‘And that takes me to fact two, Howard, which is, this school is good. No, it is not perfect, because we live in a world in which nothing is perfect. But this school, if you want a history lesson, has educated generations of Irish children, produced not just doctors, lawyers, businessmen, the men who make the backbone of our society, but also missionaries, aid workers, philanthropists. This school has a great tradition, furthermore, an ongoing tradition of reaching out to the poor and the downtrodden, of this country and of Africa. Who are you to come in here and undermine that? Who are you to come in, understanding nothing, nothing, of how anything works, and try to sabotage the running of this school? A failure, a coward like you? A man who is like a child, who is so enfeebled by his own pathetic fears that he has never, he will never stand up for anything? He will never have the courage to do anything for anyone?’
He sits back, trembling, in his chair, picks up the photograph of his boys again, as if seeking to convince himself there is still good in the world. ‘I’m suspending you with pay until further notice. I need to speak to the school’s solicitor before we take any definitive action, but I would strongly advise you to keep away from Seabrook College until then. Katherine Moore’s going to take your classes in the meantime.’ He looks up dully. ‘Get out of here, Howard. Go home to your wife that loves you.’
Howard rises stolidly and moves for the door without saying goodbye. But something arrests his attention, and he stops. Three bloated blue and gold fish are lazily circumnavigating an otherwise-denuded aquarium. ‘What?’ he says. ‘What happened to the other ones?’
Brother Jonas, who has been poised silently in the corner throughout the conversation, now releases a laugh – a surprisingly profane sound, like air squealing from a balloon. ‘A long way from Japan!’ he says. ‘A long way with no lunch!’
He laughs again; the sound is still ringing in his ears as Howard passes on to the staffroom to clear out his locker.
Geoff, Ruprecht and Jeekers are trailing wordlessly down the corridor on the way to Science when Dennis steps out from behind a pillar.
‘Not so fast, there, losers,’ he says.
‘What do you want?’ Geoff replies.
‘I want my five euro.’ Dennis waves a chaotic-looking ledger at him. ‘From you, and you, and from fatty here.’ He rocks back on his heels expectantly. Niall, reeking of cigarette smoke, leers at them from over his shoulder.
‘I don’t owe you anything, asshat,’ Geoff says.
‘Oh you don’t, don’t you?’ Dennis says airily. ‘The small matter of the Nervous Breakdown Leaderboard doesn’t ring any bells?’
‘What?’
‘Allow me to refresh your memory,’ Dennis says, opening the ledger with a flourish. ‘Here we are… Geoff Sproke, ninth September, sum of five euro on Brother Jonas to crack up first. Jeekers Prendergast, September eleven, unlucky for some, predicts Lurch, five euro. Ruprecht Von Blowjob, same date, five euro on Kipper Slattery – bad choice, Blowjob, the old ones never go under, not when their pension’s in sight. Anyhow, you all lose, so cough up.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Howard the Coward,’ Dennis snaps, gesturing exasperatedly back down the stairs. ‘He’s lost it. He’s the first to go. None of you guessed him. So now it’s time to pay up.’
‘What do you mean, he’s lost it?’
‘His mind, you idiot. Why do you think he wasn’t in class today?’
‘I don’t know, maybe he’s out sick?’
‘He’s not out sick, his car’s in the car park. They’re not letting him teach because he’s gone mad.’
‘He didn’t seem mad to me,’ Geoff objects.
‘Uh, kidnapping us from school to bring us to a museum with nothing in it? Then making us stand around in a freezing park listening to a load of stuff that isn’t even in the book?’
‘So what?’
‘So, what more do you want, him to skateboard through the Annexe in his mother’s wedding dress? Give me five euro.’
Geoff and the others continue to resist, but then Simon Mooney comes along and asks if they’ve heard that Howard the Coward’s got the boot.
‘This morning, the Automator hauled him up to the office first thing. Jason Rycroft heard Bitchface Moore saying it to Felcher.’
‘Holy shit,’ says Geoff. Jeekers, on hearing this news, looks deeply unhappy and guilty, even more so than usual.
‘I rest my case,’ Dennis says.
‘What case?’ Simon Mooney wants to know.
‘Glad you asked me that, Moonbuggy, because I believe you owe me the sum of five euro. As for you, gentlemen, will that be cash or cash?’
‘Get bent,’ Geoff says defiantly, and makes to move on. Dennis lunges after him.
‘Give me my money!’ he demands.
‘No way!’ Geoff yells back, and there is a crackle of that pure enmity that can only exist between former friends.
‘Give me it,’ Dennis repeats warningly.
‘You’re just going to spend it on cigarettes!’
‘So? You’re just going to spend it on polyhedral dice for role-playing, or should I say, role-gaying.’
‘At least role-playing doesn’t give you cancer!’ Geoff shouts, tugging his arm free of Dennis’s pincer-grip.
‘Role-playing is worse than cancer!’ Dennis shouts back, and it seems like the dispute is going to devolve yet again into blows, when from the window Simon Mooney cries out, ‘Oh my God!’
They turn to see him gazing out dumbstruck. ‘It’s her…’ he croons. Quarrel temporarily suspended, they flock to his side. Simon’s right, it is her; and for a single sighing moment, the boys are reunited in memories of a better time.
‘Remember the day she wore that blue top, and you could sort of see her nipples?’
‘Remember how she used to suck the top of her pen?’
‘I wonder what she’s doing here?’
‘Do you think she’s coming back?’
‘Hey look, it’s Howard…’
‘He’s talking to her!’
‘Maybe he’s going to run away with her,’ Geoff surmises. ‘Maybe he told the Automator to sit on it and now she’s come to pick him up and they’re going off to live on like a desert island.’
‘Fat chance,’ Dennis says.
‘He used to have the horn for her,’ Geoff points out.