"What was Masterdon doing outside sir."
"You may ask that question. He had leave to purchase his weekly fruit from the greengrocer, that's what he was doing."
"It would appear sir you have me dead to rights."
"Appear. We have indeed got you dead to rights sixty four. I understand your grandmother is your guardian and you are an orphan. What happened to your parents may I ask. I think these are questions quite pertinent under the circumstances. Speak up.'
"My mother was killed in a hunting accident sir. My father took to drink as he loved her very much. He drank his estate sir and died from an onslaught of creditors.'
"You don't die of creditors.'
"Yes you do sir. My granny refused to help him and she is very rich sir. I put the shilling in the gas meter sir."
"What are you talking about."
"My father sir. He gassed himself in an oven in a room in Glasgow. Overlooking the traintracks to Edinburgh, sir. I was but a mite then. He gave me the shilling to put in the meter in the hall. My father locked me out of the room. And he was dead when the police came."
"Are these lies sixty four, are you having us on."
Crunch put his head down into his open hand propped by an elbow on the leather arm rest. He made a long sigh. Slouch removed his spectacles and pulled a nose cloth from his sleeve and ran it back and forth on the glass. Crunch's flat voice.
"He speaks the truth, Mr. Slouch."
"I see. All right. Both of you can stand at ease. Of course it is very sad. There is no question about that. None. But if we were to let sentiment intrude upon justice where would we be. Where would we be sixty four."
"I guess up to our necks in injustice sir."
"Yes, well that's one way of putting it. Let's get on. Your granny, sixty four, is she your father's mother."
"No sir, she is the mother of my mother."
"In short then, your father's mother in law."
"Yes sir and she was most cruel to him sir."
"That may be. Our concern now is that your grandmother will be taking up this matter."
"No sir. She will not. As she has little to do with me. She lives very north in Scotland where the Romans never conquered. My trustees will. They are in London. And they will be alarmed sir.'
"And so they should be. And pray what are they trustees for."
"My mother's father sir built ships. And his ancestors before him. They built many of the ships sir, which defeated the Spanish Armada."
"To be sure. I think we may be getting slightly off the point here.'
"No we're not sir."
"What do you mean."
"I mean sir, my trustees who administrate my fortune were going to leave a packet to the school."
"What. Mr. Crunch, what do you know about this."
"I'm afraid not very much Mr. Slouch. I do know of sixty four's trustees however. Two of them visited the school a year ago."
"They were sir to hold the sum in escrow pending my passing out successfully from the school."
"Escrow, escrow. Do you even know what the word means."
"It's from the old French sir, escroe. A bond or roll of writings."
Balthazar with half lifted right hand moistening his lips and leaning into the hollow late sunlight.
"That is true."
"You keep quiet fifty seven. One of you talking is quite enough. Of course we all know sixty four you're head of your form. It would appear we have two little budding barristers here. What. But I am quite satisfied sixty four that you are at the moment seizing upon an opportunity to weave a new web of lies. And when this little matter is res judicata you can reflect upon it when pleading someone's case in Chancery."
"Upon my word of honour sir, my trustees are very powerful sir."
"Word of honour. O we are foxy aren't we sixty four. Very very foxy. Do we think we are foxy sixty four."
"I am not foxy sir. I have merely stated that should I be sent down it would make my trustees look with displeasure upon the school."
'Threats, eh. This school has long been quite nearly a living facsimile of Debrett. And such as you, bragging about and tabulating your vile pollutions. And most inglorious of all, two commoners breaching the school rules, its very codes, thieving.'
'Tray sir, my friend Balthazar has never thieved and it was I who led him off the school grounds and he did not know he was out of bounds.'
"Well now we finally have a confession. One wonders where I'd be without a witness here. Two commoners indeed.'
"Nobility sir has never prevented an Englishman from ratting. And pray sir, I am listed in Debrett."
"Are you indeed. Sixty four you will be amused to know that it so happens that we possess a copy of Debrett. What about that. Just behind you there, Mr. Crunch, at the end of the shelf. O I don't think we have quite finished here, not by a long chalk. Trustees. Armada. Packet. Packet of lies. That's your packet. Ah thank you, Mr. Crunch. Now sixty four under whose nobility do we enquire for you."
"Sir if it is the most recent edition."
"It is."
"I am listed fourth line from the bottom page 362 sir."
Sound of groaning horsehairs unflexing as Mr. Crunch shifted position. The long trailing whistle of a curlew out across the grasses. Now the month when the last of all the swooping swallows are gone. And Beefy through the night times said hear Balthazar, that hoot is the little owl and that shriek is the barn owl and they'll be grabbing up the rats and forest mice.
"Hmmmm. I see. Well. One hesitates to think what you will do should you ever get the title. Being that we have it already that you are an inveterate masturbator. And do tell us, the entry is missing for last week. How many times."
"Twenty one. Twenty three if we include up to lunch time today. Sir.' "Are you treating it as some distinction, flaunting it at us. A low habit that saps the energy of life, the spirit of the soul.' "Sir last year my average was only eighteen a week.' "I suppose we enter that little score as mitigation."
"Sir in the military manual it provides that troops must masturbate to prevent undue familiarity developing."
"Who the bloody hell has filled you with all this nonsense. I've served eleven years in the Thirty Fourth Poona Horse.
That's simply not on. You are grossly impertinent."
"My tutor sir, told me so. He served in the Indore Mounted Escort, sir."
"And what else did he tell you. That gross indecency was the order of the day. He's bogus, tell him that for me, your tutor indeed. Impertinent, I think evil is the word for you. Forgive my shouting Mr. Crunch, one doesn't take slander of one's regiment lightly."
"Do you think we should adjourn for tea Mr. Slouch."
"I'm not quite finished yet with these two."
"Sir I may not be the most splendid person in the kingdom. But I am not evil. Nor am I impertinent. My granny's butler Swithins said that a bit of irreverent cheekiness was becoming in boys under ten sir, whereas the same behaviour might be perfectly insulting in one older. I have some fine qualities sir. Which you may not recognise as worthy. But I shall grow up and serve England and do my duty to the best of my abilities sir. I have the finest voice in the school choir. My ancestors have hewn and used the adze. And one day sir, when I am of age and come into my fortune I will buy up this whole area and blow up this school with dynamite."
"Pretty speech. Quite nervy. Very nervy."
"Into smithereens, sir."
"Smithereens. Well you might use such an Irish word. Typical of idle talk. You bumptious little boy. You don't dare stand there thinking for a second that you intimidate myself and Mr. Crunch who, if my memory serves me, has ridden 46 horse, Third Dragoon Guards. Eh Mr. Crunch. Blow us all up. Bit of military megalomania. Only thing can be said in your favour is you possess such a blatant disregard for caution in your remarks that you give amusement. You little rascal. Who put the eels down the bath drains. And let loose the toads in the faculty room. As per your diary, you threatening little rogue. Well
we've got it all down here. A nice little interrogatory. And you French boy. Fifty seven. What have you got to say for yourself.'
"I am Beefy's friend.'
"Are you indeed. And you want to be sent down with him I suppose.'
"Yes sir.'
"And what do we know about you. An orphan too, perhaps."
"I do not have a father, sir."
"No father. Strange. How did you get here."
"I am here sir."
"With no father. Slow of mind. You don't follow me. And I'm not about to argue concerning your immaculate conception, dear boy."
"Mr. Slouch, should we not adjourn. It's time for the boys' tea."
"Indeed. A little solitary on bread and water would seem more appropriate. But I think we can wind this up. Yes. Sixty four, you're down for eighteen strokes of the cane. A further six of the very best to be added to the original twelve for threatening to blow us to smithereens. And don't think sixty four you'll be sent down before this justice is administered. Six strokes every other day, with a day's reflection between. That'll keep your bottom busy. And fifty seven pray tell what's your past."
"I am a Catholic sir."
"Good God, that bunch. Romish doctrine. Purgatory, pardons, reliques. Surely you realize it's not grounded upon any warranty in scripture. Whole thing is repugnant to the word of God. There is no popery here. Although we shall respect your beliefs. Well we know Mr. Crunch has striven to keep discipline in our midst. And we shall have gone a long way along the road when sixty four departs. But you, fifty seven shall not be let off so easily. Your mother shall be informed and we shall suggest keeping you here. To make an Englishman of you. Sixty four, prepare to pack your things. Be ready to vacate. The headmaster upon this report will decree your further presence in this school as no longer desirable. Smithereens. No wonder there are no dart boards in Irish pubs. And sixty four just let me conclude by telling you yours is the most remarkable exhibition of brazenness and insolence it has ever been my unpleasant duty to witness in this school in the seven years I've been here. Shirtyness is simply not in it. It's been cavalier villany all the way.'
"Pray sir, forgive me."
"Forgive you."
"Sir, and allow me another chance."
"You have the barbaric effrontery to stand there and beg for mercy."
"Sir. Thou hast given me the defences of thy salvation, thy right hand also shall hold me up, and thy loving correction shall make me great. Psalm Eighteen sir."
"I damn well know what psalm. And they shall cry, but there shall be none to help them, yea even unto the Lord shall they cry, but he shall not hear them. Also Psalm Eighteen."
"By every indication sir, I am therefore completely buggered." "I should not use that word if I were you."
"May I interrupt Mr. Slouch and say something."
"Do by all means."
"Beefy. Please remember, although you are sent down from this school, I am sure headmaster will give you the benefit of certain discretions which will not unduly reflect upon your future and you can make a fresh start."
"But sir if I'm flung out, my trustees will blow a gasket."
"You are not yet nine, your trustees surely will consider your age.'
"Sir I am nine years, eight months, two weeks, one day, four hours and twenty two minutes."
Slouch tapping his pencil on his paper. The sun a great ball of red sinking and lighting up the edge of clouds in pink. All the lonely corridors, the bleak classrooms, the morning and evening dormitories now threatened to be taken away can suddenly become like home.
"One would think, sixty four, you were twelve to listen to you. I wonder do you know that your redeemer liveth."
"Yes sir, I know that my redeemer liveth. I know it."
"And you fifty seven."
"Sir I think that he may too, liveth. My ancestor was the author of the catechism, the Christian doctrine by way of question and answer drawn chiefly from the express word of God and other pure sources."
"Good Lord, one constant stream of surprises."
Slouch raising eyebrows high and Crunch reaching into his pocket to withdraw a small rosewood silver embellished casket. Opening it with a click. Pinching out snuff and putting it up into each nostril. Sniffing and fanning his gold silk hanky beneath his nose. The sun blotted away and the sky darker, tumbling great grey clouds over the deep thickening blue. A bell clanging. And another gently off in the distance from the village church. How so much fear treads where all for miles is moist grass meadows, river and woods.
"Well Mr. Slouch, perhaps, if there's nothing further. I have a bell ringing engagement at village church, and some essays to correct before dinner."
"Yes. Well I think we've concluded this matter. By the way you have traipsed mud in upon headmaster's carpet. Now both of you get out. And after prayers, sixty four, you know where to be."
"Before I leave sir, I ask you give back my diary."
"It's evidence."
"It's mine sir. And you must give it back to me."
"O we will be keeping this little document. As an example to other boys who may be like minded. And after your trustees have given it sufficient and adequate perusal."
"You can't keep it, it's mine sir.' "I most certainly can keep it. School property."
"I bought it with my own pocket money. You cannot keep it."
"Don't you raise your voice to me."
"It is my copyright property sir."
"O we are a clever little boy aren't we."
"Common law sir. My trustees will sue you, sir."
"More threats eh. More uncalled for cleverness. We've come upon a very large cuckoo as is sometimes hatched in a poor little torn tit's nest. I'm so glad to have Mr. Crunch here to witness your display of legal knowledge, I'm sure no one would believe it. I think perhaps I'd better ring for Mr. Newt the school secretary. Get this all down on paper."
"You are afraid of me sir."
"How dare you assume that. Certainly not."
"Respectfully sir, it would be as well if you were. Because previously you have had me dead to rights. But upon my word sir I will tell my trustees to sue you to return my diary. And they are, two of them, solicitors."
"Mr. Crunch, go immediately and fetch Mr. Newt please."
"Mr. Slouch surely we're letting this matter get out of hand. Can't we take a sporting view. I think as a matter of fact that Beefy indeed is within his rights to demand the return of his diary. It is a personal document."
"And I am sadly apt to feel the ruddy little book is unlawful." "No Mr. Slouch."
"What. Gross indecency with others is not unlawful. Come come."
"I think that is a bit extreme of you Mr. Slouch, his diary does not say others."
"I'm sure there've been others. Frivolities, invitations to bed with bigger boys. Things I hardly yet dare speak of. Unnecessary handling about each other in the rugger scrum. And in the baths."
"Mr. Slouch I can't feel we should pursue this melancholy line. There is no one in this school who takes a poorer view of smutty talk and behaviour than I do. And indeed I have campaigned vigorously to wipe out any evidence of it. But it is a question of the boy's property. I mean we must not get into a lather of hysterics here."
"I'm in no lather I assure you Mr. Crunch. I also happen to be deputy headmaster."
"O dear no one is usurping your authority Mr. Slouch."
"I should hope not."
"But if you shoot off a chap's kneecaps I hardly think there is point in putting bullets in his liver."
"What on earth do you mean Mr. Crunch."
"I think you're being unnecessarily harsh. And somewhat unfair. Indeed they were my lamb chops and had Beefy asked I would have given them to him with the greatest of pleasure.
The boy's been punished quite sufficiently. And damn it, if you want the truth I think you're being a bully."
"That's quite enough from you Mr. Crunch."
"And I may add a blackmailer. By threatening to
keep this boy's diary."
"Do I hear you correctly Mr. Crunch."
"You most certainly do, Mr. Slouch. This boy Beefy here, and I don't know the other boy sufficiently well, but Beefy is one of the most brilliant boys ever to set foot in this school. Indeed I should not be at all surprised if one day this school were remembered only for the fact that he was briefly here."
"Good Lord I won't believe my ears."
"Well you'd better believe this then. Unless the boy's diary is returned to him prior to his leaving this school, I personally will get in touch with his trustees. Good day."
This tall thin elegant man. His sad face hardened with knotted muscles across his cheeks. Standing glaring at Slouch. And reaching to grasp up the great thick red volume of Debrett and banging it closed between his hands. With a sudden gigantic heave sending the noble tome crashing across the room against the shelves. The oar above clattering down. Slouch raising his arms to shield his face from the descending trophies. And one last, an ancient cricket bat, hanging askew by a shredded crimson thread, fell at the slam of the door.
Beefy with a pump of elbow into Balthazar's ribs. Brief grins and eyebrow twitching on the faces of the wide eyed little boys. Slouch slowly stands. Smiles fade. And Beefy, his mouth open drawing in his breath and raising a hand slowly to point at Mr. Slouch as he leans forward on arms pressed astride on the desk.
"Sir. Your flies are open."
Slouch with a shiver straightening
Slouch with a shiver straightening up. Quick nervous fingers tugging and pulling and buttoning. A red rage steaming at his temples. Beefy clutching Balthazar by the hand. Retreating backward towards the door. As the words come hissing out of Slouch's teeth.
"You two get out of here before I kill you."
Balthazar turned the crystal handled knob and pulled open the heavy door. Beefy glancing behind and pushing Balthazar forward. The door slamming. And they ran pounding down the wax gleaming hall.
It is
The random
Accumulation
Of triumphs
Which is
So nice.
8