Dangerous Things Page 17

  Silence, so she tried again.

  ‘People who deal in cannabis often deal in other drugs as well. Heroin, amphetamines. Very nasty, those. Isn’t that the risk of using cannabis?’

  ‘I go to Harrods to get my socks and shirts,’ the good-looking boy said, and smiled winningly at her. ‘But I don’t buy girls’ knickers just because Harrods sells them too.’

  There was another guffaw and she laughed too. ‘Fair enough. Maybe you wouldn’t. But some might.’

  ‘If you worry all the time about what some people might do, you’d never do anything yourself,’ said the fat boy, and then the bell outside began to shriek and there was a concerted scraping of chair legs on the floor as they got up and pushed towards the door.

  ‘I’ll get those facts if I can by next Friday,’ she said as they went. ‘And some rather good stuff on sex. So far that isn’t illegal.’ And in the general laughter they left her leaning against her desk and thinking hard.

  It didn’t take a great deal of nous, she told herself, to work out that there were people using cannabis here. The big fair boy, for a start, and she looked down at her list of names and picked him out: Jeremy Dalrymple; and she laughed. He looked just the sort of person to have such a name and she could imagine his parents all too easily; probably living in Kensington and weekending in the country and using the Foundation because none of the boarding schools or London day schools would have him. He looked far more interested in his personal affairs than in any school ones; his clothes, uniform though they were, still looked more expensive than any of the others’, now she thought about it. I’ll have to look into this. It shouldn’t be impossible to find them, if they’re using the stuff here in the school.

  She didn’t think at all about what she would do if she did find any smokers, which was, she was later to realize, rather a problem.

  It took her only the first three days of the week to discover them and at first she was cock-a-hoop with her own prowess. She had started in the easiest way possible, simply walking about the place, looking as though she were going somewhere purposeful, while she was in truth looking with all the care she could into every corner she passed. It was at the end of the first day, when she took herself off to the underground station with legs aching and feet crying out for rest because she’d been on them so long, with only the time needed to eat lunch spent sitting down, that she gave the matter systematic thought, and realized she’d got it all wrong. There was no way these boys would smoke their pot inside the busy parts of the school buildings. The smell would give them away, and anyway there were far too many people about. It had to be somewhere quiet, unobserved, and above all, where smells would not be noticed. I can’t be the only person, she reasoned, with an acute sense of smell. There would be others who’d identify it if people were smoking where they shouldn’t. And smoking pot.

  The rest of the establishment was of course less easy to investigate. The staff, and especially she as the only woman member of it, was not likely to spend time in the basement where the antiquated boilers which heated the buildings sat lowering like deities waiting to be fed, so she had to be careful. If anyone — and especially surly Edwards, who tended the boilers like a goblin acting as acolyte to said deities — saw her there, suspicion would be great. And she could hardly tell Edwards or anyone else that she was hunting for pot-smokers. That really would create an uproar. So, she would have to be even more devious in her behaviour than she had been already, a thought which depressed her. It was disagreeable to be such a snoop; but she was convinced it was necessary, so she went doggedly on, thinking and planning how she’d search the underpinnings of the old buildings. Tuesday was a difficult day because she had a special session with the girls that day, but on Wednesday she had a free period which ran into the lunch hour and that had to be the best time to investigate.

  It was on Wednesday, still trying to be casual, and careful to be unobserved, that she made her way down via the steps which ran behind the gym and led to the storage areas where the big karate mats and the Indian clubs and other assorted athletic detritus were piled. Beyond that was the black dampness of the cellars, reaching away into darkness, and she went on into them gingerly, feeling absurdly like a child. This was the sort of thing the heroines of the story-books she had devoured at the age of ten had done, only they’d been looking for harmless things like burglars or lost treasure or foreign spies, not pot-smokers. She wanted to giggle but managed not to.

  There was a tangle of new piping and some fairly fresh off-cuts of new timber piled in front of her, and she made her way round it, and then worked out, much to her own pleasure at being so successful a detective, that this lay beneath the area where one of the old lavatories had been converted into a washroom and lavatories for the girls, and she moved on beyond it, wishing she’d brought a torch. She wouldn’t be able to go much further without some sort of light, she thought, and was annoyed at her own lack of foresight. There were electric lights of course, but she couldn’t switch them on. That would warn the boys to keep away if their hiding place was indeed down here. Anyway she had no torch at the school, only at home, which would mean having to wait for another convenient day on which to search, and she wouldn’t have one with a free period like this before lunch — she worked it out — for another week at least. ‘Dammit,’ she whispered. ‘Dammit, dammit, dammit —’

  And then lifted her head as the smell came to her, stale, tired, and a little damp, but familiar all the same. Old wet cigarette ends, the drift of long-ago-exhaled smoke, and she felt a lift of excitement that again made her feel childlike, and pushed on recklessly now, not so worried by the dark as her eyes adjusted.

  And then she saw it, a pile of old timber this time, but so arranged that there was an open end through which it was possible to slide without too much difficulty — though it had to be easier for boys, she thought irritably as she caught one breast a sharp blow on a piece of wood, since they lacked such protuberances — and there it was. A pile of old cushions. A slab of timber, probably a discarded door, which had been set firmly on a few bricks at each corner to make a sort of table. Candle ends. She could just see the pile of magazines in the corner and a couple of ash trays on the table, and that was all. But she was in no doubt she’d found what she’d been seeking.

  Question, she said to herself. Will they come today? Or will I have to keep coming back and hoping to find them here? They’re sure to have someone looking out, so I can’t just come down at lunchtime and see if they’re here. They’ll never be caught that way. I have to be here before them. Which means finding somewhere to hide.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ she said aloud, no longer feeling the excitement of the child on a detective game. This was horrid, this was spying. And she turned and came out of the cubbyhole and began to move back up the basement towards the light that showed where the steps were that would lead her back up to a civilized normal world where adults didn’t hang around trying to catch adolescents in minor crime and —

  But it’s not a minor crime, she thought. Whatever they say about cannabis, there is that bit about people maybe using other stronger stuff once they start on it. I have to take this seriously. And anyway, how can I help or decide what to do if I don’t know exactly what’s going on? I have to stay and spy, like it or not.

  She went back to the cubbyhole and then on beyond it and chose a spot for herself behind one of the arches that dissected the space at this end of the cellar. She found a wooden box she could upend, put her handkerchief on it in the faint hope of keeping herself tolerably clean, and settled down to wait. It might be a waste of time; maybe they only came occasionally and this wasn’t one of those times. But the smell had been strong, even though it was stale, and that told her that someone had been smoking here very recently. It would have faded within a week, surely. And she sighed softly and her lungs filled with the smell that had brought her here, and also the thin dampness of the sweating stones and the acrid rasp of the boilers and the rather chewy sm
ell of the anthracite that was used to feed them. Not too nasty, really; but cold …

  She leaned against the archway and slid into a half-sleeping state. It was agreeable and restful, and when she heard someone moving she wasn’t at all surprised nor agitated. She just opened her eyes to exchange inner darkness for the outer kind, and waited a little dreamily to see what would happen.

  There was some giggling and soft speech, though she couldn’t pick out any words, and then a scuffling sound and after a moment a match was struck. She smelled it as well as heard it, and saw the glint of light and thought, somewhere at a deep level, The air down here carries smells much too easily. Then there was laughter and the striking of more matches.

  She waited until the scent of fresh tobacco smoke — and with it, she thought, a hint of the smell of burning hay which she knew was cannabis — reached her, and then sighed again and got up and dusted herself down and walked purposefully to the pile of timber and stood there. She made no effort to go through the gap into the sitting space they’d made for themselves, but stood there as prim as a housemaid and coughed and said loudly, ‘Gentlemen? I think someone had better come out and talk to me about what is happening here. All of you, for choice, at once. It certainly will be easier than trying to hold back, I think.’

  There was a little silence and then someone said loudly, ‘Oh, fuck!’ and blew out the candle.

  Sixteen

  ‘Yes,’ Judith said. ‘You have put yourself in a tight spot, haven’t you, ducky? Too awful for you.’

  Hattie stared at her a little hopelessly. She’d come to talk to Judith because there was no one else she could think of to tell of her discovery who wouldn’t turn the whole thing into a nightmare. What had seemed like such a good idea when she’d started out was now a huge problem. It would have been so much easier to remain in ignorance of what went on beneath the surface at the Foundation. She’d been the most stupid kind of meddler; the sort who never looked ahead to work out the effects of her prying. Now she had to act on the facts she had uncovered, and she knew that whatever choice she made of those that seemed to present themselves, it would be the wrong one. If she told the Headmaster, what would he do? Throw the boys out, the way he had Daniel Spero? That was highly unlikely, with his views on the importance of keeping the fees coming in no matter what. He’d only hush it up, she thought gloomily, for fear of other parents hearing about it and panicking, and that’ll leave the boys thinking no one cares what they do and that they can get away with anything, which will do them no good at all. It has to be taken seriously.

  ‘I’m really hanging by my fingernails,’ she said. ‘If I tell the Headmaster, it’s odds on he’ll do nothing —’

  ‘You mean he won’t do what you think he ought to do,’ Judith said.

  Hattie flushed. ‘I’m not being that dogmatic, am I? I didn’t think so. It’s just that I don’t think he’ll take it really seriously. If I could hope he’d deal with it by being very tough on the boys but keeping them at the school, I’d not worry. But I think he’ll keep ’em at the school but he won’t do anything tough.’

  ‘Hilary likes to be liked,’ Judith said. ‘He can’t bear it unless everybody thinks he’s the most wonderful, the best looking, the cleverest. He won’t do anything tough, I agree with you there.’

  Hattie looked at her, surprised as she always was when Judith said anything that was sensible, which was unjust because she could do it quite often when she chose. ‘Which means there’s no sense in telling him. But I can’t just leave it there like that, when I made such a point of finding them out. There were six of them. All puffing away like engines. And with those unpleasant magazines as well …’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought a few porno magazines would worry you,’ Judith said. ‘You never struck me as a prude.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just they really were rather nasty. Not just porn, I mean, not the ordinary kind.’

  ‘No? What then?’ Judith was suddenly avid. ‘Do tell, darling. Something way over the top? Peter and I’d love to see something new, most of them seem so boring now. No, don’t look all pursed up like that. It doesn’t suit you. Tell me what they were — frankly gynaecological and so forth?’

  ‘Anything but.’ Hattie didn’t look at her. The magazines — and she’d only had a glimpse of them — had upset her more than she’d have expected.

  Judith’s face sagged a little in disappointment. ‘I should have expected that, I suppose, in a boys’ school. What a pity. I’ll never understand why it is that so many good-looking chaps turn queer. Such a waste of faces. I suppose I should be grateful Peter’s so hideous.’

  ‘People don’t turn queer, as you put it,’ Hattie said irritably. ‘If they’re homosexual, it’s just the way they are. It’s not a matter of choice. Anyway, that’s beside the point. What the hell do I do, now that I know? That’s the point.’

  ‘Tell ’em not to do it again,’ Judith said and reached for the coffee pot. ‘Some more, ducky? You look as though you could use it.’

  ‘No thanks. Say that again.’

  ‘Say what again?’

  ‘What you just said.’

  ‘I said more coffee — Oh, before that? I said tell ’em not to do it again.’

  Hattie laughed and pushed her cup forward. ‘I will have some more after all. You’re a star, Judith, you really are.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Judith cocked a glance at her and then giggled. ‘Tell me what I said that was so starry and I’ll try it on someone else. Peter for a start. He’s a mean bugger, you know. I wanted to take the girls skiing at half-term and he just mutters on and on about the recession till you could scream. So, what did I say?’

  ‘It’s all so obvious. I’m a fool not to have thought of it,’ Hattie said jubilantly. ‘I tell the boys that I’ll keep my tongue between my teeth as long as they behave themselves, stop their smoking and generally clean up their act. They’ll breathe again because they won’t realize the Headmaster won’t do anything, will they? They’d expect big trouble, so they’ll be grateful as all get out and I’ve avoided the hassle. Oh, really Judith, I sometimes think you’re wasted just being a wife and mother and using all that energy only to get money out of Peter for extra holidays.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Judith said.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Harry said. ‘You’re a star, if I may be allowed to say so.’

  ‘I can hardly stop you,’ Hattie said dryly. ‘Considering it’s what everyone’s calling everyone else these days.’

  ‘Fashion, ma’am, fashion,’ Harry said solemnly. ‘Let me rephrase it, then. It was not a felicitous construction after all. I and my — er — fellow miscreants are grateful to you for your forbearance —’

  ‘A little less gratitude and a good deal more listening,’ Hattie said briskly. ‘You can save the fancy talk for someone else. First of all, you and the rest of them will turn up for my lunchtime sessions on living skills every week.’

  Harry gave the impression of blanching, despite the high black gloss of his skin. ‘But I’m a sixth-former, Mrs Clements.’

  ‘Too bad.’ She was implacable. ‘Those are my terms and I hold all the trumps. You come to my sessions and you bring some of the other sixth-formers with you, and you all learn a bit. I’d like to see —’ She stopped as though she were thinking though she knew precisely what she was about to say. ‘Let me think — the Carter twins from time to time. I think they could benefit from a little of what I have to offer. And young A-’ She stopped and swallowed. ‘Botham, I’d like to see him. He’s a shy sort of boy and I think he’d find benefit too. So you use your influence for good and not for bad, right?’

  ‘If that’s the first thing, what’s the second?’

  ‘A bit of genuine concern for the younger people in the school,’ she said. ‘I know you’ve got your prefect system and all that, but as far as I can tell it’s used more to frighten the lower formers than to take any sort of care of them. So, I want to be sure that there’s no more
smoking in this school and that includes tobacco as well as anything else.’

  ‘You’re pushing your luck, Mrs Clements.’ He’d stopped performing now and was looking at her curiously. ‘Why bother? A place like this, it’s full of bad shit. You can’t clean it up all on your own with a few classes in living skills and making us all into nice caring prefects. People do the most amazing things in this place and, frankly, the less you and the rest of them know about it the better. You’ll find it makes life easier.’

  ‘That’s the way the Foundation runs, isn’t it?’ She stared at him, her head up, no longer seeing him as a boy in need of punishment and training, but as an equal. He was certainly as big as she was, and had a striking presence that made it easy to overlook his age. ‘Let anything go on as long as it happens in the dark. Like woodlice under a stone. Well, I’ve turned one of the stones over and I want to see you all scurry.’

  ‘Power,’ said Harry, regaining his flippancy. ‘It’s a heady drug.’

  ‘Power nothing.’ Hattie was crisp. ‘It just makes me mad to see healthy people ruin their bodies. It’s against everything I stand for. So take it or leave it. You do it my way or I start such a stink with the Headmaster that —’

  ‘That he’ll do nothing at all and go on encouraging parents to pour out more buckets of money, because that’s really all that matters when you get right down to it,’ Harry said. ‘I’m not as impenetrable of mind as I am of skin, Mrs Clements. I can see what he’s like as well as you can. That’s why you’re dealing with this yourself instead of shopping us. What’d you do if I called your bluff?’

  She drew in a sharp little breath through her nostrils, needing to regain control of herself. Her pulses had begun to race uncomfortably. This was getting frightening.