*
Mr Smithson, along with other members of staff, strode off the stage and headed for his office as the pupils filed out of the hall by another door. There the head teacher picked up his phone and dialled the number for Giles Breckenridge.
‘Giles,’ he said when it was answered. ‘Is this a convenient moment?’
‘It’s fine,’ he was assured.
‘I have a problem...’
Five minutes later, when he’d put the phone down, he buzzed through to his secretary. ‘Can you get a message through to Lily Breckenridge in Ten Blake and tell her I want to see her tomorrow afternoon, in the break?’
‘Yes, Mr Smithson.’
*
In her tutor room the pupils crowded round Megan.
‘Did she really die?’
‘Was it awful?’
‘Were the cops called?’
Megan tried to answer as many questions as she could while Lily and Summer glowered at her from a corner.
Mrs Blake came in and clapped her hands. ‘That’s quite enough of that,’ she said, her voice raised to be heard over the hubbub. ‘Yes, it was all very distressing for poor Megan but we need to move on and put it behind us now. I think we can all be agreed that Megan saw something unfortunate and she doesn’t need to have it all raked over again so I don’t want to hear any mention of this again. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Fat chance of that,’ whispered Ashley from behind Megan.
‘Do you want to share what you’ve got to say with the rest of the class?’ questioned Mrs Blake.
‘No, miss,’ he mumbled.
‘Right – sit down, all of you, and I’ll take the register.’
Mrs Blake ran down the list of names and the kids answered ‘present’ as they heard their own being called and, as soon as Mrs Blake had dismissed them and left the tutor room herself, everyone crowded around Megan again.
‘Was there a lot of blood?’
‘Did she scream?’
Megan pushed her way through the press of her fellows and began to head for the door and her next lesson. ‘I wasn’t very close to her when she fell.’ She couldn’t bring herself to describe the sickening crack when Stella’s head hit the corner of the wall.
As the tutor group began to stream out of the class behind Megan, one of the sixth form appeared.
‘Lily Breckenridge,’ the lad called above the chatter and clatter of thirty pupils. ‘Lily Breckenridge?’
The chatter eased off as Lily answered.
‘Message from Mr Smithson – he wants you in his office, in afternoon break, tomorrow.’
Lily’s face flashed red before the colour drained from her cheeks. She stared defiantly at her classmates. ‘What are you lot looking at?’ she snapped as she pushed past everyone and strode along the corridor.
Ashley looked at Megan. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes,’ he said, sotto voce.
‘Do you reckon...?’
Ashley nodded.
‘How did Smithson know?’
‘Search me, but it kind of adds up. You all right? I mean, that must have been a pretty tough thing to have to sit through.’
Megan shook her head. ‘It was but, like Mrs Simmonds said to me at the weekend, it’ll probably be a seven-day wonder.’
When she and Ashley arrived in the next classroom, ready for their English lesson, Megan found a group of girls had saved a seat for her in the middle of where they had chosen to sit. Usually, whatever the subject, Megan found herself pushed to the front, under the teacher’s nose, so this was quite a change. Suddenly it seemed all the girls wanted to be her friend. Megan wasn’t sure how long this wave of sympathy and friendship was going to last but she decided she might as well make the most of it while it did. She smiled at everyone.
‘If you want to sit with us, that is,’ said one of the girls.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Megan said. She smiled at Ashley as she plonked down. Maybe not as much as a seven-day wonder – maybe more like a seven-minute wonder. Mrs Simmonds had been right.
37
The next day, Olivia was at home, tidying up a few things ready for the arrival of Amy after she’d finished at the post office. She had another meeting with Heather about the church fête which was looming on the horizon. Given everything else she had to cope with now, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted this commitment and was wondering if, even at this late stage, she could possibly pull out of helping. If she and Nigel had to sell the house, and there was no way around it in her opinion, then she ought to be worrying about contacting estate agents and making sure the house was in tip-top condition rather than wasting her energies on sorting out who was baking for the cake stall or badgering the townsfolk for prizes for the tombola.
She looked at her massive living space with a visitor’s eyes. If she put away some of clutter and, maybe, got some new cushions for the sofa, then the first impression would be OK. The kitchen was state-of-the-art and all the bedrooms, with the exception of Zac’s, were perfectly acceptable. No, she decided, the house would do – or it would when Zac’s room had been fumigated, again.
The click in the lock brought her back to the here and now.
‘Afternoon, Amy,’ she said as her cleaner let herself in. And that was another thing... the continued employment of Amy was an issue that was going to have to be addressed. Nigel had said that Amy would have to go – one more expense that they could no longer afford. Olivia had argued that, with Amy to help keep the house in pristine condition while they sold it, they might realise a bigger price for it than if she had to sort it out on her own. It was, she’d said, a false economy to let Amy go just yet. But sooner or later Amy would have to be sacked and Olivia didn’t fancy breaking the news.
‘Hello, Mrs L. Shocking news about the vicarage, ain’t it?’
‘What news?’
‘They got done over.’
‘No!’
‘Yeah. Someone broke in while they were at church. What sort of low-life does that?’
‘That’s dreadful.’
‘Yeah, Bex was telling me about it when I did for her yesterday. She said that Mrs S had been round hers just afterwards – Sunday afternoon – and was really calm about it all. I suppose you have to be, if your husband’s the vicar. Aren’t they supposed to turn the other cheek and all that malarkey? I blooming wouldn’t,’ said Amy as she pulled open a cupboard and got out her box of cleaning things.
‘No, I don’t think I’d be like that either.’ Olivia sighed. ‘It’s certainly a worry that so much of this sort of thing is going on.’
Amy walked over to the big dining table, squirted it with spray polish and began to rub it with a duster. ‘And what’s this I hear about you buying one of those new places?’
Olivia might have guessed that Mags would tell her daughter.
‘I thought,’ continued Amy, ‘that you were dead against all the new houses going up. You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you?’
Olivia was tempted to tell Amy that it was none of her business but decided that such a response would be a bit harsh. ‘I was just looking around. I think the sales girl might have got the wrong end of the stick.’
Amy looked up. ‘Oh yeah?’
Olivia decided to ignore Amy’s sceptical tone of voice. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, I’ve got to go out a bit later. I’ve got a meeting about the church fête at the community centre.’
‘Oh, yeah. Will Mrs S want to go ahead with that meeting, given what’s happened?’
‘She hasn’t phoned to say any different.’
‘Just saying.’ Amy resumed her polishing.
‘I’ll let you get on – I’ve got work to do.’ Olivia went upstairs to her bedroom and shut her door. She needed to phone some more estate agents and the last person she wanted to overhear the telephone conversations was Amy Pullen.
Forty minutes later she’d made her calls and picked up her jacket. She called to Amy as she trotted down the stairs.
; ‘I’ll put your money on the counter.’
‘OK, Mrs L,’ came Amy’s voice from the downstairs cloakroom.
Olivia picked up her handbag from the kitchen counter and opened her wallet. She blithely pulled out thirty quid and then looked at the thin wad of notes that was left. She pulled it out and counted what remained. What the hell? Only fifty and she knew there should be seventy in there. She thought back; she’d got a hundred from the ATM after she’d paid for her coffee on Saturday with change from her purse and she hadn’t spent a bean since. So, unless the ATM had short-changed her – which was unlikely – twenty quid was missing. Definitely.
Olivia sat down on a kitchen chair with a bump. She tried to think if she could have left her handbag lying around anywhere that a pickpocket might have been. But then, if she had, wouldn’t a thief have taken all the cash? It didn’t make sense. Maybe Nigel had taken it? Maybe that was it, but given he had his own bank card and he passed a cashpoint on his way to the station, was it really likely he’d help himself from her wallet without asking or telling her? What about Zac? No, of course he wouldn’t steal from his own mother, what a ridiculous idea.
Which left Amy. Surely not? But Olivia knew that she didn’t earn a massive amount and she’d witnessed Mags bailing her out only a while back so it wasn’t completely unlikely that she might be tempted to filch a few extra quid. And, if she were honest with herself, this wasn’t the first time she’d found that she didn’t have quite as much cash on her as she’d thought. Maybe Amy had been pinching the occasional note, here and there. And if it was Amy, how the hell did she go about tackling the problem? Olivia put on her coat, slapped the money on the counter for her cleaner – not, she thought as she did so, that Amy deserved it if her suspicions were correct – and made up her mind to ask for Heather’s advice when she saw her at the meeting.
‘Bye, Amy,’ she called as she headed for the front door.
Amy popped her head round the cloakroom door. ‘See you Thursday.’
If I haven’t had to sack you by then, Olivia thought. On the other hand, it would solve the problem of how she was going to let Amy go.
She got her bike out and cycled decorously down the hill, through the town to the community centre. The other members of the church fête committee were starting to gather as she arrived.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Olivia as she opened the door and went in. She was about to shut it behind her when she saw Heather approaching.
‘Heather – I’ve just heard the news. How terrible.’
Heather nodded. ‘I know. And as a result I’m going to have to ask everyone if we can postpone this meeting till later. I’ve got to go over to the police station and give them some more details about the things that got nicked.’
‘What a nuisance.’
Heather stepped into the building and clapped her hands. ‘Ladies, ladies...’ she waited for hush to fall. ‘You’ve probably all heard about the break-in at the vicarage on Sunday.’ A few people nodded sympathetically and a couple looked startled. ‘So I’ve just had a phone call from Leanne and they want me over at the police station in a little while to give them more details. I asked if they could make it later but our local police, as you are all only too aware, are stretched pretty thin and it’s not possible. So, would you mind frightfully if this meeting got pushed back till later this afternoon?’
Everyone shook their heads and there were murmurs of ‘fine’ and ‘of course’ or ‘no problem’ around the room.
‘In which case,’ said Heather, ‘I’ll see you all later. How about four?’
Everyone nodded. She left again and Olivia followed her out to unchain her bike, trying not to look too put-out by the change of plan.
She cycled home and headed for the front door. She stopped before she put the key in it. She could hear voices. What the heck? First there had been the missing money and now Amy seemed to have invited people round.
Olivia opened the front door and stamped in. The TV was on.
‘Amy!’
There was her cleaner, feet up on her sofa, watching telly with a glass of what looked very much like a gin and tonic in her hand.
Amy jumped so much at getting caught red-handed that the drink slopped over the edge of the glass.
‘Mrs L! What are you doing back?’
Olivia glared at Amy. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘I... I... just a bit of a break. Ten minutes, honest.’
Olivia stormed across the carpet and snatched the glass from Amy’s hand. She took a swig. No wonder their gin bottle had been going down at an alarming rate. This was the last fucking straw.
‘Out,’ she shouted.
*
Amy stumbled out of the house, tears running down her face, the money she was owed left on the counter. She thought about ringing Billy; she needed a shoulder to cry on, but she reckoned he’d shout at her for being stupid. Like she didn’t know that already.
What was she going to do? That was sixty quid a week she was going to lose. She and Ash had managed on less before – like when the old owners of The Beeches had gone – and it hadn’t been easy. She didn’t want to go back to scrimping and saving. She wondered if she could ask Billy for some cash. When she’d invited him to live with her over the weekends she hadn’t mentioned money, and there was no denying he didn’t mind spending money on her for treats. Whether he’d be as keen to help out with the housekeeping was a whole other issue.
She was scared of pissing him off, that was for sure and, God help her, it was easily done but she might have to risk it because she couldn’t afford to feed another adult even if it was only a couple of days a week.
She raced down the hill and onto the high street. Ahead, she could see her mother’s salon. Maybe her mum would have some advice, although she knew she could expect a chewing-out first. She played with the idea of not telling her mum the whole truth but there was no point. Olivia was bound to tell— Oh, holy shit! If Mrs L told other people, would everyone else she worked for sack her too? And Olivia had already made it plain that she wasn’t the forgiving sort, and what better way to get her own back than by spreading the news that her cleaner had been helping herself to the gin? No one wanted a cleaner who wasn’t completely trustworthy. Amy felt herself go hot and cold with fear as the full awfulness of her situation hit her. She stopped dead in her tracks.
Ought she go back up the hill and grovel to Olivia? Should she apologise and say she knew she’d been very stupid but that she’d learned her lesson and it wouldn’t happen again? Should she get the first blow in and tell her other ladies before Olivia could – give them her side of the story? But, even as she thought about that last option, she realised that her side of the story was still pretty unattractive – she pinched her boss’s booze and she could hardly plead extenuating circumstances; ‘fancying a tipple and having no gin at home’ was hardly going to cut it. Or should she keep everything crossed that Olivia wouldn’t tell? Immobilised by indecision, Amy stood stock-still in the middle of the pavement.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’
Amy spun round. Heather.
‘Yes... no... I mean...’
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Amy, so rubbish at keeping other people’s secrets, couldn’t help blurting out her own. ‘Mrs L’s just sacked me.’
‘Oh, Amy. Why on earth?’
‘She caught me drinking her gin. It was only a little one and it was only the one...’
‘But even so,’ said Heather.
‘I know, I know,’ said Amy, miserably. ‘I was stupid and I shouldn’t have. But I fancied a change from tea.’
Heather grinned wryly. ‘Don’t we all.’
‘What am I going to do, Heather?’
‘Let me think about it. I can’t right now as I’ve got to go and see the police, but I will later, promise.’
‘Oh gawd, yes, the break-in. I was so sorry to hear about that. I mean, you and the vicar of
all people.’
‘Thank you, Amy. It wasn’t our best day. Rather unsettling, to be honest.’
Amy nodded.
‘But an apology to Olivia start with – a really heartfelt one – would be a step in the right direction.’
‘Humble pie,’ said Amy as she nodded.
‘I’d leave it a while if Olivia was very cross. Give her space to calm down. Life isn’t easy for her at the moment.’
‘Oh, you mean Zac and his drugs.’
A look of total surprise flitted across Heather’s face before she said, calmly, ‘Indeed. Now, I must go. Can’t keep the boys in blue waiting.’
38
Lily Breckenridge and her father waited for Mr Smithson in his secretary’s office. A buzzer on the desk sounded and the secretary switched her gaze from what she was doing to Giles Breckenridge.
‘Would you like to go in?’ she said.
Lily forced a nervous smile at her father as he got up and went through the connecting door, which he shut behind him. Lily knew what this was about, although she’d told her father that she didn’t. Why, she didn’t know, because what she’d done was about to be exposed – big time. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and she felt slightly sick. It didn’t help matters that her best mate was absent from school. If she was going to get an earful from old Smithson, she wanted to have Summer’s sympathetic shoulder to cry on afterwards – but that wasn’t going to happen.
She had to wait for five minutes before her father came out, looking thunderous, and she was summoned. There was no time to exchange more than a nod with him, before it was her turn to enter the head’s office. Her knees were shaking so much that she could barely walk but she stared straight ahead and held her head high as she swapped places with her father.
‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ said Mr Smithson. ‘I know it was you who wrote that dreadful message. Your friend Summer Ashworth confirmed it last night.’
Secrets and Scandals in Little Woodford Page 28
