Then he was gone and throughout the room came the hiss of subdued whispering. There were none of the cynical comments which were the usual response to an adult's lecture. Sally had no doubt they would queue up outside the head's office to talk to him. They would want to play their parts in the theatre. She wondered what he would make of what they had to say.
Chapter Sixteen
Standing on the stage in the overheated hall, looking down at them all, Perez thought this was a waste of time and effort. Sandy Wilson was probably right. They'd get Magnus Tait for the killing in the end and he'd have wound up these kids for nothing. They'd already be shocked by the murder. Why persuade them to bring their grubby little secrets about Catherine to him? Why not leave her in peace?
He'd been a pupil here and perhaps that had something to do with his discomfort. He would rather be back at Ravenswick supervising the search of the hill. He'd feel cleaner out in the open air. It wasn't that he'd actively disliked school. He'd never been academic but he hadn't struggled like some of the others. He'd been desperately homesick. He'd missed his parents, the croft and the Isle. He'd been happy in the small school there. It had just one teacher and he'd been related to most of the kids. To arrive here at twelve to live in the. hostel had been a shock. It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd been allowed home at weekends, but Fair Isle wasn't like other places.
The boat couldn't always make it and if the weather was wild or foggy the plane couldn't land on the airstrip at the foot of Ward Hill. He'd been here for six weeks the first time, feeling abandoned despite his mother's regular phone calls and although he'd known there was no alternative. This was the way things had to be. Would he want it for his own children?
Sitting behind the headmaster's desk he remembered his first home visit. October half-term. He'd worried all week that a storm would blow up, but it had been one of those still dry autumn days, with a taste of ice in the air.
They'd been allowed off on the Friday morning because that was when the boat went. A bus had taken them to Grutness and they'd arrived in time to see the Good Shepherd approach from the south. His grandfather had been skipper then and his father had been one of the crew. Squashed beside his father in the wheelhouse, Jimmy had decided he would never go back to Lerwick. They couldn't make him. He sat eating his grandmother's date slices, which seemed to taste somehow of salt and diesel, quite determined. Though of course when the time came and he'd stood with the other children in the dark early morning at the North Haven, he'd got on to the boat without a fuss. He couldn't show his parents up. .
He knew it was the awareness of the imminent vacancy at Skerry which triggered the memories, not just the noise and the smell of Anderson High. He'd have to speak to his mother about it this evening. She wouldn't expect a decision immediately, but he'd have to work out what tone to take. He couldn't raise her hopes if there was no possibility of his applying for the croft.
That was still at the back of his mind when there was a knock at the office door. He felt out of place behind the headmaster's desk, impudent for being there. There was a pause. He realized a response was expected. 'Come in,' he shouted, again feeling like an impostor. 'Come in!
He'd prepared himself to greet a student, to be informal and welcoming, but an adult hesitated inside the door.
Just an adult, he decided. There was something about this man which was still unformed. He looked as if he might grow further, fill out, at least. His clothes hung on him. At the same time he had an air of someone prematurely middle-aged. There was a stoop and his dress - a shirt with a roundneck sweater topped by a cord jacket - was the uniform of a teacher close to retirement. Perez rose from his chair and held out his hand. The man approached.
'My name's David Scott. It's about Catherine! His voice was English, the sort of accent Perez thought of as public school.
Perez said nothing.
Scott looked around him as though he was searching for a seat, although there was a chair just in front of him.
'I taught Catherine English. I was also her form teacher!
Perez nodded. Scott lowered himself into the chair.
'I wanted to talk to you before any of the students. . . I'm aware there've been rumours!
Perez waited.
'I admired Catherine. She had a wonderful grasp of language, a fine mind! He pulled a large handkerchief out of his jacket pocket.
No other words were forthcoming and Perez asked, 'Did you ever see her outside school?' He suspected the fine mind wasn't the only attraction.
'Only once! Scott looked wretched. 'It was a mistake!
'What happened?'
'She read widely outside the set texts. Contemporary fiction. It was very refreshing. For most of my students the object is to pass an examination. They're not interested in the books themselves! He paused, realizing he wasn't answering the question. 'I wanted to encourage her, build on her enthusiasm. I didn't get the impression that Euan did much of that, though of course he teaches English too. I suggested we go for a coffee after school one evening and I'd go through a list of recommended reading with her!
'What was her response?'
'She said that coffee wasn't conducive to literary debate. Why didn't we buy a bottle of wine and go back to my flat? I said that wasn't a good idea. She'd miss her bus and the chance of a lift home with her father. She usually got the bus to and from school. Euan is something of a workaholic. He's in early and works late!
Perez thought that Scott seemed to know a lot about Catherine's daily routine.
'She said it didn't matter. I could give her a lift home. It didn't matter how late she got in. Her father was used to it. Or if I didn't want to do that she could stay over with friends!
'And did you agree? To the wine and the intellectual conversation?'
'I didn't think there would be any harm in it'
Which of course was nonsense. He'd been tempted, .because she was pretty and bright and he hadn't wanted to appear stuffy like the other teachers. But he'd known he'd been playing with fire. That must have been part of the attraction, the thrill. But what had been the attraction for Catherine? Surely she wouldn't have fallen for this dry, pretentious young fogey. And Perez had an impression of her which didn't include kindness to foolish and naive teachers.
'Did she explain her plans to her father?'
'Certainly. She sent him a text message, saying she'd be late!
'Saying she was with you?'
He blushed. 'I don't know. I didn't see the text' 'Was it a successful evening?'
'No, I've already told you! His voice had become irritable. Perhaps he was regretting his impulse to speak to Perez. 'It was a mistake. I should never have agreed to it'
'Why?' Perez asked. 'There'd be nothing more satisfying, I'd have thought, than helping a responsive student!
'That was why I went into teaching! Scott broke off and looked up sharply, suspecting he was being mocked.