Chapter 16

And they were. My news, when I told them that the house keys were coming soon, was received with gratifying responses. I was kissed and cuddled, and later fucked enthusiastically, so all was well with us. My enquiries in turn about life at the academy were similarly satisfactory, with many changes happening in the catering area. Technology had finally reared its head in the form of digital tills able to take credit cards, plus the digital menu board enabling immediate changes from Fiona’s office to reflect sudden alterations in availability or switching of menu items, and the prices could be adjusted for even tiny changes in the amount asked.

It could also be used for unexpected closing of the canteen if there was an accident or a school shut-down. It was in effect a large computer screen, with input from Fiona or any authorised person. Previously, when it came towards closing time, a member of staff would switch the overhead lights off and on a few times, but now this was linked to the computer with a system instruction for the lights to flash two minutes before closing time. Fiona had to slow the flicker effect to avoid causing headaches or fits in people who have epilepsy. The change was well planned and executed.

I asked Fiona if they had any procedure to be followed if there was a major incident, such as a first fight or a physical attack with a knife or other weapon. She blinked her surprise, and admitted there was nothing so specific at present, but she would look into introducing a plan for that. She said she would have to consult with the Rector on what was possible and desirable on school premises.

“Very wise.” I commented. “With my background, I have to think in terms of ‘what if?’ It shouldn’t do any harm for you to do the same.”

“Thanks, darling. You do come up with useful notions.”

Curiously, around a fortnight later, a former pupil came into the school carrying a concealed knife. When he had reached the location where he wanted to go, he threatened to kill a teacher who he blamed for his present circumstances. As soon as he named the teacher, her colleagues shepherded her to the Rector’s office where she was questioned for information about the knife wielder. She knew little about him that she could remember apart from his name, she said.

The event was so unusual that no-one seemed to know what to do, but the Rector ordered that the knifeman be persuaded to go to the canteen, on the pretext that the chairs and tables there would allow space for negotiations to take place. He could even get a drink if he wanted.

He was eventually persuaded to go there, as it looked like a neutral spot to him. He was told that the teacher he threatened was not on the premises today, but would be fetched if that would help the negotiations.

He was mollified by that explanation for a delay, and any delay tends to assist negotiations as well. At first, nothing was offered to him by the catering staff, but finally he complained and insisted on a soft drink, saying it had to be in an unopened bottle, so they could not drug his drink. He was clearly suspicious of everything.

Fiona had phoned me the minute she heard what was happening, and I hurried by taxi to the school. The delays allowed me to arrive and be met by Phemie, who asked me to protect Fiona from “this maniac”, and I said, “lead me to the canteen.” Outside it, the Rector stood, waiting for the police to come.

“What are you doing here, Alec?”

“I can start the negotiating, sir. I have some training in this line. I can pretend to be the teacher’s husband and ask what the problem is. Fiona will have her own operating procedure, I presume?”

The Rector shot a glance at me before saying, “What do you know about that?”

“Nothing, but I recommended an improved procedure for incidents of concern.”

“You did, did you?” he said softly, nodding to himself.

“I am assuming that plans are afoot, but I want to get in there and get him talking. Talking usually helps. What is the threatened teacher’s name, sir?”

“White, Mrs Charles White.”

“Fine. For now, I am Charles White during the negotiations, O.K.?”

“But the police...”

“When the police arrive, things will change. Let me try first.”

“Well, but...”

“Fine. I am going in.”

I opened the door and strode in, speaking loudly, “Where is this crazy boy that is threatening my wife?” I looked across and there was the intruder, sitting at a table in the middle of the empty canteen, with his knife lying on the table in front of him. I walked swiftly towards him, calling out, “You the one threatening her, lad? What have you got against my wife, and why would you threaten women anyway? Got no guts, lad?”

He whitened at this insulting approach, and straightened up, still protectively sitting near his knife.

“Who are you, mister?”

“White is the name, Charles White. I say again, what have you got against my wife?”

He blustered, “She told the cops about me, that’s what!”

“Don’t be so bloody stupid, lad. What could she tell them, since you had already left the school, or so I understand. Is that not so?”

“Yes, but she told them where I live.”

“Preposterous!” I exploded. “You can’t be that stupid! First of all, why would she assume you were still at the same address as before, and how would she know your home address, anyway? You kids are on the class lists as names, nothing more. Only the school admin hold the other details, such as addresses, and teachers don’t have access to such information for data protection reasons. That is a fact, lad: restricted information. She bloody well wouldn’t know! So where is the basis for your complaint, son?”

I had slowly toned down my voice from aggressive to tolerant, with a hint of understanding that it was a faulty assumption on his part. I went on speaking as I stood over him at the other side of the table.

The knife seemed to have been forgotten.

I continued to take the lead, “Eh? How could she have done anything that you claim? Tell me how?”

“She could have gone and asked about my details, see,” he went back to complaining, and I jumped on his other assumption.

“Why would she do that, my lad, not having seen you in ages, and not empowered to have that data.? Does she know something that the rest of the staff don’t? How would she know if you were in trouble with the fuzz? Tell me what it is ... assuming that you are in some sort of trouble that you are worried about...”

“You see, she was the only one I could think of that might have given me away,” he whined, trying again to justify himself. The knife was definitely forgotten for now, but I ignored it.

“And why would she do that, when she knows nothing about your current life? She has a couple of dozen kids in her class as it is, and I doubt she knows much about what any of them get up to, out of school. You are just one of many who have left and are of no further interest, it seems to me. Damn, this is all so silly! Can I get a drink of some kind, so I can sit down and we can talk rationally?”

I turned and faced the serving counter, calling out, “Any chance of a cup of tea for a thirsty man, ladies?”

They must have been prepared for such requests, as a tray with a cup and saucer with steaming tea appeared on the counter with alacrity. A female was behind the counter and called out, “Do you want it brought over?”

“Please,” I assented with a sigh. “I could do with all of this just going away. People can be so daft at times.” I looked to heaven. “I probably act silly myself occasionally; most husbands do. You got a girlfriend, lad?”

“Not at the moment, Mr White.”

“Think yourself lucky, lad. Marriage means you have to look after your spouse and the kids, and try to bring up your kids to be decent folk in future. Did you think about her having children, son?”

“No, sir,” he said, obviously thinking of it for the first time.

“Well, time you did think about how other people are connected to each other. You have a mother and a father, lad?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you thought about what they would think if you killed someone? They would not be very proud of you, would they? Probably bloody mad at you instead. You think they would be on your side, for acting stupid instead of thinking things through?”

“I suppose not.” He sounded despondent.

“Well, whatever you were up to, it is nothing compared to what you almost got yourself into, here. Time you thought about that, son. Perhaps getting shot of the knife would be a start? Get it out of the way and you have a better chance of survival. You don’t want a police marksman shooting you dead, do you? It could happen, if you were brandishing a knife at people, you know.”

“Oh. I hadn’t though of that. I thought all the bobbies were unarmed.”

“Nope. They have trained marksman for terrorists and such. You are no terrorist, just confused about who knew what about you, right? But they don’t know! They will just be faced with a guy wielding a weapon.”

“Right enough, but what should I do with the knife?” he wondered.

“Toss it away, is what I would do. Don’t give it to me, or I might be seen as the intruder. I don’t want to be shot!”

He turned and threw the knife across the floor towards a distant wall.

“There. Now, I am a danger to no-one, right?”

“Right. We can have a more friendly chat, now that we know each other a little better. Where is my blasted tea? Hey miss!” I called; where’s that tea?”

The female brought the tray over, and it was Fiona acting as my waitress. She laid my cup and saucer on the table and just stood there, apparently waiting for something.

I pretended not to know her, saying, “Thanks, Miss. I appreciate this, but I’ll pay for it later.” I appeared to hesitate, then declared, “Dammit, my wife will make me pay for it in another way, later.”

The lad chuckled, “Marriage, sir?”

“Marriage, lad. Overall, it is lovely, but there are times you have to go though stuff to get to the other side, just like you have done. You just made a step in the right direction, son; good for you.”

I stopped to take a sip from my tea. “This tastes marvellous, Miss. My compliments to the chef!”

At this quip, a smile broke her face, and she said, “The tea comes with the thanks of the management, sir. We don’t need a dangerous confrontation on our premises.”

“Good of your supervisor, lass. It is kind of him.”

“Her, sir. The supervisor is a woman.”

“My apologies then. Convey my thanks to her, instead.”

At this point the door opened, and the Rector walked in hesitantly, asking, “Is everything all right, Mister White?”

I responded, “It is, Rector. My young friend here was confused about certain facts and got carried away. He is no longer making threats, and has divested himself of the assumed weapon, so he is quite harmless.” I raised my voice as I instructed the lad, “You are quite harmless, aren’t you, my boy?

“Uh, yes, sir. We are just having a chat here.”

“Good lad. Now, I’ll go and pick up that ... object ... and dispose of it before the bobbies get here, shall I? Okay with you?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Please do.”

I walked over to the knife, but on the way collected a paper napkin from another table, and wrapped it round the knife, which had a smaller blade than had seemed earlier. I walked with the knife to the kitchen, wiped the handle, and noticing the generic style, carefully included it randomly among other similar knives in use there. It was now unidentifiable from them, which is what I wanted.

I walked back to the table, and said to the Rector, “There was no knife, Rector, so there was no threat to life, just a confused lad making unfounded claims due to a misunderstanding of the facts.”

The Rector stared at me for a moment, then at the teenager, and finally back at me. A smile at last crept on to his face.

“I see. There was no knife, just seemed to be a knife in his hand, an illusion drawn from his words. Is that so, boy? No real threat to Mrs White?”

“Yes, sir. Just confused facts that are now sorted. Mr White and me are having a conversation, that’s all.”

The Rector stared at me again, and repeated himself, “I see; sorted. What do we tell the constabulary then?”

I informed him, “The lad arrived in an agitated state, saying things that were based on nothing more than assumptions, and later we had a chat and straightened things out between him and the school. That okay with you, sir? Better if the Academy is not tarred with news of a major incident, eh?”

That spurred him to get the message. “Oh, yes. Your way would be much better. Right, you can go along with that, can you, boy? You don’t want your old school to get a reputation for crime, so can we agree on that scenario?”

The lad swiftly agreed with the story, and when a police sergeant strode officiously into the canteen shortly thereafter, the Rector rose to greet him.

“I am the Rector of this Academy, sergeant. Sorry that you were called out. Someone thought they saw a knife and panicked. It seems that a former pupil thought a teacher had done some something detrimental to him, and came seeking justice, somewhat aggressively. All because of a misunderstanding. It has all been sorted out between us and no-one has been harmed, just the lad’s composure was unsettled. He is now quite contrite and doesn’t want to be a bother to anyone.”

“Really?” asked the sergeant, unwilling to believe it could be so simple, “We were about to call in the armed response team if I confirmed it to be major intrusion.”

I turned to the teenager, “There you are, lad; as I said. Just as well you were not carrying a knife, eh?”

“Yes, Mister White. I am sorry if I gave that impression to somebody.”

The sergeant sighed. “I still have a make a record of this call-out, so I’ll need names and so forth, for my report.”

I held a hand up. “I have to get back to my work, sergeant, so the Rector will give you my details and my teacher wife can fill in anything that he does not know. Bye for now, Rector.”

The Rector replied nonchalantly, “Certainly, Mr White. Thanks for your help with this difficulty.”

I sauntered back to the door and left rapidly, walking a block or so before looking for a bus to take me nearer home. Hopefully the Rector will cover my tracks.

I got home and to wind down I made myself a snack and settled down with another book. I seem to be getting through a lot of books from the public library lately. This one was called “The Official History of Britain, our story in numbers, as told by the Office for National Statistics”, and it is full of staggering facts and figures. Absorbing stuff to a nerd like me. I was engrossed.

Later in the afternoon, the girls came home and Fiona immediately came to pounce on me and demanded, “When did you become Mrs White’s husband?”