Five
'You were his best friend,' Mrs Trotter said. 'He talked about you a great deal, how clever and amusing you were. He was very fond of you.'
'Well, Mrs Trotter,' said Adrian, 'I was very fond of him. We all were.'
'I do hope you and . . . and the other boy . . . Cartwright . . . can come to the funeral.'
She looked just like Pigs when she cried.
That evening the whole House was already in a slightly hysterical state by the time Tickford broke the news officially at House Compline.
'Some of you, I don't know . . . may know,' he said, '. . .may have heard, I don't know, that there has been a tragedy here. Paul Trotter took his own life this afternoon. We have no idea why. We don't know. We just don't know. We can't know.'
Fifty pairs of eyes swivelled towards Adrian, wondering. Why had be been sent for first? Why had he been shut up with Tickford and Pigs's parents for so long?
Cartwright had not yet been spoken to. He knew nothing and his eyes turned towards Adrian too, large and full of awe.
'I'm afraid he must have been very unhappy,' continued Tickford, apparently to the ceiling. 'Very unhappy, I don't know why. But we shall say a prayer for him and commend his soul to God. Almighty Father . . .'
Adrian felt a thigh being pressed against his as he knelt to pray. It was Rundell.
'What?'
'I saw him,' whispered Rundell. 'Yesterday afternoon in the cemetery, he went up and sat next to you!'
'So what?'
'Refresh him with your Mercy, cleanse him with your Love . . .'
'And then you came down together and he was crying.'
'That has nothing to do with it.'
'In the name of your Son who died that all might have eternal life 'Oh, yeah?'
'Amen.'
Tom asked no questions and Adrian couldn't bring himself to tell him anything.
Biffo had sent a note the next morning. 'What terribly upsetting news, terribly upsetting. Helen and I were so distressed. I taught Trotter last year; such a delightful boy. I do hope you feel free to come and talk to me about it. If you would like to, of course. Helen and I would be delighted if you could make more of our Friday afternoon visits this term. With every sympathy at this dreadful time. Humphrey Biffen.'
Tom and Adrian were playing cribbage during the afternoon when there was a knock at the door.
'Avanti!'
It was Cartwright, looking frightened.
'Can I have a word with you, Healey?'
Tom saw the expression on Cartwright's face and reached for a book and a pair of sunglasses.
'I'd better grow.'
'Thanks, Thompson.' Cartwright stood looking at the floor and waited for Tom to close the door behind him.
'Sit down do,' said Adrian.
'I've just been to see Tickford,' said Cartwright, either not hearing or not heeding the invitation.
'Oh, ah?'
'He said Trotter had some sort of ... a kind of crush on me. And that you told him that.'
'Well, that's what Trotter told me.'
'But I didn't even know him!'
Adrian shrugged.
'I'm sorry, Cartwright, but you know what this place is like.'
Cartwright sat down in Tom's chair and stared out of the window.
'Oh hell's bells. It'll be all over the school.'
'Of course it won't be,' said Adrian. 'Tickford won't tell anyone. I certainly won't tell anyone. I mean, I haven't even told Thompson and I tell him everything.'
'But Tick says I've got to go to the funeral. What will people think of that?'
'Well. . .' said Adrian, thinking fast. 'I'm going to the funeral too. I'll put it around that your parents are friends of Trotter's parents.'
'I suppose that'll do,' said Cartwright, 'but why did you have to tell Tick in the first place?'
'It was suicide! He left a note. It said 'Healey will explain' or something like that. What else could I do but tell
