Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

Finnegan busied himself with a teabag and hot water from the kettle jug as the boy gazed out over the flat land between the back of the school and a line of trees that helped to screen a row of red sandstone tenements beyond. His eyes traced the line of the running track that curved around the three pitches; one for rugby, and two for hockey and football. Before the holidays there had been cricket nets out there on the faraway field, the assistant janitor acting as part-time groundsman, rolling the turf into a green sward. Kyle had jogged around that park, winter and summer, more times than he could remember.

‘Here, take it before the first bell.’ Finnegan was handing him a white mug emblazoned with a green shamrock. Kyle nodded and sipped the tea. He wanted to ask Finnegan about Chalmers — that’s what he’d really come over for — but somehow the words were lost and he remained silent, looking at the green vista out there. How could you ask another teacher about something like that?

The bell broke into his reverie and he put down the half-finished tea, nodding his thanks.

‘Want a work-out after classes?’

‘Aye, thanks. I’ve got PE last two anyway,’ Kyle reminded him.

‘So you have. Right. See you later.’

Kyle picked up his rucksack, left the PE base and began to run across the playground back towards the main building. Heart scarcely thumping, he took the stairs two at a time until he came to his own form-room door. Mrs Lorimer was just closing it but smiled at Kyle in a friendly way as she caught sight of him.

Kyle slung his bag under a desk and slumped back against the wall, his eyes taking in the rest of his classmates. The boys who’d been talking about Julie were at the back, sniggering among themselves. Of Julie Donaldson herself there was no sign. And she’d been off yesterday as well. Samantha Wetherby was sitting near the front, pretending to be absorbed in one of her jotters, but even from this distance Kyle could see she was uneasy, shifting in her seat, glancing up at the classroom door as if she were expecting her best mate to appear. She knew. She knew . Kyle could tell.

Mrs Lorimer was calling the register now and when she came to Donaldson there was an outbreak of giggles from within the room and a snort from one of the boys at the back. Her swift, sharp look around the room showed Kyle that his registration teacher was annoyed. Had she heard, then? And was it true?

Kyle considered this carefully. He’d known Julie since primary school. She was a daft wee lassie, so she was, but not so daft as to let some teacher have his way with her. And it had been nice hanging out with her for these few weeks, even when she’d come out with some right bizarre stuff. Fanciful. That’s what Miss Galbraith had called her in Primary Four. Was she like that still? Even after their brief liaison, the boy realised he didn’t have an answer for that. Kyle raised his hand as his name was called out then sank back into his slouch. Och, it was just some unfounded rumour. Chalmers was a cool guy, everyone knew that. Surely?

Morning interval had never been like this before, Maggie thought, glancing around the crowded staffroom. Many of the staff simply headed for their own departmental bases for a swift cup of something caffeine-related that would keep them going till lunch. But today they were all there, waiting for Manson to appear. The note had appeared in their pigeonholes late yesterday afternoon so most of the staff had only picked it up at registration. A matter of importance, it had read. She’d had a free period just before morning break but the pile of jotters on her desk had kept her from slipping downstairs to the office to see if she could wheedle any information out of the secretaries.

‘D’you think he’ll tell us that Julie’s making it all up?’ Sandie wondered, one eyebrow raised in speculation. Maggie shrugged, sipping her coffee, glad she’d managed to reach the head of the queue where the auxiliaries were being kept busy dispensing drinks, a steamy mist escaping from the huge urn behind their counter.

Then Manson was there, his squat, almost malevolent presence hushing the buzz of talk.

Every eye was on his face as he spoke. Whatever it was, that grim expression betokened bad news of some description. Maggie shuddered, fearing the worst.

‘I have to tell you all that Eric Chalmers has been temporarily suspended as from yesterday,’ Manson began, raising his hand to quell the sudden sounds of disbelief that rose like a wave from the assembled staff.

‘An accusation from a pupil has meant that we have to carry out a serious investigation into Eric’s conduct.’ He paused and in that pause cries of protest and outrage emanated from various parts of the room. Clearing his throat, Manson continued, ‘It has been claimed by Julie Donaldson of S4 that Eric sexually assaulted her during the Scripture Union’s summer trip.’

Maggie stood, speechless, feeling the colour drain form her cheeks. She wasn’t hearing this. She couldn’t be. Okay, so Myra Claythorn had told her already in that malicious way of hers, but hearing it like this from Manson. .

‘Of course there may be absolutely no substance to this accusation, in fact I personally have great hopes that this might be over as soon as it has begun,’ Manson rumbled, glaring around him as if to defy anyone who was of a different opinion. ‘Eric Chalmers has been told to stay away from school for his own benefit and I’m sure Ruth will find plenty for him to do,’ he added, eliciting the first murmur of laughter. ‘So, no gossiping about this outside school and, unless you have anything cogent to bring to the investigative process, no speculation either,’ Manson growled. ‘I’m sure we’ll see this young lady well chastised for bringing the good character of one of your colleagues into disrepute. Meantime, there’ll be ‘please takes’ to cover Eric’s classes. I’m sure you’ll all enjoy the spiritual benefits,’ he added with a hint of a grin. ‘That’s all.’

A storm of talk broke out and Maggie felt a hand on her sleeve.

‘Are you okay? You’ve gone chalk white,’ Sandie said, guiding her friend to the nearest free chair.

Maggie shook her head, afraid to speak.

‘What a hell of a shock!’ Sandie went on. ‘Poor Eric! Just not what he or Ruth need right now. Stupid bloody girl! What’s she on about?’ Sandie’s voice rose in indignation.

Maggie looked up as she felt someone brush past them. It was Herriot, one of her least favourite colleagues, a disaffected biology teacher whose career had stalled long since and who was simply marking time till retirement.

‘No smoke without fire, eh? Know what they say about these religious types,’ he sneered into their faces, his voice only loud enough for Sandie and Maggie to hear.

‘What?’ Sandie’s outrage came too late as Herriot had already slipped out of the staffroom and away from anyone who might verbally slap him down.

‘How can he say such a thing? Horrible little man!’ Sandie fumed.

But, looking around them, Maggie caught sight of a few other faces that were clouded in uncertainty. Maybe horrible Herriot wasn’t the only one to think Eric guilty of this accusation.

And what about herself? After seeing what she had seen, could she really say that there was nothing between Eric and this girl?

H e saw her from the opposite side of the road, just as he was coming out of the flat. Head down, she was walking slowly towards him, her blonde hair a stream of light against her face. He stood still, following her with his eyes as she drew nearer, trying to see the outline of her jaw, the bow shape of her lips. When she crossed the road and looked up, not seeing him standing there, it was as if something within him had been released and he let out his breath in one long exhalation. Then he turned away from the close mouth, letting his feet take him wherever it was that she was going to lead.