Rhinoceros Interlude
A LONG WAY BACK IN TIME...
Try not to look suspicious, Alan told himself; act naturally. Like anyone surreptitiously filming people from a darkened room. He told himself it was too late to stop now. So he waited until the figures appeared on the tatty grassed area in front of the school. The boy, with his sharp-featured face, ran towards the gates, then stopped. His ratty eyes turned towards the corner of the school building, to someone that Alan, poised, sweating, hands shaking and clutching his camera, couldn’t quite see. Then the Head appeared, striding officiously towards the boy.
A few pupils shouted encouragement from nearby windows. “Go on, Alix,” and, “Lamp him.” Alan held the camera to the window and looked at the screen. He fumbled, swearing, for the zoom. The Head was shouting something; Alan heard, “Idiot!” Despite the anxiety of his situation, Alan had to admire Alix. The boy shouted something at the Head, who approached with ponderous steps. Then Alix rhythmically raised two fingers on each hand several times as the Head, red-faced, seemed to lose control. He waved his arms and slipped on the wet grass. His thin, flattened hair caught the breeze from above his ears like a clown’s.
Just before the Head reached him, Alix turned and Alan heard laughter from various pupils, ignoring demands from their teachers to sit down. Then he dropped his tracksuit bottoms and waved his arse from side to side before casually pulling them up and skipping away. Alan smiled.
He could see the Head’s fury in his every disjointed movement. Everything about him was uncoordinated, slightly dangerous. Alix continued to taunt. It was almost as though he was willing the Head to catch him. Always the victim, thought Alan. The Head gathered himself purposefully.
“Here we go,” Alan muttered to himself. As Alix made a bolt for the gates and the road beyond, the Head launched himself forward with surprising agility and just managed to grab Alix’s shirt. With a wrench, he pulled the boy to the ground. “That’s no recognised hold,” Alan said to the window, and he emitted a quiet whistle.
He pressed the zoom button. He’d bought the camera for this particularly powerful function. It homed in on the Head, who was now holding Alix by the neck. He was crouched, blocking the view of his actions from the classrooms. But not from Alan in the darkened medical room. He spat out some words and then lifted Alix’s head up slightly and banged it down on the pavement.
“Got it,” Alan whispered. As the Head dragged Alix to his feet Alan quickly saved the film, switched off the camera and quietly left the room.
As he slid the camera into his jacket pocket he passed Mick, a copy of The Sun rolled up under his arm. “Your Alix has just sent the Head over the edge again,” he announced, without stopping.
“Really?” Alan replied airily, “shame I missed it.”
