No, you don’t have to answer that. You know. He’s been a thorn in my side for so long that I’d almost forgotten he was there. That he was even alive at all. Still, that could change. It can always change. Death is always waiting to strike when you least expect it. You think you’re entitled to seventy years, but Death could come tomorrow. Death could come during the night, or flying through the air at supersonic speed. The fact is, no one’s safe—not you, not even me, Mousey. Which is why I need to take charge of my fate, starting right here, right now. It’s never too soon to tackle Death. As Straitley would say: carpe diem.

Chapter 6

6

November 4, 2005

Headmaster, and Chairman of the Governors,

It is with sincere regret—

No, dammit. No regrets. I cannot deliver the letter now. Winter’s story changes things. Damn him, why did he wait for so long to tell me Charlie Nutter had died? And why is he now so certain that the death wasn’t an accident? Whatever his motive, he believes that Charlie Nutter was murdered—possibly for reasons connected to the Harry Clarke affair—and has promised to call again tonight, with further information.

I know. It seems unlikely. There was a time when I too would have scorned such a farfetched hypothesis. But after the events of last year—the disappearance of a pupil, the stabbing of a member of staff, and my own brush with the Reaper—I know that nothing is safe; nothing farfetched. Under the vivid reflections of sunlight, trees, and cloudless sky, the dark and lonely water awaits, and no one—no, not even a Head—can be above suspicion.

All the same, what evidence can there be to link Johnny Harrington to the death? The pink Survivors pamphlet; his marriage to Spikely’s therapist; his unusual behavior in the Thirsty Scholar close to the night that Nutter died—none of those things is enough to prove that he was even in contact with Nutter, still less that Nutter’s death was linked with the events of all those years ago. And even if it were, what good would such a revelation serve? St. Oswald’s reputation is already badly compromised. One more hint of a scandal might finish the old place for good. And though I may be off the hook as far as the Honours Boards are concerned, the problem of Allen-Jones remains. Do Harrington and his minions have sufficient grounds to carry out their threat? With the help of the Chaplain, I think they do. In such circumstances, I cannot afford to act out any Boy’s Own Paper–ish fantasies. I am still in loco parentis, and I have a job to do.