School Run (31 page)

Ugh! Gingerly she lifted out a dirty games shirt. No name tape. Then a pair of tracksuits. Several odd socks. A maths book with the owner’s name on it. And, success, Leonora’s blazer.

Triumphantly, Evie tucked it under her arm and headed up the stairs towards the front door. There was a noise ahead – maybe they were letting the kids out early as it was the end of term. As she crossed the hall, her kitten heels clipping the floor, a group of youths swarmed towards her.

One whistled. ‘Posh, eh? What you doing here, lady?’

The spotty one next to him sniggered and grabbed her arm. ‘Yeah. We’re done with teaching. We don’t need you here either.’

‘Let go,’ said Evie, shocked, shaking herself free. ‘How dare you?’

‘How dare you?’ One giggled, and the others fell about laughing.

Evie could smell something sweet, a distinctive aroma that she recognised from when she had been a student. These kids were smoking cannabis and had maybe taken something else too, judging from the way they were flopping about.

Walk on. Act cool. Just get out
.

‘Not so fast, lady.’

The spotty one had grabbed her arm again but this time she couldn’t shake him off. ‘Leave me alone,’ she said furiously. ‘Ow! That hurts.’

‘Then you’d better not struggle.’

She turned to him. He was taller than the others, his face riddled with acne. ‘Take her to Room H with the others.’

Evie twisted so that the boy’s hand bent. Immediately he slapped her across the face. ‘Bitch! Don’t do that!’

Stunned, she put up her hand to her cheek, which was burning. ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘Please. I’ve left my son in the car outside. He’ll be upset.’

As soon as she said it, she knew it was a mistake. ‘Your son?’ said the spotty one. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said the boy pulling Evie along the corridor.

‘If you touch him, I’ll kill you,’ yelled Evie.

‘You’re frightening me,’ called the youth.

His laughter rang in Evie’s ears as a door opened and she was pushed inside. She stared. On the floor, their hands secured behind their backs with school ties, were a large number of frightened children and a couple of teachers. ‘Sit down and shut up,’ said the boy, tying her wrists together behind her back.

Evie was too scared to speak.
Don’t fight him. Do what the experts say. Pretend to be compliant.

‘Now sit there like the others until we tell you.’

She sat motionless, willing him to go. For a moment, he stood there gloating, and then, to her relief, he went out, slamming the door behind him. He had gone. One of the girls began to cry and Evie felt like doing the same. The whole class was staring at her, as though she was the intruder and not the boy. And one was Leonora.

‘Evie,’ she said tearfully. ‘Evie. Thank God you’re here.’

33

HARRIET

‘And now for another request from everyone in year ten at Clapham Comprehensive who can’t wait for term to be over in precisely ten minutes. Hope you’ve remembered your teachers, kids. When I was at school, we gave them end-of-year presents!’

Presents! Harriet had been thinking so hard about Pippa, who was, at this very minute, on the operating table, that she’d forgotten. The children should have taken them to school that morning but, with Charlie coming home, she hadn’t been organised enough to get them.

Kate would be distraught if everyone else had given her teacher something and she hadn’t. Still, if she pulled in at the newsagent’s on the corner, she could buy a box of chocolates and a card.

Great. There were three people in the queue, each paying their paper bill. If they didn’t get a move on, she’d be late for school. Harriet glanced at her watch. Five minutes until they came out and the journey would take at least ten. Add another ten for parking and she’d be really late. Kate would wait but Bruce might be climbing the school roof by then or at least the goalpost in the playground.

‘Sorry. I’m in a rush.’ She slid a five-pound note over the counter and gesticulated to the box of chocolates she had in her hand. ‘Keep the change.’

She dashed back to the car – her own car since Charlie had taken his to the office. It seemed strange to be driving the Fiesta again after the Volvo.

She threw the chocolates on to the passenger seat and realised that Charlie hadn’t brought her anything from Dubai. Not that it mattered – she wasn’t a materialistic woman. But the lack of a gift seemed significant. Did he care so little? Or would guilt-perfume from Duty Free have made him feel in the wrong?

Stop it, she told herself. Even last night seemed trivial now. So he had felt randy. Hadn’t she when he’d been away? And hadn’t she indulged in a few fantasies that didn’t feature Charlie? Harriet joined the main road again. The traffic in front was slow: there must be roadworks or an accident ahead. She turned on the radio to see if there was any news.

‘Betty from Balham has rung in to say traffic is building up near Acacia Road due to roadworks . . .’

Not again! She could swear the council saved them for school times. Hang on. A blue light was flashing. It was an accident. Cars were slowing down and being diverted into one lane. Harriet looked to her left as she went by. A single motorbike stood upright on the roadside. There was a red helmet on the ground but no rider. No ambulance either. Had it been and gone? Was the rider all right? One thing was certain: she would never let Bruce ride a motorbike.

Finally the traffic was flowing more freely. With luck, she would only be about eight minutes late. Then she’d need to go into the school to gather up the sports kit that Bruce would have left on the floor of the boys’ changing room. Kate would have hers neatly folded in her bag. What was happening now? A policeman was standing in the middle of the road, waving people on past the turning to school. Cars weren’t being allowed down it. Why not? What had happened?

She wound down her window. ‘Excuse me, Officer, I need to get down to the school.’

Under the helmet, his face was impassive. ‘I’m sorry, madam, but all cars are being diverted. Please follow the signs.’

‘Has something happened?’

‘Move along, please.’

Sick with fear, she lurched on. She needed to find a space fast, then rush back. Had a child been run over? Had Bruce done something crazy?

‘Betty of Balham has rung in again to say there’s some sort of trouble at St Theresa’s School, Balham. Not sure what, exactly, but avoid the area if possible as there’s severe traffic congestion.’

Oh, my God! If it’s on the radio, it’s serious! Cars were pulling up on to pavements and worried parents were emerging, talking in huddles and pointing. Harriet squeezed into a space. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, as she got out.

‘I don’t know,’ said one of the mothers, who was hanging on to a struggling toddler. ‘They’ve told us to stay here. Maybe it’s a fire alert.’

‘Can’t be a practice,’ said another. ‘Not on the last day of term.’

Harriet began to run towards the do-not-enter sign. On the right she spotted a line of scrappy allotments. She squeezed through the hedge and ducked down out of sight of the policewoman on the other side. With any luck, she might be able to get out further down. Yes, she’d done it. The road ahead, normally crammed with cars, was deserted, apart from four police cars and a large turquoise Discovery. There wasn’t a child in sight, but it was well after three thirty.

‘Madam, you can’t wait here.’

A policeman came up from behind, taking her by surprise.

‘But what’s happening?’ Harriet’s throat was so choked she could hardly speak. ‘What’s going on?’

‘There appears to be some disturbance at the senior school.’

My God. Bruce? He wouldn’t have done something stupid, would he? ‘Can I get my friend’s child? She’s in the primary school next door.’

A look akin to sympathy crossed the policeman’s face. ‘We understand that the primary children are in the main building for an end-of-term concert.’

‘But why can’t they get out?’ Harriet was angry now. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Madam, please go back to the other side of the cordon like everyone else. We will let you know when we have some information.’

‘No.
No
! I’m not going back.’

‘Harriet!’

It was the man from the counselling centre – Nick. He was on the other side of the orange cordon. ‘Harriet, come here.’

‘What on earth’s happening?’

Nick patted her shoulder. At any other time, she’d have considered the gesture over-familiar but now she was grateful to see a friendly face. ‘I don’t know. All I’ve been able to find out is that something’s going on in the senior building.’

‘I know that.’

‘Calm down. I’ll call a mate of mine who works for the Press Association. Maybe he can find out what’s up. Stay here. I’m going along the road for a better reception.’

Harriet was shaking. What was happening to the children? Where were they? It wasn’t just Bruce and Kate, but Lucy and Beth too. Oh, God! Pippa! She couldn’t ring her: she’d be coming round from the op right now. But she ought to let Derek know.

‘Derek? It’s me, Harriet. How’s Pippa? Right. Look, don’t say anything if she’s just come round but something’s happened at school . . .’

34

PIPPA

‘Where’er you walk, green trees shall fan the breeze . . .’

That song again! Pippa tried to sit up. The room seemed out of focus, rather like it did when she woke up too early in the morning or when she’d had jet lag in the days when there were nice holidays Before Children. She had a pain in her back, too, which was odd.

Shaking with apprehension, she touched herself gingerly. Relief washed through her. Thank God! Both her breasts were there, although that didn’t mean she was in the clear. Her chest throbbed under the dressing.

‘Is it sore?’

How long had he been there? ‘Derek?’

‘I’m here, love.’

Gratefully she squeezed his hand. ‘Am I all right?’

‘You’re fine.’

He sounded tearful and she knew he was lying. ‘The lump. It’s malignant, isn’t it?’

‘Too early to tell. Remember what they told us? They need to analyse it. How do you feel?’

Something wasn’t right. She could tell. ‘Woozy.’

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Listen, love, will you be all right without me for a bit? I’ve got to pick up the girls.’

‘Harriet’s doing that.’

‘She’s got a problem. I shouldn’t be too long.’

‘What kind of problem? Charlie again?’

‘Something like that.’

Poor Harriet. ‘Don’t be long. Please. I need you.’ She remembered something. ‘Weren’t you meant to have your appraisal today?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but HR said it could wait in the circumstances. Apparently my department head is really pleased with our performance this year.’

‘Good. See? I told you not to worry.’

‘’Bye.’ He gave her another kiss, still on the forehead. Why not on the lips like he usually did? Even in her near-stupor, Pippa could tell something was wrong. Had he found out somehow about Gus?

A nurse popped her head round the screen. ‘Everything all right, love? Just ring if you need something.’

She nodded. As she reached out for the plastic cup of water at her side, she saw her mobile. Maybe she’d ring Harriet to find out what was happening. It was hard to lean to one side and pick it up. If it was this difficult, how was she going to manage when she got out?

Awkwardly, she picked up the phone. MESSAGE.

‘Hi, Gorgeous. Gd luck for tomorrow. Sorry about today. Love you always. Gus.’

Pippa froze. He must have sent it last night. That was why Derek had been so quiet.

Sorry about today. Love you always
.

Pippa retched into the bowl beside her. How could she have been so stupid? Even if her lump was benign, she had a hideous feeling that one part of her life – that comforting security with Derek – had already ended. And she only had herself to blame.

KITTY

‘Turn down that music, you lot. It’s not the end of term yet!’

Kitty, who had just had lunch in the canteen, smiled at the sound of another teacher’s voice yelling at his class. The end of term had led to great excitement both for the kids and staff who were looking forward to a much-needed rest.

She got on with preparing for the next lesson. They were going to play verb and noun games, which was a sneaky way of improving their grammar. Then she heard the noise. At first it sounded like a crowd of children running along the corridor, which wasn’t allowed at St Theresa’s so she put her head out of the door, ready to calm them down. She’d just been reading a fascinating book on communicating with pupils that had been recommended in the
Times Educational Supplement
. It included a section on meditation, which Kitty was considering trying out on year eight. It wasn’t difficult. All you had to do was close your eyes, focus on an image in your head and shut out all noise round you. As you breathed out, you said, ‘One,’ in your head. Apparently, some children identified with ‘One’ better than ‘Omm’, according to the book. Kitty could see that it might help pupils like Bruce.