“I recall I lost several boys to that particular production. Still, it happened every time we allowed our boys to tread the boards. Some of them never recovered. But I’m sure I would have remembered your name, if not your face.”

“I married,” she said. “It didn’t last long.”

“Oh,” I said. “And your maiden name—?”

“Becky Price,” she told me.

Becky Price. I see it now. La Buckfast has thickened a little, but something should have alerted me.

“Did you know Harrington back then?”

“Yes. We dated for a while.” Once more, that Mona Lisa smile. “You’ve been wondering, haven’t you?” said La Buckfast. “Wondering if there’s something between us. There isn’t, you know. John’s far too clever to jeopardize his reputation.” She sat on the desk and crossed her legs. I heard the hiss of nylons. “You know, I respect you enormously.”

“I find that sentence often precedes something less than palatable.”

She laughed. It even sounded sincere, until you looked at those eyes.

“Oh, Roy. You’re such a character. But you must see you’ll never win. Better to step out gracefully than to see your career overshadowed by the kind of thing that’s bound to come out if you stay on at St. Oswald’s.”

“You mean, you think I should retire?”

“Yes, and as soon as possible. Ill health should give you sufficient grounds, or maybe a family crisis.”

“You haven’t done your research,” I said. “St. Oswald’s is my family.”

She shrugged. “We’d give you full support. Full pay until the end of the year. That, on top of your pension, should leave you more than comfortable.”

I started to feel angry at that. “You think this is about money?” I said.

“No, of course not,” said Ms. Buckfast. “It’s always been about the School. You see, Roy, I have done my research. And I know that change is your enemy. But St. Oswald’s is changing. From being a second-rate grammar school, riddled with outdated traditions, we’re going to make it into the finest independent school in the north. We’ll have the best facilities; the best, most highly qualified staff. Boys and girls, working alongside each other in the best possible environment. But for that, we need to change certain things. We need to move on. We need our people to move on.”

“And you think I can’t?”

“I know you won’t.” She shook her head. “Look, Roy. This isn’t personal. I rather like your little eccentricities. But it’s time to go. You know it is. You’re no match for us, and I’d rather see you retire gracefully than leave under a cloud.”

“I don’t mean to leave at all,” I said. “I mean to die at my post, and be mortared into the brickwork, along with the other gargoyles.”