The Fog - James Herbert [18]
As they helped the injured Hodges back to the car, the teacher explained the coach journey to Holman. ‘We’re from Redbrook House, a private boarding school in Andover. We were just on our way back from a nature ramble on the Plain, you know. It was a beautiful morning and the boys get so restless towards the end of term, I had to get them out into the fresh air. I cannot for the life of me imagine where this fog came from.’
Holman cast an anxious eye around him. The fog seemed as dense as ever.
‘Of course, many of the boys’ parents wanted me to send them home when that dreadful earth tremor occurred,’ the master continued, ‘but I was insistent that they remain and finish off the term. Freaks of nature, I told them, happen only rarely, perhaps once in a lifetime, and Redbrook certainly was not going to close down because of the hysterical howling of over-anxious parents. A few of them persisted of course, and I had no choice but to let their offspring go – but I can tell you, they took a very stiff letter with them!’
Holman smiled to himself at the prattling of the one-armed teacher. The old die-hard, traditionalist teachers still flourished despite the new wave of long-haired, liberal-minded younger educationalists. Well, there was good and bad to be said for both sides.
As the trio approached the yellow car, easily visible in the murky fog, Holman saw Casey’s white face apprehensively watching them through the windscreen. She opened her door and made as if to get out to help him.
‘No, stay there, don’t get out!’ he shouted at her.
Puzzled, she remained where she was, half in, half out.
‘Close the door,’ he told her, less sharply. She complied, the puzzled expression still on her face.
He opened the door on his side, pulled the seat forward and helped the injured driver to climb through into the back. Then he turned back to the teacher.
‘If I were you, I’d get all the boys back into the coach and keep the door and windows closed.’
‘Whatever for?’ the teacher asked.
‘Let’s just say the fog can’t be good for them. I’ll get someone back to you as soon as possible, so just sit tight.’ He got into the car and turned the ignition. Before he closed the door he reiterated his advice. ‘Keep them inside and close all the windows.’
‘Very well, Mr, er . . .?’
‘Holman.’
‘. . . Holman, but I’m sure we’ll be warm enough and a little fog can’t do too much harm.’ Oh can’t it? thought Holman as he gunned the engine and cautiously moved off. I wonder? He still wasn’t quite sure of his uneasiness about the fog. The doctors had said his breakdown could have been caused in some way by released gas from the cracked earth. It was a pretty far-fetched possibility, but that smell had seemed familiar somehow and he knew he’d never experienced it before the eruption. It was more instinct than judgement, but he had learned to trust his instincts implicitly. A groan from behind interrupted his thoughts.
‘Ooh, ’ave I got a headache,’ Hodges moaned loudly.
‘We’ll soon get you to a doctor,’ Casey reassured him, reluctantly taking her eyes off the murky road ahead to examine the unfortunate coach driver.
‘I’ll get the blame for this,’ he went on woefully. ‘Sum-mers’ll make sure of that. Miserable bastard. Oh, sorry, miss,’ he excused himself.
Summers, they assumed, was the teacher they’d just left with the boys.
‘Never did like me. Didn’t like the way I got on with the boys.’
‘Is Redbrook his school?’ asked Holman.
‘Nah! ’e’s only deputy head, but the way he carries on you’d think it was. The kids call him Captain Hook.’ He laughed and winced at the effort. ‘It was all his fault, any road.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Wal’, I was driving along, ’aving a bit of a laugh with the boys, y’know, showin’ off a bit I suppose, and ’e starts snappin’ at me like I was one of the kids. Wal’, I turns round to give ’im the right answer, and wallop – we’re in the ditch. Lucky I didn’t go right through the windscreen, I can tell you. Anyway, I blacks out and the next thing