Alma Mater

When the letter dropped through the reclusive Mr James Hans’s door, he wondered, who writes letters these days? It was a hand delivered letter folded neatly into itself on a fine piece of stiff paper. His name was neatly printed in gold letters. He surmised that since he did not have an email whomever it was, had no choice but to post it. His rejection of the ‘web’ as he called it, meant he had virtually no digital footprint, nor did Mr James Hans, care to be at the beck and call of a mobile. He did have a landline but hated being interrupted during the cricket, so it was an x directory number.

Mr Hans carefully opened the letter; it was an invitation from his old Alma Mater for a reunion. Those were the days! Though it was called a college, it was really a grammar school with an additional year, but he considered his time there to have been the best days of his life.

The letter was signed Susana Eugene, none other than the most popular girl in the school, the head girl. Susana, her long supple legs, her soft breasts pushing against the buttons in her blouse. His idle hands had wiled away many an afternoon with Susana in the stationery cupboard. How old would she be now? He quickly ran the numbers in his head, ah yes 45! 

Susana Eugene was a young bright thing when they first met in the math class, she had many talents, but maths was not one of them. For about a year he had coached her in calculus and geometry and all manner of angles and was thrilled they were soon to be in the same physics class. He had known her since she was 14, but in her 17th year she had grown all cold and moody, she recoiled from his touch which made their relationship awkward to say the least.

  After he had broken up with her, Susana would call him at all hours much to his mother’s annoyance, and hand deliver childish letters about how he had broken her heart. Then came the unfortunate suicide attempt, and after a brief stay in the local sanitorium she never returned. They had not parted on good terms so he was surprised she should invite him to a reunion. 

He put down the letter, he felt giddy at the thought of meeting up with her. Perhaps she was married, or divorced or she now had children Maybe she was a spinster? unfortunate but not without benefits. Susan was always so flexible, she could have been a contortionist. It did not take long for him to conclude that the 45 year old Susana would no doubt have retained the beauty of the Susana of 17, He would attend the reunion for her.

Inside the invitation was a single train ticket and an instruction that the invitation could be used as a voucher for a local B&B, presenting the invite would get a college discount of 50% off. Even if the reunion were a wash out, he surmised it would be worth it if he could get a mid-week break, and it would only cost him the fair home.

Over the next few days, he bought himself a new suit, got a new haircut and cleaned his old school tie. At first, he thought to wear all his old school attire but when he looked in the mirror, he was disappointed to see how old he looked.  But he was not too worried,with a face scrub and a clean shave he would come up looking rather dapper.

On the day of the reunion Mr James Hans took the train to the usually busy college town, naturally the reunion had to happen in the Easter holidays, but he was sad the college dorms would be emptied, and the town seemed desolate. From the little station he got a taxi to the school. The main gate was closed but the side gate was open and he began to walk up the drive. The lights were off in the school, ‘was he the first?’ he wondered if he should wait or go to the B&B first, but when he turned to the gates the taxi had already driven off. Then music started to play and beckoned him round the back onwards.

The spring air was cold, but the sun made the damp yet pristine clipped pitches sparkle like emeralds against the ice blue sky. He remembered with relish the rugby games and cricket matches, even the crowded shower rooms with the cold slippery floors and hard wooden benches. 

Following the music he now found a large sign pointing to the old gym, he wondered if there would be any of the old teachers at the reunion, and how many student would there be. Would they be from the same graduation year or would it be across the years? He was getting excited at seeing so many old faces. Ahead he could hear laughter and the sounds of a party. Taking a deep breath, he strolled into the hall like he owned the place, just as he did all those years ago. 

The music stopped the hall was spartan, there were only nine women were present. He had expected a few more of the students to have turned up but perhaps he was early. Standing by the DJ's equipment was Susana, she was unmistakable, those long legs were impossible to forget. She was a little older ,a little plumper, but just as he remembered her. As he walked towards her he had a spring in his step. Looking around the hall, he recognised them all, the girls he once knew had become women and most of them looked like his mother. Doudy dreary middle aged women.

Soon they had flocked around him, just as they had in the heyday. He remembered how they would flirt with him, and avert their gazes when he looked at them, he had been a young strapping man in those days. He glanced around but Susana was no longer by the music system, had he lost her again?

“Do you remember me sir?” asked a soft voice, he turned it was Susana.

He smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Of course I do”

“Good because we remember you, we all remember you!” her voice changed, it was louder, stronger, and filled with hate.

“Mr Hands” shouted a man’s voice, and another this time a woman.

“We called you Mr Hands cause you liked to put your hands on of us” said Susana, she looked at a group of five men who had silently slipped into the room. 

“You left scars Mr Hands, some you could see”, she showed him her wrists, “and some you couldn’t.”

“Come now Susana, I don't know what you are talking about” he chided her as he had in the past, but she ignored him. 

Pulling himself up and pushing out his chest, he sought to project the same authority he once had. They had gathered around him, were they testing him? he would pass this test of nerves he was sure.

He caught the eye of Wilson, a young man he had coached in cricket, he had always been his 'best boy'. Wilson was now a man in his forties, he smiled and nodded but it was not at him. He had nodded to a group of men and women who had gathered at the gyms entrance. The group of at least a dozen men and women began to enter in single file, they silently glared at him, before joining the others who now encircled ‘Mr Hands’. 

A murmuring began to spread amongst the mob, at first, they whispered softly under their breaths, as more voices joined the chorus, they began to chant in a frightful rhythmic drone.

“Hands off now! Hands off now!” the chant became a deafening crescendo and they began to pull at him. He tried to push past them, but it was futile, the boys and girls had grown stronger, their intent so strong that he could no longer bend them to his will. Then he saw the rope and the cleaver. Mr Hans felt his legs turn to jelly; time had finally brought him to his knees.

Mr James Hans was found hanging naked from the climbing ropes in the old school gym, on the a chair his clothes were neatly folded, his watch and wallet which contained a one way rail ticket;£2.35 in assorted change; an expired voucher for a pizza; a debit card and most gruesome of all, his hands. It was clear from his body, that death had occurred after his hands had been removed, the stumps which had been cauterised, prevented his bleeding out. The hanging had come after their removal. The gym had been scrubbed clean without a trace of evidence left.

The subsequent investigation found Mr James Hans had been a head teacher at the school, long before the secrets were buried, and the name changed. No one knew why he had bought a one way ticket, or why he broke into the gym. None of the former students that could be traced, were able to be tied to the town all had cast iron alibis. What is known is each year they continued to attend a survivor’s group in London. The last person to see him alive was the taxi driver who recalled he had talked about finally going back to his old girlfriend Alma, the last name he couldn't remember and since he had not seen her, could not give a description.