Death Drop

She parked the car in the parking space next to Hammond 's which was still empty. She wondered where he had gone to and couldn't help feeling sympathy for him. He was a competent teacher – or so the others said, she didn't know much about the academic side of the school – and though he was a strict disciplinarian he was more tolerant in his attitude to the boys than some of the others. The word 'kind' summed him up as well as any other.

She tapped at Bra

"I'm sorry I was away so long." It was expected of her and had to be said.

"Not at all." He decided not to mention the phone call. "There's no limit on that sort of thing. Did you go into the mortuary with him?"

She found it very hard to speak about. There was a thickening in her throat again. "Yes."

He was aware of her distress and wondered just how bloody-mindedly Fleming had behaved towards her.

"Was it very difficult?"

"You mean distressing – yes."

He accepted the rebuke. There had been some sort of rapport between them. "He didn't mind your being there?"

"At the mortuary? He was scarcely aware of me. Sam Preston introduced me afterwards. I told him I'd drive him anywhere he wanted to go."

"And he agreed to that?"

"He hadn't a car of his own."

He wished she would be more forthcoming. He didn't want the interview to sound like an inquisition. "And where did he want to go?"

"Just driving around. We went up on the coast road. He wanted time to be quiet."

"Did he talk to you about David – about the school?"

"He had just seen David. He was very shaken and upset.' I had nursed David through mumps. I was – fond – of him. He sensed that. It helped."

"I see," Bra

"Yes."

"So he was able to talk to you without rancour?"

"Yes."

"To what extent does he blame the school?"

Je

Bra

Fleming's taxi drew up at the school house a few minutes before six. Bra

"Did you get fixed up at The Lantern – or didn't it come up to your expectations? You're welcome to stay here with us as long as you wish."

"Thank you, but The Lantern is perfectly adequate." He had returned there after leaving Je

The polite preliminaries over, Bra

"Your study. This is not a social call."

"But I can persuade you to stay for di

"I'm sorry. No."

Bra

The walk to the main building was past the playing fields and the te

Bra

Lambton rubbed a sweaty hand across his forehead. "Yes, sir. They finished early, sir."

"And they're doing this voluntarily?"

"Oh yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Bra

"Yes, sir. As soon as we've finished this set, sir."

"Which will be soon, I hope?"

"After two games, sir."

Bra

He said, "I phoned The Lantern this morning – about the time I expected you to have returned from the mortuary. I wanted to express my sympathy."

"Thank you." It was cold.

"I was told there was a reporter there."

"I got rid of him."

"I'm sorry he bothered you."

"He didn't. I told him there was no story until I had my facts. That's why I'm here now."

Bra

Bra

"Before we start, is there anything I can get you to drink Scotch, perhaps?"

"No, thank you." It was enemy territory again.

Bra

Fleming said crisply, "I have a lot of questions to ask you, but first of all I want to see David's work. You've kept his exercise books, I suppose?"

Bra

Fleming took the folder and opened it slowly. The school exercise books, were green with the crest stamped on the cover. Under the crest of the first book he removed was neatly written in David's small rather angular writing David John Fleming, Hammond 's House, Class 4A History He opened it, but made no attempt to read what he saw. This was David alive, not David dead in the mortuary. Hi-hand on the written page was touching David's warm grubby, impatient hand. David John Fleming – not just a name, but David's voice naming his name. A lively voice with some of Ruth's north country accent in it. He had a strong memory of David's arms around his neck as they had embraced in the car before he had left him at the station to catch the school train. A private embrace before the public handshake on the platform. Very reserved in company, very British stiff upper lip. A quiet "Good-bye, kiddo, I'll be thinking of you." An equally quiet "Telepathic message at nine o'clock spot on saying good night. Okay?"