Mr Campion's Fault by Mike Ripley Read Free Book Online Page B

taboo.
    Then Rupert’s alcoholic reverie was shattered as Perdita accelerated and the Mini Cooper jumped over the hump of the stone bridge with stomach-plunging enthusiasm, as if joyous to be free of the village.
    ‘So that was Denby Ash,’ Perdita said cheerfully, thinking she had jolted, quite literally, her husband out of his irritating ‘I Spy’ mode.
    ‘But what the devil is
that
?’ said Rupert, pointing a finger at the windscreen, or rather the black, pyramidal peak which loomed suddenly large to their left.
    ‘That’s what they call a muck stack in these parts. Impressive, isn’t it?’
    ‘In a dark, satanic sort of way I suppose it is,’ admitted Rupert. ‘Is it a mountain of coal?’
    ‘I think it’s the stuff they pull out of the ground that
isn’t
proper coal – stuff nobody wants. Technically it’s “spoil” but it can still burn and some of these big muck stacks are permanently smoking, a bit like Vesuvius or Etna.’
    ‘They don’t blow up, though, do they?’ Rupert asked nervously, recalling a visit to Pompeii as an undergraduate.
    ‘Not usually, though there was that one which slid down the hill and caused the Aberfan disaster in Wales,’ Perdita said soberly.
    ‘God, that was awful; those poor children in that school.’
    ‘Don’t worry, dear – that couldn’t happen here. Ash Grange was the stately home of the mine owners once upon a time and they would have made sure they built it a safe distance away from any dirt or danger.’
    Rupert studied his wife carefully, unconsciously imitating the expression his father adopted when he peered over the top of his spectacles at someone.
    ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it, darling?’
    ‘Perhaps I’m getting more Bolshie the further north we come,’ Perdita said vaguely.
    ‘Then it’s a good job your godfather’s school isn’t in Scotland.’
    ‘In fact,’ said Perdita as she braked and indicated, ‘it’s right here.’
    ‘We are a small school,’ said Brigham Armitage, gripping the lapels of his Harris Tweed jacket as if they were the straps of a parachute, ‘and of course we are very young. Indeed, I suspect that your husband is older than we are.’
    Perdita smiled, acknowledging the gallantry of her godfather, who knew perfectly well how old she was and that she too had seniority over his school.
    ‘We have three hundred and thirty boys on the school roll. They range from eleven to fifteen in age and we organize them in eleven forms each of platoon strength or as near as we can get. Ideally, we envisaged a proper House system, though we do not as yet have any distinguished old boys – or benefactors – after which we could name them. Were you in Kilbracken at Rugby, young Campion?’
    ‘Yes, actually I was,’ said Rupert smartly, slightly uncomfortable, though not knowing quite why, at being in a headmaster’s study.
    They had been met at the oaken door by a prim, blue-rinsed woman wearing a cardigan buttoned to the neck as if it was a uniform, who had introduced herself as Mrs Celia Armitage and informed them that ‘the headmaster’ (not, Rupert noted, ‘my husband’) was ready and waiting to receive them.
    ‘Thought as much,’ said the headmaster, ‘always was the best house when it came to school plays and things dramatic. Sadly, we don’t have that sort of tradition here at Ash Grange, but then those things take time and growth. Fortunately, the Comprehensive system is helping us enormously.’
    ‘
It is?
’ Perdita squeaked in surprise, the blue china cup and saucer she held rattling loudly and the Rich Tea biscuit she had been dunking surreptitiously quivered dangerously.
    ‘Oh, yes, my dear, it most certainly is. If the Labour government pushes ahead with its plans for Comprehensive Schools then more and more parents will opt for private education for their children and I envisage we will be fully fee-paying within the next three years.’
    ‘You’re not at the moment?’ asked