nonetheless in a small village, such things are noticed.
“Please, Miss. Disney,’ said Sandra desperately. ‘ just don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”
She turned away, but Miss. Disney grabbed her arm at the expense of her handbag.
“For your own good, Sandra… “
“Oh, for God’s sake!” “You’ve dropped your handbag, Miss. Disney,’ said Pascoe, picking it up.
He flicked the catch with his thumb as he did so and the bag fell open revealing a surprisingly feminine complexity of articles. But one was less common there than the rest. A thick stick of yellow chalk.
“The good teacher is never without,’ said Pascoe, removing it.
“How dare you!’ said Disney, beginning to swell. She looked tremendously fearsome, but taking his courage in both hands Pascoe leaned close to her and gently said three words. Her face froze, like a hen with the gapes. Sandra gasped in amazement at hearing such words uttered in such company.
But Disney had said nothing; there was no outburst, no protest, and Pascoe, much relieved, knew he had been right.
“On Mr. Fallowfield’s wall,’ he said. ”s what you wrote, wasn’t it?
After you tore up the books.”
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
“Not in front of the child,’ she said. ‘ wouldn’t understand.” “Wait,’ said Pascoe to ‘ child’ who while she may not have understood was obviously agog for instruction.
He led Disney gently some yards away.
“Now,’ he said. ‘ truth.”
“I am not in the habit of lying,’ she said scornfully. ‘ I tell you may not redound to my credit, not all of it; but it shall be the truth, be certain of that.”
He almost admired her then.
Almost.
There was a ramshackle seat round the bole of one of the trees and they seated themselves, not without some trepidation on Pascoe’s part.
“It does not become a woman of my beliefs to hate a fellow being,’ she began, ‘ we are exhorted in the Bible to hate evil and the man Fallowfield was evil.”
She nodded emphatically as though defying contradiction.
“How was he evil, Miss. Disney?”
“In the worst possible way. He corrupted the young. Since he came here, I have noticed a steady decline of interest in the Christian societies I run, a growing scepticism and cynicism in seminar discussions I have with students.”
“But surely that’s symptomatic of the age?’ said Pascoe.
“If it is, it is people like Fallowfield who are responsible for it.
Girls who would have looked to me as a friend and counsellor have turned away; even among the staff, among my own colleagues, he has mocked me unreproved. And when he debauched that poor girl, Anita Sewell, and finally brought about her death… “
“We have positive evidence that he never debauched her,’ said Pascoe mildly, ‘ there’s no evidence that he had anything to do with her death. Is there?”
“She was there! She was there that night! I saw them! That was his doing. Isn’t that evidence?”
“You mean last Wednesday night out in the dunes? You saw them dancing without their clothes?”
Disney covered up her eyes and groaned. Pascoe was not in the least tempted to admire her now and pressed on relentlessly.
“What did you do when you saw them, Miss. Disney? Did you shout, cry out?
Or did you just stand and watch till you were seen?” “I feel faint,’ she said suddenly. ‘ want to go to my room.”
“Soon. Tell me what happened.”
“They all ran away. At least I did that. I stopped it before… I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t get the sight out of my mind.”
“You went there deliberately? You knew what was going on?”
“Yes. I suspected. I had overheard some young men talking.”
“And yesterday, did you go to Mr. Fallowfield’s cottage deliberately?”
“Yes. It had all been too much. Miss. Girling, Anita, the dancing. All that man’s fault, all… so I went to confront him, to challenge him.
He wasn’t there, but the door opened when I pushed it. I went in. The place was in a mess, things all over the floor. At first I went next door to call for help, but there was no one in. Everybody was on the beach. I went back inside and started gathering things up. Then I saw what kind of books he had. Evil ideas. Evil ideas. Worse than the flesh. I began to tear them. I tore and tore and tore. And then I wrote on the walls, just what was up there already. The words, the drawings, applied to him, didn’t seem wrong, you understand? It was as if some force had come out of me already and begun the damage. Just like when I heard he was dead last night, I knew that I had helped somehow. And I am glad. It is a good thing, a good thing. There may be some hope for all our salvations now.”
Pascoe did not speak but instinctively stood up, disliking their proximity. She looked up at him coldly.
“I fear you too are one of the new generation, young man. If you wish me to make a written statement, I shall be in my room. I have done nothing I am not proud of.”
She strode energetically away between the trees, across the grass.
“What was all that about?’ asked Sandra, fully recovered from her emotional scene, and very interested.
“Mainly about Mr. Fallowfield. Look, Sandra, he’s dead now. He can’t be harmed, except by people like Miss. Disney who’ll be sniping at his memory for ever. What do you know about him? She, Disney, says he was an evil influence. Was he? Or any kind of influence?” She shook her head thoughtfully.
“I don’t know much. This is just my first year, you see. When I first came, I was all dewy-eyed, innocent. A habitual church-goer, you know, the social thing. That’s how I got in good with Disney to start with.
Then I started getting involved a bit with Franny and his lot.”
She glanced at Pascoe under lowered eyelids.
“This is confidential, is it? I wouldn’t like… “
“Absolutely,’ said Pascoe. A policeman’s fingers are always crossed, he thought.
“Well, they were — are — fun. Sometimes a bit weird. And sometimes
… well, we did the usual thing, you know. Drank a bit, smoked a bit of pot; there was one night when we got hold of some acid. It seemed fantastic to me. And I had this thing about Franny. Still have, I suppose.”
She spoke so lowly, Pascoe had to strain to hear her. But he did not interrupt.
“You asked about Mr. Fallowfield. Well, I got the impression that he had once been pretty close to the group in some way, I don’t know. A kind of Socratic figure, I suppose, showing the light. But he wasn’t any longer.
And all this business about him and Anita was somehow mixed up with this, I don’t know how. That was one of the sacred mysteries of the group, reserved for members of the inner sanctum only.”
She laughed as she said this, but with a slight trace of bitterness.
“You never made the inner sanctum?”
The? No. Newly-come, that was me. Good for the preliminary lay, but not yet ready for the full initiation. And Franny’ll be gone next year… hell, this place will be dead without him!”
She looked around desperately. What’s the man’s secret? asked Pascoe enviously. Disney should think herself lucky he didn’t fancy her!
He began sorting out some words of kind reassurance to offer Sandra, but she prevented them by glancing at her watch.
“Hell. Nearly lunch time. They’re dead traditional here. Roast and two veg. whatever the weather. Phew!”
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
“Remember. Confidential, eh? See you.” “See you,’ said Pascoe. That’s how I lose all my witnesses, he thought.
I start being kind and they just bugger off.
