Lindsay pulled out two cigarettes from her pack and lit them. She passed one to Paddy, who inhaled deeply. “You see what this could mean?” she asked. Lindsay nodded again as Paddy went on. “All she’s got to do is drop a seemingly casual word when there are other people around and bang, that’s my job gone. I mean, okay, most of our generation have dabbled with the old Acapulco Gold at one time or another but nobody talks about it now, do they? And no school, especially a public school, can afford to be seen employing a teacher who is known to have dealt in the stuff. It’s no defense to say I’ve never so much as rolled a joint on school premises. What a story for you, eh?”

Paddy abruptly rose and poured two brandies. She handed one to Lindsay and paced the floor. Lindsay sensed her anguish. She knew Paddy had worked hard to achieve her present position. That hard work hadn’t come easily to someone who was used to having the world on a plate. So it was all the more galling that even now it might come to nothing because of a way of life that hadn’t seemed so risky at the time. Lindsay ached for Paddy. She tried to find words that might help.

“Why should she say anything? After all, she’d be admitting her involvement in the drugs scene and she’d surely be loath to damage her own reputation,” was all she could manage.

“No, she wouldn’t do herself any damage. You see, she never used the stuff herself. Always took the deeply self-righteous line that she could feel good without indulging in artificial stimulants. As to why she should say anything—well, why not? It might be her idea of fun. She could always say she had the best interests of the school at heart.”

Lindsay was silent. She got to her feet and went to Paddy. They held on to each other tightly. Lindsay prayed Paddy could sense the support she wanted to offer. Then, relieved, she felt the tension begin to seep out of her friend.

The moment was broken by a single peal of the telephone. They smiled at each other, then Paddy went to her desk and picked up the phone, pressing the appropriate button to take an internal call.

“Miss Callaghan here . . . Oh good, I’ll be right over.” She put the phone down and started for the door. “Cordelia’s arrived. I’ll go and collect her from the main building. There’s some cold meat and salad in the fridge. Could you stick it on a plate for me? She’ll doubtless be starving. Always is. Dressing’s on the top shelf, by the tomatoes.” And she was gone.