Where Wolves Fear to Prey (Manor Park Thrillers Book 1)

by G H Mockford

  I turned on the shower, waited for it to warm up, and stepped into the cabinet. It pelted me, driving the hot, stinging water down onto my sweaty, blood sprinkled skin. I ran my hands through my hair and looked down at the water with its faint pink tinge as it swirled around my large feet.

  I would have stayed in that cabinet forever if I could, partly because it was so pleasant, but mostly because I could lock myself in there and not have to deal with the things I knew had to come.

  There was Sarah, whose mercurial mind was temporarily distracted from what had happened to me, but she would demand an explanation. I'd also have to sort out a new phone. But, the most important thing I had to decide was if Charlie and Paul were my problem? I thought long and hard about this. I tried to tell myself no, but no matter how much I tried to convince myself that they weren’t, I couldn’t shake the feeling they were.

  Then, of course, there was the father of Charlie’s baby. Assuming that Paul had got it right, and there was no way to know without reading the full diary; there was only one other man it could be.

  Richard Rollins, my erstwhile friend from the drama department, was the most likely candidate. We had always got on all right before we did Romeo and Juliet together. We had often enjoyed a few drinks as part of the group down The Trip or Fat Cats. He certainly seemed a normal enough, albeit he was a little full of himself, with an eye that was too fond of the ladies, and a tongue that was way too smooth.

  When we did the play together, I got to know him a little bit better, mostly because we would often go out for a meal after the rehearsals. He’d flirt, or even try to touch the waitresses and then would get rude if they rebuked him. We were kicked out of one place because he made a scene.

  Rollins was an arsehole, plain and simple, and it left me with somewhat of a problem. Did I go to Miss Arnold, our Executive Head, with what I knew about the Charlie situation? Or, talk to Richard first?

  I didn’t have any evidence or proof. What exactly could I accuse Rollins of doing? I had a duty to protect the young people under my care, so I knew I should say something. But, it might not be true, and it might ruin Richard’s reputation (if that were possible), not to mention Charlie’s, and I was far more interested in her future.

  Getting dressed was almost as difficult as getting undressed. In the end, I put on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a zip up cardigan as they were the easiest to slip on. Not the most attractive combo, but after what happened earlier, Sarah probably wasn’t interested anyway.

  I hobbled down my steep stairs and into the living room. The coffee table, which took up nearly all the available carpet space, was covered in food. The Danish pastries I had seen earlier were laid out on it, and a lot of other “feel good” food.

  I flicked through my vinyl, some of which I’d paid a crazy amount of money for, and I pulled out Jackie Wilson’s second studio album. Soon the sounds of Lonely Teardrops filled the air. I belatedly decided that maybe it was a bit inappropriate and was about to change it when Sarah spoke from the kitchen door.

  ‘You’re back.’ She'd taken off her jacket and thrown it over the arm of the sofa. ‘I was beginning to think you’d been washed away, or melted. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘I think I better have coffee, don’t you?’

  Sarah nodded her agreement and disappeared into the kitchen. I was rude, she had only been here once, but here she was waiting on me.

  ‘What’s that you’ve got on? Sounds like something your mother would listen to,’ she shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘You should let me make the coffee,’ I said.

  ‘Too late,’ she said as the kettle finished boiling and she poured the water into the mugs. She turned through one hundred and eighty degrees and got the milk from the fridge. It hadn’t taken her long to get to know her way around my kitchen. Then again, there wasn’t a lot to find your way around. ‘Go and sit yourself down and I’ll bring them through.’

  I did as she said.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what happened to you?’ she said as she placed the coffee down on the table in front of me. I quickly picked it up and slid a coaster underneath before placing it back down. This was the conversation that I didn’t want to have, but I knew I couldn’t avoid. What was I going to tell her?

  Nineteen

  As if on cue, Jackie Wilson stopped singing.

  Silence filled the room as well as my head. Nothing came to mind. This was what I should have been thinking about upstairs when I was in the shower. I knew this was going to come up; I should have worried about Charlie and Rollins tomorrow, on Sunday, when I had nothing else to do.

  ‘Well, what happened?’ she said as she threw herself down onto the sofa.

  Jackie started singing Each Time (I love you more), and I wished for the first time that he’d shut up. I looked at the spread of food in front of me, picked up a Danish and started munching, using the time to think of a story. I decided to tell a half truth. ‘I was attacked.’

  ‘Who by?’ she said, leaning forward.

  ‘I don’t know. I was attacked when I was parking in the city. They took my phone.’

  ‘Oh my god! Did you phone the Police?’

  ‘Errr…no,’ I said. ‘They took my phone!’ She shot me a wise arse smile. ‘Seriously, no, I didn’t call them. I didn’t see the point. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t describe them even if I wanted to.’

  ‘But you have to, you can’t let them get away with it, not to mention you’ll need a crime number to claim on the insurance,’ she said. ‘You do have phone insurance, don’t you?’

  ‘I think it’s covered in my home policy. Hang on, I just had a thought’ I said. Picking up her empty cup, I went into the kitchen.

  ‘But that would have all happened hours ago. Where have you been since?’ she shouted from next door.

  Shit!

  I really was a crap liar. Something to be proud of, I suppose. ‘I went to the Queen’s Medical Centre. Friday night. I was at the hospital forever,’ I shouted back. I pulled open my “man drawer”, rummaged around in the odd screws, fuses, takeaway menus, pens, and other bits of junk, and dug out an old pay-as-you-go phone I had.

  ‘Didn’t the police talk to you there?’

  ‘Yes. They tried to encourage me to report it, but I declined.’ I pressed the power button and the phone slowly came to life. The display said I had half a battery. All I had to do now was find the charger. ‘Problem solved,’ I said waving the phone in my hand as I walked back into the front room, snatching up the packet of bite size flapjacks from the coffee table as I went.

  ‘Look, if you’re okay, I'd better get going.’ She started to get up from the sofa. ‘It's obvious you’ve had a rough time, and you don't want to talk about it. I’m sure you need sleep or have things to do.’

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ I said. Suddenly I didn’t want her to go. I wasn’t sure if it was her specifically, or just the company.

  ‘No, you’re okay,’ she said, shaking her head and picking up her jacket and handbag. ‘I’ve got shopping to do and I’ve already wasted nearly all my prime time on you.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I answered as I reached for the door and opened it. She stepped through, and without looking back or saying anything, she got into her Merc. She sat there for ages, fiddling with her mobile phone, so I shut the door. I moved over to the window and watched her drive away, and as she disappeared around the corner I suddenly felt very lonely.

  Twenty

  The first training mission was about to begin. He’d been to church and sat in his usual seat, alone and away from everyone else. People always spoke to him after the service when they had their coffee and cake, and he was always happy to talk to them. He didn’t sit alone because he couldn’t or didn’t want to be around others, it was so he could concentrate more. All the clapping and calling out that the new vicar encouraged wasn’t how he liked to worship. He was thinking of leaving the church and finding a more traditional one. Maybe he’d even conve
rt to Catholicism.

  He’d picked his first victim, an easy one to get him started. It was an old lady called Doris, who always brought him a cup of tea and a slice of lemon drizzle cake. There was no way she would be able to resist him. A part of him wondered if it was too easy and not a big enough challenge, but you had to start somewhere, he reasoned.

  True to form, Doris brought him his refreshments when he sat in the corner of the church hall, so he asked her to sit with him. ‘You know, you’re always so kind to me Doris, but I don’t really know anything about you. Would you like to share a tea with me?’

  ‘That would be lovely, duck,’ Doris said. ‘Let me get a drink, and I’ll be right back.’

  ‘No, you sit down, Doris. I’ll get it for a change. Milk? Sugar?’

  ‘Oooh, no sugar in tea for me, duck, I’m sweet enough.’

  He stood up and pulled out his chair for Doris to sit on, and then pushed it back in like he was trying to impress a date at a posh restaurant. He returned moments later with a steaming cup of tea. They talked for an hour and had a second cup.

  By the end of their conversation, Doris was happy to accept a lift home, especially as she only lived around the corner from him.

  Or so he told her.

  Twenty-One

  I was in bed by seven o’clock on Saturday and slept all the way through to lunchtime the following day. Sunday both crawled and rushed by. I ate, tried to play my piano, read, and even marked the books that had arguably got me into this mess, but I couldn’t settle to anything. In the end, I spent hours looking for the charger that went with the old phone. It was a ridiculous search, despite the fact I needed it, but at least it stopped me thinking about what had happened. The last thing I did before I went to bed was look at my face. The bruising wasn’t as bad as I thought, and besides, most people wouldn’t ask. Or so I hoped.

  When my alarm went off on Monday morning, I was already awake, which is the usual way of things. I’d managed to catch up on my missed sleep, but I wouldn’t say I was raring to go.

  When I got in the car, I discovered my shopping in the passenger foot well. I could have done with the HobNobs yesterday, not to mention the cider. I decided to take them with me – the biscuits, not the cider – and use them to psyche myself up for what would probably be the hardest day of my life. I had to confront Rollins, and with him being such a sexist idiot, it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe I should just go to Arnold and let her sort it out. I wouldn’t, of course. There was a feeling of her and us in school, and there was no way I was going to join her side, even if it was against Rollins.

  I pulled into Byron, and easily found a space to park, then made the short walk to my classroom.

  ‘Ay up, Mr Freeman.’

  I groaned. That was all I needed. ‘Morning, Connor.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, as he began to wipe down the tops of my tables, ‘got a bit of catching up to do after Friday night. Good weekend?’

  ‘Not the best,’ I said and unloaded my box.

  ‘Sorry to hear that. You see the Magpies at the weekend?’ I grunted an answer hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t. ‘Great game! Did you know that they’re the world’s oldest league football club? Still, half term soon, eh? You got any plans?’ he said, rambling on and on. I shook my head not caring if he noticed or not. ‘I’m off rock climbing for a few days on the moors.’

  I moved around my room, trying to look busy.

  ‘I was going with a couple of me mates, you know, to cut the costs. It’s one of their bird’s BFF’s birthday and she had a right mard when he said he couldn’t go to the party at May Sum and me other mate’s bird is friends with me other mates bird.’

  I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I hoped that if I ignored him he’d just go away.

  ‘Hey, you could come if you’ve not got nothing planned. I shouldn’t really go on my own, you know, in case I have a fall, but I’ve already booked the rooms. I could teach you how to do it.’ The excitement in his voice was clear, like a child on Christmas morning. I was about to tell him no, when the phone in the foyer rang.

  ‘Sorry, Connor. I better get that.’ When I picked up the receiver, I soon wished I hadn’t bothered.

  ‘Hi, Alex, it’s Sally. I’ve got a parent down here who needs to see you.’

  ‘I’m a bit busy, whose parent is it?’ I asked. There was a pause for a while, and dread lurked in the pit of my stomach. Sure enough, she came back with the name I didn't want to hear, ‘Charlotte Blackmore.’

  What did he want now?

  I suppose it was naive of me to think it was all over. I was, perhaps stupidly, willing to forgive and forget, but did he believe that I would? More importantly, had he changed his mind and decided I was the one, after all? Should I go down there, or have him brought up? If I saw him in a public place, like reception, I would have witnesses if I needed them, but, in the privacy of my classroom we could discuss anything. I looked back through the window into my classroom at Connor.

  Connor or Paul? It was like being trapped between a rock and a hard place.

  ‘Sally?’ I said, ‘Does it look like a long one?’ As the receptionist, Sally was always dealing with parents, and she had created a subtle code with the teachers as she liked to warn them of coming dangers, such as angry parents. Sometimes you needed the walking time from your class to the admin department to collect your thoughts and prepare what you were going to say.

  ‘No, Mr Freeman,’ came her reply, quick and easy, as if she hadn’t had to give it any thought at all. This meant Paul wasn’t angry, and that was a good start.

  ‘Thanks, Sally. Tell him I’ll be right down.’ I replaced the receiver.

  I made my way through the foyer and was so distracted that I almost passed Mrs Forrest, my immediate boss, on the stairs without even noticing her.

  ‘Thanks for staying with Sarah on Friday,’ she said. ‘I should have stayed, but Miss Arnold needed me. Thanks for helping me out.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said. ‘No problem.’

  ‘I bet it wasn’t,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  I headed back over to the main block, grabbed my ID card, which was hanging around my neck, and swiped the magnetic strip through the card lock. Paul was waiting by one of the computer “pods”, which had been put in to inform parents, and turned to face me. I walked towards him as confidently as I could.

  ‘Mr Blackmore,’ I said by way of greeting. I indicated for him to sit in one of the bucket chairs that littered the school thanks to Arnold, making it look vaguely like a branch of Starbucks. I made sure we sat opposite Sally’s hatch so she could see us, just in case.

  He looked a lot worse than me. In fact, he was wearing sunglasses to try and hide some of the damage, but he wasn't very successful.

  I’d never hurt anyone in my life, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  ‘How can I help you?’ I asked as neutrally as I could.

  ‘Morning, Mr Freeman,’ he said with a nod of his head. He took off his sunglasses and looked at me. ‘Don’t panic, I’m not here to cause you any more problems,’ he said holding up his hands.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said with a gentle smile.

  ‘I wanted to give you something. Two things actually.’

  ‘There's no need. I told you everything’s cool, and it is. Let’s just get on with our lives,’ I said and began to get out of my seat.

  ‘Please, sit down and hear me out. You see, that’s just it, we can’t, can we? Or at least, Charlie can’t.’

  I nodded, not sure what to say for a moment and rubbed my hands together as if I was preparing to pray. ‘Look, Paul, what do you expect me to do? The ball’s in your court really. Maybe you should discuss it with Arnold…I mean Miss Arnold, our Executive Head.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Freeman.’

  ‘Have you talked to Charlie yet?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘I haven’t gathered the courage. I
think that’s why I can’t go to the Head. No one can know. I’m sure it would destroy Charlie. But if I don’t, what else can I do? I can wait until she tells me, I suppose. She’ll have to tell me eventually.’

  ‘You need to talk to Charlie,’ I said.

  ‘I know.’ He looked at his boots and went quiet.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Blackmore, but I’m really busy, and I’ve got to get on.’

  He nodded. ‘Before you go, let me give you this,’ he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. ‘It’s not as nice as the one you had, but it was the best I could afford.’ He handed me a Blackberry.

  ‘I can’t accept that…’

  ‘Just frigging take it, will you,’ he said. I glanced up. Sally was looking at us. She stuck her thumb up, and I nodded back as subtly as I could. Knowing he cursed to cover his embarrassment, I reached out, took the phone, and thanked him for it.

  ‘Your SIM stills works; I’ve put it in for you. I’m sorry for what I did to your other one,’ he paused and looked awkward, ‘and to you.’

  So you bloody well should be, I thought, but said, ‘You look after her Paul, and yourself.’ I got up and began to walk away.

  ‘Mr Freeman, there was one more thing,’ he said. I turned back, knowing it was a mistake as soon as I did.

  He held out the diary. ‘I was hoping you might finish reading this and try and work out who the bastard is.’

  Despite the many voices in my head telling me not to, I took it.

  Twenty-Two

  The rest of the day progressed uneventfully – if you don’t count the fight between two thirteen-year-old girls in the foyer.

  I didn’t bother seeing Rollins. As I had the diary, I figured I might as well as Paul asked. There was no point in seeing him until I was relatively sure he had done it.

  I stayed late so I could catch up with work, and I took home a relatively light Wilko’s box. I passed Connor on the stairs and was thankful I’d left my room before he got there.