Last Rites Page 20

  ‘That still doesn’t explain the dead dog in the picture with Usher,’ Mason observed.

  Holmes could only shrug.

  ‘As I said, I have no idea what Usher got up to here,’ he remarked. ‘And to be honest, I don’t really care.’

  ‘Aren’t you curious about his disappearance?’

  ‘He didn’t disappear, Peter. He left his job. Simple as that.’

  ‘And what if it’s not? What if there’s more to it than that?’

  ‘Then you are welcome to investigate what became of your predecessor. If you discover anything, I will be delighted to learn of your progress but I fear that there is far less to this situation than meets the eye.’

  Mason exhaled wearily.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he conceded, tipping the last of the wine into Holmes’s glass. He raised his own beer can in salute. ‘Here’s to Abbot Bartholomew.’

  Holmes mirrored the gesture and both men smiled as they drank.

  Outside, the wind whipped around the cottage and the first drops of rain began to fall.

  57

  It was after eleven by the time Richard Holmes left.

  The portly English teacher teetered unsteadily up the path then made his way back up the driveway towards the school itself, ignoring both the rain and also Mason’s offer of an umbrella.

  Mason waved his new colleague off then locked the front door behind him, moving back through the cottage and switching off lights in his wake. He felt tired. It had been a long first day and he needed to get a decent night’s sleep.

  Before he retired though, he decided to return the boxes of photos to the cellar.

  Good idea. Lock the bloody things away and forget about them.

  He wandered through into the kitchen, dropping empty beer cans and wine bottles into the waste bin near the back door then he pulled open the hatch that led down into the cellar, flicking on the light that would illuminate the subterranean chamber.

  He retrieved the boxes of photos from the sitting room, stacked them carefully on top of each other then made his way carefully down the stone steps into the cellar. He could hear the rain outside, beating down hard by now and, Mason thought, it was colder in the cellar than it had been before.

  Just your imagination working overtime. All that bullshit about curses and mutilated kids.

  He smiled to himself and replaced the boxes towards the far wall of the underground room.

  He paused beside the other boxes that held Simon Usher’s discarded belongings.

  Move those too. Stick them out of the way so you won’t be tempted to nose through them again. Just forget about Usher.

  He bent down to lift them out of the way and noticed that the top one was open.

  Just put it away. Close it and never touch it again.

  There were several reams of paper inside. Letters. Bills. Circulars.

  Christ, hadn’t Usher thrown anything away?

  Mason noticed that the topmost sheet of paper was headed and, despite himself, he read the heavy black letters.

  WALSTON GENERAL HOSPITAL

  Mason pulled the sheet from inside the box and scanned it.

  ‘Notification of appointment,’ Mason read aloud.There was a date beneath. ‘What was wrong with you?’ he muttered. He glanced down at the boxes, wondering if the answer lay within. He decided to find out.

  58

  Mason was lying on his back with just his pants on.

  The girls were on either side of him.

  Sammi to his right and Jo to his left. Both were dressed identically, clad in only white bras and white thongs, kneeling above him looking down expectantly. He felt their hands glide across his chest, stomach and thighs and the erection that was already pressing against the material of his pants grew even more prominent. Jo gripped it gently through the cotton as Sammi began to ease the garment from him. Mason lifted his hips to help her and she pulled the pants free, tossing them aside with a giggle.

  Now totally naked he let out a deep breath as the two girls leaned forward and he looked longingly at them as they both ducked their heads towards his raging stiffness.

  Their tongues met on his swollen penis head and he gasped as he felt the soft wetness caressing his tip, each tongue swirling around the bulbous end before gliding along his rock-hard shaft down towards his swollen testicles, then up again. They moved as one, a perfectly choreographed machine that existed only for his pleasure and he intended to enjoy every second of their attentions.

  He allowed his hands to brush through their hair, one hand on each of them feeling the soft silkiness of the freshly washed manes beneath his probing digits. And all the time they licked and sucked at his throbbing stiffness with such fervour and expertise that Mason wondered how many times before they had performed such a ritual.

  Jo held his penis, pushing it towards Sammi who fastened her soft lips around it. A moment or two of that ecstasy and Sammi raised her head, smiling up at him. Jo took him into her mouth, her tongue flickering over his throbbing tip while her lips engulfed him. He could feel light kisses on his thighs and hips then Sammi moved between his legs to lick at his scrotum and testicles, her long blonde hair caressing his flesh as surely as her mouth and fingers.

  As Jo knelt beside him he ran his hand along her slender back, feeling the perfect smoothness of her young skin. Then his questing fingers moved further, sliding beneath the gusset of her white thong and slipping gently over her already moist sex. She sighed as he touched her, redoubling her efforts on his penis with her mouth and, for a moment, Mason thought he was going to lose control. The effect of these two girls upon him was incredible and he wanted to prolong this pleasure as long as he could.

  As if a signal had been given, both girls knelt up and Mason watched as they kissed, tongues intertwining. Jo slipped Sammi’s bra off to reveal her pert breasts with the nipples so pink and erect and then she reached back to repeat the action on herself so that her breasts too were exposed to his gaze. Mason reached up and cupped one in his hand, thumbing the stiff nipples one at a time.

  Sammi wriggled quickly out of her thong and clambered onto his lap, gripping his penis in one hand, lowering her slippery cleft onto it with infinite slowness, wanting to tease him but also desperate to feel him inside her. Mason realised with delight that the girls were as desperate for release as he was.

  Slipping off her own thong, Jo swung her slender leg over his face and lowered her glistening sex onto his lips, wanting him to taste her and he did so eagerly, lapping hungrily at her swollen clitoris. She gasped her approval loudly and pressed down a little harder onto his mouth.

  Sammi began to move up and down on his penis, groaning her own pleasure as the sensations between her legs grew in intensity.

  Mason reached up and held her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, increasing her pleasure and she let out a loud gasp of pleasure.

  It was stifled instantly as Sammi leaned forward and kissed her. The realisation that the two girls’ mouths were locked together once again only served to intensify Mason’s pleasure too and he grunted loudly as his own climax drew closer. He felt Sammi’s muscles contracting around his shaft and felt her moving ever more rapidly upon him. She broke away from Jo’s kiss to gasp her pleasure, now only seconds away from her orgasm. Jo too was panting continually as the furious passion inside her, coaxed closer by Mason’s tongue, prepared to explode.

  The moment came and Mason prepared himself for the ecstasy that was about to envelop him. His erection throbbed inside Sammi, his tongue lapped unceasingly at the swollen bud of Jo’s clitoris and he heard them shout their pleasure, their slender young bodies shuddering as they climaxed.

  Only then did he prepare to lose control, to pour his fluid deep into Sammi. He was seconds from his peak, his heart pounding, his breath rasping in his throat.

  And yet something stopped him from coming. Something prevented him from releasing his pent-up lust. As Jo lifted herself from his face he saw the thir
d figure.

  Kate Wheeler was standing naked at the bottom of the bed, her blonde hair unkempt, her slim body almost incandescent with desire. She had one hand between her slender legs, her fingers moving slowly over her clitoris. He wanted her next. He wanted her now.

  She moved onto the bed between the two writhing girls.

  Mason woke with a start.

  He sat bolt upright in bed, the dream fading quickly from his mind.

  He looked around him, almost expecting to see Sammi, Jo and Kate in the bedroom with him.

  No such luck.

  A dream. Pure and simple.

  He looked down at his erection almost reproachfully.

  A dream.

  Outside, the wind was blowing. Howling around the cottage. The sound reminded him of mocking laughter.

  59

  Mason stood at the classroom window, gazing out across the vast playing fields, his gaze drawn to the football match that was going on in one distant section of the huge expanse of green.

  But if his eyes were on the match, his mind wasn’t. He hadn’t slept much the previous night, unable to force away the thoughts of Simon Usher or, more particularly, of Sammi and Jo. He cast a wary glance at them as if fearing that they would somehow know the extent of his nocturnal flight of fantasy.

  More secrets.

  Behind Mason, the twelve class members worked away quietly and efficiently and the teacher finally made his way back towards his own desk where he sat down and regarded each of the pupils individually.

  Sammi was sitting re-reading what she’d already written while Jo was hunched over her work scribbling away.

  They don’t look that much different to how they looked in your dream, do they? Except they’re wearing clothes this time.

  Mason tried to push the thoughts from his mind. He concentrated on the other members of the class, gazing at each one in turn. He wasn’t totally surprised when he saw that Andrew Latham was sitting with his hands clasped on his stomach gazing back at him.

  ‘Have you finished, Andrew?’ Mason asked.

  ‘About five minutes ago, sir,’ Latham answered.

  ‘Then perhaps you could read the next chapter while everyone else finishes. Just so you’ve got something to do. Either that or you can come up here and clean this board for me.’ Mason smiled.

  ‘No thanks, sir,’ Latham said, flatly.

  ‘Just read the next chapter then.’

  ‘I read it last night.’

  Mason sucked in a breath.

  ‘Then read the one after that,’ he muttered.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Then you won’t mind me asking you some questions about it, will you?’

  ‘Fire away,’ Latham smirked. ‘Fire away and fall back.’ Mason looked puzzled.

  ‘It’s a quote,’ Latham told him. ‘From a film called The Long Riders. Have you seen it, sir?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I have, Andrew.’

  Some of the other pupils were now coming to the end of their essays and Mason could see pens being put down all over the class.

  ‘It’s a western,’ Latham went on. ‘So, it’s history isn’t it, sir? It’s appropriate to this lesson.’

  ‘We’re supposed to be learning about Napoleon, not about the Wild West,’ Mason reminded him.‘And certainly not about films. I don’t think the headmaster would be very happy if he walked in and found me talking to you about films.’

  ‘What sort of films do you like, sir?’ asked Felix Mackenzie. ‘Do you like thrillers and horror films, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Or romance and comedy?’ added Jo Campbell.

  ‘What about science fiction, sir?’ Jude Hennessey wanted to know.

  ‘I like all kinds of films,’ Mason confided.

  ‘What about porn films, sir?’ Jo purred.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Mason rasped, his words drowned by the laughter of the class.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with sex, sir,’ Jo continued.

  There were some muted cheers from the rest of the class, silenced by a furious glare from Mason.

  ‘What about sad films, sir?’ Sammi Bell enquired.‘Films that make you cry?’

  ‘You must have been sad when your daughter died, sir.’ The words hit Mason like a sledgehammer and, for brief seconds, all he could do was look blankly at Latham. The source of the comment.

  ‘How do you know about my daughter?’ Mason said, at last, his voice catching.

  Latham merely smiled.

  Mason took a step towards him, trying to control his temper but finding it difficult.

  ‘How old was she, sir?’ Precious Moore asked. ‘I’ve got a little sister who’s twelve and she’s an absolute nightmare. ’

  ‘Be quiet,’ Mason insisted, shooting a withering glance at the pale girl. He returned his attention to Latham who was still sitting there unmoved.

  ‘I asked you a question,’ the teacher snapped, his eyes still fixed on the youth. ‘How do you know about my daughter?’

  ‘Is it true then, sir?’ Precious Moore added. ‘Is your daughter dead?’

  ‘What did she die of ?’ Felix Mackenzie wanted to know.

  ‘Shut up,’ roared Mason. ‘All of you, just shut up.’

  He stood before them, his face flushed, the veins at his temples throbbing ominously. Mason could feel his heart thumping so hard it threatened to burst from his ribcage. A heavy silence hung over the classroom and neither Mason nor any of the watching pupils was willing to break it.

  ‘Don’t ever mention my daughter again,’ Mason finally breathed, his right index finger aimed at Latham. ‘Never.’

  The smile had faded slightly from the youth’s lips but there was still defiance in his eyes.

  ‘Now get out,’ Mason added, turning his back on the class. ‘The lesson’s over.’

  Precious Moore looked up at the clock above the blackboard and shrugged.

  ‘There’s still ten minutes before the bell, sir,’ she bleated.

  ‘The lesson’s over,’ Mason repeated.

  One by one they filed from the classroom.

  As he reached the door, Latham looked in Mason’s direction and nodded.

  ‘See you tomorrow, sir,’ he said, quietly.

  Mason didn’t speak.

  60

  As Mason pushed a forkful of food into his mouth he gazed across the school refectory at the pupils who were having their lunch.There was a subdued, almost reverential quiet within the cavernous room, so different from what he’d always been used to as a teacher. However, as he cut another piece of beef, it wasn’t the stillness within the refectory that was uppermost in his mind. He glanced around the room, one part of him hoping he didn’t see Andrew Latham or any of the little group who hung around with him.The latest encounter had unsettled him and he was angry with himself for having allowed his temper to get the better of him in front of the class.

  The question still bothered him though. How had Latham known about the death of Chloe? Was his business already common knowledge around the school? His past no more than a subject for gossip and idle chatter? How many people knew about his dead daughter? The headmaster and that was about it. How the hell had Latham discovered that painful part of his past?

  Mason took a drink of water, wishing it was something stronger.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  Mason recognised the accent immediately and turned with a smile to see Kate Wheeler standing beside him.

  Mason got to his feet and pulled the adjacent chair out for her, watching while she seated herself and set her food down.

  ‘How’s it going?’ she asked him. ‘Finding your feet?’

  He nodded and finished chewing the mouthful of beef.

  ‘You don’t look too sure,’ Kate offered, seeing how pale Mason appeared.

  ‘A bit of a headache,’ he told her.‘And that little bastard Andrew Latham.’

  ‘I told you to watch out for him. What happened?’

  ‘Another verbal clash
.’

  ‘He’s testing you, Peter. He does that with every teacher.’

  ‘Did he do it with you?’

  She avoided eye contact but merely nodded.

  ‘We should talk later,’ she murmured.