in his somewhat hushed tones. ‘How did it go? Didn’t kill any of the little bastards, did you?’

  ‘I didn’t know that was allowed,’ Mason said, smiling.

  ‘Only if their school fees aren’t up to date,’ the newcomer told him, extending a pudgy hand by way of welcome. ‘Richard Holmes,’ the man added. ‘English.’

  ‘Peter Mason. History,’ he offered, shaking the hand warmly. ‘Any little bastards in particular who I might have killed?’ Mason enquired.

  Holmes chuckled.

  ‘There’s several in year seven,’ he admitted. ‘Vile shrieking brats that they are.’

  ‘I was thinking more of year eleven,’ Mason offered. ‘Andrew Latham in particular.’

  ‘You’ll have to get in the queue if you want to string him up, my friend.’

  Holmes sipped at his coffee, winced and nodded in the direction of the staff room door.

  ‘Fancy a walk?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t had a smoke since this morning and if you light up in here then you instantly become more of a health threat than the bubonic plague.’ He gestured towards some of the other teachers in the room. ‘Most are non-smokers. I’m one of the few who’s still happy to wave the flag as a social pariah. I’d give up too but I’m terrified of becoming like them.’

  Mason grinned.

  ‘Follow me,’ Holmes instructed. ‘Our vice has been catered for.’

  The two men walked out into the corridor, past several locked classroom doors and out into the late afternoon air, emerging in a high-walled garden that sported several heavy wooden benches and tables.

  ‘Our faults are well hidden here,’ he remarked, gesturing to the towering walls around them. ‘God forbid any of the little darlings should see we suffer from such common failings.Though I dread to think what some of them get up to in their rooms when backs are turned and the lights are out.’

  Mason smiled warmly, already impressed with his new colleague.

  Holmes reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up with his disposable lighter. He offered one to Mason who took it gratefully, taking a deep drag on it.

  The two men walked across to the nearest wooden bench and sat down.

  ‘There are others who are as addicted as we,’ Holmes told him with mock disdain. ‘But they try to hide it. Some are ashamed to show their weakness. Unlike me. And, also, apparently, you, o blessed newcomer.’

  Mason’s grin widened.

  ‘How long have you taught here?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Since dinosaurs ruled the car park,’ Holmes breathed. ‘A long, long time. I came here from university about thirty-five years ago and I’ve been here ever since. I’m one of the longest-serving members of staff, so I’m told. The headmaster usually informs people of that fact when introducing me. As if merely surviving for that amount of time in this establishment is worthy of praise.’

  ‘And is it?’

  ‘To some.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, comfortable with the solitude around them and with each other’s company.

  ‘You mentioned Andrew Latham inside,’ Mason said, finally. ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘What do I need to know? He comes from money. His family are rich and Master Latham is never slow to remind people of that fact. But he wouldn’t be the only one here like that. He’s an irritatingly intelligent little bastard and he knows it. Be careful with him.’

  ‘You’re not the first one to warn me about him. Kate Wheeler told me to keep an eye on him and his little group.’