Chapter Fifty Seven – “The Reunion”

Today, Saturday, 18^th June, saw the main reason for my flying visit to Devon over this weekend – our school reunion, bringing back pupils from the ‘90s and ‘00s for a dinner, along with members of staff, past and present. I caught the train from London yesterday, and stayed overnight at Mark’s place, after a pleasant afternoon in town and enjoying award-winning fish and chips from Squire’s in Braunton. It was such a treat to be back in the westcountry again – as always, a welcome change of scene.

This morning, as I lazed at Mark’s, watching the news as Tim Peake’s capsule returned to Earth after six months in space, and enjoying the start of Andy Murray’s match against Marin Cilic at Queen’s, Mark and I decided, as there was rather a time gap between OWBA sports events (the Old West Buckland Association – representing the old pupils) and our evening reunion dinner, that we would simply enjoy our afternoon at the house, and depart for the meal at around five. The arrangement suited me fine, although I was initially disappointed to spend less of the day at the school than I had originally envisaged. Still, I didn’t relish the thought of waiting around aimlessly between three and six. Thumb-twiddling is only enjoyable for so long.

After chuckling over a few unusual songs from Tom Lehrer, we arrived at West Buckland at a quarter to six – time to wander round the school and admire the new buildings (although they were all locked up) before we were expected at the drinks reception. Via the use of shortcuts and ‘secret passages’ we made our way to the chapel, and were amazed at the transformation of the room, particularly now that the end office had been knocked through. As always, memories of C.U. gatherings were rekindled, and we spent a few quiet minutes browsing the bookshelves and remembering the old times, before we left to join the others at the 150 Building.

Immediately faced with a crowd of people, I searched for familiar faces. We duly joined with Chris, a past R.S. teacher and dear friend. Dotted amongst the teachers, old and current, Mark and I were able to pick out two others from our year – Emma, past head girl (now a doctor in Oxford, specialising in plastics) and Simon (now a dentist in Plymouth). We also caught up with Berwick, the archivist, and a few other staff members. Conversation would continue at the dinner in the Karslake.

As we were about to sit down at the tables, we were asked to silently remember three old pupils who had tragically died over the last few months, all too young. One girl was apparently only nineteen, and another was my friend and contemporary, Sam, victim of a terrible motorcycle accident in January. A sobering reminder of how fragile and fleeting life is.

Mark and I were to share a table with Chris, Emma and Simon (although Simon was at the far end, so unfortunately further conversation wasn’t practical). Bob “Clarko” Clarke, and Martine Le-Barth, both of whom taught me (chemistry and Spanish respectively) were seated just down the table, contributing to lively conversation. Both seemed genuinely pleased that I was doing well in work and life, and it was a pleasure to share their company. As a past pupil, it was a joy to forgo the pupil/teacher restrictions, and chat as equals, simply interested in an update on life events. Chris mentioned how regrettably numbers this evening were lower than anticipated – which seems to be a sign of recent gatherings, particularly where representatives from my year are concerned. Another unfortunate comment was how our beloved dining tables were destined to be replaced purely due to unpopularity from new staff. I pray the decision is reconsidered, as the tables and chairs are so in keeping with the atmosphere of the hall, and it would be a real shame to go down the ‘fold up’ route.

The formalities ended with a short speech by our out-going headmaster, John Vick, focusing on his fond memories of the school. I agree that the school community is like a family, and I can appreciate how hard it is to leave, but after nearly two decades, the time is right. After brief encounters with Helen Clarke, the previous headmaster’s secretary (who still remembered Mark and myself clearly) and John Whitfield, Mark and I decided to take a final wander around the school. Thus leading to one of the strangest experiences of our time at the school, and a rather haunting mystery.

As we wandered, in darkness, along the corridors we passed through the music department (admittedly I needed to visit the gents en route). All was quiet and the creaking doors and silent atmosphere gave the buildings a somewhat eerie demeanour. Time passed on and we resolved to finish our evening with a short wander to the memorial hall and biology labs, but this was when things turned strange. After reminiscing in the memorial hall, the chairs still set up from some past recital, we headed along the corridor to the biology labs, passing one of the history classrooms on the way. The lights in the corridor were off, and we came to realise that all the classroom doors were locked as expected. Except for this one particular classroom. Not only was the door wide open, however, a light was on, emanating from the open store cupboard. Mark and I listened, but no-one else could be heard. As the rest of the building was in darkness, we thought we’d do staff a favour and turn off the light, as we were clearly on our own. I went in to turn off the switch. While I did so, Mark turned on the main classroom light. Then we saw it.

It didn’t really register at first, but the more we thought about it afterwards, the stranger the mystery became. There, in the middle of the carpet at the front of the room was a furry object, like a brown felt slipper. On closer inspection it turned out to be a dead rabbit – confirmed as I poked it with a metre ruler – lying on its side, with an eye staring upwards blankly. There was no blood and no sign of any violence, but it raised many questions. Why was it there? How did it get there? Why was the door unlocked and the store cupboard light on? Was it a prank? Did the biology dissection club have something to do with it? Was it poisoned (as we discovered pest traps in the chapel earlier)? Was it left there this afternoon or last night? Did someone leave in a hurry? However Mark and I looked at it – and it became the dominating topic of discussion all the way back – we couldn’t come to a solid conclusion. We resolved to sleep on it, hoping that time would reveal a satisfactory answer. Or maybe not. The school never ceases to amaze and intrigue, even nine years on.

Who killed Peter Rabbit?