*How far had he got? You were studying the rise of Napoleon, weren't you?' Mason continued.

*We'd got as far as his coronation,' Jo Campbell explained.

*Anyone remember the date of that?' Mason asked. *Without looking at your books.'

*December the 2nd, 1804.'

Mason knew that the answer had come from Latham even without looking up.

*Very good, Andrew,' he said.

Latham looked back impassively at him.

*That date is quite prophetic as far as Napoleon is concerned because one year later he would fight one of his greatest ever battles on the same date. Does anyone know which one?'

*Austerlitz,' Latham said, unhesitatingly.

*Excellent, Andrew,' Mason said. *Have you been practising so you can impress me?' He smiled.

*Do I need to impress you then, sir?' Latham said, quietly.

*Hopefully you'll all impress me with your ability to learn,' Mason told them. *Now, shall we get on?'

*You said we could ask you some questions, sir.'

Mason turned in Latham's direction when he heard the words.

*What did you want to ask me, Andrew?' he enquired.

*How did you get this job here at Langley Hill, sir?' Latham wanted to know.

*The headmaster obviously thought I was the best man for the job,' Mason told him.

*Do you think you're the best man for the job, sir?' Latham continued.

*I hope I'm as good as Mr Usher was,' Mason said, smiling.

*What makes you think he was any good, sir? If he was that good he'd still be here, wouldn't he?' Latham said, flatly.

*How did you all get on with Mr Usher?' Mason wanted to know.

No one spoke.

*Did you like him?' the teacher persisted.

*Does it matter, sir?' Latham offered. *We're here to learn, not to make friends with our masters.'

There was some subdued laughter.

Smartarse little bastard, thought Mason.

*Some of us made friends with him, sir,' said Felix Mackenzie, impassively.

There was more laughter.

*Do you like living in his house, sir?' Precious Moore enquired. *It must be better than having to live in the town.'

*Walston seems like a nice place,' Mason told her.*Why don't you like it?'

*The people are common, sir,' Precious Moore told him. *They've got no style.'

*Or money,' Jude Hennessey echoed.

The others laughed.

*You can't judge people on how much money they've got,' Mason said. *Just because someone's rich it doesn't make them a better person than someone with nothing.'

*Are you a communist, sir?' Hennessey smirked. *That's the kind of thing a communist would say.'

*I believe that everyone should have a roof over their heads and a good job. Does that make me a communist? ' Mason stated.

*I suppose where you come from everyone is poor, sir,' Felix Mackenzie offered. *You used to teach in a state school, didn't you?'

*Yes I did and the kids I taught weren't that much different from you guys,' Mason explained. *Their parents didn't have as much money as your parents but they were still just kids.'

*Do you mean chavs, sir?' Mackenzie added to another chorus of laughter.

*What do you mean by chavs?' Mason challenged.

*Council house and violent,' Latham interjected.*That's what chav means.'

There was more derisory laughter.

*You can't brand everyone who lives in a council house with a tag like that, Andrew,' the teacher said.

*So, do you like Mr Usher's house, sir?' Precious Moore asked again.

*It's a very nice cottage,' Mason told her. *But it wasn't Mr Usher's. It belongs to the school.'

*He thought it was his,' Latham stated. *He thought he owned it. He thought he was more important than he really was. Lots of people are like that, aren't they, sir? They think they're something but they're really nothing.'

Mason regarded the boy evenly and Latham held his gaze. The remainder of the class were silent.

*Do you think your wife would have liked it, sir?' Latham asked, a slight grin on his lips. *If you'd still been together?'

Mason could feel his heart beating a little quicker, the anger building steadily within him.

*I think that's enough questions,' he said, with an air of finality. *Time we did some work.' He turned his back on the class for a moment and retreated behind his desk where he picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the blackboard.

*Miss Wheeler liked the cottage, sir,' Latham continued. *She must have, she spent enough time there.'

53.

For a moment, Mason didn't turn around. He heard Latham's words but didn't turn to face the boy, not wanting him to see the look of surprise on his face.

*You know who we mean, don't you, sir?' Latham continued. *Miss Wheeler. She teaches geography. She's Irish.'

Finally, forcing a slight smile, Mason stepped away from the board and faced the class.

*I know who you mean,' Mason said, quietly. *You shouldn't be disrespectful about other masters and mistresses, Andrew.'

*I wasn't being disrespectful, sir,' Latham opined. *I was just telling you something in case you didn't know.'

*Do you know Miss Wheeler, sir?' Mackenzie interjected. *Have you met her yet? She's very pretty.'

*I know Miss Wheeler,' Mason exclaimed. *But that's not really any of your business, is it?'

*I thought that masters weren't supposed to fraternise,' Latham laughed.

The other class members laughed as well.

*What makes you think that Miss Wheeler and Mr Usher were friends?' Mason asked, trying to control his irritation.

*I think they were more than friends, sir,' Sammi Bell offered.

*Even if any of this is true, it's got nothing to do with us, has it?' Mason said, defiantly. *What masters get up to in their spare time is their own business.'

*I don't think Mr Grant would agree with you, sir,' Mackenzie added. *He doesn't like that kind of thing.'

*Thanks, Felix, I'll try to remember that,' Mason sighed.

*Do you think Miss Wheeler is nice, sir?' Sammi continued, flicking at her blonde hair. *I think she is. She takes us for games. She's got a gorgeous body. Sometimes in the changing room she just walks around barefoot in her top and shorts.' She looked directly into Mason's eyes and smiled. *I don't think she wears anything under her top because when her nipples are hard you can see them clearly under the material. They're really big. They must be so sensitive when she's turned on.'

*Sammi,' snapped Mason. *That's enough.'

*You sound like a lesbian, Sammi,' Jude Hennessey chided.

*You wish,' Felix Mackenzie added, grinning.

The rest of the class laughed.

*She has got a great body,' Jo Campbell added, glancing derisorily at the American. *I think so too. I can see why men find her so attractive. Her accent's sexy too. I'd sleep with her and I'm not gay.'

Mason swallowed hard.

*Prove it,' Hennessey leered.

*Let's get back to work,' Mason insisted.

*Do you think her accent's sexy, sir?' Jo wanted to know.

*Right, that's it,' Mason snapped, uncomfortably.

*It's a shame about her father, isn't it, sir?' Latham intoned.

Again Mason shot Latham a penetrating glance but found it returned almost unblinkingly.

*I mean, he's not going to get better now, is he?' the boy continued. *They can't cure Alzheimer's. And it must be so frustrating for her, having to see him like that. His mind going a little bit more every day.'

*I'm not going to tell you again,' the teacher said, firmly. *There's work to do. We're not here to discuss other members of staff. Let's get on.' Again he turned his back on the class, the knot of muscles at the side of his jaw pulsing angrily.

Behind him, Latham smiled triumphantly.

54.

The staff room at Langley Hill was cavernous.There was no other word to describe it, Mason thought.The ceiling was high and vaulted, the beams exposed like the ribs of some prehistoric monolith. The walls were lined with bookshelves all creaking under the weight of tomes that seemed to date back as far as the origins of the building itself.

There was a large oak table in the centre of the room around which several high-backed seats were arranged. There were armchairs and two old sofas in the rest of the room, some worn and faded, others recently re-upholstered. The air smelled of stale coffee, old books and polished wood.

*Went the day well?'

The voice startled him and he turned to see who'd spoken the words.

There was a portly man standing behind him. He was dressed in a baggy grey suit and a bright-yellow knitted waistcoat that clashed horribly with the pink shirt and striped tie he also sported. He had short black hair and large eyes that reminded Mason of a wounded Labrador.

*Your first day?' the man repeated in his somewhat hushed tones. *How did it go? Didn't kill any of the little bastards, did you?'

*I didn't know that was allowed,' Mason said, smiling.

*Only if their school fees aren't up to date,' the newcomer told him, extending a pudgy hand by way of welcome. *Richard Holmes,' the man added. *English.'

*Peter Mason. History,' he offered, shaking the hand warmly. *Any little bastards in particular who I might have killed?' Mason enquired.

Holmes chuckled.

*There's several in year seven,' he admitted. *Vile shrieking brats that they are.'