A Thousand Cuts by Simon Lelic Page B

course it was. Even if it was Gideon who did the deed, it would have been Donovan who had the idea.
    I had a word with Samuel after that. Everyone knew the kids were giving him a hard time but there’s a line to be drawn somewhere, isn’t there? I couldn’t tell you where, I couldn’t point and say, there, that’s the limit. But shitting in a man’s briefcase. It’s not the kind of thing you stand for. The line, well. It might as well be the horizon.
    Go to the headmaster, I say. Tell him what’s been going on.
    Samuel shakes his head. I’ve tried, he says. I’ve tried already. He makes to move past me but I hold his arm.
    When? I say. What did you tell him?
    Samuel just sort of shrugs. Not a lot, he says. Nothing specific. I told him I was finding it hard. I’ve told him more than once.
    And?
    And that was as far as we got.
    But what did the headmaster say? He must have said something.
    He told me it was hard. He told me teaching was hard.
    Samuel, I say, that’s not good enough. You need to tell him about . . . about this. About everything. He’ll do something. He’ll have to. I try to make a joke, I say, you’ve got proof at least now, haven’t you? Exhibit number two, your honour.
    Samuel seems to consider it. He doesn’t laugh of course but he seems to consider it. So I’m thinking he might go and speak to him but in the end he doesn’t. In the end I have to force him into it.
    We’re in the staffroom. This is after lunch one day. I forget when exactly. November maybe? December? It’s me and Samuel and George, although George wanders out after a while, which leaves just me and Samuel. And we’re both minding our own, both of us just reading, when the headmaster appears at the door.
    Janet? he says and takes a step into the room. He looks at me. Have you seen Janet?
    I say, no, sorry, I haven’t, and he scowls, like he’s convinced that actually I have and I’m not telling him just to spite him. He takes another step and peers round the corner into the kitchen. For just a second or two he’s got his back to us and I don’t even need to think. I give Samuel a dig. I hiss at him. I say, go on, Samuel. Go on. And I give him another prod.
    Samuel gets up. He looks at me. He’s trying to decide, I can tell, but he’s running out of time because the headmaster’s finished in the kitchen and he’s turning round and he’s heading for the door and he’s virtually out of the room.
    I make a face and Samuel shakes his head. I clear my throat, like I’m about to say something, and I don’t know if the noise startles him or what. He says, Headmaster. Like the word was caught between his tongue and his teeth and just needed a jolt to knock it loose. Headmaster, he says again.
    The headmaster stops. He turns to look. Meanwhile I get up and I say, excuse me, and I nip between them and into the kitchen like I’m going to make a coffee. Or that’s what I’m hoping it looks like. The headmaster, though - either he forgets I’m there or he doesn’t particularly care. More likely he doesn’t care. I could have settled into one of the armchairs with a Coke and a bucket of popcorn, and I doubt it would have made any difference.
    Headmaster, Samuel says again and Travis says, Mr Szajkowski. What is it?
    May I have a word? Just for a moment?
    A word? says Travis. He checks his watch. He glances towards the door.
    It’s just, I have a problem. I was hoping . . . I thought perhaps . . . I was hoping that you could help.
    Travis sighs. I can’t see from where I’m standing but I can just picture him rolling his eyes. A problem, he says. But of course you do. I would hardly have expected anything else.
    Samuel hesitates. For a moment he doesn’t say anything.
    Well, Mr Szajkowski? Please, don’t keep me in suspense.
    I’m . . . I’m having a spot of trouble. With the children.
    Again the headmaster sighs. Trouble, he says. What sort of trouble, Mr Szajkowski? With which children?
    And Samuel, the silly