‘As if he had no personality of his own?’
‘That’s perhaps putting it a bit strongly but, yes. I’ve seen it before in intensely religious types. The strong advocacy for the cadets was the only thing that disturbed the pattern.’
No fool this bloke. I told him I only had two more requests-to find our something about the agricultural science excursion to Bangara on the South Coast and to get an idea of what Justin borrowed from the school library. I held up the Serle book.
‘I’m returning this. It’s well overdue.’
McKenzie-Brown pushed a button on his intercom. ‘Jack Simmons is the ag sci master and Robin Crawford looks after the library. I’ll get on to them, find you a room of some kind and send them to you.’
I stood and held out my hand. ‘You’re being very helpful. Thank you.’
We shook. ‘Not the uptight place you expected, eh? It still is in some areas but not here, not over this. Have you got any children, Mr Hardy?’
‘No.’
‘I have three, two girls and a boy. The thought of one of them just vanishing is too much to bear. I did all I could to help the police, but I must say they didn’t make your sort of requests. They didn’t ask about the cadets, for example. I feel encouraged. I hope you have more success.’
The librarian was the first to arrive in the room, little more than an alcove, that I had been allotted. He was a bustling, busy type who got straight down to business after I handed him the book.
‘Thank you. We knew who had it out of course, but under the circumstances we didn’t pursue it. I understand you want to know about Justin Hampshire’s borrowing habits?’
‘That’s right.’
Crawford produced a sheaf of cards from the pocket of his reefer jacket. ‘He used the library a lot and never incurred any late fees. The parents pay those at the end of term. He borrowed the usual run of textbooks, a little fiction of the thriller type, but far and away his greatest interest was military history. I think it’s safe to say he read almost everything the library holds on the subject. That’s not such a lot but it ranges over a fair area.’
‘The two world wars, the Boer War, Korea, Vietnam…?’
‘Oh yes, and more-Sudan, the Malayan Emergency.’
‘Any book in particular, taken out more than once, say?’
‘Mmm, yes-Bean’s History, of course, some volumes of the Australian Dictionary of Biography, Clarkson’s World War I in Pictures and something I wasn’t at all familiar with, Australian Monumental Art by Brigadier-General Henry Woodhouse. He had it out several times. I took it down to look at just before I came. Self-published, presented to the school. I suppose you can guess what it dealt with.’
‘War memorials,’ I said.
Jack Simmons looked the part-tall, faded sandy hair, weather-beaten face. Unlike McKenzie-Brown and Crawford, he was tieless; his grey shirt was crumpled and stained under the armpits. He slumped into the chair and looked tired. McKenzie-Brown had told me there was a miniature farm in a corner of the school grounds, and Simmons looked as if he’d been doing something physical there.
He glanced at his watch. ‘What?’ he said.
‘An excursion to Bangara a couple of years ago. Justin Hampshire was in the party.’
Simmons straightened a lit lie in the chair. ‘He was, and that was the last I ever saw of him.’
‘There was a bit of time left at school before the end of the year.’
‘He didn’t turn up for his classes.’
‘Was that unusual?’
‘For him, very. He was an excellent student. Could have gone close to topping the state in my subject.’
‘Did you do anything about it?’
Simmons shook his bead. ‘No. There are a lot of pressing problems at that time of year-kids with real difficulties, anxious parents, school assessments to get ready. I suppose I just thought he’d found a better way to use his time. At HSC level the students have a bit of leeway. I was surprised when his excursion report didn’t come in though. But by then…’ He spread his big, freckled hands. ‘He was a missing person.’
‘Did the police ask you about him?’
‘I didn’t speak to any police. Not then, not since. You’re the first person to question me on the matter and I don’t see-’
‘Did you notice any difference in Justin on the way back? How did you travel?’
‘In a hired people-mover. Different? I don’t know. He was always quiet… Come to think of it now, I remember that he didn’t get out at the rest stops when most of the boys did. Stretch their legs, toss a ball about. I think he’d done that in the past, but this time he just sat and read. As I say, he was a serious lad and the exams were looming. I didn’t think anything of it. Why?’
Simmons wasn’t exactly friendly or forthcoming but I had no reason to clam up on him. ‘As the registrar must have told you, I’m looking into Justin’s disappearance for his father.’
‘Belatedly, on his part.’
‘You’re right. But I think I’m picking up a pattern of odd behaviour in the time leading up to when he took off. What you’re saying seems to confirm that.’
‘I suppose it does. I don’t mean to sound defensive, Mr…?’
‘Cliff Hardy’
‘Mr Hardy, but the pattern you’re talking about doesn’t compare in seriousness to some of the behaviour we see at times of stress-like violence or abusive language. I’ve even seen examples of mild and not so mild self-harm. That’s not for public consumption, by the way.’
‘Nothing I do is for public consumption, Mr Simmons. I understand what you’re saying. Did the boys have free time while they were down there? I suppose you were looking at a farm or something.’
‘Vineyards, actually. Yes, they had the best part of an hour to look around the town. The idea being to see if the agricultural history was reflected in the architecture. It usually is, in one way or another.’
‘I see. I’ve got one more question-is there a war memorial at Bangara?’
His pale, washed-out eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘I have no idea.’
I went back to the registrar’s area and Belinda gave me the original of Justin’s mother’s note and a warm smile.
‘A terrible thing,’ she said.
‘Yes. Did you know him?’
‘Of course. I know them all, more or less.’
‘One thing puzzles me, Mrs…?’
The smile again. ‘Belinda.’
‘Belinda. I don’t hear any mention of friends. Kids at school, they usually pal up, don’t they? With one or two others? Did Justin?’
She glanced back at McKenzie-Brown’s door, looking troubled. ‘I’m not sure I should…’
‘As I said to the teachers, nothing I learn is for public consumption-ever!’
‘Justin was what they call a loner, but I did notice that he spent some time with Pierre Fontaine. He was an exchange student from France.’
‘Where is he now, d’you know?’
‘I don’t know. Please don’t ask me any more questions.’
Belinda had reached the end of her string of indiscretion. She swivelled around in her chair and began typing as though she had the manuscript of War and Peace to finish before she went home and was only halfway through.
I left the school with a few things to think about. I didn’t remember seeing the name Pierre Fontaine among those the police had talked to initially. In fact only a couple of students had been interviewed and they were sports team mates, confirming Belinda’s judgement-a loner. I really needed to talk to someone of the relevant generation. I didn’t have high hopes of Ronny. Sarah seemed the most potentially useful but I didn’t have much optimism there either.
I found a phone and called Angela Pettigrew.
‘Have you learned anything?’ were her first words.
‘I’m getting a fuller picture. I really need to talk to Sarah.’
‘To Sarah? Why?’
‘I gave a lift to the youngster who was there with her yesterday.’
‘Why on earth did you do that?’
‘It was raining. Sorry, what I mean, is I’ll get information any way I can. He told me about something Justin said to Sarah. I’d like to talk to her about it. And there’s another-’
‘Wait!’
I hung on to the phone and heard voices loud and soft, near and far, as well as music. Then Ms Pettigrew came back on the line.