The Charming Quirks of Others

to George Watson’s Ladies’ College and the headmistress in her black bombazine and the smell of chalk and …

“You have wonderful grounds here,” said Isabel. “I walked through the rhododendron garden.” What do I expect? she asked herself. Blushes at the memory?

“It’s very pretty,” said Miss Carty. “I like it a great deal.”

“Yes,” said Isabel. And then, her heart racing at her effrontery, she went on: “You’ll all miss Mr. Slade when he goes off to Singapore.”

She was ready for Miss Carty’s reaction—any reaction—but there was none. “A great loss,” the secretary said evenly. “But that happens in schools. Popular teachers move on. One gets used to it.”

“You must have worked closely with him.”

“Of course. But no doubt we’ll get a good replacement.”

Isabel nodded. “It’s a good field,” said Miss Carty. “Or so I’m told. I have nothing to do with the appointment process, of course. But I’ve heard that we’ve got some strong candidates, whoever they are. I’ll be interested to find out when they come for interview.”

“I’M SORRY,” said Isabel to Alex Mackinlay. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to sort out my thoughts.”

They were alone in the boardroom. Miss Carty, after having shown Isabel in, returned a few minutes later with a tray of tea, and then went back to her office.

“She’s a pillar of this place,” said Alex as the secretary closed the door behind her. “She’s been here for fifteen years or so. She’s become the institutional memory.”

“Useful,” said Isabel.

Alex began to pour the tea. “You said that you needed to order your thoughts. Do you want me to leave you for a while to do that?”

Isabel shook her head. “Do you mind if I think aloud?”

Alex handed her a cup of tea. “Not in the slightest.”

Isabel took a sip from her cup. “I’ve found out a certain amount about two of the candidates,” she began. “John Fraser and Gordon Leafers.”

“Yes?”

“John Fraser is a climber.”

“I know that.”

“And do you know that he’s lost a couple …”

Alex raised a hand. “Let me save your time. John Fraser is no longer a candidate. We don’t need to bother about him.”

It took Isabel a moment to take this in. “You’ve taken him off the shortlist?”

“No. He did it himself. He withdrew.”

She asked why, and Alex explained that he had received a letter from John Fraser only that morning. He did not wish to pursue his application for personal reasons, but felt that he owed the school an explanation, having made claims on their time. “It was a rather long and emotional letter. He said that he was being treated for depression, and he felt that he should not conceal this from us. The depression came, he said, from the fact that he felt massively guilty.”

“I was going to tell you that,” said Isabel. “I think he felt guilty about cutting a rope.”

Alex frowned. “No. Quite the opposite. His rope was cut.”

“I’m not …”

Alex put down his cup. “Apparently his life was saved somewhere up near Glencoe. The other climber had fallen and was tied on to him. He was beginning to drag John down into danger and realised that the only way in which he could stop this happening was to cut himself free. So he did, and fell. It was an act of self-sacrifice on the other man’s part. Remarkable, really. And John felt guilty that he was alive and the other man was killed. People can feel guilty in that way—survivor’s guilt, it’s called.”

Isabel looked out of the window. Of course.

“Anyway,” Alex went on, “he felt that he really couldn’t cope with this job in that frame of mind and he pulled out. Understandable. Poor man.”

“Yes,” said Isabel.

“But that still leaves the other two. Leafers and Simpson. What about them? Any skeletons there?”

She was still absorbing the news of John Fraser’s withdrawal. There was not much left for her to say, she thought. “I haven’t really paid much attention to Simpson. I formed the impression that you had a lowish opinion of him.”

He nodded. “I’m afraid so. He’s not up to it, in my view. There were one or two members of the board who were keen to give him a chance, so I let his name go on the shortlist. But I’m afraid that that’s as far as he’ll get.”

“We don’t need to worry about him, then?”

He shook his head. “No, we don’t. Even if there were to be something in his past, which I rather doubt, it wouldn’t matter. He’s not going to get the job.” He looked at Isabel expectantly. “And that leaves Gordon Leafers. Enlighten me about him.”

Isabel knew what she must do. “I must declare an interest in respect of Gordon,” she said. “He’s my niece’s current boyfriend.”