‘Mr Hardy, hello. Come in and have a seat. Belinda’ll have coffee here in a moment whether you want it or not, because I want it.’
I shook his hand. Was it an act? Hard to tell, but if so it was a good one. Couldn’t help but like him-provisionally I sat down; he stubbed out the cigarette and shuffled a pile of papers on his desk.
‘Belinda will make a copy of the note from Ms Pettigrew-I see she’s reverted to her maiden name-for our records. I’m sure you’ll want the original for yours. Now, I’ve assembled as many reports and assessments and such as I could lay my hands on. They’re pretty uniform actually. Justin was an excellent student and you’ll see the phrase “A pleasure to have in the class” or something like it pretty often. Ah, here’s the coffee. I’ll just get on with a few things while you look this over.’
Belinda brought in two mugs of coffee, a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk. McKenzie-Brown thanked her and handed her the Pettigrew note. I tasted the coffee-strong and good, didn’t need milk or sugar. McKenzie-Brown took both and stirred vigorously.
It didn’t take long to get the measure of Justin Hampshire’s performance-he was consistently in the top few in every subject. Particularly good at history and agricultural science, which seemed like an odd combination, but what do I know? He won prizes, played cricket and tennis in the school teams, led the student group on skiing trips. He’d been his class monitor pretty well all the way through and was vice-head prefect in his final year. Interesting, impressive, but not very useful.
I finished reading and aligned the papers as McKenzie-Brown looked up.
‘A terrible loss,’ he said, ‘if that’s what occurred. I mean.. .’
‘Yeah. What about school cadets?’
He offered me his cigarettes and lit one when I refused. ‘No cadet unit. Parents are mostly of the conservative persuasion, of course.’ He smiled, letting me know he wasn’t necessarily of the same mind. ‘But some of the women are forceful on the committee and there are a few… liberals. The idea has come up from time to time but it has always been voted down.’
‘How do the students feel?’
‘A school isn’t a democracy, Mr Hardy, as you no doubt are aware. But I did make a note from one of the school magazines that Justin took the affirmative in a debate on the proposition that there should be a cadet unit. Argued the case strongly, apparently, and his team won.’
‘Why did you make a note of it?’
He leaned back and blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘I’m no psychologist, no detective. I’m just a chalkie turned administrator more or less against his will, but when I looked through the material you’ve seen, it seemed to me there was something bland and conformist about the boy. As if…’
‘As if he had no personality of his own?’
‘That’s perhaps putting it a bit strongly but, yes. I’ve seen it before in intensely religious types. The strong advocacy for the cadets was the only thing that disturbed the pattern.’
No fool this bloke. I told him I only had two more requests-to find our something about the agricultural science excursion to Bangara on the South Coast and to get an idea of what Justin borrowed from the school library. I held up the Serle book.
‘I’m returning this. It’s well overdue.’
McKenzie-Brown pushed a button on his intercom. ‘Jack Simmons is the ag sci master and Robin Crawford looks after the library. I’ll get on to them, find you a room of some kind and send them to you.’
I stood and held out my hand. ‘You’re being very helpful. Thank you.’
We shook. ‘Not the uptight place you expected, eh? It still is in some areas but not here, not over this. Have you got any children, Mr Hardy?’
‘No.’
‘I have three, two girls and a boy. The thought of one of them just vanishing is too much to bear. I did all I could to help the police, but I must say they didn’t make your sort of requests. They didn’t ask about the cadets, for example. I feel encouraged. I hope you have more success.’
The librarian was the first to arrive in the room, little more than an alcove, that I had been allotted. He was a bustling, busy type who got straight down to business after I handed him the book.
‘Thank you. We knew who had it out of course, but under the circumstances we didn’t pursue it. I understand you want to know about Justin Hampshire’s borrowing habits?’
‘That’s right.’
Crawford produced a sheaf of cards from the pocket of his reefer jacket. ‘He used the library a lot and never incurred any late fees. The parents pay those at the end of term. He borrowed the usual run of textbooks, a little fiction of the thriller type, but far and away his greatest interest was military history. I think it’s safe to say he read almost everything the library holds on the subject. That’s not such a lot but it ranges over a fair area.’
‘The two world wars, the Boer War, Korea, Vietnam…?’
‘Oh yes, and more-Sudan, the Malayan Emergency.’
‘Any book in particular, taken out more than once, say?’
‘Mmm, yes-Bean’s History, of course, some volumes of the Australian Dictionary of Biography, Clarkson’s World War I in Pictures and something I wasn’t at all familiar with, Australian Monumental Art by Brigadier-General Henry Woodhouse. He had it out several times. I took it down to look at just before I came. Self-published, presented to the school. I suppose you can guess what it dealt with.’
‘War memorials,’ I said.
Jack Simmons looked the part-tall, faded sandy hair, weather-beaten face. Unlike McKenzie-Brown and Crawford, he was tieless; his grey shirt was crumpled and stained under the armpits. He slumped into the chair and looked tired. McKenzie-Brown had told me there was a miniature farm in a corner of the school grounds, and Simmons looked as if he’d been doing something physical there.
He glanced at his watch. ‘What?’ he said.
‘An excursion to Bangara a couple of years ago. Justin Hampshire was in the party.’
Simmons straightened a lit lie in the chair. ‘He was, and that was the last I ever saw of him.’
‘There was a bit of time left at school before the end of the year.’
‘He didn’t turn up for his classes.’
‘Was that unusual?’
‘For him, very. He was an excellent student. Could have gone close to topping the state in my subject.’
‘Did you do anything about it?’
Simmons shook his bead. ‘No. There are a lot of pressing problems at that time of year-kids with real difficulties, anxious parents, school assessments to get ready. I suppose I just thought he’d found a better way to use his time. At HSC level the students have a bit of leeway. I was surprised when his excursion report didn’t come in though. But by then…’ He spread his big, freckled hands. ‘He was a missing person.’
‘Did the police ask you about him?’
‘I didn’t speak to any police. Not then, not since. You’re the first person to question me on the matter and I don’t see-’
‘Did you notice any difference in Justin on the way back? How did you travel?’
‘In a hired people-mover. Different? I don’t know. He was always quiet… Come to think of it now, I remember that he didn’t get out at the rest stops when most of the boys did. Stretch their legs, toss a ball about. I think he’d done that in the past, but this time he just sat and read. As I say, he was a serious lad and the exams were looming. I didn’t think anything of it. Why?’
Simmons wasn’t exactly friendly or forthcoming but I had no reason to clam up on him. ‘As the registrar must have told you, I’m looking into Justin’s disappearance for his father.’
‘Belatedly, on his part.’
‘You’re right. But I think I’m picking up a pattern of odd behaviour in the time leading up to when he took off. What you’re saying seems to confirm that.’
‘I suppose it does. I don’t mean to sound defensive, Mr…?’
‘Cliff Hardy’
‘Mr Hardy, but the pattern you’re talking about doesn’t compare in seriousness to some of the behaviour we
