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be too long,” she said. “He has the chairman of governors on the phone. This business with Jeremy is not what any school wants to hear these days. It frightens the horses - or in this case the parents.”
    â€œIt was not only Jeremy who was involved,” Thackeray said without letting too much sympathy creep into his voice. A desperately sick student merited rather more than a revamp of the school’s marketing strategy in his book. Miss Raven pursed her lips, picking up his disapproval.
    â€œHis parents must be distraught,” she said. “I hear he’s on life support.”
    Thackeray nodded, unwilling to get involved in a discussion of the medical details. He did not need reminding of the horrors of watching the professionals lose a battle for the life of a much-loved son. It was an experience he had relived every night for years until he had met Laura, who seemed to have the capacity most of the time to lighten the darkness.
    At that moment the communicating door between Miss Raven’s office and the head’s study was flung open and a tall, broad-shouldered man with a head of gleaming silver hair and a ruddy, out-of-doors complexion hurried in, hand outstretched in Thackeray’s direction.

    â€œChief Inspector, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said. “David Stewart, headmaster for my sins. And I think you’re here to discuss some of the less creditable activities of some of our sixth-formers? Do come in. Tea, Felicity, I think? Will that suit you, Chief Inspector?”
    Thackeray stood up and found, unusually, that he was in the company of a man as tall as he was himself and almost as broad, and about his own age. There was something about him which was familiar and brought a half-smile to his lips. This was, he knew, a rugby school, just as his own less exalted establishment had been, and he had a faint suspicion that he had once upon a time brought David Stewart down heavily and kneed him fairly unmercifully into the mud.
    Settled in the Head’s study in a comfortable chair close to the coffee table where Felicity Raven soon deposited a tray and poured them cups of tea from a silver teapot, Thackeray took a moment to look around the elegantly furnished room with its view over the extensive playing fields.
    â€œWere you a pupil here yourself?” he asked, accepting a cup and saucer.
    â€œI was, as it happens,” Stewart admitted. “Played rugger out there with far more enthusiasm than I had for my A Levels. But I scraped into university and teaching seemed like a good bet for someone with my sporting interests. And you? Are you an old Bradfielder too? I don’t remember …”
    â€œArnedale,” Thackeray said shortly. “But I played rugby here once or twice.”
    â€œAh yes. We did play Arnedale, even after …” Stewart hesitated. “I don’t think they compete in our league any more.”
    â€œNot many comprehensives do, I imagine,” Thackeray said dryly. “The rugby team was a hang-over from the grammar school days when I was there. A lot of lads preferred soccer even then.”
    â€œPity,” Stewart said. “But I suppose I’m biased.” He gazed fondly at the playing fields. “Great days,” he said.
    â€œJeremy Adams,” Thackeray said, breaking into Stewart’s
nostalgic moment fairly brutally. “Did you have any idea he was indulging in illegal substances?”
    â€œI did not,” Stewart said. “And I understand Louise James was with him. I have to say I’m astonished, though perhaps that’s naive these days.”
    â€œHave you spoken to Louise?”
    â€œNot yet. I’m seeing her with her parents on Monday. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask her to leave.”
    â€œThat seems harsh for something which happened out of school,” Thackeray said. Stewart glanced out of the widow for a moment without