‘Oh but it was. They saw a woman’s body down there,’ the small blonde insisted.
‘They thought they saw something down there that looked like a body,’ said Wilt. ‘That doesn’t mean it was one. People’s imaginations play tricks with them.’
‘The police don’t think so.’ said a large girl whose father was something in the City. ‘They must be certain to go to all that trouble. We had a murder on our golf course and all they found were bits of body cut up and put in the water hazard on the fifteenth. They’d been there six months. Someone sliced a ball on the dogleg twelfth and it went into the pond. They fished out a foot first. It was all puffy and green…’ A pale girl from Wilstanton fainted in the third row. By the time Wilt had revived her and taken her to the Sick Room, the class had got on to Crippen, Haigh and Christie. Wilt returned to find them discussing acid baths…and all they found were her false teeth and gallstones.’
‘You seem to know a lot about murder,’ Wilt said to the large girl.
‘Daddy plays bridge with the Chief Constable,’ she explained. ‘He comes to dinner and tells super stories. He says they ought to bring back hanging.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ said Wilt grimly. It was typical of Senior Secs that they knew Chief Constables who wanted to bring back hanging. It was all mummy and daddy and horses with Senior Secretaries.
‘Anyway, hanging doesn’t hurt,’ said the large girl. ‘Sir Frank says a good hangman can have a man out of the condemned cell and on to the trap with a noose around his neck and pull the lever in twenty seconds.’
‘Why confine the privilege to men?’ asked ‘Wilt bitterly. The class looked at him with reproachful eyes, ‘The last woman they hanged was Ruth Ellis,’ said the blonde in the front row.
‘Anyway with women it’s different,’ said the large girl.
‘Why?’ said Wilt inadvisedly.
‘Well it’s slower.’
‘Slower?’
‘They had to tie Mrs Thomson to a chair,’ volunteered the blonde. ‘She behaved disgracefully.’
‘I must say I find your judgements peculiar,’ said Wilt. ‘A woman murdering her husband is doubtless disgraceful. The fact that she puts up a fight when they come to execute her doesn’t strike me as disgraceful at all. I find that…’
‘It’s not just that,’ interrupted the large girl, who wasn’t to be diverted.
‘What isn’t?’ said Wilt.
‘It’s being slower with women. They have to make them wear waterproof pants.’
Wilt gaped at her in disgust. ‘Waterproof what?’ he asked without thinking.
‘Waterproof pants,’ said the large girl.
‘Dear God,’ said Wilt.
‘You see, when they get to the bottom of the rope their insides drop out,’ continued the large girl, administering the coup de grace. Wilt stared at her wildly and stumbled from the room.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ said the girl. ‘Anyone would think I had said something beastly.’
In the corridor Wilt leant against the wall and felt sick. Those fucking girls were worse than Gasfitters. At least Gasfitters didn’t go in for such disgusting anatomical details and besides Senior Secs all came from so-called respectable families. By the time he felt strong enough to face them again the hour had ended. Wilt went back into the classroom sheepishly and collected the books.
‘Name of Wilt mean anything to you? Henry Wilt?’ asked the Inspector.
‘Wilt?’ said the Vice-Principal, who had been left to cope with the police while the
