‘When I entered the pavilion, Headmaster,’ he began, trying to sound unusually responsible, ‘I found the room in complete darkness, which puzzled me until I discovered that all the blinds had been pulled down. I was even more surprised to hear noises coming from the visitors’ changing rooms, as I knew the First Eleven were playing away that day. I fumbled around for the light switch, and when I flicked it on, I was shocked to see...’ Keith hesitated, trying to make it sound as if he felt too embarrassed to continue.
‘There is no need for you to worry that you are letting down a friend, Townsend,’ prompted the headmaster. ‘You can rely on our discretion.’
Which is more than you can on mine, thought Keith.
‘...to see your daughter and Duncan Alexander lying naked in the slips cradle.’ Keith paused again, and this time the headmaster didn’t press him to continue. So he took even longer. ‘Whatever had been taking place must have stopped the moment I switched the light on.’ He hesitated once more.
‘This is not easy for me either, Townsend, as you may well appreciate,’ said the headmaster.
‘I do appreciate it, sir,’ said Keith, pleased by the way he was managing to string the whole episode out.
‘In your opinion were they having, or had they had, sexual intercourse?’
‘I feel fairly confident, Headmaster, that sexual intercourse had already taken place,’ said Keith, hoping his reply sounded inconclusive.
‘But can you be certain?’ asked the headmaster.
‘Yes, I think so, sir,’ said Keith, after a long pause, ‘because...’
‘Don’t feel embarrassed, Townsend. You must understand that my only interest is in getting at the truth.’
But that may not be my only interest, thought Keith, who was not in the slightest embarrassed, although it was obvious that the other two men in the room were.
‘You must tell us exactly what you saw, Townsend.’
‘It wasn’t so much what I saw, sir, as what I heard,’ said Keith.
The headmaster lowered his head, and took some time to recover. ‘The next question is most distasteful for me, Townsend. Because not only will it be necessary for me to rely on your memory, but also on your judgment.’
‘I will do my best, sir.’
It was the headmaster’s turn to hesitate, and Keith almost had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying, ‘Take your time, sir.’
‘In your judgment, Townsend, and remember we’re speaking in confidence, did it appear to you, in so far as you could tell, that my daughter was, so to speak...’ he hesitated again, ‘... complying?’ Keith doubted if the headmaster had put a more clumsy sentence together in his entire life.
Keith allowed him to sweat for a few more seconds before he replied firmly, ‘I am in no doubt, sir, on that particular question.’ Both men looked directly at him. ‘It was not a case of rape.’
Mr. Jessop showed no reaction, but simply asked, ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because, sir, neither of the voices I heard before I turned the light on was raised in anger or fear. They were those of two people who were obviously — how shall I put it, sir? — enjoying themselves.’
‘Can you be certain of that beyond reasonable doubt, Townsend?’ asked the headmaster.
‘Yes, sir. I think I can.’
‘And why is that?’ asked Mr. Jessop.
‘Because... because I had experienced exactly the same pleasure with your daughter only a fortnight before, sir.’
‘In the pavilion?’ spluttered the headmaster in disbelief.
‘No, to be honest with you, sir, in my case it was in the gymnasium. I have a feeling that your daughter preferred the gymnasium to the pavilion. She always said it was much easier to relax on rubber mats than on cricket pads in the slips cradle.’ The housemaster was speechless.
‘Thank you, Townsend, for your frankness,’ the headmaster somehow managed.
‘Not at all, sir. Will you be needing me for anything else?’
‘No, not for the moment, Townsend.’ Keith turned to leave. ‘However, I would be obliged for your complete discretion in this matter.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Keith, turning back to face him. He reddened slightly. ‘I am sorry, Headmaster, if I have embarrassed you, but as you reminded us all in your sermon last Sunday, whatever situation one is faced with in life, one should always remember the words of George Washington: “I cannot tell a lie.”’
Penny was nowhere to be seen during the next few weeks. When asked, the headmaster simply said that she and her mother were visiting an aunt in New Zealand.
Keith quickly put the headmaster’s problems to one side and continued to concentrate on his own woes. He still hadn’t come up with a solution as to how he could return the missing £100 to the pavilion account.
One morning, after prayers, Duncan Alexander knocked on Keith’s study door.
‘Just dropped by to thank you,’ said Alexander. ‘Jolly decent of you, old chap,’ he added, sounding more British than the British.
‘Any time, mate,’ responded Keith in a broad Australian accent. ‘After all, I only told the old man the truth.’
‘Quite so,’ said the head boy. ‘Nevertheless, I still owe you a great deal, old chap. We Alexanders have long memories.’
‘So do we Townsends,’ said Keith, not looking up at him.
‘Well, if I can be of any help to you in the future, don’t hesitate to let me know.’
‘I won’t,’ promised Keith.
Duncan opened the door and looked back before adding, ‘I must say, Townsend, you’re not quite the shit everyone says you are.’
As the door closed behind him, Keith mouthed the words of Asquith he’d quoted in an essay he’d been working on: ‘You’d better wait and see.’
‘There’s a call for you in Mr. Clarke’s study on the house phone,’ said the junior on corridor duty.
As the month drew to a close, Keith dreaded even opening his mail, or worse, receiving an unexpected call. He always assumed someone had found out. As each day passed he waited for the assistant manager of the bank to get in touch, informing him that the time had come for the latest accounts to be presented to the bursar.
‘But I’ve raised over £4,000,’ he repeated out loud again and again.
‘That’s not the point, Townsend,’ he could hear the headmaster saying.
He tried not to show the junior boy how anxious he really was. As he left his room and walked into the corridor, he could see the open door of his housemaster’s study. His strides became slower and slower. He walked in, and Mr. Clarke handed him the phone. Keith wished the housemaster would leave the room, but he just sat there and continued to mark last night’s prep.
‘Keith Townsend,’ he said.
‘Good morning, Keith. It’s Mike Adams.’
Keith immediately recognized the name of the editor of the Sydney Morning Herald. How had he found out about the missing money?
‘Are you still there?’ asked Adams.
‘Yes,’ said Keith. ‘What can I do for you?’ He was relieved that Adams couldn’t see him trembling.
‘I’ve just read the latest edition of the St. Andy, and in particular your piece on Australia becoming a republic. I think it’s first class, and I’d like to reprint the whole article in the SMH — if we can agree on a fee.’
‘It’s not for sale,’ said Keith firmly.
‘I was thinking of offering you £75,’ said Adams.