I should have known. La Buckfast must have suggested that she give me a call—I’ve always had rather a soft spot for Kitty, and I suppose she knew it. Anyway, I could tell from her voice that I was in for a lecture; I’ve known Kitty for long enough to know when she wants to placate me. There’s a particular cadence to her voice on such occasions, I imagine not unlike that of a snake charmer, or a veterinarian as he prepares to administer the fatal dose to a sick dog. It works quite well with the boys too; certainly I rarely hear the sound of raised voices from Kitty’s room.

“Roy. It’s Kitty. Are you all right? I thought I’d just check how you were doing.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I said. “But I’ve had enough of that kind of thing from Harrington and his minions. Do you know La Buckfast sat through every one of my classes today? And all that because Our Gracious Leader’s afraid of upsetting the customers.”

Kitty made a soothing sound. “I know. But there’s been a complaint, Roy. We can’t just ignore a complaint.”

“Why not? It only encourages them.”

She laughed, but without much warmth. “Listen, Roy. I know it must be hard to see a boy you once taught sitting in the big chair. But really, you ought to give John a chance.”

John? She calls him John now?

“You don’t understand,” I told her.

“Oh, but I do,” she said earnestly. “I know you’ve found it hard to adjust.” That placating voice again. I hadn’t realized how often she uses it to soothe and disarm, just as the knife is about to fall. “That’s really why I’m phoning, Roy. Perhaps you should seriously think about taking your retirement. Obviously, with no loss of pay, or any implication that you’ve done anything improper.”

“Et tu, Kitty?” I said.

“Roy, it isn’t like that.”

I laughed. “Oh, isn’t it?” I said. “Remember, I’ve been here before. I know when someone’s gunning for me. The Old Head, at least, was loyal. This one just sees St. Oswald’s as a stepping-stone to something better. Strip out the Honours Boards, sweep out the chaff, sell off the old playing fields, introduce some newfangled schemes to raise the profile of the School, then move on to something else. Of course, by then it will be too late to undo all the damage. Still, what’s a career at St. Oswald’s worth, next to a shiny new workstation?”

Now Kitty sounded upset. “Roy, I’m on your side,” she said. “It’s just that I have a job to do.”

“Then stop wasting time over me,” I said. “I’m really not worth the investment.”