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Kissing the Dragon - 7. Realisation
Barely aware of the corridor walls and torrent of bodies flowing past, I make my way back to the classroom as the bell clangs for lunchtime. Part of me is relieved to find an empty classroom, largely due to the beautiful winter’s day beyond the huge sash windows and the boy’s yearning to be outdoors. Distant shouts and scuffles of horseplay drift in from an open window, from the basketball courts at the far end of the school. Falling into my chair, I sift through my still raw thoughts and feelings.
Evidence of our mortality surrounds us daily, news stories of violent crime, at home or abroad, whether criminally motivated or government sanctioned, in the home or on the battlefield, innocent people’s lives taken for being in the wrong place, or a temper flaring one degree beyond self control. For most of us they will never touch home, but if they do we are inevitably caught unprepared and laid bare. Denny lived and breathed on Friday night, spoke about his life and plans for the future. Today he is a lump of inanimate flesh and bones laid out in a mortuary slab somewhere. Nobody will ever again hear his caustic wit, his flawless diction or his somewhat tainted spin on the world. Nobody will ever be able to know the depths of his love for his partner. And even though we parted amicably enough on Friday night, perhaps I was unkind to him before Christmas. I slump back in my desk chair and hug my stomach. Even now, the truth has not sunk in.
What would it have cost me to have gone in with him for one drink? Nothing. Maybe I could have persuaded him to stay home if he did indeed decide to wander back to the woods. And if whoever has done this to him had been at home when he entered, maybe his death could have been avoided. Or maybe not. Maybe there might have been two victims instead of one.
Most of all I wish I could pick up the phone and talk to Vaughan, to listen to his sympathetic, yet common sense words. Nobody in the world knows me better. Even though we had allowed the physical intimacy of our relationship to lapse—sex between us had become perfunctory and uninspiring—we were still as good as married, finishing each other’s sentences, reading the same books, laughing at the same jokes. Moreover he knew Denny better than me. These days the contact numbers I have for Vaughan are unreliable, because of the erratic travel schedule his law firm foists on him and the amount of time he spends in the air. Like a fisherman’s wife, I have to wait for him to come back to me. Then I look down at the tablet computer on my desk and realise I can send him a message, ask him to call me. By the time he does, news about Denny may well be public, and I can have the curative conversation I so need.
Moments later, having just finished sending the email, I sense someone watching me. I glance up to see Ms Humphreys enter the room and close the door behind her. Something in her face stills me, a concern etched into her professional demeanour.
“How are you?” she asks, leaning her back against the class door.
“Fine, Dorothy. Still a little in shock. Thanks for your support back there.”
“If you need to take time off, I can arrange cover.”
“Not necessary,“ I say, but then wonder if she has another reason for asking. “Unless you think I ought to?”
“At the moment, this is being treated as confidential, so at least you’re not going to be hounded by reporters for the next couple of days.”
The press? I had not even considered that. She sees my troubled expression.
“But Colin, you must understand that we cannot afford to have publicity of this nature at the school, however indirect. Bad enough that we had the police here, although thankfully in plain clothes. But when the press becomes involved, I would rather they didn’t interview you on the grounds.”
Getting the job at Croxburgh had been a major achievement. Getting to grips with all of the etiquette and properness—something that did not exist at East Barton—is something I am taking time to adjust to.
“I understand.”
“I’m not saying we won’t give you our full support. In fact one piece of advice right now from a seasoned professional,” she says, coming over and perching on the desk. “You’re going to be hounded by that pair—well, the woman, anyway—until they get to the bottom of this. So treat her the same as you would treat the press. Tell exactly what you know and no more. Keep to the point and keep your answers short and succinct. Don’t let anyone bully you or put words in your mouth.”
“Thanks Dorothy, but I think I’ll be fine. Rather Chaudhary, than her delightful sidekick.”
At that, she fold her arms and nods.
“And yes, Colin, I would rather you take the rest of the week and maybe next week off until this all blows over. I know we’re half way through term but we can manage. Melanie Hughes can take the juniors. Can you set your ‘O’ and ‘A’ students some supplementary work to keep them occupied?”
“I suppose I can,” I say, faltering, the idea of being stuck at home not fully sinking in. “In fact, I prepared some mock exam questions for the sixth formers over the weekend. What about History Club on Thursday after school?”
“Can someone else help with that?”
“Kimberley. She’s covered before.”
“That’s settled then,” she says, straightening up, probably glad to have delivered her message with the minimum of resistance. “This is just until things settle, you understand. Finish up today as usual and then go home. I’ll let the the staff know. Tell them you have personal matters to attend to. They’ll know the real reason soon enough.”
When she departs, I prop the door open in case any of the boys want to sit at their desks and catch up on homework. Nobody should be the wiser, especially the innocents. Rumours are bound to start circling in the staffroom about me taking time off, the secretarial staff would have witnessed to the earlier visitation by the detectives, and I do not have the strength to fence questions right now. For a full half hour I remain there, staring into space.
“Colin,” comes a distinctive voice from the door. Martin leans his shoulder against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest, his shoes crossing at the ankles. “Just bumped into Humphreys. Said you’re off for the rest of week. Personal reasons.”
“I am,” I say, trying to keep things light. Of all people, I hate hiding things from Martin. “Need time to get my head on straight.”
“You poor sod. That bloody ape of a detective came to see me,” said Martin, a little quizzically. “Asked a few personal and, frankly, rather impertinent questions about you.”
I had not considered the detectives talking to anyone else. Oddly enough the news has me feeling lighter, that I can justifiably share information with him.
“Quick. Come in and shut the door.”
Martin does as asked before plonking himself down in the chair opposite.
“What did they tell you?”
“Something about an accident involving an old friend of yours. Said you’re the sole witness. Wanted to know how long I’d known you and what kind of relationship we shared. What’s this all about, Colin?”
And despite Chaudhary’s warning, I tell him the whole thing. He nods his understanding and then makes the connection between the police presence at Casham Ponds on Sunday and their visit today.
“Heavens, Colin,” he says, shaking his head. “And only this morning I’m berating you for not having a life.”
“Hardly think this is what you had in mind. What did you tell the copper?”
“Whitehead. There’s a piece of work I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of. I told him I’ve known you since you’ve been at the school and we know each other well enough, have a very good relationship. Wasn’t sure, but I thought he gave me a weird look then. I went on to tell him that if he needed a good reliable witness, he could find none finer.”
“You’re a star.”
“Fell on deaf ears. He only wanted me to define ‘very good relationship’. Cheek of the devil. So I clarified by adding the word working in between very good and relationship”
As he is speaking, my telephone buzzes from inside my pocket. A message from Kit Hansen.
- Still on for tennis Wednesday?
“Oh hell,” I say out loud.
With everything going on, I had forgotten. And I can hardly come back to school in the evening.
“Kit, the American, is asking about tennis on Wednesday night.”
“What’s stopping you? Keep the game. I imagine you could do with the distraction right now.”
When he leans back on two legs of the chair, his mischievous grin is not lost on me.
“We can’t play here. Dorothy would burst a blood vessel.”
“I’m a member of Parkwell. Use my card. They have indoor and outdoor tennis courts. Do you think he can find his way?”
“Let me text and see.”
After doing so, I arrange the phone in front of me on my desk and stare out of the classroom window. Patches of snow still border the playing fields outside although the sun has made a sterling effort at melting the worst. When my gaze reaches the trees beyond, Denny’s face flashes across my vision, his animated conversation and affected gestures playing continuously in my mind, although the police photograph has put a macabre taint on that vision now.
“I’ve applied for a head of department role in a school in Buenos Aires.”
The loud thunk I hear is the legs of Martin’s chair striking the wooden parquet flooring.
“You…what?”
“An old friend from my teacher training college days is the headmaster there and put in a good word for me. I emailed the completed application yesterday morning. Apart from Janine, nobody knows. You’re the first person apart from her that I’ve told.”
“God, Colin. You don’t do things by halves.”
“I know, I know. I should have talked it over with you.”
“And what do you think I would have said?”
“I don’t know. Asked me if I’m sure it’s what I want? Have I thought it through carefully?”
“Bloody hell, Colin. I would have told you to go for it. Get you out of this dreadful funk you’ve been in lately. Anyone else I know would have been telling the whole world by now.”
“Not a word, Martin. I don’t want anyone else to know.”
“Humphreys will be devastated. She really rates you.”
As he is speaking, a message buzzes back on the phone and I pounce on it.
- Joined last month. Time?
“He’s already a member,” I say, as I thumb my response.
I’ll ring and see if I can book for 7pm.
- Let me handle that. Text you back to confirm.
“A hunk and a gentleman,” I say, as I hold the phone display up for him to read.
“See. Not all doom and gloom,” says Martin, standing. “I’d better get back to class. You know it should go without saying, Colin. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. In school, or out.”
As soon as he exits into the corridor, I lean back and think about my life. Even without the steadying influences of Vaughan and Uncle Dom, I still have friends I can count on. Perhaps that is all a person can wish for in life, to have people who are willing to be there when you need them most. Who did Denny have? And with that, I shake the thought away. As shallow as it may seem, the thought of seeing Kit Hansen in tennis gear on Wednesday night sends a warm shimmer through me.
For the first time that day, I feel my spirits lift.
http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/40694-kissing-the-dragon-discussion-forum/
Brian (a.k.a. lomax61)
- 52
- 5
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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