their unquestioning acceptance of her motives augmented her sense of guilt. This was a family in desperate trouble, and she was being nosy. She wasn’t happy about it.
Giles was vague, mumbling something about her kindness, but Father Crowley leafed through the book with genuine interest. He was a man whose personality made him appear taller than his actual height, with a lofty nose and a face at once grave and graven, deeply lined with both humor and thought. Silver hair retreated from a high forehead, and he had the keen gray eyes of popular cliché—not merely keen-sighted, Annie felt, but keen from a profound wellspring of inner keenness, as if he had just discovered a formula for making the world a better place, and was eager to put it into action. She always thought he looked much more like a wizard than Bartlemy.
“This is good of you,” he told her. “A lovely book—absolutely lovely. Look at the delicacy of these drawings.” This to Giles, or possibly Selena. “You shouldn’t miss the chance to acquire this.”
Annie was forced to mention a price, which she kept low, but Giles insisted on overpaying her. Afterward, rather to her surprise, Father Crowley asked for a lift: “I know it’s a little out of your way, but I would welcome the opportunity to talk to you about Nathan.”
Annie couldn’t have refused even if she had wished to.
The priest was dressed in civilian, apart from his dog collar, but a very long raincoat flapping around him in the wind gave the impression of monkish robes. He admired her car, arranging himself comfortably in the passenger seat—“It’s larger inside than out, like the TARDIS”—and they drove off toward Ffylde.
“Nathan hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” Annie demanded without preamble.
“No indeed. On the contrary, an outstanding pupil. Many of our boys are
not
academic—at the school we like to focus on developing the individual in whatever way is best suited to him—but Nathan is exceptional. I wanted to take the chance to tell you so. I don’t know if you’ve thought ahead as far as university, but he’s definitely Oxbridge material. He seems to be particularly good at history and the arts, though he’s strong in the sciences, too—and, of course, a talented athlete. It’s just that lately he seems a little…abstracted, at times. Less attentive in class, though it doesn’t affect his essays. I gather he went through a similar phase last summer, though it wore off.” He paused, allowing Annie the chance to say something. When she didn’t, he went on: “It’s a difficult age. The urges of the body can often outweigh every stimulus of the intellect. Perhaps there’s a girlfriend?”
“No,” Annie said, adding, scrupulously: “Not to my knowledge.” She was concentrating on her driving, unable to find an appropriate response beyond what she had already said.
“I understood there was someone called Hazel…?”
Annie was startled. “You’re very well informed!”
“I make it my business to be. These boys are in my care, after all. Nathan has talked about her.”
“She’s his friend,” Annie said. “That’s all. They sort of grew up together—a brother–sister situation. I’m quite sure that hasn’t changed.”
Father Crowley nodded. “You would know,” he said. “You’re a perceptive woman.”
And then: “I’m told he’s been having disturbed nights. It’s unusual for a boy that age not to sleep well—”
Annie’s hands jerked on the wheel; involuntarily, she swerved. Fortunately, they were on a quiet country road with no other traffic in sight. She mounted the shoulder and braked sharply, breathing hard.
“Mrs. Ward—”
“Sorry. Sorry…”
“I didn’t mean to alarm you. These are minor worries. I’m sure Nathan’s perfectly healthy.” He had a deep, resonant voice, as if there were a tiny echo somewhere in his throat. Annie should have been soothed, but she wasn’t.
“Insomnia isn’t a
Giles was vague, mumbling something about her kindness, but Father Crowley leafed through the book with genuine interest. He was a man whose personality made him appear taller than his actual height, with a lofty nose and a face at once grave and graven, deeply lined with both humor and thought. Silver hair retreated from a high forehead, and he had the keen gray eyes of popular cliché—not merely keen-sighted, Annie felt, but keen from a profound wellspring of inner keenness, as if he had just discovered a formula for making the world a better place, and was eager to put it into action. She always thought he looked much more like a wizard than Bartlemy.
“This is good of you,” he told her. “A lovely book—absolutely lovely. Look at the delicacy of these drawings.” This to Giles, or possibly Selena. “You shouldn’t miss the chance to acquire this.”
Annie was forced to mention a price, which she kept low, but Giles insisted on overpaying her. Afterward, rather to her surprise, Father Crowley asked for a lift: “I know it’s a little out of your way, but I would welcome the opportunity to talk to you about Nathan.”
Annie couldn’t have refused even if she had wished to.
The priest was dressed in civilian, apart from his dog collar, but a very long raincoat flapping around him in the wind gave the impression of monkish robes. He admired her car, arranging himself comfortably in the passenger seat—“It’s larger inside than out, like the TARDIS”—and they drove off toward Ffylde.
“Nathan hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” Annie demanded without preamble.
“No indeed. On the contrary, an outstanding pupil. Many of our boys are
not
academic—at the school we like to focus on developing the individual in whatever way is best suited to him—but Nathan is exceptional. I wanted to take the chance to tell you so. I don’t know if you’ve thought ahead as far as university, but he’s definitely Oxbridge material. He seems to be particularly good at history and the arts, though he’s strong in the sciences, too—and, of course, a talented athlete. It’s just that lately he seems a little…abstracted, at times. Less attentive in class, though it doesn’t affect his essays. I gather he went through a similar phase last summer, though it wore off.” He paused, allowing Annie the chance to say something. When she didn’t, he went on: “It’s a difficult age. The urges of the body can often outweigh every stimulus of the intellect. Perhaps there’s a girlfriend?”
“No,” Annie said, adding, scrupulously: “Not to my knowledge.” She was concentrating on her driving, unable to find an appropriate response beyond what she had already said.
“I understood there was someone called Hazel…?”
Annie was startled. “You’re very well informed!”
“I make it my business to be. These boys are in my care, after all. Nathan has talked about her.”
“She’s his friend,” Annie said. “That’s all. They sort of grew up together—a brother–sister situation. I’m quite sure that hasn’t changed.”
Father Crowley nodded. “You would know,” he said. “You’re a perceptive woman.”
And then: “I’m told he’s been having disturbed nights. It’s unusual for a boy that age not to sleep well—”
Annie’s hands jerked on the wheel; involuntarily, she swerved. Fortunately, they were on a quiet country road with no other traffic in sight. She mounted the shoulder and braked sharply, breathing hard.
“Mrs. Ward—”
“Sorry. Sorry…”
“I didn’t mean to alarm you. These are minor worries. I’m sure Nathan’s perfectly healthy.” He had a deep, resonant voice, as if there were a tiny echo somewhere in his throat. Annie should have been soothed, but she wasn’t.
“Insomnia isn’t a