He knew that this time, he might have to suspend the boy. If he did that, then he could expect an instant and vitriolic backlash from the boy’s father.
The man was on the education committee of the local authority, so, theoretically, could do immeasurable harm to the school by turning down grant applications and insisting that cuts to the school’s budget be implemented.
If young Kenneth Frost decided to make a formal allegation of assault against the boy, and the police arrested him, then the adverse publicity might ruin the school. It would, however, take the matter out of his hands and the miscreant would get his just desserts. If however, young Frost was not given the option, then his family might sue the school.
Martin sighed, as he imagined that Roddy’s father was probably a Freemason along with the local police commander. The chances were that the boy would get a caution and his father would not rest until he, Martin, was removed from office.
Linda and Graham Frost were quite forceful people, but they were nothing compared to the senior Mr Myers.
He arrived at his study to see Roddy looking unrepentant and belligerent, sitting on the chair in the corridor, waiting for him.
He stood as Martin approached, glaring at him, almost daring him to take assertive action.
“You, young man can sit and wait. I have to speak to the witnesses and then decide on the most appropriate course of action. There is, of course, the question whether to inform the police about this matter,” Martin said, bluffing.
Roddy smirked and sat down; as if he knew that it was a bluff.
Martin swept past and entered his study, sitting behind his desk. He sighed. There were eight hundred and seventy-five pupils in the school, and eight hundred and seventy of them were fine, most of the time. The handful that weren’t fine made his life miserable.
Meanwhile, in the school nurse’s rooms, Kenneth had made a full recovery. Mrs Verity was a nice lady, and probably a capable nurse, but she had a tendency to fuss. She was insistent that as he had been knocked out, even for a brief time, a doctor should see him.
She tested him for double vision and whether he could count fingers, just in case he was concussed. He wasn’t. The telephone rang.
It was Mr Pettifer, and he wanted to know whether Kenneth wanted to press charges.
“What for? Roddy’s father can make life hard for the school, everyone knows that Myers can do what he wants and no one has the balls to punish him. He should have been dealt with in year six.”
Mrs Verity agreed entirely, but nevertheless told the head master that he didn’t wish to press charges.
As the Head master was handed the list of witnesses, he frowned. Nine pupils and two members of staff had obviously had enough of Mr Roddy Myers. They were all willing to testify that Roddy conducted an unprovoked attack on a smaller and weaker pupil after taunting him in a homophobic manner.
He sighed again; the press would love this!
Linda was not even available to come to telephone. Her mobile was switched off, and her business line was answered by a secretary who simply said she was in an important meeting and there was no ways she could be interrupted. Even when they told her it was about her son who had been injured, the girl said she would pass the information and get back to them.
The secretary interrupted the meeting, somewhat reluctantly, and Linda told her she was much too busy. She stated she would call the school at the earliest opportunity. This message was passed back to the school.
The fact that her son had been attacked was an inconvenience she could do without. She was in the middle of a crucial negotiation with a very smart, up and coming company that was looking to upgrade their swish new headquarters in Reading, overlooking the Thames.
Graham was still in Germany, so she felt very aggrieved that Kenneth was being such a pain.
The meeting went on for another half hour, and then they broke for a coffee. Linda called the school and spoke with Mr Pettifer.
“Is it absolutely necessary that someone comes to the school?” she wailed.
“Mrs Frost; your son was knocked unconscious by another pupil. I would have thought that his welfare was primary in your mind!”
It wasn’t; securing a lucrative contract was. Kenneth was an inconvenience.
“Fine, if it’s absolutely necessary, then I’ll get there when I can!” she snapped and hung up. She had no intention of setting off until she’d won this contract.
“She doesn’t sound particularly caring,” the nurse said to the poor boy on the bed after the news was passed to her.
“Oh, she cares, but not really about me,” Kenneth said, in a resigned sort of way. “You see, mum is spiralist. She has her sights of bigger and better things. She wants to be seen as one of the leading interior designers in this country, if not Western Europe. Dad is a high-flying financial wheeler-dealer, always somewhere exotic making deals worth billions of pounds, dollars, Euros or yen. I see him perhaps one day a month, if I’m lucky. Mum spends most of her free time at the tennis club. She’s having an affair with one of the members there, but she thinks nobody knows.”
“Is the man married?”
“It’s not a man,” Kenneth said dryly. “Besides, Dad has been screwing his secretary for the last eight years. Why do you think Mum never goes on the business trips with him?”
“Oh dear Lord!” said Nurse Verity.
“So, you see, my little life isn’t really important, unless I start to rock their cosy little boat.”
“That is so sad.”
“It’s life. What a boring world it would be if we were all boring and normal, wouldn’t it?” he asked.
“I’m just so pleased that you are so normal, considering,” she said.
“Oh, but I’m not. You see, I’m transgendered. I want to change sex and be a girl, but it embarrasses the hell out of my parents, so they’re in denial. I have to wait until I’m seventeen before I can see a doctor and do it by myself.”
It was a rare moment when Nurse Verity was made speechless. This was one of those moments.
Mr Pettifer made a decision. He called in the defaulter, having steeled himself and spoken on the telephone with the boy’s father.
Actually, the conversation hadn’t been as bad as Martin had thought it might have been. He was not to know that Richard Myers was actually despairing of his son and his antisocial and arrogant attitudes.
He was just as bad at home, showing little respect for his father or mother, and leading his younger sister astray in no uncertain terms. The responsibility for his behaviour must rest with them, the parents for they admitted that they were not as strong with him as they should have been. They had simply not been firm enough with him early on, allowing him far too much freedom, and not giving him quality time so they could learn from positive role models.
When Martin Pettifer suggested he was considering suspending Roddy, Richard for once agreed that it was probably the best course of action.
“Has a report been made to the police?” he asked.
“Not as yet. The victim was knocked unconscious and so his wishes have yet to be sought.”
“Hmm. Might I speak with the boy?” he asked.
Martin was shocked, as he wondered if this was a strategy to dissuade Kenneth to take any formal action. He became defensive.
“I do not believe that would be appropriate,” he said.
To his surprise, Richard laughed.
“I understand, Martin, but I’m more than happy to meet him in your presence and give you my word I won’t bully the poor chap.”
Martin dithered, as Richard had surprised him with his accommodating attitude.
“Oh, very well; but only if he’s willing to speak to you,”
“Agreed; you suspend my son, and I’ll come to pick the little bugger up. I’ll drop in on the injured boy before I take him home. He can bloody well wait for me.”