He didn't know what he was apologising for. For insisting on doing his duty now when it was too late. For running the school remotely and comfortably instead of being in the thick of it. For being kind to the incompetent. For not suspecting Innis. For being weak.

Durrant, summoned to the Headmaster's study, went with a quick and buoyant step. He was still jubilant after the inquest. His role had been more brief than he would have liked. There had been no real pitting of wits. The coroner, as spineless as a jellyfish, had oozed concern over the proceedings. The only rock had been Fleming himself and he hadn't uttered. To pit his wits against Fleming would have been a joy.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

He noticed Corley sitting over in the leather chair – the same chair that he had sat in himself when he had spoken to his mother on the telephone. The association caused a blending of shock and remembered pain. He winced.

Brannigan noticed. "Come in, Durrant, and close the door behind you." He wondered how Durrant had recognised Corley. He went on to make the introductions as if he hadn't noticed. "This is Mr. Corley – Neville's father."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"They were together on sports day."

And neither of your parents were there, Brannigan thought. At all school functions you roamed alone. It was all very well to try to stamp out pity when the lad wasn't there. He was there now. Not the Durrant of the courtroom brazening it like a Nazi recruit, but the gangling awkward boy shrugging off his height, trying to diminish himself into obscurity.

"Do you know why Mr. Corley is here?"

"Yes." In lucid moments he had known that this meeting now was inevitable. Ever since Neville Corley had gone he knew that there could be only one outcome. When his mind played the games he wanted it to play anxiety was programmed out. Corley wouldn't arrive home. He would arrive home and say nothing.

Now, briefly lucid, he accepted the situation for what it was.

Brannigan said with a degree of gentleness. "Tell us." He stood up and pulled out a chair. "Don't be frightened – just tell us."

The gentleness was puzzling. Durrant declined to sit. He held the back of the chair. If you tried to trap a tiger you laid a bait of meat, you didn't make pussy-cat noises at it. What did the old fool think he was – a backyard moggie? Now that the shock was receding, he was beginning to feel better again. He examined Corley senior with some intent-ness. He hadn't done anything about the warts on the back of his left hand. On sports day he had been showing his son how to hold the bat and the warts had been obvious. Innis couldn't have liked that very much. Showing the boy how to hold the bat was his business. Innis. Bruin. He had never called him Bruin to his face. Last night it had been Sir. The conversation dribbled back into his mind. 'Durrant, you're a sadistic brute – what the hell were you trying to do to that poor little brat?' 'Nothing.' 'Nothing, sir… You're sick. Durrant, do you know that?' 'Then make me well sir, you know how, sir, there's time, sir, before the bell, sir,'… 'Get out!'

He turned back to Brannigan. "David Fleming walked in his sleep."

"And so- •›"

"He woke up twice – by my bedroom "

"Go on "

"He saw Bruin Bruin didn't see him I didn't tell Bruin "'

"Bruin – Mr Innis0"

"Yes I thought Fleming was still asleep when he walked into my room He walked in very quietly and he walked out very quietly On the Mariana he called Bruin Woolly Bear On D's bed My bed I killed him "

A perfectly good reason, Durrant thought He looked at the two men and wondered why they should look at him as they did He had never intended shopping Innis Innis had been his sole comfort for a long time Last night, after leaving Innis, he had gone down to the hollow at the bottom of the copse and lain on his stomach and cried The tears had been shed for his mother, too It was hard to cut adrift from people At the inquest he had felt liberated He had stood alone and been powerful He didn't feel powerful now A great longing for Innis surged over him The rejection last night had seemed final It couldn't be final Not his mother and Innis in one day There was a metallic thumping in his skull He pressed his fingers against his temples trying to stop it The engine was running again but running too fast He said very politely, "Excuse me, Headmaster I think I'm going to be sick "

He left the room before they could stop him and ran across the main hall The quickest way to the gym was through the kitchen garden He vaulted rows of cabbages and left a trail of leaves With a sudden burst of amusement he kicked at an upstanding onion and sent it spinning across the soil The awful school food The awful school garden The awful school He was half-laughing, half-crying, when he reached the gym Six little boys were lined up to vault the wooden horse Innis, hairy in shorts and sweat shirt, was leaning against the wall bars watching them Durrant said, "It's over You're for the chop" He couldn't look at Innis as he said it A little boy with tight ginger curls was shaping up for the jump Durrant took him by his hair and the seat of his pants "Whoops – up and over!" The boy screamed m protest as Durrant flung him over and on to the mat He fell heavily, sobbing Innis went to help him He stood him up and got him to walk and then he turned to the others "Out – all of you – out " His face was grey The children, frightened like sheep with a wolf amongst them, herded together in a frozen mass Innis headed the child who had fallen in the direction of the door "Line up behind Sibley Quick – one, two – one, two March back to the changing room and stay there Now!"

The line straggled out of the gym and then once through the door broke up They ran in silence Durrant, breathing fast, was leaning against the horse. "I didn't mean to shop you You could always say it wasn't true "

"What wasn't true?" Innis's pallor was stabbed with brown freckles "That you and I…"

"That you and I – what?"

"David Fleming knew about us – he saw us – that's why I killed him. I killed him for you "

The supreme gesture, he thought, what more could I do for you? He taunted you – Woolly Bear – and I closed his sodding mouth for ever Be kind to me, Bruin Be pleased He wondered why Innis was taking such a long time to answer Innis spoke at last – very softly "You stupid little bastard You goddamned stupid little bastard You're off your bloody head." There was a sour taste on his tongue and the words were forced out of him sour with shock The boy was mad He had guessed for some time that he was unbalanced And he, himself, had been mad to let things get as far as they had He had started by feeling sorry for him. There had been something doglike about Durrant in the early days of the relationship A pat. A word of praise. Or, rather, a reversal of the sequence A word of praise A pat. A caress And then all of it He wondered how much Brannigan would believe. The word of a boy gone crazy as opposed to his?

Durrant said in a very normal voice, "I love you "

"Crap!"

"Please. " Durrant took a couple of steps towards him.

"Get the hell away from me." He put his hand out to stop Durrant getting any closer. His fingers touched Durrani's forehead and he withdrew them as if the contact had made him unclean.

The gesture was as final and as wounding as it could be.

Durrant said, "All right. I'll get the hell away from you As far as anyone can get away from anyone " His stomach felt like a coil of scorpions and his extremities were leaden. He doubted if he could move.

There was sufficient rapport between them for Innis to be aware of the depth of his pain. He was past caring The fact that Durrant had done murder was of less importance than the reason for it. Durrant could kill both his reputation and his career. That mattered. He said, "They'll put you away for years." It came out viciously.