‘Surely,’ said Pearly, ‘we want as many old boys as possible to come. That’s the most important thing. As long as we break even, the money’s secondary. Not everybody’s got cash to spare. Some of the best guys have had a hard time of it for one reason or another.’

‘That’s right,’ said Gumbo, his odd voice reverberating but familiar.

‘Those who can afford it can donate to the foundation fund,’ said Nancy. ‘We’re encouraging those who can’t come to make a pledge.’

‘Those who give over $200 will get the CD with photos of the events and year groups,’ put in Hugh. ‘I’ll personally sign them.’ Of course he would, and on the CD as well a salutation from Hugh Porteous, chair of the sub-committee for souvenirs and memorabilia. Porteous viewed everything in life as an opportunity for self-aggrandisement, irrespective of scale.

The principal said it was important to find out as soon as possible who was the oldest ex-student coming. It creates publicity, he said, and always warrants a photo in the paper. Whoever it was should be singled out in some way, leading the toast to absent friends, or cutting the ribbon for the new addition to the art block. ‘As long as he’s up to it,’ said Pearly. ‘At the Waipounai Area School centenary a ninety-nine-year-old woman collapsed and died while cutting the carrot cake. Went headfirst into it without saying a word.’

‘Mrs Taverner,’ said Gumbo. ‘Taverners had a farm behind Twizel. One of them got accidentally shot by trophyhunters.’ Gumbo knew things like that. Unencumbered by a vain obsession with his own life, he retained detailed information concerning the activities of other people.

‘Anyway,’ said Pearly, ‘good idea, Warwick, to follow up on the oldest guy. Everybody has to give their school dates when they register.’

In his report, the events committee chair, a young dentist with thinning ginger hair, mentioned the activities for former teachers who would be attending. Old boys enjoyed coming back to compare their accomplishments with the masters who had taught them: once sovereign overseers of maths, social studies and French, but since shrunken, dispossessed and become the object of banter and condescension. Many of them had been in the war and bore signs of that in one way or another. Pearly and his fellows had been impressed by those who had achieved some distinction, such as winning a medal, escaping from a stalag or being reargunner in bombers. Even their language bore the evidence of the services. The phys ed guy, who had been in Crete and Italy, always used the term latrine instead of toilet or lavatory and would shout, ‘Hut, hut hut’, to hurry them into line. He’d be long dead by now.