The jury took less than five minutes.
All seven tradesmen and true were unanimous. The school would continue to be painted and plumbed and cleaned and fed. There wasn't a stain on its character.
The foreman, who was also the local butcher, spoke the verdict. "Accidental death… and may we express sympathy with the boy's father?"
Fleming was already on his feet and on his way out of the court. For the first time that afternoon he saw David – the features, the wing of his eyebrows, the steady look from the hazel eyes.
He felt a terrible sense of failure.
The inquest had been a charade.
"You're dead," he told David in his mind. "My arms are around your shoulders, you're standing out here in the sunshine with me – and there isn't any bloody justice anywhere"
Jenny had followed him out. She was about to put her hand on his, but she let it drop. He wasn't aware of her or of anyone. His isolation was complete. He saw no-one but his son.
Ten
"A BOTTLE OF the best bubbly," Lessing said. I bought it on my way to the court as a gesture of confidence." He put it down on Alison's Georgian table, pushing aside her display of antique paperweights.
She was blooming again, he noticed, like a half-dead flower plunged into fresh water. The verdict had been tonic enough without the champagne. The champagne was a bonus.
Brannigan, he knew, would deem it indecent to celebrate too openly. Here, up at the school house, within an hour of the verdict, they could be as indecent as they chose.
Alison, smiling, went to fetch the glasses.
Brannigan would have preferred Scotch, but drank the champagne to please her. On the drive back to the school she had lavished him with praise. He had given his evidence perfectly. He couldn't have done better. He was the rock on which the school stood. Saint Peter, he had told her dryly, had had his moment of denial, too – in fact three of them – he wondered if he had felt three times as bad.
She had looked at him, quite patently at a loss. "What do you mean?"
It seemed unkind to turn off the glow. "Nothing. The verdict was fair, I suppose."
"You suppose? You should be jumping over the moon. Today the school had justice done to it. It's a good school and you know it – the whole town knows it. No harm has been done."
He refrained from stating the obvious. He had seen Fleming's expression as he had stood outside the court. Even Jenny had got nowhere with him He had walked off through the crowd as if he walked a desert Lessing drank two glasses of champagne before taking his leave. He wondered if he would see the Crayshaw woman again. Fleming's bird had beautiful plumage. She had fluttered at the inquest without much effect Had she flown in less alien country she might have achieved a different verdict – but he doubted it Her inside knowledge was nil. His own suspicions were another matter, but they would keep for another day Let Alison have her moment of glory. Later, some neat and discreet patchwork over the cracks should restore the fabric of the school. Today's verdict had given the old alma mater a future. He had noticed two of the governors at the inquest – Colonel Goldthorpe and Mrs. Telford Afterwards they had gone to have a word with the coroner No graft, of course Breddon couldn't be bought. They were buddies up at the links Mrs. Telford was lady captain this year and Mrs Breddon was vice-captain. It didn't signify anything, but it all helped. If the school had crashed there would have been one hell of a financial loss. Alison walked to the door with him and waved him off the premises. Normally she didn't like him. Today she did. When she returned to the sitting room she saw that Malcolm had gone to sit with his back to the open window. There was a small breeze now though the day was still very sultry. It ruffled through his thinning hair and she went over and smoothed it " You're sitting in a draught You'll get a chill." It was the first time she had touched him m days and he smiled at her with a degree of affection The wine had taken the edge off his disquiet and allowed optimism to creep through. He was glad he had done what he did – not only for her sake but for the sake of the whole school There was the sound of boys' voices in the air. Cricket on a summer's day. The academic results hadn't been bad this year, considering the smallness of the sixth form. There had been some Oxbridge successes. Next year the potential was even better. He liked teaching. If he could get more help on the administrative side he might be able to have more time in the classroom. He needed to adopt a more positive approach. As from now he would try to see things with fresh eyes. It didn't do to dwell on failure. He wished he could get Fleming's face out of his mind Corley senior arrived at the school at twenty minutes to five. He had intended arriving in time for the inquest, but a natural reticence had kept his foot from pressing too hard on the accelerator Rage coupled with anxiety had made all things seem possible when he had set out on the journey, but as time had gone by he knew he couldn't do it He hadn't been called as a witness A dramatic denouement from the back of a crowded courtroom might be possible in the mind, but couldn't be done in fact. He knew nothing at all about courtroom procedure. He had never attended an inquest in his life. To make a statement out of turn might result m being charged with contempt of court Neville, distressed and tearful, was safe. Dramatic gestures, desirable as they might be, were for the extroverts of this world, not for mild-mannered bank managers.
He paused m the town long enough to buy a packet of cigarettes and find out what the verdict had been. Not surprised by it, he drove straight up to the school The games period was coming to an end now and the boys were strolling over to the mam building. He stood and watched them for a moment, and then he went up the cracked steps to the door of the school house and rang the bell. His anger was cocooned inside him.
Alison, opening to him, saw a corpulent middle-aged man wearing a well-cut grey suit. She had met him once before, but he was one of the parents who rapidly became faceless m retrospect. His wife, loud, lean and enthusiastic, she would have remembered quite clearly, but this man she remembered not at all. She thought he might be the first of the reporters – they always took longer to arrive in time of good news – and she had a speech prepared Her smile was welcoming. "Yes?"
He remembered her. "I should like a word with your husband, Mrs Brannigan."
She knew Malcolm wouldn't handle the interview half as well as she would The Press would sniff out his doubt and pounce on it "He's rather busy at the moment -won't I do?"
"I hardly think so. You don't remember me, do you? I'm Neville Corley's father "
Her smile became tight and frozen before her lips closed. She stood aside and indicated that he should come in.
Brannigan. he noticed, wasn't busy at all He was slumped in his chair looking half asleep. There was a bottle of champagne on the table.
He said quietly, "Celebrating'7"
Brannigan got to his feet Not poised as high as Alison, there was no euphoria to quench A sudden pain of apprehension came and went He held out his hand "Mr Corley, I'm glad you've come."
Corley ignored it. "May I sit down?"