‘Nothing at stake?’ Lucas thundered, with more volume than he had intended. ‘And as for the truth, here it is: Moira Giddings barged her way into my rooms, pleaded with me to look at some pretty dire attempt at an opening chapter of a novel, to which I agreed with great reluctance and against my better judgement – purely because she seemed so upset when I refused. I kept my word, had a quick look, made some comments in the margins, and put the damn thing back in her pigeonhole the next day. End of story. I haven’t heard a word from – or about – her since that day, not until Claire’s summons on Monday. Perhaps,’ he rushed on, ignoring the tight expressions on the faces of his audience, his brain galloping, ‘it was my comments on her creative efforts that have set this in motion.’ He dabbed a finger at a trickle of sweat running down his temple. ‘Yep, I bet that’s what this is all about. I was encouraging, naturally, but also pointed out a couple of pitfalls to watch out for… look, the girl has a delicate temperament. We all know that about Moira, right?’ He sat forward, getting into his stride. ‘That she was one of the really shy, struggling first years? In fact, Master, I had it in mind to talk to you about that very subject,’ Lucas rushed on, seizing on the memory of this intention, ‘how girls can still get swamped more easily than boys, how they need drawing out of themselves, and what we could do about it.’ He slumped back in his chair, out of steam. There would be no response. They were merely waiting for him to finish. ‘Sorry. As you say, this is not easy for me. Please, do go on.’

More beads of sweat were sliding down his temples, and he dug for his handkerchief to wipe them away properly. He had to keep his cool. He thought with horror of Heidi, probably already on her way to the tea house where they had agreed to meet prior to enjoying a walk along the river in the sunshine. A cloudy morning had cleared into an exquisite August day. They were going to find a lovely spot and have a video call with her family to discuss their big news. They were going to talk dates and venues.

‘I, too, am truly sorry about this situation, Lucas,’ the Master said, raising a hand to keep Claire from launching straight back into the statement. ‘You will of course be invited to make your own statement. To put your side.’ She sighed with what sounded like genuine compassion. ‘The point, it seems to me, is that there is no way round this situation, only a way through, which we shall find, I promise you.’

‘You’re right about Moira struggling,’ put in the Chaplain helpfully. ‘One of those with a fear of falling short.’