At the moment of speaking he seemed to be the holder of Brian’s perpetually usurped authority. The group was hot-seating the notion of power versus popularity and, unsurprisingly, popularity came nowhere.
‘What you have to do,’ Collar said, illustrating their number-one choice, ‘is get your retaliation in first.’
‘Speed plus surprise and no holes barred,’ said Tom, making a swift karate chop. ‘But especially speed.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Denzil. ‘Never fuck anybody over tomorrow you can fuck over today.’
‘Then,’ said Edie, tossing back her wild mane of tangerine hair, ‘you got respect.’
Brian shivered and felt deliciously afraid at the thought of all that proximate, barbarian energy on the loose - swift and irrational, roaring round the precinct of a Saturday night smashing bottles, spraying cars, sinking its steel-capped boots into soft, unprotected flesh. And all the while he was lying, snug and safe, tucked up in the warm at home.
‘Hating people,’ Denzil was saying, with the smile that never reached his mouth, ‘is good for you. Gives you a purpose in life.’
‘Yeah,’ said Collar. ‘I could hate for centuries, me.’
Brian knew that, in his role as teacher, he had an ethical imperative to protest against these attitudes of destructive amorality, to offer a little homily along uplifting lines. You only hurt yourselves by this attitude. (Patently untrue.) What would happen if we did just as we liked? (It’d be a damn sight more interesting world, that’s what.) He said nothing.
‘Wonder what it’s like to kill somebody.’
‘I been near that. Very near.’
‘And me.’ Little Bor dodged a swipe from the back of Denzil’s hand.
‘My dad’s brother did a job on a bookie that wouldn’t pay out. He’s inside now. Detained during Her Majesty’s pleasure. Dead good that is.’ Collar explained why it was dead good.
‘You’re talking absolute nonsense.’ Finally, Brian was moved to protest. ‘You don’t even get to meet the Queen. Now - we absolutely must get on. There’s less than ten minutes left.’
‘They got anywhere with your murder, Brian?’ asked Edie.
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Did they ask you what you were doing while it was happening? For an alibi, like.’
‘They asked all of us.’
‘Imagine being next door.’
‘Did you hear him screaming?’
‘No!’
Brian, pale with queasy imaginings, struggled to retrieve the conversational reins. He almost threatened to walk out, then remembered that the last time he had done so it was they who had vanished, almost before he had finished speaking. It took him three weeks to coax them back.
‘What were you doing, then?’
Brian stared at Edie. In spite of the jumps in conversation he knew exactly what she meant. He frowned as if he genuinely could not remember. As if it was not branded on his heart. ‘Marking papers. Fast asleep. One or the other.’
‘Hope you can prove it,’ said Denzil.
‘His wife’d back him up. Wouldn’t she?’
‘They’d back each other up.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Tom, wetting his finger and smoothing down the silky hairs on his forearm, ‘if they weren’t in it together.’
‘Why d’you do it, Bri?’ asked Denzil. ‘Money?’
‘Love,’ said Edie, and she hugged her knees and smiled and pouted. ‘I bet he did it for love.’
‘Yeah. Having it off were they - this bloke and your missus?’
‘All right. A joke’s a joke.’ When she smiled, even unkindly, the angels sang. Brian indicated the gymnasium clock. ‘As you can see, our time is up yet again. We don’t meet Friday so that gives you three whole days to study your parts.’
Sniggers all round. They left in a bunch, but the swing doors had hardly closed before Edie re-entered. She was looking cast down and apprehensive. He couldn’t remember seeing her completely on her own before. She appeared smaller and was standing in a slightly knockkneed way, her heavy boots pointing inwards.
‘Brian - I’m dead worried.’
‘And why is that, Edie?’ His heart thundered in his breast. How incredibly sweet she looked. And so vulnerable - like a naughty little girl.
‘Can I talk to you?’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’
‘I’m in terrible trouble, Brian. You simply gotta help me. I don’t know what to do.’
Sue stood, her hand resting on the garden gate, looking anxiously at Rex’s house. All the curtains were drawn. Those on the left caused her special concern, for she knew it would take the four horsemen themselves to stop Rex working on his magnum opus at eleven a.m. and it was now nearly one. No smoke curled from the chimney and yesterday’s milk, together with today’s, was on the front step. The cream emerged from the bottles in two frozen columns topped with caps of red and silver foil.