Cherringham--A Lesson in Murder (2 page)

Taking a towel herself, Sophie led the girls through into the pool area. While the group followed her instructions, she went through the routines she’d observed so often: she walked around the pool checking the life-saving equipment was all in place, the panic buttons lit, the floats in order, the water pumps functioning.

She took one last look around. Although the pool was underground, the lighting was bright and warm. The water was flat and calm. The room temperature was perfect. When Ms. Braithwaite arrived the class would look drilled and perfect.

Despite the rush, this morning was going to be fine.

*

With ten minutes to go before the end of the lesson, Sophie finally relaxed. The morning hadn’t been at all what she expected.

Just moments after she’d lined up the girls by the pool, a message had come from the Staff Room saying that Ms. Braithwaite was ‘indisposed’ and could Sophie please take the session on her own?

So that’s what she’d done. That’s what a ‘Cherringham Hall girl’ was supposed to do, she knew.
Pick up the pieces — and adapt.

How many times had she heard that over the last few years?

And in the end she’d enjoyed it. She’d got to know the new girls and — she hoped — they trusted her. She’d worked on technique, on confidence, on breathing. She’d pushed them — but not too hard. She’d watched them race and made a mental note of the girls who might have potential.

That’s exactly what Ms. Braithwaite would do,
she thought.

And now, while she sat high up on the lifeguard ladder, she was letting them have fun, go a bit crazy with the inflatables. She scanned the pool, checking all the girls were safe among the brightly coloured floats and shapes. She watched them splashing and laughing.

Sophie glanced at her watch. She’d given them just another five minutes: if everyone got changed without too much fuss, she could be out of here and on the one P.M. train to Oxford with Hannah. Shopping!

Fantastic!

Then — so fast! — all the lights went out.

The whole pool area turned dark. Blacker than Sophie had ever known: not just a dull, shadowy grey with shapes faintly visible, but a total blackness as if a blindfold had been pressed against her face.

Sophie swayed in her chair and nearly fell, then thought:

Oh my God — the girls!

The laughing and splashing in the pool had turned into cries and shouts, she could hear anxious voices from every corner of the water …

What’s happened? I’m scared! I can’t swim! Miss, miss!! I’m going to drown!

Sophie gripped the sides of the lifeguard chair. Her thoughts were racing, but from somewhere deep within, a calmer spirit seemed to take over.

“Listen, girls!” she called out. “The lights have failed. That’s all. Nothing to be scared of. Now everyone stay calm. We’re all safe. Nobody’s going to drown. I promise.”

She could sense the children in the water below, listening to her.

“So listen carefully … I want you to do just what I say? Okay?”

There was no answer.

Louder now.

“Okay?”

Then a series of meek voices. “Yes miss, yes miss …”

“First — I want you all treading water. Got that? Nice and gently. Don’t think about the dark, don’t worry. Everyone treading?”

More meek replies from all corners of the black pool.

“Now very slowly — I want you all to swim to the side of the pool — follow my voice. I’ll keep talking.”

She heard the sounds of splashes, arms slicing the water, legs kicking.

“When you get to the side, grab hold. If you’re already at the side, just call out please so that others can swim to you. Okay?”

She heard some voices now just below her … “Over here! This way? Come on — almost there.”

She thought:
this is going to be all right.

Slowly Sophie climbed down from the lifeguard’s chair, until she was standing — she assumed — by the side of the pool.

Her heart was racing.

She breathed deeply and made herself calm down. At the far end of the pool, she knew, was the panic button. But already her sense of direction was falling apart.

It should be lit,
she thought.
Why isn’t it lit?

Somehow she had to walk round the pool, avoiding the floats and rings, and hit that button, to get help.

“How are we doing, girls — everyone at the side of the pool?”

How come I sound so calm …
she thought.

A chorus of voices saying … “Here. I’m
here
too.”

Not one saying that word which could have been so scary in this darkness, the pool turned into a black sea.

The word …
help.

They were all working together.

“Well done, girls. Now listen — don’t try to climb out. It’s too dark. I’m going to get help. Everybody understand?”

More agreement from the sea of voices just below her, the entire class invisible.

Now Sophie put her arms out in front of her and started to walk, then stopped. This wasn’t going to work, she could be anywhere; she might just stumble and fall, into the pool …

So she got down on her hands and knees and crawled on the tiles, her hands flat on the wet tiles, reaching ahead into the darkness, feeling her way forward, inches at a time.

Until …

Yes! She could feel the shallow drain that ran around the edge of the pool. All she had to do now was follow it until she felt the ladder in the corner, then turn, and crawl along the width until she was level with where she knew she’d find the button on the wall.

“Everybody okay?” she called softly, as she crawled.

“Yes, miss,” came voices from around the pool.

Someone was giggling.

That’s good,
she thought.

“This is quite an adventure, isn’t it?” she said.

More laughter.

At last her hands touched metal — the steps! Now, she just had to slip around them, and crawl down the width of the pool, and then –

With a crackling buzz and a sudden flash, the lights came back on.

For a second Sophie’s eyes were blinded. She forced them open and looked around.

The girls were huddled close, lining one side of the pool. She counted them quickly …

All there — thank God!
she thought.

“Everyone okay?” she called.

“Yes, miss!” they shouted.

Someone cheered — and then all of them joined in, whooping and crying out in relief. She watched as they launched themselves from the sides, splashing and shouting, so quickly back to play.

Fear vanishing.

Sophie stood up. Her eyes were wet — she wanted to cry. She took a deep breath and wiped her tracksuit down — it was soaking wet from her crawl.

Time to get the girls out,
she thought.

They were getting a bit over excited. The shrieking and laughter echoed louder and louder.

She looked down to the far end of the pool. One group of girls seemed to be … fighting?

She could see them scrambling and pushing each other.

She saw someone pushed under the water.

Then she realised — they weren’t playing.

That
screaming wasn’t laughter.

What was going on?

As if in slow motion she ran towards the shallow end, where now she could see the girls pushing each other, crying out, as if in a frenzy to get out of the pool.

They’re panicking,
she thought.
Why?

Lights are on. Danger over.

I’ve got to stop this—

And then as she got closer she saw a shape in the water.

Not a float or a ring or a ball …

Something that didn’t make sense. Something that didn’t fit, as she tried to figure out what it was.

Then, finally seeing what it was … understanding what the shape was … she instinctively recoiled, then with a skid, she fell on the slippery, wet tiles.

A rat
.

A rat, floating on the water. Brown, a foot long, its tail seeming longer, its mouth open, hair matted, eyes staring …

Then another, right nearby, bobbing up and down in the now-heaving water as the screaming girls dragged themselves up the sides of the pool to get away, crying, yelling …

And as Sophie picked herself up she saw there seemed to be rats everywhere in the pool. Ten, twenty, maybe more …
God …

So many rats floating among the panicking girls as they fought to climb the ladders, and escape.

Their matted bodies pressed against the children’s black swimsuits as the water churned.

As the girls scrambled from the pool and ran, Sophie picked herself up, staggered to the now-lit panic button on the wall, and hit it hard.

A siren sounded and red lights flashed.

She turned back to the pool. The last of the girls were running, stumbling along the side towards the exit.

One small girl stood alone in the water of the shallow end, sobbing, frozen, eyes shut. Unable to move, shivering.

Sophie could see dead rats floating all around her.

She reached down under the girl’s arms and plucked her from the pool, then pulled, half-carried her, after the other fleeing Minnows towards the safety of the changing room.

Jack pulled up in his Austin Healey Sprite right outside Sarah’s house and thought about putting up the top.

Although it was a bright sunny afternoon, he’d learnt from bitter experience that October weather in the Cotswolds could flip in an instant.

But if they were going on a run into the countryside, nothing could beat the Sprite with the top down …

Heck, let’s risk it,
he thought, and headed for his friend’s front door.

It opened before he could even reach for the bell, and Chloe — Sarah’s daughter — stood there, hardly recognisable from when he’d last seen her in school uniform in July.

“Hey, Jack — perfect timing!”

“I’m famous for it, Chloe,” he said.

He looked at her clothes. Short skirt, summer top, no coat, handbag, full make-up, the works.

Well on her way to being a young woman, with all the challenges that would bring Sarah.

“Rain’s forecast,” he said. “Chilly, too.”

As in
… maybe you’d want to dress for fall?

“I know. Mum told me. That’s why I need a lift to the station …”

“Oh,” said Jack, grinning.

In many ways, Chloe reminded him of his daughter when she was that young. “I think me and your mom were about to …”

Jack saw Sarah appear behind her at the door, putting on a coat.

“Don’t listen to her, Jack,” she said. “She’s going to walk; she’s got plenty of time. The station’s minutes away. We’ve already discussed this.”

“Mum, you are so
mean
!”

Yes, he remembered those days. The ‘discussions’ that felt more like battles.

“And Jack’s car has two seats only. Two — remember?”

Sarah handed her some cash, and Jack watched the mother and daughter kiss affectionately.

Good. Nothing serious there.

“Ten quid for the train fare — not for shopping or coffees, okay? No trying to skip the ticket.”

“Mum! When have I ever done that?” said Chloe, heading for the street. “Well okay, maybe once — and I forgot!”

The girl’s grin was irrepressible.

“The one time you got caught, hmm?”

Jack stood back as the familiar scene played out on the garden path.

“See you tonight,” called Sarah, “and text me if you’re going to be late.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye Mum, bye Jack!”

Jack turned to Sarah: “She is growing up,”

Sarah shook her head. “Tell me about it.”

“We set to go?”

She shut the front door and he walked with her to the car.

“I’ll get you up to speed on the way,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat. “You think we should have the top up if it’s going to rain?”

“Probably,” said Jack. “But hey, let’s live dangerously a little. It’ll be winter soon enough.”

He started the engine and then pulled away.

The little buzzy interchange of Sarah’s family had reminded him how he should get out more often.

That, and the idea that he and Sarah were finally back on a case.

If it was a case. As of now, they knew nothing.

Either way, the thought of the drive to come, through the English autumn countryside had put Jack in a very good mood.

*

Jack pulled off the dual carriageway and nudged the Sprite through a couple of sharp bends, before relaxing as the road straightened out along the crest of a hill.

“So, although it’s a private school, I know you guys call it a public school. I may have been here a while but, well.” He grinned at Sarah. “It still doesn’t make sense.”

“Come on … It’s like that soda you told me about, the one they make in Brooklyn.”

“Hmm?”

“The egg cream. Has no egg, no cream.”

He laughed. “Not exactly the same thing — but I hear you.” He looked up at the sky, clouds indeed turning darker.

May have to stop soon. Get the top up.

“But okay … if you go to that school, you get what’s called a private education.”

“Exactly. It’s not difficult, Jack.”

“No, not difficult,” he said. “As long as you agree with me that it’s not logical either.”

And that made Sarah laugh.

Yes, good to be out with her again. They had done and seen so much over the past couple of years.

But it was always fun just to talk.

A New York Yankee in Queen’s England.

The road seemed to stretch for miles ahead.

Roman road, got to be,
he thought, something else he’d learned since moving here to live on his river barge. A straight road meant ancient — predating the hedges and farm tracks, a road made by the conquering legions.

He slipped into fifth gear, just loving the moment, fields and woods dropping away into valleys on either side, big white clouds on a wide horizon.

“How come I’ve never heard of this school if it’s such a big deal?” he said.