‘Well, if she did, she never said anything.’
Rachel Peake shook her head.
‘Hang on.’ Alice waved a hand, then a finger. ‘She did tell me about this woman she was going to be having words with. It sounds a bit … weird actually, but there was some woman who was a parent and Gemma was convinced that she wasn’t actually a parent … that for whatever reason she was just hanging around, pretending to have a child at the school. Gemma said she was going to confront her about it.’
‘When was this?’ Tanner asked.
‘Back end of last week, I think. Friday, maybe?’
‘What woman?’ Thorne asked.
‘Why did she never say anything about this to me?’ Rachel sounded as though she had half a mind to tell the dead woman off.
‘She was trying to avoid making it official, that’s all,’ Alice said. ‘She wanted to try and sort it out herself first.’ She looked at Karl. ‘I mean, this woman obviously had … problems, you know? I think Gemma felt quite sorry for her, actually.’
‘Yeah, that sounds like Gemma,’ Karl said.
Now Tanner was writing. ‘Did Gemma mention the woman’s name?’
‘I don’t think she even knew it. But if you talk to some of the other parents, I’m sure they know exactly who she is. Gemma said she was always hanging around with the same group.’ She turned to Karl. ‘You know, the Year One mums.’
‘Yeah, I think I know who she means,’ Karl said.
Alice looked at Rachel. ‘Jacob’s mum is one of them … and Arjun’s mum.’
The Head nodded at Tanner. ‘I can give you those people’s names.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Actually, the parents usually start to gather at the gates in about an hour and I’m sure they’ll be there if you want to talk to them.’
Tanner closed her notebook. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘We do.’
While Thorne was using the Gents, Tanner stood just inside the main door to the school, looking at the pictures tacked to the wall. Golden suns with radiating sunbeams and houses that all had four windows, a smoking chimney, and a perfect square of garden at the front, even though the majority of the kids who had drawn them did not live in places remotely like that.
‘Why would someone pretend to have a child?’ she asked.
Thorne had emerged and moved to stand beside her. He wiped wet hands off on the front of his jeans. ‘I haven’t got the foggiest.’ He was thinking that these were the kinds of pictures Alfie drew, when he could be bothered to tear himself away from the screen of his iPad.
‘Not really much point going anywhere,’ Tanner said.
‘Right.’ Thorne was looking at another picture and, for no reason he could fathom, he was suddenly thinking about his mother. Another dream from a few nights earlier.
‘Why don’t we grab a coffee round the corner?’
‘Yeah.’ Thorne wasn’t really listening.
‘Come back at pick-up time …’
THIRTY-THREE
Sarah had always rather enjoyed spending time alone at home. There was usually something interesting to listen to on the radio or watch on TV in the hours between drop-off and pick-up and a big house to keep clean and tidy, so she was rarely short of something to do. Even if she was feeling lazy, there was plenty to sit and think about and there was the metal box out in the garage if she was in that kind of mood.
These days, though, the time she spent on her own dragged horribly, every hour and minute counted down until Conrad was with her again. Not knowing how soon that would be was excruciating and, right now, she was clueless about it, because he had gone out by the time she’d returned home, and she had no idea where he was.
What he was doing.
She’d left the house early herself. Woken Conrad with a kiss before going, getting nothing in return but a bad-tempered moan before he’d turned over and gone back to sleep. Often, she woke him in rather more exciting ways, but there had been no time for that this morning.
She’d had to think that bit more carefully about how she should dress. There were big decisions about exactly what to do with make-up and hair that had, of course, been dyed and re-styled the day after her confrontation with the teacher at Brooklands Hill.
She’d needed to get all that spot on.
It was a big day, because there were new schools to check out.
She’d looked at three in the end, another two that were local and one out in Woodford. The longer journeys every day wouldn’t be much fun, but it couldn’t be helped, so she’d already decided that she’d pick somewhere further afield if she had to. It made sense of course to do exactly that. She didn’t want to move Jamie to a school just up the road from Brooklands Hill and run the risk of bumping into any of those parents. The likes of David and Caroline clucking at her, asking where on earth she’d been and what had happened.
No, this was all about finding a brand-new group, starting again.
She’d had to do it several times before, because Jamie rarely stayed too long at any school. She wasn’t stupid and knew that any more than a few months was probably pushing her luck, so she’d become well used to moving on. She preferred to choose when that would be, but once or twice the decision had been made for her, thanks to a nosy parent who couldn’t resist blabbing, or a teacher like that nosy little cow at Brooklands Hill, who paid a little too much attention to the adults, when really it was their job to be taking care of children.
Sticking their beaks in where they weren’t wanted.
Well, now she had Conrad to help her, people like that would get what was coming to them.
She never went into the schools, of course, when she was visiting. There was no need to meet the head teacher or be given a tour of the facilities. It was more about what went on outside: the atmosphere at the gates; the parking situation; the local gathering places. It was a shame, because she’d miss those mornings in the coffee shop. She’d actually grown to really like Heather and a couple of the others, but in the end she had to do what was best for her son.
After all, they’d do exactly the same, wouldn’t they?
As it happened, she’d already taken quite a liking to the big school in Woodford. Bigger was always better and she’d spoken to one or two of the parents, who seemed very nice. She’d trotted out the same story, of course, as it usually did the trick.
Just moved to the area, so looking for somewhere that’s going to make Jamie feel welcome. Hard on him, of course, moving around all the time, but kids are very adaptable, aren’t they? Jamie has always been great at making new friends. Yes, he’s a fairly shy boy, but once he’s got the lie of the land he’s happy to muck in, and he usually gets on with people.
She checked the kitchen clock again. It was impossible to know how long Conrad had been gone for. She’d already rung his mobile several times but couldn’t get hold of him. Bad reception, probably, wherever he was. She thought about nipping out to the garage for a smoke but didn’t want to run the risk of Conrad’s coming back and catching her. They hadn’t really talked about drugs, so she wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It would be OK, she was pretty sure about that, because he’d want her to do whatever made her happy; course he would. He always did.
When she heard the key in the door, it was hard to control the urge to spring from the sofa, to rush and meet him. She waited until he came into the front room and stood up to kiss him. Like she was pleased he was back, that was all, not like she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
It was the best part of her day.
‘I’ve been calling you,’ she said.
‘I had my phone turned off.’
‘Where were you?’
He didn’t say anything.
She grinned, getting it. ‘Have you found a new one?’
‘Just looking,’ he said. ‘Feel like I should, you know?’
‘Of course you should.’ She pressed her hands against his chest. When he stepped away and walked towards the kitchen, she followed him. ‘Anyone you fancy?’
/>
‘Not really.’ He opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water and filled a glass. ‘Thought I’d found a couple of likely candidates, but it didn’t go anywhere.’
‘Where?’
‘Usual places, you know. I tried a couple of supermarkets, coffee shops …’
‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you find them online? There’s loads of those sites, dating apps or whatever.’
‘I don’t trust them,’ he said. ‘Never have.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’ll laugh.’ He looked and saw that she was waiting. ‘Everyone’s lying on those dating sites, aren’t they?’
She smiled, in spite of everything.
‘I can get a much better read off someone face to face. I can smell if there’s money to be made, you know? Besides, when I’m with a woman, I want to be sure that at least one of us is telling the truth.’
Sarah nodded, seeing the sense of it. ‘So, whereabouts have you been looking?’
He put his glass down. ‘Why are you so interested?’
‘I’m interested in everything you do.’ She was trying not to look hurt, to sound weak. That was for bedtime. ‘We’re partners, aren’t we?’
‘Yeah, but this is my thing, isn’t it? You said you wanted me to have my own life, remember? This is my work. Obviously, I’ll tell you when things are happening, but this part’s always tricky, you know? I don’t really want to get into it until I’ve definitely got something on the go. It’s like it might jinx it, or something.’
Sarah watched him empty the glass, avoiding her stare. Of course, she understood what he was saying, and she respected his need to keep something for himself. Close as they were, closer than she thought it was possible to be, nobody wanted to feel suffocated, did they?
She knew he was lying, though.
She told herself that it was nothing to worry about, that he was just naturally nervous about starting a new job. It was a shame, because she was sure she could help him with it, maybe even help him find someone to work on, but that was up to him. So, she wouldn’t push it.
‘It was in the papers today,’ he said. ‘The teacher.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I saw it.’
Sarah didn’t much care for the look on Conrad’s face. Obviously she hated to see him worried, but really, there was no need to bring stuff like that into the house with him, was there? They’d had a problem and it had been dealt with and that was good news, surely.
‘I think we should move,’ he said.
‘Move?’
‘Yeah, get away. The police are going to be talking to people at the school, so they’ll know about you.’
‘Know what, exactly?’ She laughed. ‘There’s nothing to know.’
‘I just think we should be sensible—’
‘This is my home … our home, now. Why should we have to leave?’ She studied his expression, searching for something positive. Why wasn’t he happier? As happy as she was? ‘Actually, I went to see some new schools,’ she said.
‘Any joy?’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘One that definitely looks interesting.’
‘That’s great.’
He moved past her into the hallway. Sarah took a few steps after him, then stopped and watched him turn to go upstairs. ‘I probably won’t decide until I’ve seen a few more.’
She thought about asking him if he fancied going with her, had broached the subject in a roundabout way once already, but he hadn’t seemed very keen. He’d been … ambivalent, at best.
It was fair enough, Sarah decided.
Perhaps it was still a little too soon for all that, to be asking Conrad how he felt about being Jamie’s dad.
THIRTY-FOUR
‘HazBeanz?’ Thorne stared down at the smiley face stencilled into his froth. ‘God help us.’
‘Coffee’s good though,’ Tanner said.
‘I should bloody well hope so at these prices.’ He raised the heavy earthenware mug. ‘This expenses claim is probably going to mean three less coppers on the beat next month.’ He looked around and wondered what all these people were doing there in the middle of the afternoon. What he was doing there, when there was a perfectly good café across the road.
‘Why did you ask those teachers about Gemma’s boyfriend?’
Thorne looked up. Tanner had her telling-off face on. He said, ‘Well …’
‘I told you yesterday it was nothing to do with him.’
‘Because he looked upset?’
‘He isn’t involved.’
‘Hardly solid evidence though, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Tanner said. ‘Which is why, just to be on the safe side, I sent Dipak to the hospital last night to speak to a few of his colleagues.’
‘See? I said you could find something useful for him to do.’
‘He was definitely there for the whole of his shift.’ She waited, to be sure Thorne understood. ‘So, you can forget about the boyfriend.’
‘What boyfriend?’
‘Good boy,’ Tanner said. She sipped at her coffee and, the next time she looked at him, she had a face on with which Thorne was altogether less familiar. ‘Listen … what did you make of that teacher?’
‘Karl? Even less likely than the boyfriend, I reckon. But if you want to check him out, you know, just to be on the safe side—’
‘Alice.’
‘What did I make of her?’
Tanner leaned towards him and lowered her voice. She was starting to redden a little. ‘Did you think she might be gay?’
‘What, just because she was wearing dungarees?’
‘Shut up.’
Thorne shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘That’s such an offensive stereotype.’
Tanner waited, not a flicker of a smile.
‘How the hell should I know?’
‘OK … look … it doesn’t matter.’
‘So, what, the old Gaydar tweaking a bit, was it?’
‘Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve even got one,’ Tanner said. ‘Always been rubbish at that. I just thought she was … nice, that’s all.’
Thorne sat back and folded his arms, keen to enjoy the moment. ‘Can I just remind you about the lecture I got a few weeks back, when I asked you about Ella Fulton?’
‘Not the same thing.’
‘No?’
Tanner began to look uncomfortable.
‘One rule for you and a different one for everyone else, is that what you’re telling me, DI Tanner?’
‘Just forget it.’
Thorne watched her turn away and immediately felt bad about making light of the situation. He could not recall a single occasion since Susan had been killed on which Tanner had expressed the remotest interest in another woman. Had even hinted that she might be considering the idea.
Maybe, he thought, she just had a thing for teachers …
‘Call her,’ Thorne said.
‘What?’
‘OK, well if you think that’s a bit up front … look, there’s any number of reasons we might need to talk to her again, isn’t there? Bring her in to do this e-fit, whatever. A few follow-up questions.’ Thorne held his arms out; job done. ‘Then, just have a cup of tea and a chat with her afterwards, see how it goes. Or an expensive coffee.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Tanner looked as though she was seriously regretting bringing the subject up.
‘Why not?’
‘You were right,’ she said. ‘It would be seriously unprofessional.’
‘I was only kidding.’
‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘Look, I get it,’ Thorne said. ‘You’re a bit shy, but you shouldn’t—’
‘I’m not shy,’ Tanner said. ‘It’s not about being shy.’
‘So …?’
‘It’s been eighteen months, Tom.’ She looked down at the table. ‘A year and a half.’
Thorne nodded, getting it. ‘Yeah. It’s a long time.’
‘No, you
don’t understand.’ Tanner wrapped her hands around her mug, held it against her cheek. ‘I’m worried that it’s not long enough.’
They decided that it might be counter-productive to wade straight into the gathering of parents waiting outside the gates, so having conferred with Rachel Peake, the Headmistress selected the group Alice Thomason had mentioned and invited them inside. She led the one man and three women into an empty classroom, where Thorne and Tanner were waiting. She had deliberately avoided the classroom where Gemma Maxwell had taught, outside which someone had already laid a bunch of flowers.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she said.
One of the women said, ‘Sorry, what’s this about?’
The Head opened the door to let herself out. ‘The officers will explain, Caroline …’
Tanner introduced herself and Thorne, then asked each person for their name and noted them down.
Heather Turnbull.
David Herbert.
Savita Kohli.
Caroline Wood-Wilson.
‘We’re hoping you might be able to help us,’ Thorne said. ‘That’s all. It’s just a few questions—’
‘Oh, God, is this about that murder?’ Caroline again. She looked at her friends. ‘It was in the Standard. I picked one up at the garage on the way here. A primary school in Enfield, it said.’
‘What?’ David stood up a little straighter.
Thorne looked at Tanner.
‘It didn’t say it was this school, but … it is, isn’t it?’ Caroline leaned close to Heather. She could not help looking a little pleased with herself, at her powers of deduction or perhaps just the opportunity to share such dramatic news. ‘One of the teachers.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Heather said.
Tanner held up a hand. Said, ‘Please …’
As was usually the case, they had been hoping that the story might stay out of the press a little while longer, so had not issued any statements as yet, but with a major murder inquiry a leak of some kind was almost unavoidable. It was impossible to keep a crime scene as busy as this one had been secret from the victim’s neighbours, and, though they would all have been spoken to by the officers in attendance, they could not realistically be sworn to silence. Equally, a SOCO may have let something slip in the pub, or it might have been someone from the hospital where the victim’s partner worked. There had certainly been nothing in that morning’s papers, but if a story – however vague – was being run in the early edition of the Standard it would be online already, on the news that evening and all over the nationals by tomorrow.
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