Rabie.
—Call me Ann.
—Ann, then. I have followed Paul since he entered the school in standard seven. I believe he won a scholarship at that time, a minor exhibition. Subsequently I acted as his housemaster, not to say his Geography teacher. I am delegated to take care of our best young scholars, the ones who might proceed to Cambridge. After the last rugby match, I invited Paul, along with three other promising young men, to dine at the Balfour Hotel.
—I know you have a good relationship, Edward. Whatever has happened has never altered my son’s loyalty to the school.
—Loyalty is a virtue the school endeavours to inculcate. Allow me to do the honours.
Lavigne poured the tea through the strainer, offering her the first cup without turning his face. He added a sugar cube to his own cup and then two drops of milk as carefully as if he were using an eye-dropper. He sat up straight and drank, his blue blazer with its heavy gold buttons done up and his long hands almost disappearing into the sleeves. She saw that he was wearing cufflinks and remembered Neil’s pair, inherited from his father, which had been borrowed and never returned by Sartre.
—I regret you and your husband have been unable to attend any of the important matches that make up our calendar.
—My husband is busy, Edward. He has taken a big part at the university since we came back from Paris. Sometimes it means that other things go undone.
—There’s no obligation whatsoever. Some of the boys travel from homes in Johannesburg or London. Others come from remote farms located in Rhodesia. We understand that parents have different circumstances. Nevertheless, it is a shame that our first real conversation should be under these circumstances.
—I agree.
—Then we understand each other. You understand the situation. A prefect brought his suspicions to me. Naturally it fell to me to investigate and to search Paul’s locker. That’s when I found the spirits.
—Should you be encouraging the boys to spy on each other?
—Spying is not a term I would use. The prefects have a duty to keep good order in the houses. The same system is in effect at leading schools in the United Kingdom, so there can be no question of our fairness in this matter. I found two bottles of Klipdrift, cheap brandy. Paul has refused to explain their provenance, which has only worsened his situation. Did he bring the brandy from home? Some students have been known to raid their fathers’ liquor cabinets in an attempt to win popularity.
—That doesn’t sound like Paul. But Neil doesn’t touch spirits. There is usually some wine in the house. I sometimes have a glass in the evening.
—And that’s no sin.
Lavigne and his dry laugh acted on her nerves. There was some intimacy in their conversation which Ann disliked, as if the housemaster wanted to show that he was in on her secrets. She thought that he didn’t mind offending her. She watched him more closely. Even in Neil’s utopia there would be a Lavigne.
—Paul probably went to an Indian shop, Mrs Rabie. They operate just beyond the limits of the Curzon estate. By law, they cannot obtain freehold in the area. So who rents them the land? At the board’s request, I am investigating the proprietors who allow these traders to operate. When we discover the names of the culprits we will take action. They must conform, or their tenants will have their licences revoked.
—It sounds severe, Edward.
—Severity is called for. I am not a racialist, believe you me, but I know that there will never be a peaceful settlement in the country until we have brought everyone up to a certain standard. I take an interest in the university. In which department does your husband work?
—Neil’s in Philosophy. We came back early from Paris so he could take up the position. I would have stayed in France longer if I could have. I married early, the first time, and never had a year to wander around Europe.
Ann wasn’t sure why she was saying more than she had to. She tried to be on good terms with other people. She wanted to help Paul.
—I had three years on the continent, Mrs Rabie, at Oxford. It convinced me that my place was here, because this is where our civilisation is being put to the test.
Lavigne excused himself for the toilet. Ann watched his solid figure striding down the corridor, confident that this life and the next belonged to him. In his Anglican afterlife he would shake hands with the boys whose backsides he had deliciously caned in the privacy of his study. They would thank him for putting them on the right track.
Ann was born Catholic, the product of Irish grandparents. She had been confirmed, but did nothing more than light a candle when she entered a chapel. She was divorced, moreover, and did not fit in the same category as the other parents. It occurred to her that the private schools resembled the church. They shared the assumption of universal rule. Edward Lavigne could have been a bishop.
Ten years ago Ann would have been impressed. But she had enjoyed the years in Paris, living on the Boulevard Saint-Michel, visiting the houses of Lévi-Strauss and de Beauvoir. She didn’t mistake a Natal private school for the height of civilisation. She simply didn’t want Paul to lose a year. He had adapted to Curzon College, arriving on the bus at the end of term in black blazer and tie, eager to relate to her the great schoolboy debates about motorcycles, batsmen, and bowlers, and the rumours about the border that filtered down from older brothers.
Neil had been Dux at a similar institution. The table of punishments hadn’t changed since his time. Boys could be beaten with a cricket bat or cane, privately in the housemaster’s study, or in a line in the gymnasium in the case of a group offence. A boy could be forced to run cross-country miles, denied the privilege of going home on a long weekend, or made to reproduce tables of Latin conjugations.
It was a prodigious schedule of human sacrifice. Between her and the mother of an Aztec there was not so much difference as the historian supposed.
By the time Lavigne returned Ann had resolved to ignore the subtle current of his mockery. He had combed his sandy-blond hair so severely across his head that his grey scalp was exposed to her. When he spoke he set his head at an angle as if he were deliberately revealing a part of his nakedness. He wanted Ann to see the thinning top of his head.
His vanity offended her. The same quality had been harmless in Parisian men and women, playwrights and university philosophers, pianists and surgeons, who were so fierce talking about themselves and their doctrines. It reminded her that Edward Lavigne was the unusual man with a French surname and an English accent.
Lavigne wanted to complete his piece of business.
—At this stage of the term, we cannot refund Paul’s fees. That is the view of the school board, having taken legal advice on the matter. We will allow you to remove Paul from the school at your own initiative. I am willing to make a favourable call to my good friend, the headmaster of Kearsney, or, if you prefer, send a letter to an excellent public facility like the Durban High School, assuring them of his character. Many boys who have been asked to leave College go on to become substantial personages in the world.
It was as bad as if Lavigne had reached over the table and slapped her with one of his finely shaped hands.
—We haven’t established that Paul needs to be taken out. Other boys misbehave. They haven’t been asked to leave.
—Mrs
