For some weeks after the sex education workshop, when he was driving or in the middle of some renovation job on his cottage, Ben had thought about how he might respond if a student asked him about his sex life. He’d tried rehearsing different scenarios and anticipating responses, but gay and lesbian issues were not part of everyday conversation in the cafés of Dolgellau, the pubs of Trawsfynydd or the staff room at Ysgol Bro Meirion, so the imaginary role-play only led to an uneasy paranoia. He liked the idea of establishing a ‘no personal questions’ ground rule with his classes, but he also liked Catrin’s suggestion: ‘Ask them why they want to know’. He couldn’t help wondering how many boys and girls, in his fifteen years at Bro Meirion, had been confused and tormented by the realisation that they were gay or lesbian and found no information or support at school. He remembered the fear and loneliness of his own school days. Ask them why they want to know, he repeated to himself.

When the question came it wasn’t during a sex education lesson. This might have thrown Ben, had gay sex not surfaced again on all the front pages in connection with political sleaze and subconsciously prepared him. He’d encouraged the students in Wednesday’s Year Ten tutor group to bring in cuttings from newspapers and magazines for comment and debate. Iddon, the brawny tight-head prop who secretly worried that he was the only virgin in the scrum, began the discussion.

‘What about all these homos in Parliament, then?’ he asked the class, holding up the front page of a tabloid with the headline Queer Goings-on in the House. A clutch of Iddon’s gang began to giggle. Ben ignored them and addressed the class:

‘Okay… this story’s been running for a couple of days now. Has anyone else been following it?’

Manon put up her hand and said, ‘That’s the story I’ve brought in too, Sir…’ and with a trace of scorn in her voice she continued, ‘but my cutting is from The Independent.’

‘Good, Manon,’ Ben smiled. ‘And anyone else? Hands up all of you who know something about this.’

Most of the class put up their hands.

‘All right then,’ Ben said, sitting on the table at the front of the class, ‘why don’t we ask Iddon and Manon to give a brief summary of how the two different newspapers have reported this story… and perhaps both of you would like to tell us what you think about it before we open up to the class. Okay? Iddon, why don’t you start?’

‘Sir, this story’s about two MPs. They’re both married men with kids,’ Iddon lifted his right arm and dangled his wrist limply, ‘but they’ve been having it off with other men.’

Some of his pack made cringing faces and grunting noises; signs of their disgust, Ben wondered, or just their own adolescent insecurity? Iddon continued, ‘I think the main point in this article is that men like these shouldn’t be trusted. They shouldn’t be allowed to be MPs… and… well, Sir, I think they should all be put on an island and have their balls cut off.’